The Metropolitan Opera’s stage door, a plain entrance hidden in the tunnels of Lincoln Center, routinely welcomes star singers, orchestra musicians, stagehands, costumers and ushers. But a different bunch of visitors arrived there on a recent afternoon, carrying stuffed toy rabbits and “Frozen” backpacks.
They were children, ages 7 to 10, dressed in patent leather shoes, frilly socks and jackets decorated with dinosaurs. They were united in a common mission: to win a spot in the Met’s Children’s Chorus, a rigorous, elite training ground for young singers.
“This might be the biggest day of my life,” said Naomi Lu, 9, who admires pop singers like Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. She was knitting a lilac friendship necklace to stay calm as she waited in the lobby. “I feel nervous and excited at the same time,” she said. “You could say I’m nerv-cited.”
Singing in the shower or in a school choir is one thing. But these students, who came from across New York City and its suburbs, were vying for the chance to perform at the Met, one of the world’s grandest stages, a temple of opera that presents nearly 200 performances each year. Chorus members have a chance at roles like the angelic boys in Mozart’s “The Magic Flute”; the Parisian kids in Puccini’s “La Bohème”; or the street urchins in Bizet’s “Carmen,” to name a few.
“It’s a lot of pressure,” said Luca Aceves Baldissoni, 7, who was curious about how it felt to perform on a big stage. “Opera is really hard. I just hope I can sing well enough.”
The Children’s Chorus is one of the few such programs for young singers in the world. The children who are admitted undergo intensive training, attending free music classes twice a week, with instruction in singing, stage deportment and diction in a number of languages, including Italian, French and German. They sing in the chorus until about age 14, when they grow too tall or, in the case of the boys, their voices change.
They agree to comply with the Met’s strict rules. No yawning onstage. No playing with props. And absolutely no skipping rehearsals.
The Met has struggled in recent years to attract students for the chorus — especially boys — partly because the pandemic prompted some families to cut back on extracurricular programs.
But there have been some promising signs. In April and May, 78 students — 59 girls and 19 boys — auditioned for the chorus, up from 63 last year; 14 were admitted. Come this fall, the chorus will have about 75 members; in the 2000s and 2010s, there were as many as 100.
The Met, which advertises the Children’s Chorus program on its website, relies mostly on word of mouth to draw young singers. As part of the application process, children are asked to detail previous instruction in voice, instrumental music and dance, though some audition without having had any formal training.
The Met’s leaders say the chorus, which counts professional opera singers, Broadway performers and actors among its graduates, is an important way of connecting the 142-year-old opera house with New York residents. And it helps young performers build confidence.
“Just like the older opera stars, they have to go out there and stand on that stage without amplification and sing their hearts out to a very discerning audience,” said Peter Gelb, the Met’s general manager. “Of course audiences are always on the side of children, which is good.”
BACKSTAGE AT the Met, the students filed into Studio 210 to sing for Anthony Piccolo, the director of the Children’s Chorus. A chalkboard listed the operas with child performers that still remained in the 2024-25 season: “La Bohème,” “The Magic Flute” and “The Queen of Spades.”
Piccolo said he looked for children with outgoing personalities who seem comfortable in the spotlight. He wants “a voice that sings in tune with clear words and that has a core — something that will develop in a reasonably short time into a voice that we can put onstage.”
He tries to keep the audition thorough but low key. “Some of the children who come in are like scared rabbits,” he said. “Scared is not good.”
As Aleksia Mickisch, 9, entered the studio, she said she did not think her voice was particularly special, but she had decided to audition because her mother thought her singing at home was beautiful.
“My mom kind of made me come,” she said. “But I also kind of wanted to see what the Met was all about.”
At the audition, Piccolo, 78, an exacting teacher with arched eyebrows and a stern but playful demeanor, laid out the challenge of projecting in the Met’s cavernous auditorium. He warned the students that, “we have a mighty orchestra in the pit — they are hardball players, not badminton players.”
“Your voice has to know how to make a sound that will carry to the 4,000th person in the audience without a microphone,” he added. “Everybody’s voice counts. We have no people who just mumble or make a sweet little fluty sound. You have to make your voice heard.”
Piccolo had no qualms about chiding students for drinking cold water before they sang, saying it could affect their vocal cords. He asked a boy with a raspy voice to abstain from auditioning until he recovered.
