The Sweet Spot

I have recently joined a community orchestra after not playing cello much at all over the last year. And I have to say that playing regularly, including home practice, feels good. This is not a metaphor for some kind of emotional satisfaction, though that is present. I am talking about actual, physical sensation.

I have been thinking a lot lately about this physicality of playing music. I hadn't played my cello all summer. Ukulele, yes. Banjo, yes. Guitar, yes. Even some violin and piano. But I hadn't felt compelled to pull the cello out until I decided I was going to get into this orchestra, and started preparing for the small audition required. The first couple days, like any restart of an exercise regime, were painful. I sounded terrible, and my fingers felt like Vienna sausages on the strings. But I made myself get the cello out even when I didn't want to, and finally, after about a week, I started to feel better. By "feel better" I mean that my fingers found the right places on the string, my bow had the right fluidity, I could play with my vibrato to enhance expression, and what surprised me was that this was all actually pleasurable! I had never thought of playing music as having a physically pleasurable side to it, but here it is. After a good practice session, my arms and hands actually seem to tingle with life and energy, my brain feels like if you put one of those brain scan things on it, it would show up all lively blue or whatever color the sign of big activity is, and now the sounds I make are sounds I enjoy hearing.

The cello I own is a 115-year-old French instrument my father bought for me about 25 years ago. When I got it, I loved the many "colors" of sound it could achieve, even in my relatively unskilled hands. Over the years, I have discovered and exploited one feature of its sound in particular. Perhaps this is a feature that other, good cellos share, but I had never experienced it in all the student models I had played before this one. Intonation is a string player's constant nemesis, and having a good ear is not the only tool we have to keep the pitches centered. We must continually monitor relations between fingers moving over strings, training muscle memory to get the fingers to the right places in no time. My cello seems, to my fingers, to have sweet spots on the fingerboard where the note is in tune, and I can actually feel that in my fingertips. Sometimes in loud orchestral music, it is nearly impossible to hear one's own playing, so muscle memory becomes super important. I have found that I can feel when notes are in tune, particularly ones that are in unison or octaves of the open strings.

I have been trying to teach my students about this. Not just the string players, though they maybe have the most to gain from learning about it. I teach all the wind instruments too, and have begun talking to students about what they are feeling in their fingertips, and at their lips. Young clarinet players, for instance, can learn to feel the seal in the left hand ring keys. When the hole is completely covered, and you blow into the instrument, you can actually feel the air moving past the fingertip, and the vibration of the note. Flute players learning to play in tune can feel a sweet spot at the lips where the pressure of air is going strongly into the embouchure hole. Even before a string player is fine-tuning the ability to play in tune, he can feel the fingertips pressing the string into the fingerboard for a clean, true sound. Brass players must learn how the lips feel for any pitch, since one valve combination or slide position can produce many pitches.

Things in which we find physical pleasure (that are appropriate for all ages) might include all kinds of exercise, stretching, holding someone's hand, hugs, eating. I want to add playing music to this list, and draw students' attention to it, both as a means of honing their skills and as a way to keep them interested in playing.

Now it's time to go practice cello.

My Life in Six Songs-Part V: Son de la Negra (part B)

The spring before this Mariachi Quest, my mother had passed away and left each of her daughters a little money. My husband encouraged me to buy a new violin, since I had been playing on cheap hand-me-downs my whole life. I did, and stoked with a new instrument and my three songs, we headed to Guadalajara, the home of mariachi music.

Interior courtyard of La Quinta Don Jose, Tlaquepaque

We chose the hotel Quinta Don Jose in the midst of Tlaquepaque, an intimate community of artisan shops enveloped by the bustling streets of Guadalajara. We stayed in a luxurious apartment just up the street from the hotel proper within walking distance of the town center. Every Mexican town has its zocalo or plaza, where families gather in the evenings to visit, children to play, teenagers to flirt and vendors sell fruits, candy and toys. It is a cherished part of our trips to join the milling children and dogs and parents, munching on local treats and taking in all the sights, sounds and smells.

Bronze sculpture honoring the tradition of dance and music

Besides this traditional plaza area, Tlaquepaque has a central block of restaurants called El Parian. Within its arched facade walls are tables beneath jacaranda trees, connected to a dozen or so different establishments serving adult beverages and appetizers and sometimes, dinners. It's a place people go to drink and socialize and hear music.

