student teachers

R – I was going through goober music teachers and was somewhat surprised to realize that I’ve never written a blog post on student teachers. Working with them has been one of the great joys of my career for many reasons. I even started this blog with Jarika who student taught with me in 2011 – and I’m still trying to become half the teacher she is. I’ve written before about how I believe we give younger teachers short shrift (nothing to learn from beginning teachers) but not about those in the final phases of their training. Currently, Emma Donahue is a 5th year intern pursuing her Masters degree and she’s with me this Semester through December. Just four weeks in, it has been an incredible reminder of how lucky I am to be involved in this kind of work with preservice teachers.

Yesterday after school we made sure her new laptop was uploading student video submissions from google classroom to doctopus so she could also be assessing them along with me from home. We got it running and ran through a few of the videos together to calibrate our thinking (these were of the treble choir sight reading in class from earlier in the week). It was a fascinating time we spent. We watched the first singer and Emma noted that her voice was somewhat breathy. We had already assessed her jaw/mouth placement and were now onto tone. Our discussion was centered around the difference between tone; voice placement (ring/loft; resonance/space) and vocal production. My premise is that placement is post production and an entirely separate indicator. It’s not that one doesn’t impact or even inform the other, it’s that they are two separate things. In addition, I can hold a student completely academically accountable for placement – that’s a cognitive choice (as long as I’ve done my job) – but production goes to a point beyond what I can hold a student academically accountable for. We have to find the time to work with them on it for sure, but it is not a formal indicator. Emma and I talked about that. She was in the position of having to deconstruct that singer’s sound to the point of determining placement, all the while hearing and seeing other issues. It’s a challenging multi-task. She scored the student remarkably well on that and the other indicators, provided written feedback, submitted it, and we went on to the next student. Emma was surprised at hearing a strong, healthy production and placement from this Sophomore because this same student did not generally sing out in class to the same degree. We discussed why and Emma scored her indicators. We went on to one more. Breathiness issues again, but this time we could pinpoint some specifics why as they pertain to our indicators. The corresponding lower scores were put in place because of the rubric attached to them, and appropriate feedback was provided so the student could demonstrate improvement next time. Emma also sent the request of having the student sign up for academic intervention time to work with her on it for a few minutes for the purpose of giving her some pointers. I’m looking forward to watching that.

What happened here wasn’t just the routine assessment of some of our singers. It was a process that required us to dig deeper into student achievement and what building blocks are in place that we not only can control, but have an obligation to address. How do we address them? How do we tease out individual small grain size building blocks and address them individually and independently so that we can bring them all together and synthesize them by the end of the school year? What deductive reasoning can we use when we listen and watch the video assessments? What are the sequential steps we can take with each student? This time together was a microcosm of what having a student teacher is like. And while it is instructive for the student teacher, it’s a turbo charger for me because I a) have to articulate my own beliefs and understandings and b) do so in a way that is transparent and coherent. And if I can’t? That should be a huge red flag for me… and¬†for my administration who has me under a professional contract to be a competent educator. A few other thoughts:

  • Emma is my 24th student teacher in my career, and there is one common thread every single one of them have: not one OUNCE of their success was attributed – in any way whatsoever – to how well they did on their Senior Recital. Thanks to higher ed, a ton of my time is getting my student teachers to transition from their “performance” mindset to an “analytical observation” mindset. My most successful student teachers are the ones who did so, and viewed the analytical observation part as the most rewarding component of their placement. Emma is one of them: she is already discovering that if she nails down 13 different things simultaneously while in front of her students, I can identify 2 or 3 things she missed ūüėČ What this is doing however is causing HER to become that analytical as well, and she’s now running with it. The resulting growth in her teaching pedagogy and acumen is literally occurring on a daily basis. She is feeding the analytical side of her mind, she is now standing in front of her classes with that approach, her lesson plans and on-her-feet thinking reflect it, and she is blossoming. Today, four weeks in, I would happily hire her as a teacher in my own school district for that reason.
  • What’s happening now for Emma with each new experience in front of the kids is a football quarterback analogy I’ve used so many times over the years. With regard to progression as a teacher, there are maybe five or six Heisman Trophy winning quarterbacks in the last 50 years who have even been remotely successful in the pros. Talent really won’t help you any more at that point. Rather, if your approach and mindset is spot on, the game gradually starts slowing down. To a rookie quarterback, the safety blitz is a killer because it just comes out of nowhere too quickly to react in any positive way. To a veteran quarterback, they not only see it coming sooner, their thought process is so quick that they don’t even think of how to respond, they just already instinctively know and do the right response. The better ones even use it to their advantage because they have enough mental time to look at their options and make the defense pay for it. They think it that quickly. If you’re Tom Brady, it even gets to the point that you, “already have all the answers to the test”. Every blitz is literally slow-motion to him. The game slows down. That’s one of the most awesome transitions to see in a student teacher and facilitating this transformation is about the most fun a cooperating teacher can have.
  • I believe a misconception of student teaching is the “mini me” mindset, not only for the student teacher but perhaps too often for the cooperating teacher as well. “Watch what I do so you can learn how to do it too.” Obviously, if you’re worth anything at all, any student teacher (any peer for that matter) can learn from various things you do and adopt it into their regimen. On the other hand, I have told every one of my 24 the same thing when they began: that they can do anything they want. Anything at all, even if – ESPECIALLY if – it is different from what or how I do things, and that this time with the students is a blank canvas for them. But: I’m going to ask them why they do everything they do… and they had better have a pedagogically sound answer for me or it’s not going to end well. It is not sufficient to “do” the right thing, because the “right thing” is 100% subjective. The right thing for the choral program at York High School might be the polar opposite of the right thing at Keene High School where I student taught over 30 years ago. But if you – any teacher at all – can articulate the pedagogical “why” behind what you do, there is no discussion to be had. And isn’t THAT the goal for a student teacher to achieve? I could go on an on for hours about the impact Jean Nelson had on me when I student taught with her at Keene. The greatest gift I believe she gave me however was the gift of allowing me to develop my own teaching style and strategies while holding me insanely accountable. I’ll never forget her words to me when I started. Jean is a brilliant piano player and I on the other hand was a “claw”. I was very nervous about student teaching because of my lack of piano skills. But she began by telling me this: “…you have the rest of your career to learn how to become a good rehearsal pianist, but you only have these four short months with me to learn how to become a good rehearsal technician, and that’s what you’re going to focus on.” She never once allowed me behind the keyboard. I quickly started to wish she had! The minutia with which she asked me questions and held me accountable was never ending, but it caused me to start becoming a teacher. Better yet, she allowed me to become ME, not her. Did I take dozens of things she did and incorporate them into my own teaching? Of course. But she also allowed me to experiment with my own ideas, teach with my own style – not because mine was better, but because it was an extension of me. When I got my first teaching gig, I would stay through after school routinely, sometimes through supper, working on my piano chops. And I indeed needed more student face-time in the years to come to continually refine my craft. But I showed up on day one to Bellows Falls Union High School knowing the reason behind everything I did, and I knew it was pedagogically sound. Consequently, I showed up believing that I was a damn good teacher… thanks to Jean.
  • There is another myth about student teachers, that the actual students suffer when someone new and unexperienced get in front of them. Well, it depends on your definition of “suffer”. Do things slow down? Yup. Emma told me yesterday of her frustration that the Treble Choir is moving so slowly through a song much less challenging to them than a song I’m teaching that they’re flying through. But she’s not moving them any slower than I did 30 years ago. It’s part of the process. Mistakes will be made along the way too. So be it. The question is, do you have an environment in your program in which students are taught to learn from everything and everyone around them? How does a student teacher in that environment not invigorate the students’ learning process? Do you have an environment in your program in which you make it transparent that you, as the teacher, have much to learn and that it is equally transparent that you are learning too? Do you have an environment where the students take as much pride in watching a student teacher progress as you do? God bless you if you don’t, but my experience at KHS was extraordinary in large part because that’s the environment that was provided me. And I refuse to have one at York that denies a student teacher, and my students, and ME those same opportunities. We don’t suffer with a student teacher: we grow. I just about fell out of my chair taking notes on Emma’s teaching two weeks ago when, in something like her third warmup ever, she took the kids in a circle, and had them sing in four part harmonies on crunchy numbers like I do. But she instead decided to work on blend as a learning target for that warmup, and instead had them sing “ooo” while holding up the fingers of the numbers they were singing. I’ve never thought to do that. It was nothing short of emma trebleextraordinary, and suddenly there were overtones in the room which prompted further discussions about the essentialness of blending vowel sounds, including and especially the inconvenient ones (sorry solfege). That was the springboard for the work we are now doing with them on vowel formation. My mind was blown and now I have a new warmup I will be incorporating the rest of my career. I can give more than few other examples from my other student teachers in years past (precisely because they weren’t “mini me”s btw). Does this sound like my program is “suffering” from having a student teacher?
  • I’ve already alluded to it, but I have to state unequivocally: I am the teacher I am today because of my student teachers. Every one of them had and have strengths and weaknesses… just like me. When I teach, I require them to take notes as if they were my college supervisor and ask leading questions afterwards about everything I did. The pedagogical reason for this is so I can evaluate them on the types and the quality of the questions they’re asking me. I discover what they are thinking and observing… and what they are not! This informs my further work and discussions with them. But the Randy Pausch head fake is that I grow exponentially through this process too. I have to be accountable for every syllable I say, every action I do, every vocal and physical inflection I make, because my student teachers will eventually question me about each and every one. There is no greater professional development than a post observation discussion about the “why” behind the “what” (quick insert here, there’s only two reasons to question someone: 1. because it’s a passive/aggressive way to disagree or 2. because you genuinely want to learn from that person and asking them leading questions is how you do so… isn’t it a shame we live in a society where the cultural default assumption seems to be reason #1?). When you have a student teacher, this professional development of questioning and discussion occurs on a daily basis. Even when the roles are reversed. When I sit back and take the notes on my student teacher, I have to be really clear with my questions, and I have to be really sure I know what I’m talking about if I call them out for something. Yesterday, I quickly, almost subconsciously wrote down a three pronged approach to my philosophy of kinesthetic learning in the choral rehearsal. I’ve never done so before, I’ve never been able to before, and then I looked down at her lesson plan and my scribbling: and there it was. No joke, the growth in a student teacher is crazy significant during their time with you. But if you are authentic about providing pedagogical feedback, you will find yourself doing the growing too.

