On Saturday afternoon, we held our final recital of the season. With bows in their hair and crisp collared shirts buttoned neatly, the children stepped onto the stage—or waited nervously behind the curtain—in anticipation of performing their pieces.

One violin student even whispered to me, “I’m scared.” Looking at this usually confident boy, I smiled and replied, “There’s nothing to be scared of. You’re a really good musician—that’s why you’re performing later in the program!” I could see him thinking about what I had said as he continued to wait. I wondered if he might pass that inside information along to his younger sister, who was one of the first performers.

A short time later, he returned to being his confident self. He strode to center stage and beautifully performed Christopher’s Tune for the audience. I watched his parents beam with pride, trying to see past their cell phones as they captured the perfect video. Standing there, I thought, This makes the whole process worthwhile.

This is what makes lugging four fans and twenty violins back to school worthwhile. It’s what makes cleaning spilled Sprite off the gym floor and collecting programs from the chairs after the last guest has gone home worthwhile. Seeing the pride on parents’ faces and watching children transform after achieving a near-perfect performance—or simply breathing a sigh of relief because they did it—is what gives meaning to all of it.

These moments are the reward for our shared labor of love.