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.
Showing posts with label practice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label practice. Show all posts
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Sunday, December 11, 2011
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.
- 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.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
'Tis the Season... Part II
It has been quite a week. It started with the "strolling" musicians of San Rafael Elementary, and ended with packing up a good chunk of the music room at Sierra Madre Middle School to move it to the elementary campus where the auditorium is.
The Monday morning stroll was fun for all. The classes we visited seemed to appreciate the music as much as the break in their routine. The musicians stepped right up to the challenge and did their best. The one surprise came from the kindergartens where several children in each room covered their ears upon hearing the first notes of the flutes. Now, the two boys playing flutes did a good job; the covered ears are no reflection on their skill or ability. Rather, I think it just had to do with the fact that most people these days are not accustomed to live music being performed in close proximity. This is another reason I love the strolling option for school performances.
The Middle Schoolers at Sierra Madre have been putting the finishing touches on their repertoire for next week's all-instrumental program. This is the first time in the 15 years I have worked at that school that the instrumental musicians will be featured on their own concert. I am really excited about this, and while the show is going to be short, it is going to be very sweet.
A couple kids in the orchestra asked me last week if we could do something we had done last year. I had forgotten about this activity, though last year when we did it, it had been a big hit. It is an activity that consists of several parts. First we play through one of their pieces. Then we play through it again and record it. Right after the recording the kids take a minute to reflect on their own performance and write (on a grid sheet I make for this purpose) something they did well and something they need to work on. Next, we listen to the recording, and afterwards they write about their section (flutes, first violins, etc) and also the group as a whole. When they are finished writing, a few kids can talk about their observations. Of course, I get to throw in a few as well.
I'm not sure why they love this activity so, but I'm really glad they do, and I will certainly do it again as we get close to their next concert. I guess it partly has to do with hearing themselves in the recording. They are both thrilled and horrified...if that makes any sense. They are amazed that it sounds as good as it does, and also shocked that is doesn't sound as good as they imagined. But the thing that's really amazing is how focused they get when it's time to write. They go right to work and are quiet in a way that they aren't at any other time except during tests. Their observations are usually astute and accurate. They are never cruel, and they understand their own part in the overall sound. If our experience from last year with this activity is any indicator, their performance at the concert on Tuesday will be amazing because of the focus on details in this stage of the preparation. But maybe the best part of this activity is the excitement it generates. When we ran out of time on Thursday, and couldn't listen to the recording they had just made of the Hallelujah Chorus, they let out a singular groan. Usually they are looking at their watches and telling me it's time to go. But they would have stayed late to hear that recording.
Another thing that has happened, coincidentally maybe, not sure... is that two of the kids who had till now been really not playing very well suddenly stepped up and were heard. One is my single trombone player. He has always been enthusiastic about playing, but this year as a newcomer in the Middle School group he had suddenly become shy and wouldn't play. Yesterday as we finished our last song, I realized I HAD been hearing the trombone, for the first time all year. And as I put the baton down I looked right at him and said "I LOVE hearing the trombone!" to which the entire class responded with a resounding cheer. Had they heard it too? Yes. Wow.
The other child, a sixth grade violinist who has been faking it since third grade, came in on Thursday excited that she had learned Canon (Pachelbel). "It's so easy", she told me. And as she sat in her chair warming up on her own, I could hear that she actually was playing the piece. And yesterday she came in saying she had practiced 60 minutes Thursday night, and had a practice slip to turn in as well. With this jump in skill level in both of these kids, I can say that we now have an orchestra with no "dead wood". This is a first for this group, for this school.
At Field Elementary the Beginning Band, all 40 of them, and the Advanced Strings took part in the Winter Assembly. It was barely-controlled chaos, as that school has only a cafeteria with a stage to service as an auditorium. It's not big enough to contain all the performers and audience, so traffic management is a big issue. Even so, it was a great show, and I was especially happy to see the giant group of beginners demonstrate their new skills. Putting the instrument together and blowing into it to make a sound is a huge accomplishment, and I was very proud of them and looking forward to their spring concert.