I interview every single potential student teacher before I commit to them, for the purpose of seeing if they actually want to be a teacher or if it’s just a peripheral interest. I have no patience for a twenty-something standing in front of my kids with less than a 100% commitment to all it takes to become a master at this craft. My students deserve better. But for those who are committed? After Emma and I finished calibrating our assessment scores yesterday after school, it was about half an hour beyond what we had planned. She thanked me for taking the time and also for the additional work it requires to have her with me this Fall. I told her right off that in no way is it extra work. She didn’t accept that. She came right back at me: “You find it fulfilling, but that doesn’t mean it’s not extra work. It is extra work. That’s not the same thing.” Color me called out ūüôā And yes, she’s dead on correct. Working with student teachers is extra work. It’s extra work, extra time, extra energy, extra commitment, extra expectations. But it is also hands down one of the most fulfilling things I can be a partner in, causing me to grow and become even more proficient at something that is the passion of my life. How could that ever feel like work?¬†Every student teacher I’ve ever had has made me a better teacher, and each one has also made me a better student teaching cooperating teacher as well. Best yet, in every case it’s also been an opportunity to thank Jean Nelson for all she gave me at Keene High School by simply paying it forward. And all this is why, often as much as my students, my student teachers have been some of the greatest blessings – to me – of my career.

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imperfect offering

R- As I tuned in the car to MPBN one day last Summer, I was listening to a social scientist by the name of Richard Matthew talking about his work in the Congo and some pretty interesting stories and perspectives. As he spoke, he referenced a friend of his by the name of James Orbinski who referred to humanitarian work as an imperfect offering: “There’s never enough resources to help, and sometimes you do the wrong thing and sometimes you don’t understand things fully. But you still have to do something.” That really resonated with me as an educator.