Art on the mall of Tlaquepaque

Entrance to El Parian

The Mariachi Plaza of Guadalajara itself was under renovation construction when we were there, so many of the musicians who would normally have gathered there of an evening joined the half-dozen or so bands that strolled from table to table, playing for tips.The first night we were there we just watched the bands and requested songs. I had brought a little digital recorder with me in hopes of archiving some authentic music in an authentic setting. Once I had assured the strolling musicians that we weren't record company executives out to exploit their talents, they were happy to play for us. Several mariachi groups came around, and there were two that we focused on getting to know. We knew them by their outfits: one olive green and the other black.


Along with the great music, we discovered a delicious Mexican beverage called Cazuela, made of cut fresh citrus fruits piled into a glazed clay bowl (cazuela is actually the name of this bowl) with ice, grenadine, Squirt and lots of tequila. That first evening was a relaxing time, sipping on our refreshing fruit drinks and making friends with musicians.The musicians were happy to play for us, though we felt a sort of tired boredom from them, as though they would rather be home with their feet up, but felt compelled to come out and make a few pesos.

The next evening, I took my violin along. I felt shy, but Jon was encouraging and we found a table in El Parian. One of the black-suited mariachis, a young violinist, eyed my violin case with interest and gave me an inquisitive look.This encouraged me even more, and eventually they came to our table. Jon negotiated with them, that I wanted to play. They happily let me join in. After the first song, many of the surrounding tables were paying attention, and by the time we had finished the three songs I knew, there was a crowd of Mexicans cheering us on! The musicians playing with me seemed to gain new enthusiasm from my interest in their music and a nearby patron offered to keep paying the band as long as I would keep playing. Bravely, we attempted a few more songs, ones that I had heard and knew from listening but had never played. They included me as they passed around a flask of tequila and in playing the traditional Mariachi Loco. The crowd stood all around us and cheered, though I was in over my head by this point. Fortunately, it was break time for the band, and Jon and I sat back, ordered another round of fruit drinks and basked in the glow of success.

Our young violinist friend.

Later on, the young violinist (I tried-but was unable- to learn his name) who spoke no English came back to our table. He was very interested, I thought, in my violin. I thought he was saying he wanted to buy it. I thought he was asking how much it would cost. I told him I didn't want to sell it, but he could get one in the US. We used all of our Spanish to have this conversation. It was late. He was really sweet and a great player. I think we understood that he was actually a music student at the university. Around 11 p.m., he headed with his violin out to the curb, where he told us he was waiting for a ride to his next gig- a late-night party. Later, when I thought about this conversation, I realized he had been asking about my violin CASE, not my violin. He was so nice, and worked so hard as a musician, I wished I had realized that and sold it to him. He could have given me his case to get my violin home in and I could have bought another when I got home. I have thought many times since, that if we ever go back, I want to take a couple cases along to give as gifts to the hardworking musicians that stroll the evening streets of Mexico.

I have moved on in my musical studies since that summer.  Someday I would like to get deeper into the life of mariachis in Mexico. I think they are a subculture all of their own. They work very hard for small amounts of money. I think in some cases they live in apartments together in the city, working day jobs and strolling at night, maybe sending money home to families out on the ranchos. It is definitely a male-dominated art form, though there are plenty of young female musicians coming up. They love what they are doing, and occupy a special place in Mexican public life. I feel very lucky to have gotten to experience a little of their world from the edges of the inside, and am thankful for the musicians' generous spirit that allowed me to jump in.

Mariachi bronze sculpture on mall in Tlaquepaque

My Life in Six Songs-Part V: Son de la Negra (part A)

Several years ago my husband and I discovered a local Mexican restaurant featuring live mariachi music on Friday nights. We made a point of eating there at least one Friday per month (it didn't hurt that the food is good and the waitress always fussed over us), and eventually became known to the band as appreciative regulars who tipped well. We learned about the music, developed some preferences and when the full band was there (all 7 members= 2 violins, 2 trumpets, a vihuela, a requinta, a gitarron) we loved to request the quintessential mariachi tune Son de La Negra. You've heard it. It starts with slow trumpets in thirds on repeated notes and then launches into a rowdy three against two-beat energy rush. It has words, and they are poetry for sure, but it is the charging light brigade of the trumpets and violins that makes this song so popular.

