Thoughts about General Music in Elementary Classes

Music should be taught to all Elementary students on a weekly basis in whole-class groups. Classes should be taught by music specialists, standards-based and sequential. They should be at least one time per week, but twice a week would be even better.

Here are the reasons I say this.

1. Music as pullout only in 4th a 5th grade has many inherent problems. Students can only succeed if they actually go to the music classes with their instruments. They are, by design, torn away from their academic classroom. They miss direct instruction which causes students and classroom teachers much stress, and leads, very often, to students quitting music, as failing their academics is not an option parents or teachers will choose.
2. Students also quit music in 4th a 5th grade because they find out it wasn’t really something they cared much about after all. When presented in the fall with the option of taking music classes many students enroll just out of curiosity. They get swept up in the excitement of doing something outside the classroom, on their own, with their friends. Everyone is signing up, so they do too. Only it turns out, they find in a few weeks, that they don’t have the passion or desire to pursue it, and facing the struggle of keeping up in academic classes, opt out of further music study.
3. Because of the first two reasons, and also because the procurement of an instrument is sometimes out of reach for some students (and there are many reasons for this), music education under this model is not equitable.
4. Many of the VAPA standards for Music assume a General Music focus, and cannot be fully implemented in half-hour, twice-weekly instrumental music classes. Music History, cultural context, general Music literacy and creative, critical thinking are not easily addressed in such classes.

This is not to say that Instrumental Music should not be offered in the upper grades of Elementary School.  If General Music was still taught through Fourth and Fifth grade, even with a pull-out program for the Instrumental part (Which might now more appropriate to offer after school), students would know by this point whether Music is something they are interested to pursue further by focusing on one instrument for a whole year. Instrumental Music would be an enrichment supplement to the core subject of General Music. 

Currently PUSD has whole-class instruction for Third Grade Violin is, in my opinion, good, but would be better if it was cemented in the background of three years of General Music and a continuation of General Music even with the Violin instruction (one day a week violin, one day General Music)

Music is mandated to be taught at all elementary grade levels, while Instrumental Music is not. Instrumental Music instruction is, perhaps, not appropriate for every student. We music teachers can see within a few months which students are going to "get it" and which are not. There are exceptions always. There are students who hang in and struggle for the whole first year, and who suddenly seem to have light bulbs coming on all over in the second year. The secret to their success, in my opinion, is not that some kind of talent kicked in, but that they liked it and persevered. It's the liking that is more important than any congenital talent that makes instrumental music instruction meaningful for them.

In the General Music setting, Music understanding and appreciation can grow, even if students don't achieve any big success on a given instrument. They are learning, like in Math and English Language Arts, and Science and Social Studies, things that we believe all educated people should know.

Why Not Just Teach Rock and Roll

Why we don’t just teach rock and roll classes in public school instead of band and orchestra is a question posed to me this afternoon by our fearless leader, coordinator and supporter of all things art and music in our school district. She was asking because of ongoing conversations she is having with potential funders of our local public school music programs. The obvious answer has to do with the rigor involved in learning a band or orchestra instrument, working both sides of the brain, responding to written stimulus in real time and all that. But it got me thinking: What else? I know the answer to the question she posed has to do with more than cerebral calisthenics. 

For one thing, rock-n-roll has always been the go-to medium for the rebellious teenager. This is what kids do to establish themselves as NOT their parents. The less the parents like it, in some cases, the more the kids do. If we make rock part of the “establishment” by including it as part of a regular school day, we risk institutionalizing the very impetus which allows kids to come to the music of their generation on their own. Of course, I know that as a 60 year old classically trained musician I am never going to be cool enough to run a rad rock program. There are younger, hipper teachers who could for sure, and as facilitators and mentors and critical ears those teachers are invaluable. But kids will learn how to rock on their own, if they are bent that way. Nothing will stop them, and in this age of youtube and so many other online resources there is plenty of help. 

