Thank You for Thirteen Wonderful Years

After thirteen years of business this month, I have made the decision to turn 

the page and dissolve the Jaron M. LeGrair Studio.

First, let me say this: 

I will still be teaching. 

I will still be creating content. 

I will still be working with my clients.

I will continue to be who have been. 

What will change is how I show up.

So instead of calling this a "closing" or  "dissolution", I like to think of this as a "commencement".

I want to add this as well: 

I am well. 

I am healthy. 

There is no cause for concern. 

I am just fine.

This is not something you need to be concerned about. All is well—better than ‘well’, truly. This is simply a decision based off of the progression of life and how seasons of life change, and as a result, change you in the making.

This decision was years in the making, though I didn’t know I was making it at the time. Back in 2023, after celebrating ten years of business and ten years of God’s grace, I knew something was shifting, though I couldn’t put my finger on what that "change" was. As these last three years transpired, the feeling of a “big shift” became stronger and stronger. In the back of my mind, I slowly started to realize that the shift involved evolving and letting go of the Studio as a whole.

In 2024, this shift was amplified when I held what would be my Studio’s last Live Showcase for the time being. During the planning and execution of the event, I had an underlying thought that this was the last one. I didn’t really want to face the fact that this change was happening; in a way, I pressed through to make that last Showcase happen, but all along, I knew I could have probably let it go after the ten-year anniversary homecoming.

In 2025, I began to consider returning to academia. I talked to my cousin about it and started praying about it softly. Before I knew it, I received a message on Facebook about a “new budding program” being developed. I was told I should look into it because I could be a great fit. One thing led to another, and I decided to take on the role of Visiting Assistant Professor at Oberlin Conservatory of Music.

I remember signing the contract in the late summer of 2025 and just crying, because I knew that signature was the “beginning of the new beginning.” And though I was sad, I was also excited and relieved to finally accept the "shift" that had been taking place in my heart and spirit after years of trying to figure it out. Shortly after starting, I fell in love with the institution, my students, and my colleagues. I felt a sense of peace and clarity—not only because I was faculty there, but because I knew that this move into academia was an important catalyst for the shift I’ve been feeling for three years.

Now, the shift finally makes sense.

So now, three years after that change first began, we land here—turning the page and letting go of an era, a movement, a time, and a space. I am letting go of a name that holds so many of my memories, achievements, and ambitions, but more importantly, a name that holds God’s grace, His provision, His power, and His love.

How do you encapsulate thirteen years into one statement? One message? One thought?

Honestly, all I keep saying is “thank you.”

Gratefulness. That’s it.

So, I’ll say this: Lord, I thank You.

For giving me this gift of teaching and this vision of the Studio — Lord, I thank You.

For exceeding every expectation I ever had regarding my business and how it grew by leaps and bounds in a way that was undeniably You — Lord, I thank You.

For the days when I didn’t know where my next client was coming from, to having waitlists and traveling the world doing what I love — Lord, I thank You.

For not letting me give up on myself when I wanted to, time and time again — Lord, I thank You.

For giving me the wisdom to know when it’s time for my “next” — Lord, I thank You.

For being with me then and for being with me now — Lord, I thank You.

To my parents: Thank you for your unwavering support all these years. You’ve always kept me lifted and encouraged. I literally could not have done this without your prayers, your hugs, your words, and your presence.

To my brothers: Thank you for always being there. Every event, every phone call, every tear—you both were there. I am so glad that we are always there for each other for every “next” we encounter as individuals and as brothers.

To all of my family and close friends: Thank you for your immense support. I love each and every one of you. Your presence has been so grounding for me. Thank you for holding me down. From your hugs and smiles to your fun nicknames for me, those little things mean the world. They are the things that help me stay focused and grounded.

To my clients: Thank you! Without you, none of this would exist. You have supported me with your resources and helped sustain this business for thirteen years. From the clients I saw in practice rooms when I started, to those who let me into their homes when I didn’t have anywhere to teach; from the clients who came to me when I had a closet for a studio, to those who came when I taught out of a larger space, to the clients who pivoted with me when the world shut down—thank you. You are the reason this Studio sustained itself continually all these years.

To my community, my Jaritones: The way you all have shown up for me is amazing. I had no idea I’d actually have so many supporters, let alone a “fanbase name,” but here we are. It’s amazing how God works. I remember when I hit ten thousand followers on Instagram and thought I was on top of the world. Someone gently told me that “there was more,” and I had no idea how much “more” there would be. We are still growing and thriving. I’ve even made real-life friends with people who found me online, which is crazy in the best way. Thank you for every follow, view, like, subscribe, membership, and purchase—just everything.

I’ve cried, grieved, mourned, rejoiced, and resolved. Now, I’m ready to step into what’s next.

I’m grateful to God for it all.