If you’re now expecting me to find a connection between humanitarian work in the Congo and teaching in America, don’t hold your breath. But I would argue that there is a profound correlation between teaching in America and the idea of an “imperfect offering”. Good teaching to me has the following components:

  • Integrity. Honesty and consistency of character is either at the forefront of who you are as a teacher or you shouldn’t be in the profession. Students and colleagues see what you do. You are either a reflection of the better world we all want this to be or you’re something less. There’s only one road to follow here.
  • Pedagogy. If what you practice and do is not founded in research, exploration, study and observation, don’t kid yourself into thinking you’re doing okay. There is a reason there has been so much research and academic reflection on good practice. You’re equally kidding yourself if you think that your undergraduate and even graduate studies successfully check off this component for you. It’s the year-to-year learning through reading and discovery that allows you to teach with authority. The key is to not follow every tenet like a lemming, but rather to know “why” you do what you do. If the answer isn’t reflected in foundational pedagogy, you’re building your house on sand.
  • Originality. There are so many great lines out there, and I don’t even know who to attribute most of them to, but I’ll use an appropriate one here: “Be the best ‘you’ that you can be.” Look through history, look even through your own past. The people who made great contributions to you, your life, none of them were trying to be someone they weren’t. I think the great transition for teachers is morphing from 1) learning what to do and when, 2) knowing what to do and when without having to think about it, 3) incorporating #2 into their own unique style and presence. I believe anyone can be a great teacher. But only Steve Smith could ever have been Steve Smith. Only Jean Nelson could ever have been Jean Nelson. Only Dennis Cox could ever have been Dennis Cox. Get the point?
  • Empathy. Again, if you don’t possess this to a high degree, you’re in the wrong profession. Get out of your own self while in the classroom and get into the minds and psyches of your students. Individually, how are they doing? What do they need? Where are they coming from? Your “agenda” as a teacher is barely worth the paper your lesson plan is typed on until you incorporate this one component into your teaching. After doing so, you are an incredibly invaluable link to your students and their future. They need assistance from caring, empathetic people in their lives. One could argue that teaching with “tough love” is equally important. I would argue in response that tough love is still love, and tough love still requires empathy. The opposite of empathy, to me, is actually apathy. If you complete your day of teaching, and you don’t know how your kids were doing as people that day, you really missed the target and I question your true value to your school and to your students.
  • Consistency. This to me is the toughest one. We aren’t robots, we’re actual people with good days and bad days. Having to be consistent with our expectations, how we treat people, how we deliver our curriculum, how we keep kids first. I know as a statement of fact that this is a great, great challenge. But the degree to which we accomplish this facet is the degree to which we build trust in our students. And the degree our students trust us is the degree to which we can make an impact on them, academically and personally/interpersonally.

Good teaching does not however include being perfect, because it isn’t possible. There’s never enough resources, sometimes you do the wrong thing and sometimes you don’t understand things fully.¬†My first few years of teaching I would come home every day and beat myself up over how I didn’t successfully carry out one or more of my goals as I tried to be a good teacher. 30+ years later that’s been reduced to only 1 time every week or two ūüėČ But here is where the great yet simple quote from Fleetwood Mac singer¬†Lindsey Buckingham comes in: “If you’re any good at all, you know you can be better.” An imperfect offering is not accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. It’s accompanied instead by self reflection and the final, most important component of great teaching: Perseverance. In the history of mankind, there has never been a “perfect” musical performance. By anybody. That hasn’t stopped any of us from trying. I hope every colleague reading this blog post enjoys a wonderful school year of their own imperfect offering and all it entails while practicing that never ending journey of becoming a great teacher.

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why proficiency worked… in the arts

R – This is Goobermusicteachers‘ 100th blog post. It’s fitting that it’s on this topic. The Maine Proficiency Law, ¬ß4722-A. Proficiency-based diploma standards and transcripts was voted into law in 2012. Six years later, it is removed from law. I have my own theories of why. Technology was fundamentally unable to transparently support the work. Communities across Maine made it clear that they were more interested in how their High School kids did compared to other High School kids (grades) as opposed to transparently reporting what their kids actually knew… or didn’t (standards). Schools were given no direction from the Department of Education because, after all, this is a “local control” state. Schools were all over the map with regard to implementation. Post Secondary Education largely doesn’t concern itself with the issues directly confronting High Schools, and therefore did not universally adopt standards scores for admission (can’t fault the parents for that one). The crime here is that thousands – tens of thousands – have said all along that this all won’t last. It will be rescinded, it will end up being like every other “big thing” that’s come down the pike: worthless and a mistake.