The real reason we don’t, and shouldn’t, focus on rock and roll for our music departments (and I know I sound like a fuddy-duddy even uttering that  phrase) is this: We cannot create a meaningful ensemble experience for 900 children at the elementary level and close to that at the secondary level unless we are teaching classes that allow 50 kids at a time to make music together. A marching or concert band or string orchestra is enhanced by big numbers of participants--the more the merrier. Whereas with a rock and roll- oriented class, unless you have 100 soundproof rooms and 20 teachers per school, you are not going to be able to service all the students who want to play. At best a rock band might have 7 or 8 kids in it, but usually there are more like 4 or 5. And they are loud, so you can’t really have more than one group rehearsing at a time. On the other hand, if you have 50 kids with violins or band instruments in their hands, you will slowly but surely have an orchestra or band that makes music together. This “together” is the best part of music, and yes, rock musicians play together, but not in the numbers that will thrill you if you are part of a 200-member marching band on parade day. Kids in rock bands become fast friends, no doubt, but your orchestra and band friends are a giant family, working toward a common goal. There is, to the extent that we can put instruments in the hands of every kid who wants one, a democracy to band and orchestra class and in this light, a five-piece rock band begins to look like an elitist cordoning off of talents. Not to pursue this chance for children to learn what it feels like to be part of something so big and wonderful with greatest vigor would be a disservice to our students, and this is why we need to support band and orchestra programs. 

Addendum: Since writing this, I have seen several videos of classes of 20-30 kids playing together in a pop music setting, multiple keyboards, guitars, amps, drum sets all working toward a common goal. This is inspiring and at the classroom level can be managed and give everyone something to do to be part of the whole. When I think of our district level events where we are able to hear and see hundreds of students at a time either marching or playing on a stage, this is where the band and orchestra program excels, and it is wonderful to have both experiences available to students at every grade level. 

Balancing Balance: Silver AGAIN!

Yesterday my middle school orchestra made its annual pilgrimage to the Forum Music Festival, and took home for the 5th year in a row a silver rating. This means we are in the top 20% of middle school music ensembles nationally, and for that I am quite proud. But we were sure we had a shot at the gold rating this year, and we are all a little disappointed.

What we got dinged on were things we can control, and things we can't really control, and we got dinged for things that, while they may have been less than gold to the judges, represented HUGE improvements over the course of this past year.

Number one on the judges' written comments had to do with balance. This is something we struggle with constantly due to the size and make-up of our orchestra. In a group of 45, there are 20 strings, 20 winds and 5 percussionists. 6 first violins, 9 seconds, 2 violas, 2 cellos and a bass. We also have for the first time 2 trombones AND a tuba and a couple pretty decent piano players. A horn, 3 alto saxes, a tenor sax, 3 trumpets and 4 clarinets round it all out. So balance is always a challenge. The alto saxes alone can drown out the violins without even trying. Our balance has improved over this year. The kids are sensitive to their part in the whole sound, but they don't always have the skill level to achieve the sounds needed. How does a tenor sax fit into the sound of a symphony orchestra anyway? The cheap violins some of the kids are playing on came from nameless online places without proper setup and crummy bows. Almost all the string instruments are strung up with old strings. Some don't sound that great. I tuned every string instrument myself, and we got dinged for having out-of-tune open strings. They wanted the strings to use more bow. And all I can think is: they should have seen how much bow they used to not use!

Forum Festivals did send around an email/newsletter a while back with some tips about how to improve the sound of any ensemble. We took those suggestions to heart and learned how to breath together, how to listen for the melody and back off if you don't have it, how to start and release together. We talked about and worked on bow placement. We worked on dynamics, and did receive a compliment about that. The percussionists learned how to work together. We worked on breathing, keeping lines going. Everywhere and at all times we fine-tuned pitch. We learned about subdividing beats and finishing phrases. We matched note length and articulation. We got all the bows moving in the same direction.

I haven't listened to the recorded comments yet, but I am really hoping to hear some acknowledgement of those accomplishments.The kids and know what we've done. We know where we were in August, and we know how far we have come. Maybe it would be a neat thing to have a fall festival, where the same judges hear you and then hear you again in the spring to see how much progress has been made. That probably won't ever happen, but thinking about that progress over the course of the year does help me stay focused on doing well for its own sake.

