by Celia Wu
As a middle schooler, Coty Raven Morris would hand her choir teachers her lunch money and pretend it was payment for a choir trip. She couldn’t afford it and was too scared to ask. Her teachers found ways to get her to summer camp anyway.
Today Morris is a conductor, composer, and two-time Music Educator Grammy finalist. From November 3 to 7, she will be Columbia Choirs’ artist-in-residence. Morris will work with all eight of its choirs, culminating in a finale concert of her music, including a new piece she will shape during the residency from Columbia Choirs singers’ own words. She will also lead a session for local educators about finding their own “inner superhero.”
Morris uses music to take care of herself, and in turn, each other. I interviewed Morris to find out what she’s bringing to this residency, and what she hopes will remain with us after she leaves. What follows is Morris telling her own story, in her own words.
Raised by a village
Morris was born in New Orleans. After her mother died when Morris was five, she was raised by her grandmother and, as she puts it, a village of relatives and community members. Her school barely offered music. But her family did.
“My grandmother was a jazz singer, and my aunt sang in church with this sweet caramel sound that hypnotized people. Barry White, Aretha Franklin, and Anita Baker were always playing in the car. On my Walkman I had everything from Nelly to NSYNC. Music sounded like a puzzle someone else had completed, and I loved pulling those songs apart and asking myself, how does someone do that?”
After her grandmother died, Morris moved to Texas to live with her uncle. There, she finally got to sing in a choir.
“Those teachers, metaphorically and literally, saved my life, because they gave me places to be. That’s what education does for people. That’s what the arts do for people.”
“You have grit.”
After Texas State University, Morris went to graduate school at Michigan State. Mentors kept telling her she had grit. She wasn’t sure what they meant, so she started studying it. Her research now centers on grit theory, which she frames as three things working together: talent, work ethic, and purpose.
“I meet students who feel a higher calling and have talent, but no work ethic. They won’t practice. That was me as a freshman. Others have talent and work ethic but no purpose; they’re asking, what’s the point of it all? And some have work ethic and purpose but not the talent yet, because no one gave them clear enough criticism on how to improve. If we don’t tell our neighbors the truth, we’re delaying their blessing.
We constantly go through the cycle of revisiting our purpose, our talent, and what we’re willing to work for. The minute I think I have it all figured out, I should retire.”
Placing mental health at the center of music education
At 19, Morris wrote in her teaching philosophy: “It is my life’s purpose to touch as many lives as possible through the vehicle of music.” Today she sees music as a vehicle for well-being, and rehearsal as the place where that work happens.
“We’re glued to devices that give the illusion of connection. The internet is the final product, but I like rehearsal for a reason. Rehearsal is a mental health stamina practice. There should be something joyful about getting muddy and messy. When we were kids, we played in the dirt, and we didn’t care until someone told us we were messy.
Choir lets us practice self-awareness: I show up on time, I have my materials, I take care of my voice and my body. And social awareness: How do I handle criticism? How do I give it?
It’s not my job to make only music educators or vocal performance majors. One of my former students, Jack, wants to be really good in the rock band in his garage. So he comes to choir to be better for his band, and that’s it. But that is worthwhile. If he can get through my Beethoven, if he can get through Carmina Burana, then in his head, he can play that sick riff on the guitar. That’s his goal!”
“I Can Be Better”
One of the pieces the treble choir Con Brio will sing is Morris’s own “I Can Be Better.” She wrote the chorus while vacuuming her car before a mentor’s visit, when she realized his presence simply made her want to be a better person.
“When we ask ourselves to be better, it’s often because we’re comparing ourselves to something. But we are enough. The work is already in progress. Like the Japanese tradition of repairing broken pottery with gold, to evolve as a human is to be broken, to endure, and to heal again, not out of comparison.”
What does it mean to discover your inner superhero?
Morris is obsessed with superheroes. Her session for local educators builds on the same idea: we all have more power than we think.
“We talk about the origin stories of superheroes and villains, but not the fact that they both had powers in the first place. My workshop helps teachers realize they have power. How we use it is the difference between being a hero or a villain. The road from intent to impact is paved with verbs.”
Collaborating with eight choirs
The residency ends with the premiere of a new work that Morris will shape during the week, using singers’ answers to a questionnaire.
“I’ll take your comments, your feedback, your prose, and weave together lyrics. I’ll show up with a sketch, because I want to leave room for the singers. Instead of puzzle pieces for a box, it’s like being handed Play-Doh and asked to build a monument. And I’m like, oh yeah! Let’s go!”
From grit to release
As we talked, the word “release” kept coming up. Composing and conducting let Morris release what she carries, and help singers and audiences do the same. It starts with letting ourselves feel at all.
“We’ve grown numb because we feel helpless about the crises in front of us. I want our singers and audience to sit side by side and have an experience where my tears are welcome, my laughter is welcome, my confusion is welcome, and leave not with all the answers, but with the tools to think.
I feel the most alive in front of an ensemble. There is no high like being part of the release that happens when we make music together. I always got in trouble for the silly jingles in my head. Now people pay me to write those jingles down, and they’re sung by thousands of people.
There is a place for this. There is a place for you.”
Celia Wu is a Scholarly Assistant Professor and Program Director of the Edward R. Murrow College of Communication at Washington State University in Everett. She sings with Con Brio Treble Choir of Columbia Choirs of Metropolitan Seattle and St. Thomas Episcopal in Medina.
Coty Raven Morris will be in residence November 3–7, 2026 with three events open to the public.
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 4
Discovering Your Inner Superhero: Authentic Teaching in Today’s Classroom
Teacher Professional Development Workshop
Open to all educators, teachers, and musicians. Free to all! Clock hours available.
4:30 – 6:00 PM
Lake Washington High School (Kirkland)
Register for the Professional Development Workshop
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 6
Community Sing
Free and open to all! An all-ages, all-experiences, free singing event with dinner served.
5:30 – 7:00 PM
Together Center (Redmond)
Register for the Community Sing
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7
Residency Finale Concert
Featuring the Columbia Choirs Children, Youth, & Adult Choirs and the premiere of a new work by Coty Raven Morris.
2:00 PM
Northshore Concert Hall (Kenmore)
Get Concert Tickets