By MICHELLE GOTT

Imagine this: You are Leonard Bernstein. The year is 1984, and Deutsche Grammophon has asked you to record your 1957 smash hit, West Side Story. Economic sense encourages you to record in Europe, although you ultimately choose RCA's Studio A, in New York. At this point, your readers might be asking, "Why?"

A summer session at the Henry Mancini Institute enabled Michelle Gott (in logo tee-shirt) to work with artists including Doc Severinsen.

Although recording was cheaper in Europe than in the States, the maestro believed his choice to be most economical. He figured that expenses would even out in the end, considering the time it would have taken him to teach European musicians American jazz idioms and styles that characterize his music. An American orchestra would intuitively "get it."

With that story in mind, I recall my summer at the Aspen Music Festival, in 2002. Talented young musicians were braving a rigorous rehearsal of Kurt Weill's Street Scene, with Julius Rudel conducting. This work is generously sprinkled with technical tidbits to thrill the hearts of classically trained instrumentalists and vocalists alike, and couched in a particular jazzy setting. The rehearsal was not going well. In fact, it was going so badly that Maestro Rudel suddenly erupted into the Mount Vesuvius of all conductors, screaming: "It's your goddamn music! PLAY IT!!"

Although his response was rather extreme, his point was on target. For these talented players, the jazzy sound intended by Weill was as seemingly insurmountable as the towering mountains surrounding them. Had Bernstein attended this rehearsal, he would have found the young Americans' lack of national stylistic knowledge disillusioning. The inability of my Aspen colleagues to grasp the style was an unfortunate result of imbalanced training. Had it not been for exposure to jazz and other musical genres, I too would have had difficulty internalizing Weill's intended groove.

Last summer, I was very fortunate to discover the Henry Mancini Institute (H.M.I.), a program that is currently addressing the need for development of versatile musicians. The four-week, full-scholarship program is held on the campus of U.C.L.A. and focuses on the integration of classical and jazz training, as well as studio recording experience. At the institute, I was encouraged to participate in jazz improvisation sessions with other classically trained musicians. I was also a part of a jazz chamber ensemble, along with two orchestras. As a member of multiple groups, I studied as many as 15 new pieces each week, and tackled a variety of musical styles.

Michelle Gott and Bobby McFerrin.

In my daily work at Juilliard, I see the results of my participation at the institute. Through my involvement in percussion workshops, big-band dances, and improvisation master classes, I became more aware of the rhythmic spine of music that supports a wide range of musical genres. During a percussion workshop, my rhythmic integrity was challenged by a series of individual and group clapping exercises, as well as improvisation over a given beat. Upon reflection, I realized that the kinesthetic study of rhythm without instrumental distractions is similar to the study of Baroque dance in preparation for period music. The physical embodiment of stylized rhythmic patterns enhances the understanding and performance of Baroque music, such as a Bach suite.

H.M.I. also opened my eyes to the world of film composition. One of our many evening concerts was a tribute to American film music, during which the orchestra played as clips of corresponding films were shown on a screen upstage of the musicians. Preparation for the concert included every skill essential for most modern musicians: excellent sight-reading, quick adaptation to new conductors, and versatility of musical style. These skills became a concrete necessity during our mock recording session for an episode of The Simpsons. When I entered the studio and quickly scanned the large stack of music on my stand, I was amazed at the composer Alf Clausen's sophisticated use of the harp. Before I had time to center my nerves, in walked Clausen himself, ready to conduct our first track. The feelings of excitement and terror made an encore appearance the day we were bussed to the Clint Eastwood Studio at Warner Brothers for another mock session. In these instances and for the duration of the institute, I was not "stepping outside my comfort zone," but rather stretching it.

Perhaps most importantly, H.M.I. revitalized my connection to music. A month before the institute began, I had failed to capture a coveted prize in a classical harp competition. I felt discouraged and thoroughly disenchanted with the harp. But my experience in beginner's improvisation reminded me of my passion for musical expression. To succeed in improv, I had to simultaneously renew my confidence in my musical skills and conquer the fear of vulnerability. I found this task inspiring rather than intimidating, because the enthusiasm of my peers and teachers was infectious. At the institute, I remembered why I am a musician.

H.M.I. uses the term "ultimate musician" in recognition of the growing demands on the modern musician. These demands include the ability to sight-read, to embody a variety of styles and genres, to improvise, and to maintain a level of musical integrity throughout this journey. Indeed, these demands are not so different from those in the time of Bach and earlier. We often forget that music has come to us from a largely improvisatory practice, supported by the flexibility of musicians. In this century, we must be willing to stretch the boundaries of our comfort zone while continuing the rich tradition we have inherited.

One of my most treasured experiences from H.M.I. was a master class with trumpeter Doc Severinsen. In his characteristic drawl, he told us, "I've got too much damn history and not enough future." Juilliard is now 100 years old. Perhaps it is time to protect the future by stretching our legs for the challenging new century.

Michelle Gott is a third-year harp student.