It's been a gratifying journey this year, and I am so proud of these musicians. If balance is important to music, it is also important to life, and I have to balance the work we did with the outcome and realize that top 20% in a nation of school musicians is pretty good. When I think of each individual student's growth and the vast improvement of the whole group, I am overwhelmed. Balance that against the snapshot we present at this festival, and it all pretty much evens out.

C.A.M.P.

Curiosity, Affinity, Motivation, Perseverance.

These are the things I believe people need to succeed at anything, the Arts especially.

Every fall I start hundreds of curious students on band and orchestra instruments. I think that most of them have no idea what the endeavor they have undertaken really demands of them. They are just curious. That, and their friends signed up too. There are a few students at every school who have zero curiosity about playing a musical instrument. If the music instruction is compulsory, they go through the motions, barely, and I can only hope that something has sunk in when all is said and done, and that there will be some residual benefit to their brain development in spite of their lack of interest.

Within a few weeks, I can see the second thing on the list begin to manifest, or not. The students who have chosen an instrument they have affinity for, or those who have affinity for music in general begin to blossom. Their enthusiasm is what I live for. They are the students who run down the hall, across the playground to music class, bring me practice buckets full (more about this below) every week, who say "Yes!" when I say let's play Hot Cross Buns. They may not be the best players at first. Their love of playing may be way ahead of their skills and ability, at first.  The students whose initial Curiosity is their only impulse to play begin to falter, forgetting instruments at home, leaving them in the classroom all week, forgetting to come to class, or choosing to skip class. Some merely-curious students fake it for a while, but without the affinity, they don't last long.

It is in the second or even third year that the real motivation issues come up. Children who have the first two characteristics are self-motivated up to a point. Extrinsic motivations must also be present, in my opinion, to keep them going. Parental support, a growing sense of belonging to something cool, the thrill of performance are just three things that can motivate.

Where I have the most difficulty as a teacher is in this part of the equation. I'm not much for stickers or prizes or charts. What has been fun this year with the elementary students is the "Practice Bucket". It's a 4x4-inch paper with a bucket drawing on it. There are five lines inside that bucket. I tell the students they get to color one lined section for each 20 minute practice session. When they bring the colored buckets back, I hang them up on the wall. They are proud to see their buckets hanging there. (This comes from an idea I read somewhere that the work we do in class fills a small portion of a "bucket". If the students then go home and practice, the bucket fills up and we can move on to another "bucket". If they don't practice, not only does the bucket not fill up, but the work we did in class evaporates.) Even still, there are students who practice- as evidenced by their playing- who don't color their buckets. There are students who color buckets, but don't bring them back to school. And, of course, there are students for whom this is no motivation at all.

At the middle school, we use practice logs, and I started the year with a chart for each class. The class that got the most practice minutes by the end of the semester was going to have a pizza party. Great idea, but only about 3 students ever bothered to fill in and turn in their logs. They were practicing, or not, but the incentive of the pizza party was not enough to spur the lazy ones to practice, and the hard working ones didn't need that incentive. I have tried basing grades on this practice log, and still only get a handful of submissions. So, my part in Motivation remains mysterious to me. When it's there, it's there and when it's not, there's not much I can do, it seems.

The last letter in the acronym- P for Perseverance- is the one that carries the student into high school and beyond and leads to adults who enjoy making music for fun or profit. These are the kids who may have been great or mediocre or even terrible players in the beginning, but who kept coming to class, kept working- even a little- at home, who enjoyed being in concerts, who kept trying and are now maybe the leads in their marching band sections or who aspire to major in music in college. Maybe they are the last chair in the second violin section, but love being there. Maybe they get together with their friends and jam in the garage. Maybe they play in a community orchestra. Maybe they will be doctors or programmers or teachers or parents or join the military, and I believe they will succeed at any of those things, given enough C.A.M.P.

Chalk It Up and Move On

10 holiday shows, over three weeks, with a 90% success rate. Not bad. Yesterday was the 10th show, and all I can say is: It's a good thing the first nine went so well, or I would be starting Winter Break with a giant dose of depression.