This big thing was not worthless and it wasn’t a mistake. And not just because I say so.

Big picture, this big thing was the first one that required us to look at student achievement, as opposed to achievement tools (see “Assessments; Common Local” ca 2006…). And we actually had to be precise about what students knew. This forced us to have very deep discussions about why we do what we do, measure what we measure. And there is no way an educator with an ounce of integrity in their bones could claim that this process of self-examination – for those with equally enough integrity to have authentically done so – wasn’t exceedingly valuable for that reason if nothing else.

How does this apply to the arts? The topic for this blog post.

Looking back to when a few of us founded the Maine Arts Assessment Initiative (now Maine Arts Leadership Initiative) in 2010, it is too easy to forget the landscape back then. We were just coming out of the Common Local Assessment saga and the DOE was in the process of a re-boot. For the arts, we were still wrestling with the pros and cons of the 2007 re-release of the Maine Learning Results and not really moving too fast in any productive direction. The objective of MAAI was the following:

OVERALL GOALS:
1. Create an environment in Maine where assessment in arts education is an integral part of the work all arts educators do to promote arts education.
2. To build on the exemplary work of curriculum, instruction, and arts assessment to continue to provide and expand on quality arts education programs for all Maine students.
OBJECTIVES:
1. Devise a statewide plan for arts education
2. Include professional development opportunities, regionally and statewide to expand on the knowledge and skills of teachers to improve teaching and learning
3. Build on the capacity of arts educators. Utilize technology to gather existing resources, make resources available and create new resources

My own informal goal was based on my experience at the New England Arts Assessment Institute at Plymouth State that Summer: that if we are to ever move the needle with regard to essentialness of Arts Education for our PK-12 students and in our PK-12 schools, then we’d better start getting serious about actually being academic. I’ve written many blog posts over the years alluding to fraudulent high school music programs all over the country practicing as fundamentally co-curricular activities but doing so cleverly disguised as academic subjects, bastardizing our entire profession as a result. It was time in 2010 to put put up or shut up about music education being an essential academic subject. My conviction then and my conviction now is that this is embodied and informed through our assessment practices. This also happens to hold true for visual as well as performing arts.

MAAI’s first attempt at bringing assessment into the arts dialogue was met in-house with a LOT of trepidation: if we hold a conference devoted to assessment, will anybody actually show? “Assessment” in the arts was a dirty word. After much debate we decided to be transparent about our goals and our process as it tied to the importance of assessment. We ended up holding our first¬†biennial statewide conference in October of the following Fall. Back to the Future: Arts Assessment For Learning was held at USM in Portland. We decided that our big, audacious goal would be to have 200 attendees. We knew we wouldn’t get anywhere close, but believed we could at least bend that needle a bit. Not only did we meet the 200 threshold, we had to expand that number the week of the conference when registrations kept pouring in. When it was all said and done, 225 visual and performing arts teachers attended 17 workshops on assessment (a¬†month later Jarika and I started this blog). Proof that the time was right for this work? This was the Fall PRIOR to the Proficiency Law being introduced and passed in Augusta. Once it was, the work of MAAI took off.¬†Exactly two years later, that same biennial statewide conference saw 230 visual and performing arts teachers attend 35 workshops on assessment related topics. MAAI teacher leaders presented their workshops multiple times to over 300 educators during the 2013-14 school year at the regional and state level.

What happened after this is that the Proficiency Law started to drive arts teachers’ work. This meant now having the same conversations with Math teachers and Science teachers. English teachers and Social Studies teachers. What we discovered in many districts around Maine is that it was the arts teachers LEADING these discussions with their faculty, and even their administrators because of the professional development they had already undertaken and built upon in their own classrooms. Proficiency worked… for the arts.

Fast forward to this past year or so. Schools’ failed attempts at proficiency. Schools’ failed attempts at implementing standards based report cards. Schools’ failed attempts at rallying all subject areas around even the concept of proficiency. For all the reasons I stated in the first paragraph and then some. But here’s my takeaway. Ready for it? The essential role of authentic assessment of individual students in our ARTS CLASSROOMS – music and visual arts in particular – was never tied to the Proficiency Law to begin with.