A few action-packed days to go, and then a nice break. How did we get HERE so fast?
The Monday morning stroll was fun for all. The classes we visited seemed to appreciate the music as much as the break in their routine. The musicians stepped right up to the challenge and did their best. The one surprise came from the kindergartens where several children in each room covered their ears upon hearing the first notes of the flutes. Now, the two boys playing flutes did a good job; the covered ears are no reflection on their skill or ability. Rather, I think it just had to do with the fact that most people these days are not accustomed to live music being performed in close proximity. This is another reason I love the strolling option for school performances.
The Middle Schoolers at Sierra Madre have been putting the finishing touches on their repertoire for next week's all-instrumental program. This is the first time in the 15 years I have worked at that school that the instrumental musicians will be featured on their own concert. I am really excited about this, and while the show is going to be short, it is going to be very sweet.
A couple kids in the orchestra asked me last week if we could do something we had done last year. I had forgotten about this activity, though last year when we did it, it had been a big hit. It is an activity that consists of several parts. First we play through one of their pieces. Then we play through it again and record it. Right after the recording the kids take a minute to reflect on their own performance and write (on a grid sheet I make for this purpose) something they did well and something they need to work on. Next, we listen to the recording, and afterwards they write about their section (flutes, first violins, etc) and also the group as a whole. When they are finished writing, a few kids can talk about their observations. Of course, I get to throw in a few as well.
I'm not sure why they love this activity so, but I'm really glad they do, and I will certainly do it again as we get close to their next concert. I guess it partly has to do with hearing themselves in the recording. They are both thrilled and horrified...if that makes any sense. They are amazed that it sounds as good as it does, and also shocked that is doesn't sound as good as they imagined. But the thing that's really amazing is how focused they get when it's time to write. They go right to work and are quiet in a way that they aren't at any other time except during tests. Their observations are usually astute and accurate. They are never cruel, and they understand their own part in the overall sound. If our experience from last year with this activity is any indicator, their performance at the concert on Tuesday will be amazing because of the focus on details in this stage of the preparation. But maybe the best part of this activity is the excitement it generates. When we ran out of time on Thursday, and couldn't listen to the recording they had just made of the Hallelujah Chorus, they let out a singular groan. Usually they are looking at their watches and telling me it's time to go. But they would have stayed late to hear that recording.
Another thing that has happened, coincidentally maybe, not sure... is that two of the kids who had till now been really not playing very well suddenly stepped up and were heard. One is my single trombone player. He has always been enthusiastic about playing, but this year as a newcomer in the Middle School group he had suddenly become shy and wouldn't play. Yesterday as we finished our last song, I realized I HAD been hearing the trombone, for the first time all year. And as I put the baton down I looked right at him and said "I LOVE hearing the trombone!" to which the entire class responded with a resounding cheer. Had they heard it too? Yes. Wow.
The other child, a sixth grade violinist who has been faking it since third grade, came in on Thursday excited that she had learned Canon (Pachelbel). "It's so easy", she told me. And as she sat in her chair warming up on her own, I could hear that she actually was playing the piece. And yesterday she came in saying she had practiced 60 minutes Thursday night, and had a practice slip to turn in as well. With this jump in skill level in both of these kids, I can say that we now have an orchestra with no "dead wood". This is a first for this group, for this school.
At Field Elementary the Beginning Band, all 40 of them, and the Advanced Strings took part in the Winter Assembly. It was barely-controlled chaos, as that school has only a cafeteria with a stage to service as an auditorium. It's not big enough to contain all the performers and audience, so traffic management is a big issue. Even so, it was a great show, and I was especially happy to see the giant group of beginners demonstrate their new skills. Putting the instrument together and blowing into it to make a sound is a huge accomplishment, and I was very proud of them and looking forward to their spring concert.
A few action-packed days to go, and then a nice break. How did we get HERE so fast?
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