There are a number of factors that contributed to yesterday's failure. For starters, this school has been undergoing some major renovation that has resulted in the loss of the music room. There is so much pressure on the one available room that we have had to knock back to one day per week for instrumental music. With the once-a-week model, failure is almost guaranteed. Class attendance has been sparse for the last month, because of projects, field trips and just plain forgetting. Also, because of a shows at other schools, I wasn't available for any rehearsal in the venue. So, yesterday morning, students showed up out of the woodwork with instruments, but no clue what we were going to do with them.

Before we walked across the parking lot to the mega-church where we hold our big school-wide performances, I tried to talk the kids through the expectations of the show. When we got there, I tuned everyone and put them on stage to show them where they should stand. The piano, which I rely on for support both in teaching and performance was way on one side of the stage. The crew said they would move it out for me, but it would have to stay there for the entire program, and no other class would be using it. Since we haven't had a piano in class anyway this year, I opted to leave it out, except for one song.

Instead of playing piano, I pulled my flute and violin out and played along with the students It was still a disaster. Half of the students in each group stood looking like deer in the headlights, frozen and unable to remember how to do anything. One 4th grader spent the whole time mugging the audience and twisting around to see the kids sitting on the risers behind him. We had to start over when the cellos didn't start with us on one song, and when no one started with me on on another.

Finally it was over- maybe 15 minutes all together- and sweating profusely, I ushered the kids off the stage, back to their seats. Walking out later- off to the middle school to finish the day, and leaving before the show was over- a few parents gave me the thumbs up and said "good job". I thanked them, grimacing to let them know that I appreciate their support, even though we both knew it was awful.  In my email later there was a message from a parent who thanked me for letting all the kids play, and reiterated how excited her son is to play trumpet. If this was 15 or 20 years ago, I would have been blubbering to my husband and feeling like I had chosen the wrong profession. I would have been beating myself up. If I hadn't had nine other, excellent shows before that I would have been mortified at this failure. But as it is I can chalk it up as just one in many shows over many years, and keeping my performance mottoes in my back pocket, move on.

Something for Everyone

I've written recently about the joys and challenges of differentiation in the music classroom, and I have had occasion this week to see the rewards and the pitfalls of this most cherished of educational buzzwords. It's winter concert season. I have five schools whose programs will range from classrooms of kids wearing Santa hats singing Rudolph to full-blown displays of performance art of every genre. For my part, I need to have kids on stage, blowing or bowing and making recognizable sounds. Harmonies would be nice.

With the earlier start to the school year, we do get a bit of extra time to prepare this show. But my first motto of performance is "You never finish, you just run out of time", and this proves true, even with the extra month. So I grab at the things the kids can play, try to polish them up and put a holiday shine on them and know that the audience will have something to enjoy.

My second motto is: "It is what it is". It is not the LA Phil. It is not even what they will be able to do next spring, and it's also not what they were able to do last spring, and that is one thing that needs to be addressed in a class with different skill levels all together. In the elementary classes, the second-year students expect, rightfully, that they will be progressing on to music that is challenging to them, showing off their improving abilities. But because of scheduling, it hasn't been possible to develop much repertoire to reflect this. There are a couple songs that we can split out "advanced" parts and "first-year" parts, but some of the few songs we present are going to be, necessarily, beginners' songs- that they played last year.

Even at that, many of the beginners feel overwhelmed by the looming specter of performance. So I give them my third motto: "Fake it till you make it". Keep your instrument up, look like you know what you're doing, and the audience will not know the difference, especially because we DO have the second-year experts playing along. This sets those beginners at ease, and they get the same thrill from the performance experience as the more skilled players. I hope it's enough to keep them going till they get those skills too.

I have had more than a few students try to quit this week. And they fall into two categories. First are the beginners who are scared to death until they understand the three mottoes. Usually a little pep talk is all they need to hang in there. Then there are the advanced players who are just disgusted with me because I haven't challenged them sufficiently and they don't want to play this baby music. To them I say we are just trying to get through a show, here, that everyone can play in. After the holiday, we start working on District Festival music, which will definitely be more difficult. Usually telling them that convinces them to keep at it.