It was a movement that was grass roots.

It was a movement that began because we deemed it important and not because someone told us that it was.

It was a movement that began to move us from a co-curricular mindset of “developing the whole person” to a curricular mindset of actually doing so; academic accountability does not stifle creativity or “love for the subject”, it enhances it.

It was a movement that allowed us to move beyond the idea that assessment was a barrier to student creativity and success, to one of assessment unlocking potential for both that we had never previously imagined.

It was a movement that – for the first time ever – put us on the same equal playing field as the other 7 academic subject areas.

It was a movement that caused and causes us to reflect and refine our work for the expressed outcome of doing right by our individual students.

Best yet, it was a movement that is still moving.

Here’s my hope as we begin the 2018-2019 school year in Maine. Now that the law is gone, take whatever stand you want on standards or proficiency, I couldn’t care less. Those who have bought into it have done so via their own discoveries, firm foundations and convictions. The rest can only do so via a similar journey. That onus is on them 800px-Music_class_usaeither way. But all arts educators must remember that refining their assessment practices – with or without an 11th commandment coming down from the state house – is the booster rocket that will continue to drive us where we need to go in this 21st century, individually and collectively in the arts. We cannot tolerate any longer ANY academic program in music or visual art that isn’t academic in practice any longer. A Math teacher who bases 10% of their grade or more on “participation” ought to be fired for that practice. It’s no longer acceptable to have it accepted in our arts classes. We can’t accept it from ourselves and we can’t accept it from our neighbors. We need to keep after academic integrity by examining sound individual assessment practices based on sound and very transparent academic expectations. Call it proficiency, call it standards, call it good practice, call it common sense, call it being responsible. Call it being a professional educator. Call it whatever you want. But let’s remember that the practicing of this tennet is more important to us now as a profession than it was even back in 2010.

And we aren’t dependent on any stinkin’ proficiency law to keep it moving.

 

This blog post is dedicated to the memory of Phil Martin (1954-2018): a remarkable educator and even more remarkable person, who served on the staff of the New England Arts Assessment Institute.

 

 

 

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the concert: promoting literacy #2

R – When two of television’s most popular shows are called “The Voice” and “America’s Got Talent”, we had better be doing something to keep music education on the front burner of being an academic subject. There’s nothing wrong with either show, but there is a cultural myth in this country that singing is about interest and/or talent… and that’s about it. Name one other core school subject area where either matters, and yet somehow both are perceived as virtually essential to being enrolled in a music class. Worse yet, this view is shared by students, parents, administrators, guidance counselors and so on.

What are we doing about it?

6 and a half years ago Jarika did one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen a music teacher do when she began her first ever concert as a music educator by teaching the audience to read music. It was extraordinary on two fronts. First, it was a demonstration by a beginning teacher that it is okay to be professionally brave and take risks. I think we can all learn from that. Second, she demonstrated to the entire assembled audience that literacy and singing are academic skills. The audience left her concert that night buzzing about what a game changer it was. We have the technology, ability and opportunities to change our community’s perception of what it is we do and why it is essential.

I have not been able to hold my concerts in a space with either a sound system or a projector/screen so I have done my best to replicate this with a small piece of sheet music placed inside each program. It actually worked pretty well but I’ve planning for the day I could finally do this in an auditorium as well and my first concerts in our new one allowed me to do so. I hold the same concert twice in a week’s time so I can implement an evaluation and revision process with my kids between them. So I got to do the audience music reading twice. This video is of the second time: teaching the audience to read music.

The reaction from the audience was positive, but the details coming from the kids in the following days showed me that this has to be a regular part of all my concerts from now on. I had stories of kids telling me that when they got home their parents actually initiated conversations about reading music and showing them even more!

If a concert has the potential to cause our communities to discuss and think about music as a skill, why would we not be tripping over ourselves to make that happen? Let’s spend some time thinking about our public performances and what messages they send to our schools and communities. The best music education advocacy is a proactive one. Our concerts are largely untapped resources for providing this.

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sond advice

That isn’t a typo. A few weeks ago I finally got around to watching the brilliant Stephen Sondheim documentary, Six By Sondheim. Directed by his friend and collaborator of over 35 years, James Lapine, it dives into Sondheim’s inner thoughts, not just his story. My admiration of Sondheim’s work is shared by millions – he single-handedly transformed the very genre of the Broadway Musical.