After a couple years of learning about and loving this music, I had the opportunity to help coordinate mariachi classes through a local organization at one of my schools. The classes were taught by professional, world-class mariachis and I tried to soak up as much as I could from them. The violin teacher gave me a few stray sheets of music she used with her own band, and one of those charts was the violin part to La Negra. I was thrilled to have it, and with my iPod on loudly in the living room, tried to learn it and play along.

About this time, my husband spent six weeks in Mexico in a language immersion program. He visited Mexico City and in his wanderings, stumbled upon Garibaldi Plaza where mariachis wait for people looking for musicians to play for parties or weddings. While they are waiting, the musicians will form spontaneous groups and play for tourists, or just play for themselves. We decided we needed to go there together, and I needed to play my song with real mariachis.

Now one thing you need to know about Mexican musicians is that if you pay them, they will let you make whatever kind of musical fool of yourself with them you want to. Many are the times we have watched borachos slopping sentimentally through some song, with the musicians patiently playing accompaniment.

In D.F., we took a taxi to Garibaldi one evening as the musicians began to congregate. Everywhere on the plaza were violin and guitar-shaped cases, and the air was filled with snippets of trumpet warmups. Obvious in our gringo-hood as tourists, we were instantly approached. So we requested a few songs, and a band formed immediately and played for us. We went to one of the several restaurants surrounding the plaza for dinner, and again were serenaded by strolling musicians. I was working up courage to ask to play, so we sat at an outside table after dinner, ordered drinks, and waited. It wasn't long before a musician asked us if we wanted some music. My husband, whose Spanish is much more useful than mine, told the gentleman that not only did we want music, but his wife wanted to play the violin. At this the musician lit up, and quickly gathered a group together. One fellow handed over his violin to me, and we launched into Son de La Negra. Even though the violin was crusted with rosin, and the bow in desperate need of a rehair job, it was one of the most exciting moments of my musical life. The musicians seemed to enjoy the experience as well, and wanted me to play some more with them. Of course, as long as I played, we would pay, but, alas, I was out of songs.

Returning from Mexico, I decided I wanted to learn from our friends the restaurant band, Mariachi San Antonio. We hadn't seen them for a while as they were no longer being invited to play at our restaurant, so we weren't sure how that would happen. I was too shy (yes, true)  to call myself, but my husband wasn't, and so he set up lessons for me with Raul, the leader and the first violinist of the group.

For about 2 months, every Friday morning, Jon and I went to Raul's house for my lesson. His wife and baby daughter would be nearby, and Jon would sit and listen from the couch in the living room. Raul helped me work out the kinks in La Negra and helped me with the lyrics, until we could play and sing it at rip speed together. Then we tackled one of the other songs the other violin teacher had given me, a potpourri (mariachi for "medley") of three songs from Veracruz. Having been twice to Veracruz and loving these songs, I bit into them eagerly. They were very challenging, and I never did quite master the words, but I could fiddle along with Raul and it was a thrill! Raul was a patient teacher, and somewhat amused and puzzled over my desire to work on this music. I have much more formal training than he, but he appreciated the attention to detail that I begged for and laughed heartily as I mastered another snippet. All together that summer we worked on three songs, including the potpourri, which was three songs in one, and got them to a point where I felt I could perform them and not make a complete fool of myself.

We started making plans for another trip to Mexico, this time focusing on Guadalajara, the home of mariachi music. Raul invited me to play with his band at another area restaurant one hot summer evening before we went, and I was as nervous as if I were auditioning for the New York Philharmonic. What would the patrons think of this? The restaurant was in South El Monte, a very Mexican community, and to walk into that establishment was to step over the border. We instantly loved it. Raul, on stage, spoke Spanish to the audience over a loudspeaker so it was hard to understand him, but it suddenly became clear that he was calling for me to join them on the stage. The moment of truth had arrived. We played, and in the virtuoso spot in the potpourri, the band stepped back, and let me solo! I almost stopped playing in surprise, but some old professional habit kicked in and I kept going. When it was all over, the audience was cheering, and people were buying us drinks. I had done it!