Developing life-long musicians is my goal. Quitting just before the winter concert doesn't achieve anything for anyone, and it's a fine line to walk to keep the music flowing. But it is worth it when I see happy parents, principals and children all basking in the glow of a successful presentation. It doesn't really matter that it was just Hot Cross Buns and Jingle Bells.

I Wish You Could See Them

Friday, in my middle school orchestra, is one of the days I set aside for "collaborative, student-driven" work. I get out of the way, with the only instruction being to work on our repertoire in whatever teams they choose, or, if they prefer, they can work alone on their part. The motivation comes from the drive toward Common Core Curriculum which values collaboration, creativity, communication and critical thinking. The inspiration comes from El Sistema, the Venezuelan approach to music education which, out of necessity, often allows for the controlled chaos of many students practicing different instruments in the same room.

Our room is not large, only the size of a standard classroom, and there are 20 plus kids in each class. I needed, this week, to work exclusively with one 6th grader who was really falling behind, so I didn't even do what I do some weeks: get out an instrument and play with them, which helps me gain a whole new perspective on their parts and the challenges they face. This week I monitored the activity from the corner where my desk is, while focusing most of my attention on one student.

Anyone walking into the room during these sessions would think I am losing my mind, and indeed, sometimes I think I might. But I see things and hear things that set me up for a glowing weekend of happy reflection. The kids take this task seriously, while having great fun. The groups shift around; for awhile there might be a bass playing with a violin and a flute. Later the same violin will pair up with a French horn and alto saxophone. The trombone and tuba will play with the trumpet and a clarinet. Snippets from the entire repertoire bounce around the room, and occasionally, the whole class coalesces into one, playing some piece spontaneously together. Leaders emerge, with one or another picking up a pencil to be the conductor. They absolutely do not care that there are a bunch of other people maybe or maybe not playing the same thing sitting a foot away. They enthusiastically call out the name of the next thing they want to play, they stop for each other and work passages out, they share information about fingerings, shifting, vibrato, things I can't always spend time on. It is noisy. Great work is happily happening. I am not lifting a finger. I wish you could see them.

Affinity, Talent, Olympics and a Music Teacher's Realistic Expectations

The Winter Olympics in Sochi are dominating the news this week, and we are watching young people do amazing things, things no regular human body can do. Indeed, these young people ARE like gods, pulling off feats of strength and agility, balance and speed that truly boggle the mind. And as always happens when I witness such extraordinary accomplishment, my mind wanders back to the question of talent.

The other thing that is dominating my personal world this week is a couple of sections of about 30 measures of music that are part of the program we are preparing for the upcoming La Mirada Symphony concert, of which I am now a member. As it happens, the two things overlap in that a good chunk of those 30 measures can be found in the cello part of John Williams' Olympic Fanfare and Theme, which we are going to perform in a couple weeks. You know the piece. You hear it whenever they start the broadcast of the Prime Time highlights. The rest of the measures are in Charles Ives' Variations on America, also on the program.

These are both great pieces of music, worthy of my best efforts. But, jeeze, John and Charlie! I get it. You wanted a shimmering, sizzling undercurrent of buzzing strings to support the themes riding high in the winds. But do we really have to play ALL those notes? At those speeds? What were you thinking? Do you hate cellists?

Okay, so the scene is set. I have been procrastinating all weekend. I must nail these passages, but I can not see how to do it. I am a fairly accomplished cellist, and back in the day when I practiced 8 hours a day, 5 or 6 days a week, I might have found my way to getting my fingers around these crazy licks. But I have other things to do in the next few weeks.

