In classrooms and community spaces across Louisiana and beyond, teaching artists are transforming how young people learn—infusing creativity into education and shaping not just lessons, but lives. At Young Audiences of Louisiana (YALA), a growing number of artists are gaining national recognition for their craft and commitment through the Young Audiences National Credentialed Teaching Artist (CTA) designation.

But what does it really mean to be a credentialed teaching artist? Four nationally credentialed YALA artists—Sallay Shameka Gray, Ja’nese Brooks Galathe, Dana Leon, and Renee Benson—shared how the process changed their perspective, opened new doors, and helped them claim their professional identity. Their stories are proof that teaching artistry is not a side hustle—it’s a calling, a career, and a powerful cultural force.

From the Stage to the Classroom: Finding a New Path

“I never saw myself in a classroom. It wasn’t my ministry,” says Sallay Shameka Gray, an actor and producer from the Westbank of New Orleans. “I was focused on being an actress, representing my community.” But when a friend suggested she try substitute teaching, everything shifted. Her first class went surprisingly well—and then she met Jenny, one of YALA’s executive directors, who introduced her to arts integration.

“I never thought I could give back to my community through my art, and be that representation. But you can do it.”

Sallay now teaches theater and social studies, bringing pivotal moments from history to life in her lessons.

“Last month, we acted out the Little Rock Nine and the March on Washington,” she recalls. “That same week, there was a major Supreme Court decision that echoed some of the same themes we were studying. I had to step out of class. I came back in and told them—‘you don’t understand how this is full circle. You’re studying history, and it’s still unfolding around you.’”

Owning the Work: What the Credential Gave Us

Many teaching artists—especially those who didn’t come through traditional education pipelines—struggle with imposter syndrome. The CTA changed that for Sallay.

“You can’t tell me nothin’—your girl is credentialed,” she laughs. “I’m not just walking in imposter syndrome energy anymore. I can drop a lesson plan in 15 minutes. I manage classrooms. I know what I’m doing.”

Dana Leon, a dance and movement artist who also works in visual art and music, says the process helped her see her work differently. “It asked why we came to teaching. That was deep,” she says. “The questions were reflective, not like a test. I was like—wow, I have been doing this work.”

For Dana, getting credentialed created access. “I’ve been in schools a long time, but now I’m in more leadership spaces. I’m helping lead the RAISE program. I was doing it before, but now I have the title. And a new community.”

A Personal Portfolio—and a Professional Future

Ja’nese Brooks Galathe, a seasoned teaching artist and YALA staff leader, sees the credential as part of a bigger mission: helping artists document and elevate their careers.

“We don’t document well. Or we have to pay someone to do it,” she says. “But this process coaches you through it. You build a portfolio—your artist statement, your work samples, your story.”

And that matters, not just for fellowships and jobs, but for self-worth. “Sometimes as artists, we forget the things we’ve done,” Ja’nese says. “This is another way to validate teaching artistry as a real career. Not just piecing together gigs—but leading, mentoring, and changing lives.”

She’s already thinking big: “My goal is five new credentialed artists a year. I don’t think everybody has to get it, but some of our longtime teaching artists? They deserve honorary credentials. They taught me.”

It’s Not Just a Title—It’s a Movement

“The credential is recognition,” says Dana. “Not from a university, but from a community of artists who get it.”

Renee Benson, a genre-defying multidisciplinary artist and educator, echoes that. “The credential isn’t just about what you’ve done—it’s about how you walk in the world. It’s about your practice.”

For all four artists, the credential didn’t change who they were—but it gave them language, confidence, and community to claim it.

“You don’t have to explain yourself anymore,” says Sallay. “You can just say, ‘I’m a credentialed teaching artist.’ That means something.”

So, What Would You Say to Another Artist Thinking About It?

“Be open,” says Sallay. “Give yourself grace. Don’t judge yourself.”

“It’s personal validation,” says Dana. “Even if you’re self-taught.”

“It’s a legit credential,” says Ja’nese. “Not just for you—but for the young people coming behind you.”

And that’s the heart of it: when artists grow, the community grows. When teaching artists are seen, students are seen. When arts education is taken seriously, so are the artists who make it happen.

Because at the end of the day, as Ja’nese reminds us: “Art is the way.”

For more information about the Young Audiences National Teaching Artist Credential, check out the article Shining A Light On Excellence.

Elevating the Practice: The Power of the Credentialed Teaching Artist

Inspire, engage, and unite children and communities through education, arts, and culture.