Off to Mexico.

Next Post: La Parian, Tlaquepaque and Guadalajara welcome us.

Differentiate!

In recent years, public education in the state of California has begun moving toward uniting all courses and standards under the umbrella of a set of so-called Common Core ideals. This movement is meant to broaden the scope of education in public schools to include various ways to impart and measure learning. It will replace some of the emphasis on standardized testing with other assessment instruments allowing students to demonstrate in multiple ways their grasp and understanding of content material.

We, who teach in the Arts fields, are welcoming this change for a number of reasons. For one thing, we are hopeful that classroom teachers will feel less stressed about "teaching to the test" and will embrace the curriculum-enhancing activities that we make available to their students. For another thing, art, music, drama and dance are important ways to build meaning for students, and give them ways to show what they have learned. If implemented properly, Common Core should be building stronger foundations and deeper understandings across all curriculum areas.

There is another aspect to this that is relevant to us music teachers. In the last two years, due to budget constraints state- and district-wide, our student load has increased almost to the breaking point. I, personally, had nearly 200 students last year, and this year, I have about 300. Some of them I see twice a week, some once a week, and because of field trips, holidays and the like, some I don't see for weeks at a time. All my classes are mixed instrument and mixed skill level. Gone are the days (for now...they're coming back, right?) of Beginning Flute class, Beginning Clarinet, etc. for the beginners and Band and Orchestra for the second year students. It's all Band and Orchestra. Beginners and experienced players are all smushed together.

There is a word that administrators, GATE advocates and parents like to toss around: differentiation. In terms of the Common Core, differentiation is implicit in the means of delivery and assessment of content comprehension. In this age of Common Core and giant, mixed classes, this word has become my mantra. What to do with the second year violinists who practice lots at home and are really ready for something beyond Hot Cross Buns, while getting the basics into the hands of the beginners, for whom Hot Cross Buns is the best thing since sliced bread? How to make a meaningful musical learning experience for a 6th grader in the Orchestra who has never touched an instrument and has decided this year he wants to learn the flute?

I have had to think hard about these questions this fall, and I am having some reward for my thoughts. I am still dialing it in, and it will be a couple more years before I feel like I have it down.The first thing I did was throw out my method books. I have made my own sheets for my classes, and eventually will have a whole set for the year, which I can use every year, regardless of the makeup of my classes. Following are a few guiding principles I have been keeping in mind as I make my sheets.

1. Assume that at the beginning of the year, everyone, regardless of skill level, will welcome some super-easy basics that everyone will be able to do fairly quickly. The more advanced players will recognize this as review, while allowing me to focus on basic skills for the beginners. With the advanced players, I expect better position, more sound, better breath control etc. They also really like demonstrating for the beginners, and this gives me a chance to praise them for their position, etc. which motivates the beginners to follow suit.

2. Take simple songs, such as Hot Cross Buns and Twinkle, and fancy them up with variations and "soli" sections that only the second year players will be able to handle. I have made arrangements that include whole notes, open strings, etc. for beginners while putting the advanced parts into new territory for the second year players.

3. Be okay with "close enough" so we can keep moving forward. Fingers and bows and tongues moving, eyes looking, ears hearing are all good, even if it doesn't sound like the philharmonic quite yet. Don't give up on perfection, but know that we will get there with two steps forward and one step backward. With the advanced players in the group, even if everyone isn't playing every note perfectly, there will be an overall musical sound resembling the song we are attempting to play. And it WILL get better.

4. While moving ever forward, also find time to go back and play things from earlier in the year. Beginners who are just starting to GET it will be excited and if it's only part of the class, where the rest of the time is forward motion, even the advanced players will be fine.

5. Understand that even with these accommodations, I am going to lose some. It happens anyway, no matter what I do.

At this point in my career, a half dozen or so years, probably, from retirement, I am finding new challenges and new fun, and I think I like this Common Core thing. It has gotten me thinking in new directions. Well, that and having 300 students.

Where Did the Year Go?