I have written in these pages before about my beliefs about talent. Namely, that if a person loves something enough, he or she will demonstrate what most people call talent. This passion will manifest early in the very best athletes-they say that Wayne Gretzky as a two-year old cried when the TV hockey games ended- musicians, mathematicians, dancers, etc. And if it is nurtured (or, occasionally and perversely, blocked in some cases) by adults and society, it will eventually bear fruit in the form of a successful career. That's it. I do not believe there is some pixie dust that drops on us from the universe to bestow magic powers on us. We may have certain physical attributes that lend themselves to development, but even those can be overcome, given enough drive to DO the thing. Short basketball players, deaf musicians, blind artists do exist because of affinity for the thing they want to do.

So here's the thing. I have been moaning to my ever-patient husband about the impossibility of the mastery of these passages. I storm around the house crying "Who can PLAY this stuff!? Who can THINK that fast"?! And he turns to me and says "I guess you just don't love it enough" (he has heard my rants about talent and affinity), and I guess he's right. I do love playing my cello, and I love to work things out and enjoy the thrill of nailing a difficult passage, but THIS music seems so pointlessly complicated somehow. And impossible. I guess I never loved playing cello enough to spend eight hours a day when I was little. And I didn't love it enough to obsess over orchestra music in high school or college. I got by. I loved playing when the music was a little challenging, and my efforts would be rewarded quickly. If I had really LOVED it at all those stages along the way, I probably would be able to play those passages now.

And that's what I really want to get to here. This is not really about my own limitations, but about how my students view their own limitations. As we are preparing a 4th year in a row for a shot at a Gold Rating at Forum Festival this spring, I have been badgering my students to practice more, spend the time, woodshed. I wonder if it seems impossible to them, perhaps, that they will be able to play some of this music I have chosen for them. They may not see the point in all those notes. They are kids with other things to do. They have homework, robotics, soccer, social lives, families. Only a handful of them LOVE it in the way that could be construed as talent, and those few are the core of whatever success the group will have. Can I make the others love it more? Should I back off of my badgering? Will some of them get the spark BECAUSE of me pushing them to do something they didn't know they could? Probably there is a little "yes" and a little "no" in the answer to each of these questions.

It's good to remind ourselves periodically what amazing things humans are capable of. These Olympians cause us to spout all the usual words about dedication, perseverance, and, yes, talent. But I really think they just love what they're doing. Why they love it so much is the mystery, perhaps. And that is not to disparage them or the incredible hard work that goes into doing what they do. But without the love, they are just like that kid in the back of the orchestra (maybe that kid is me) who is getting by and letting someone else bring home the gold.

I Love Those J-I-N-G-L-E Bells!

We started school in mid-August this year, and I complained bitterly about it. My internal clock feels lazy in August and it is not until just after Labor Day that I get the urge to jump into the academic year. In addition, here in Southern California, August is typically one of the two hottest months of the year, with temperatures hanging in the high 90s or low 100s. I feel angry that our district which has cut funding for everything from nurses and librarians to classroom, music and P.E. teachers finds the extra dollars to shell out for the non-stop AC that has to run at that time of year to keep our brains cool enough to study.

At the opposite end of the year, we will be cramming all our year-end activities into the few weeks between Spring Break and the last day of school. Last year I was breathless from the breakneck speed of those last few weeks. This year will be worse.

The reason they have put forth for this backing up of the school year into the blazing heat of August is that the high school AP exams will align with college semesters, or something...I am sure I don't understand. But this year I have discovered my own reason to jump on board with the new schedule: "Jingle Bells".

"Jingle Bells" is probably one of the most recognized Christmas holiday songs anywhere in this country. The verse is a catchy little tune, but it is the chorus of this song that everyone knows. As such, it is a great song for beginning musicians to play. They know how it goes, it's fun and a little challenging, and-best of all- it has only 5 notes.

The thing is, in the old schedule, we would have about 2 months of classes- 8-16 depending on the school to get it down before Christmas. Sometimes we don't get the hang of three notes in two months, let alone 5. It is always fun to include it on a Winter Concert, but with only that many lessons, it used to be a stretch. Now, with the added month before the holidays, "Jingle Bells" is really do-able and  rewards the work the kids put into it. Also, the nature of the song- its familiarity, the strokes they get at home for playing a song everyone knows, the little bit of challenge- is motivating and causes practicing to happen. They will be ready to perform it on the Winter Concert. And when we get back from Winter Break, they will be ready to tackle some real music.