With Piccolo at the piano, and their parents watching, the students joined together to sing “Happy Birthday,” the audition song of choice at the Met for decades. (Everybody knows the song, Piccolo said, and the octave leap in the third phrase is a revealing challenge.)
“Sing bravely!” he said. “I’m sure you’re all brave!”
Then the students took turns singing “Happy Birthday” alone. Piccolo tested their ability to match pitches on the piano and sing scales, and he peppered them with questions.
Do you like to sing? What’s your favorite school subject? Do you play a sport? If you could do anything for a whole day with no one there to tell you what to do, what would you do? (One student said she would eat lollipops and cake; another said she would lie in bed all day and read; one boy said he would play video games and eat ice cream.)
Piccolo took copious notes after each child’s audition. Then, after everyone had been heard, he dismissed the group. On their way out, the students and their parents caught glimpses of the Met’s crowded backstage hallways, adorned with wigs, costumes and fake jewels. They made plans to go out for ice cream.
“I like singing, and I like ice cream,” Skye Yang, 7, said as she headed toward the exit. “That’s why I’m here.”
THE CHILDREN’S CHORUS was formed in the early 1900s, under the eminent conductor Arturo Toscanini, the Met’s artistic director from 1908 to 1915. The Met started its own choral school, providing training to children from across the city. But during World War II, the program ran into financial problems and it was closed. For several decades, sopranos often sang parts written for children.
In 1976, when the conductor James Levine took over as the Met’s music director, he reinstated the Children’s Chorus. The ensemble gradually grew in size and renown, and for decades it was run by Elena Doria, a teacher who was imperious and demanding but also beloved by many. (When Doria died in 2016, The New York Times described her as “by all accounts equal parts den mother, wrangler and benevolent despot.”)
Piccolo, who previously led the New York City Opera children’s chorus, took over in 2009 after Doria’s abrupt departure. (She had been the subject of a complaint by parents.) Piccolo said he was drawn to the beauty of children’s singing.
“It is one of the most exquisite sounds in music,” he said. “It’s distinct from adults.”
The Met’s chorus attracts a mix of students. Some have grown up singing and have dreams of appearing on the Met’s stage or on Broadway. Others have little experience but are curious about opera. If they are cast in one, the children must attend all costume fittings, rehearsals and performances. The Met provides tutoring to make up for missed classroom time, in compliance with state law. Chorus members are required to have child performer permits from the New York State Department of Labor, and they are paid the minimum wage of $16.50 per hour for rehearsals. They get a flat performance fee of $33 per opera act, though they can earn more than $1,000 for solo roles.
Monica Yunus sang in the chorus for several years in the late 1980s, under Doria, and went onto become a professional opera singer. When she returned to the Met’s stage in 2003 to sing a featured role in Mozart’s “Le Nozze di Figaro,” she said, Doria greeted her at the stage door with “welcome back, kid.”
Yunus’s experience in the Children’s Chorus inspired her to pursue a professional singing career.
“You saw what the singers go through, the preparation, the backstage operation,” she said. “Once I left the chorus, I was like, ‘How do I get back here?’”
THE EMAIL came in late May, when Naomi, the “nerv-cited” 9-year-old, was on her way to class at the School of American Ballet, also at Lincoln Center.
“Congratulations on a successful audition for a position in the beginners’ class of the Metropolitan Opera Children’s Chorus,” said the message from Piccolo.
Naomi, who was on the subway from Queens to Manhattan with her mother, screamed. “I was extremely grateful and jubilant,” she said, describing the chance to sing in the choir as a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“I achieved what I thought was impossible,” she said.
Alexander Zhou, an 8-year-old who brought a small stuffed dolphin named Fin-Fin to the audition for emotional support, was also admitted. Zhou, a student at the Kaufman Music Center’s Special Music School, has already won praise for his piano performances but said he was hoping to also make a mark in singing.
“I wasn’t surprised,” he said of his acceptance. “But I felt really proud of myself.”
Now the hard work begins. In September, the students will start music classes at the Met, where they will work on breathing techniques, ear training and concepts like dynamics and tempo markings.
Piccolo will be omnipresent, leading classes and keeping watch in the wings during performances, making sure the children pace themselves and do not get too rambunctious.
“They’re already very capable singers,” he said. “Now we’ll turn them into opera stars.”