Another school year has completely flown by. It was several days shorter than usual by virtue of District-imposed-money-saving furlough days, and also started and ended earlier due to District-imposed changes that are supposed to line our school year up with the school year of institutions of higher learning. So after we had our All-District festival in March, Spring Break came, then testing, then Spring Concerts and then it was over. I feel breathless and a little cheated. Usually there is time for a little reflection with the kids as we wind down the year. But the last three weeks were full to brimming with activities for them- field trips and the like. So I spent that time hunting down instruments ("I'll bring it tomorrow!" If I had a nickle for every time I've heard that....) and taking many trips to the trailer where we store instruments. We all build our biceps this time of year.

On our last day, yesterday, we met as a faculty (I have to hold myself back from calling us the Music Staff) to discuss how things will be in the fall (or late summer, as we start back August 22..argh!) Further cuts to our budget mean that, unless something changes in the interim, I will serve seven campuses; another teacher will have eight.  We will only serve fifth grade, and some schools will only see us once a week. I also met with the principal at my middle school campus and confirmed that I will not be able to split my class next year. So however big the draw to be in that orchestra is now, the whole group will cram into that room every day.

Music is going to suffer for these changes next year. We fight and fight to get access to the kids and have schedules that can actually accomplish something. It is not possible to teach anything in half an hour a week. No one would expect children to learn math or reading with that much instruction, and yet we must do. We must because not to is to lock the door to the thing that keeps some kids sane and happy in school.

The elementary music students play their simple concerts and get charged up. A 4th grade trombone player who tried to quit (it's all about the drama...he's a really good player) several times said he was too nervous and scared to play the concert. He went through with it, and when it was over said "That's it? That was easy!"  Another 4th grade flute player was very worried about making a mistake in the concert. He can barely get a sound, and had to be talked into not quitting. But I told him no one would know if he made a mistake and the little kids in the audience would just think he was wonderful playing that neat instrument. He was glowing at the end of the show.

One mom stopped me as I was making my circuit of collection the other day. Her son joined middle school orchestra, she told me, because he thought it would be easy and because of the Forum Festival trip we have made two years in a row now. She said he told her he wants to be in orchestra again next year, and she was so happy about that. And surprised. Unlike many of my students whom I have known for years, he had come new and inexperienced last fall. He had self-control issues, disrupted class a lot, and had to be taught from scratch. But by the end of the year he watched when he should watch, read percussion music, would stop his fidgeting and talking with a look from me, and he provided a steady pulse on the bass drum to drive the group.

Another mom told me she didn't know what had got into her son, but for the first time in three years, he had started really to practice his clarinet at home. Another dad told me how his daughter practiced clarinet and then described all the other parts in the orchestra to him, so when he heard the concert, he recognized them. A couple of kids have started experimenting with composition. All the eighth graders are going on to be in their high school music programs.

On one of the last few days when we had finished my lesson for the day, I gave the middle school class a few minutes of free time. Several of the boys got their instruments out and created a spontaneous, improvised oom-pah band, with no help or input from me. They entertained themselves for the rest of the class time.

These outcomes are just a few of the many positive effects music classes have on students' lives. I see it most in the middle school where I can work with them every day. They know they are building something great. As evidenced by the standing ovation at their concert and the continual buzz for the weeks following, their peers and teachers and parents know it too. I don't know if I will ever have a year like this one again, but I am so glad I got to have this one.

How Long Will It Take?

Spring Break is good for renewing the teacher and taking stock before the big push to the end of the year. Too bad it doesn't come in September. Oh yeah, that's what summer is supposed to be for. This morning, on the cusp of Spring Break Monday I woke with inspiration about a school problem that perennially rears its head, and which has its roots- as my inspiration showed me in the dawn- in the first weeks of music classes. The problem of students dropping by the wayside in the late winter and spring months plagues me yearly, and as much as I try to insure success and fun for kids in all my classes, when these classes are built of kids who have the option to come-or not, eventually other things- science projects, Math Field Day, standardized test prep- get in the way. There are the die-hards who wouldn't miss music for all the tests in the world. But all too often kids start to show up in the music room, instrument in hand, wanting to return it to me, citing trouble with math grades, too much homework, or other non-music reasons. This morning my waking brain  connected this phenomenon with the very beginning of the school year.