Next year, when it's 105 degrees out and the lazy dog days of summer melt into the first days of school, I have to remind myself about this. I promise I won't complain, much.

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.

Things They Don't Tell You in Music Teacher School-Part I String Class

I have been teaching music in the public schools here in Pasadena for over 15 years now, and there are things I now know that I did not when I started. This is to be expected with even the best training and education, but I really think that some of the things I now know can only be learned with experience. I also know that in several years, I will look back at this time now and think how much more I know then.

I remember in my credentialing classes, there was much discussion of being a "reflective teacher", that is, taking time from the busy-ness of the day-to-day management of classroom and schedule to think about what works and what doesn't. I am a reflective person by nature, and therefore much of my drive time, early morning time, immediately-after-a-class time is spent in just such reflection. So in the spirit of collegial sharing, maybe I can spark a fellow teacher's own reflections by offering some of my own. Here, in no particular order, are some of the things I have learned. And in the interest of keeping this blog-length, rather than novel-length, and getting SOMETHING out in a timely fashion, I will publish as I go. So here is the first installment:

About Stringed Instruments....

• Dry weather makes tuning a nightmare. The solution for this is Peg Drops. One or two drops on each peg where it fits into the pegbox makes this nightmare go away.
• Playing pizzicato (as I do with beginner classes a lot) is likely to pull strings out of tune- especially on dry days.
• String classes need to be 45 minutes. If you have a large class you will need 15 minutes to tune all the instruments, adjust cello straps, fix broken strings, reset bridges, rosin bows. If you can't get a 45 minute class, then it can also work to have the students drop off instrments ahead of time, on their way to recess, say, or as they come in in the morning, so that you can tune, etc. before they even come. I recently read an article in American String Teacher (often a source of really good advice) about letting kids tune their own instruments, thereby giving you the time for the other things in this pre-class list, but I do not recommend this at the elementary level. You will just have more broken strings, and your group will not be in tune.
• Kids are fascinated by rosin. I usually don't supply rosin for every instrument, but do, periodically, rosin every bow as I tune every instrument. But once kids have seen rosin, they want it. And they want to know what it is, what it is made of, what it's for. They tell each other it is soap, grease, stuff for cleaning. Then when they have it on their bows, they are alarmed at the white powder it leaves. I tell them to ask for some for their birthday or Christmas. And then I give them a cloth with which to wipe it off the instrument and strings.
• Close is good enough at first. Even with tapes on the fingerboard for finger placement, it takes a while to get the hang of putting fingers ON the tapes. Even with a sponge for a shoulder rest, it takes a while to get good posture and straight wrists. Even with weeks of instruction on how to hold a bow, you may NEVER have every bow perfect. You just keep gently reminding. My mantra goes something like this "sit up straight and tall on the front edge of your chair, beautiful bow hands, both feet flat on the floor, straight wrist, violin parallel the floor, bow perpendicular to the string" (Do you like the math connection???) The important thing is to MAKE SOME MUSIC!

I would love to hear from other music teachers. What have you learned from your years in the trenches? Can I include your suggestions- properly credited, of course?

Into the Woodshed

"Take that home and woodshed it!"
                     - Charles Roberts, Greece Arcadia High School Band Director circa 1970


These are the words of my high school band director. This is one of the many sayings he had that he harangued us with, badgering us to do better, be better. And we loved him for it. What he alluded to, I guess, was the practice of going to the woodshed for a spanking, a dubious practice designed to make neurotic adults out of misbehaving children, but when applied to music meant to beat all the mistakes out of it. I have been thinking a lot lately about the merits of practice, what it takes to get kids to practice, and who really benefits from practicing. We have just finished a grading period at the middle school and are rapidly approaching concert time, and so this has been at the forefront of my focus for my classes.