Every year, as I am outlining the year's music program for new classes of 4th and 5th graders I am asked many predictable questions. Do I teach guitar? (Not at school) How about piano? (Ditto) Do we get to take the instruments home? (Yes) Which instrument is hardest? (They are all impossible if you don't practice, all easy if you do, but having said that, flute is the hardest, in my opinion) The one that stumps me though, and I never have a good answer for is "How long will it take till I learn how to play?"

How long does it take? No matter how true it is, a nine- or ten-year old doesn't want to hear that music is a life-long pursuit. He wants concrete goals.The other question that goes with this is "Will we play in front of everybody at school?" I think that in considering these two questions lies the answer to my problem.

It's simple: A chart in the music room with each student's name down the side. Across the top would be Goals. First one, for instance, could be Put Instrument Together in One Minute. Next, Get a Sound Out of the Mouthpiece. For strings it would be things like Naming Strings, Correct Bow Hold. As each goal is accomplished, the student gets a sticker. Note Fingerings and Identification, Songs, Rhythm Patterns could each have a column.  The last thing on the chart (and, really, the year could cover several charts, because the goals should be small and easily achievable) would be Spring Concert. As the row of stickers grows across the chart, the student sees her own progress, and may be less likely to drop come April. And seeing the very tangible goal of performing in a Spring Concert hanging there at the end of the chart will give us an answer to both of those beginners' questions. Performing, even if it's just Hot Cross Buns, is a verification that a kid CAN play, has learned how to play, and may be enough of an answer for that first year.

I don't know why I didn't think of this before. I have tried different sorts of charts over the years, but this seems so simple that some of you reading this are probably thinking, duh. I never claimed to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but better to learn late than not at all. My own chart can get a new sticker now. I hope it works, and I hope I remember it when the new school year rolls around!

It's Just the Way It Is

This school year is flying by so fast, I feel I haven't had time to reflect, just to keep moving. We have had a number of furlough days and also started the school year in August instead of after Labor Day- an idea I have yet to understand given that August and September are the hottest months here in SOCAL and thus will COST the school district lots of extra money in air conditioning. But I digress. The point is that we are now in March, and the end of the school year looms. Concerts and festivals and end-of-year events are all being squeezed into a few weeks in May and April.

It feels like we just got back from Winter Break, and we are already looking at Spring Break. People who wonder what teachers do should just step back and look at trying to fit a whole year of knowledge into 175 or so days. I feel for the classroom teachers. But if they have to squeeze all that learning into 175 days, we music teachers must fit all we do into 40 hours...if we're lucky! If we have been able to schedule our classes for two meetings a week, then we might have as much as an hour or an hour and a half a week with our students.

Classroom teachers feel the squeeze of our shorter school year too as they try to cram all their test preparations, special projects and field trips in to their allotted 175 days. Some of those activities overlap the days I have music scheduled. It is not unusual for me, at this time of year, to be sitting in an empty music room because my entire class is taking a test, or is on a field trip, or has a special science presentation. It's just the way it is. But I have to remember not to beat myself up when my first-year students can barely play or recognize or read three notes by this time of year. We would not expect children to learn to read anything or perform any complex task with the number of instructional minutes they have for music. Add to this the fact that most students have really no idea what "practice" means, though I have specifically tried, especially this year, to address this and help them to understand what they are supposed to do at home. 

The solution for these beginners is to find things to do that can reinforce and make fun out of the little bit they have learned. If I can keep them playing till the end of the year, and get them back for a second year, everything changes for them. They will play more in the second year. They will even start to practice, because there are songs they want to play. My mantra for their first year just has to be "keep them playing".

So for beginning string classes, D scales with interesting bowings and rhythmic variations on Hot Cross Buns or Twinkle will get us through the rest of the year. For the beginning winds, a sheet with lots of three-note songs will suffice to make sure they at least know THOSE three notes, really well. They can all play these songs for their spring concert and they will feel like stars. That may be all I can do this year. Next year,( if there is a next year- we face huge budget cuts AGAIN in California) will be even shorter, will start even earlier, and will have just that much more pressure on everyone- classroom teachers, specialist teachers and most of all on students- to achieve the impossible in a few short months.