What brought this into sharp focus for me yesterday was a silly and cute video that was making the rounds of two very small children sparring in a Tae Kwon Do test for their next belt. The two children, in full sparring gear, hop up and down on their toes, make sporadic kicks, but never once connect with each other. Having sat through many such tests at a school here in So Cal, I knew that those kids would both be granted their new belts. My husband, Jon, has always contended that in commercial martial arts classes, students progress through their belts by "testing" and always "pass" no matter whether they can demonstrate the skills required at that level or not. Many adults (my stepdaughter, say) take those tests very seriously and practice hard for them. But we have been to several of her tests and watched the little kids get their next belt when they barely made it through the test. My stepdaughter's brown belt is NOT the same as the brown belt won by a 1st grader, but getting that belt assures the school that the 1st grader's parents will keep paying for classes. This cheapens the belt test, and if you're an adult, you have to wonder if you would have gotten your belt anyway, even if you couldn't get through your forms or break a board.

It was testing week in my middle school class last week, and I am sitting here at the end of it, puzzling. This is the only thing, besides participation that I have to grade them on for this five weeks. We have a concert coming up in 10 days. The seventh and eighth graders have been through testing many times, and approached their tests with one of three attitudes: 1) terrified 2) don't care 3) care enough to work on the music at home to get it right. The sixth graders, for the most part, took this experience really seriously, and it was in that class that I saw the most dramatic improvements in skill. What several of the sixth graders accomplished in the last two weeks is nothing short of amazing, and all of them understood the importance of the test and what it means for the overall achievement of the orchestra for them to do well.

I think my mind is chewing on the issue of practicing because as a child and teenager, I, myself, didn't really believe that practicing would make any difference. I had some kind of block that prevented me from knowing that practice actually improved my performance. This was partly due to the fact that I was, from early on, a pretty good sight player and reader and could fake my way through lessons even well into middle school. I was the sort of kid, and I have met many like me in my teaching, who easily mastered things at a certain level, and instantly became frustrated when the level got past my easy mastery. I didn't know, until I was doing Master's work on cello performance, how much I could really achieve by systematic, careful, slow and abundant practice. I had always thought, before that, that somehow people were just ABLE to play difficult music, because, I don't know...they were magic! And since I didn't have that magic, I was doomed to mediocrity.

I also have been watching my husband learn the ukulele. I got him one for his birthday in September, and he has devoted many, many hours to learning chords, songs and strumming patterns, until now he is amazed and delighted that he can play some things with unconscious ease, making real music on his own for the first time in his life. He echoes back to me what I have said to him in our discussions of my own classes: "If you like it, you'll practice it".

So why is it important to me that my students understand the value of practice? Maybe this is the question I should really ask myself. When a student ends up in tears because of the pressure of performing and my expectations, have I really accomplished anything? Can I get them to care when they don't? Can I SHOW them how much they can achieve when they put the time in? When does individual practice turn into individual self-confidence? Should I be easier on the kids, not make them play for a grade? Give them all 3 (my highest mark) even when they can't get through the assigned passages?

The last two questions are the ones that have been eating at me all weekend. All the kids hate this test, some more than others. But for some the fear has spurred them to work harder and master all or part of the whole. Some moved forward a few inches in their skill level, and some just crashed and burned, with nary a backward glance. They all recognized excellence in their peers and roundly applauded after tests that earned a 3. But my grading system also takes into account other factors. For instance, several of the students in both classes are first year players and I measured their success by how far they have come, evidence of individual practice, and willingness to put themselves on the line. They might not get a 3, but could get close, just by stepping up and making progress.

Another video that came to me yesterday shows extreme athletes doing impossible things. I can't even begin to imagine what the practice looks like to achieve such impossibility. But there they are, flying, jumping, skiing, climbing in the most IN-human ways. They were not born with these abilities. No human is. And it's not magic. Somehow, they practiced.

But I have spent the weekend thinking about this: If I cheapen the test, to save some from embarrassment or failure, then I am really telling ALL the students that I don't think they are very capable. When I set a high standard and make everyone measure up, I am telling my students that I have confidence in their ability to achieve great things. There is no magic, no special birthright here. Instruction helps, but "taking it home and 'woodshedding' it" is really the only thing that stands between failure and success.