For me, I have spent my career discovering similarities and parallels between his work and that of the late choral director, Robert Shaw. Both beckon to my sense of analytical-ness. Both based the emotional content of their work on an excessive (obsessive?) attention to the smallest technical details; the paradox of their work being that out of the technical minutia comes the emotion and spirit of what they aim to convey. The criticism of both, Sondheim throughout his career and Shaw as early as 1952 in a Time Magazine article entitled, “Too Much Perfection”, has been that their work is too technical. And yet their work brought music to life in a fashion that often made others seem ridiculously superficial by comparison. I found myself taking notes as I watched the Lapine documentary and, as is the case with so much of Sondheim’s work, found underlying meaning that wasn’t readily transparent on the surface. In this case, I discovered so much of what he articulated transferred wonderfully to teaching in general and music education in particular. Some of my notes:

“I love inventing. The hard part is the execution, obviously. But even that’s fun. And when I say fun of course, I’m talking about agonizing fun, I’m not talking about ‘pleasant’ fun.” What teacher hasn’t agonized over their students, classes, expectations, daily routines and so forth? I think the key to this statement is that the execution of our work is not supposed to be easy, nor is it supposed to be fun (which is why I have always felt that “loving music” is a lousy reason to go into education: it’s not relevant). It is, however, unlike any reward one could ever dream of as you go through it and get to the other side of the efforts. A lot of teachers try to avoid the “agonizing” or get weary from it. Sondheim states it as core of the fun. This isn’t bad advice for any teacher of any subject area. As Shaw put it, “The wonderful thing about the amateur chorus is that nobody can buy its attendance at rehearsals, or the sweat, eyestrain and fatigue that go along with the glow.” As Sondheim put it, “If you didn’t get those moments, you couldn’t put up with the rest of it: the loneliness and the tedium and the endless amounts of work, you know, the sweat.” Get what they’re driving at?

“To make art sound effortless takes a lot of effort.” Many of my student teachers over the years have come in and immediately wanted to get to the goosebumps and the emotion. One of them introduced a new song to the choir and 10 minutes into it began talking to them about reflecting on the text and feeling what the song was getting at… before the students had any idea what the notes were yet. After a post-class briefing where I reiterated that job #1 is to be technically precise (the composers deserve at least that much from us), before long that same talented teacher was getting down and dirty into the minutia and getting wonderful music out of the kids. But, man, it takes time to get the kids there. My fear in our current educational landscape is that we feel (legitimate) intense pressure to have a large enough music program to justify our employment. That is a very real reality in programs in every single state, ours not being the least of them. Consequently, we feel the need to keep our music students happy and engaged, whether through the literature we select, our class routines or by going straight to the aesthetic as soon as possible; appealing to their emotions, all so they will continue to stay involved with it. I get it. So do you. But if we are in the business of not only making art but also fostering real musicians, we cannot shortcut or downplay the essentialness of the work. This quote, it seems to me, must be at the forefront of what we are teaching our students. If we’re not teaching them this, what are we teaching them?

“You can’t learn in a classroom, and you can’t learn on paper. You only learn by writing and doing and writing and doing. That’s how everybody who’s ever been good got good.” I love this quote. Obviously, Sondheim is referencing the art of writing lyrics here, but every molecule of this translates to the art of teaching. Inherent in this quote is the understanding that there is an analytical component that goes hand in hand with it; “doing” is a great vehicle to learning, but not without introspection. For the newer teacher, it isn’t good enough to emulate or model other teachers: you need to begin to emulate who you are going to be. That happens through experimenting, trial and error, falling down and getting back up, risk taking, and so forth. For the veteran teacher, it has to do with applying what you have observed at conferences, rehearsals and coursework. It isn’t enough to “know”; “knowing” never transformed a classroom of students. You have to “do”, you have to apply.

“You must be able to defend every single word and note.” As music teachers, we make dozens of choices daily, often within a single class. Can you defend every single choice? Educationally? Sure, anyone can “justify” a choice, but I have seen many music teachers fall into their own self-made pits by making choices they had a tough time defending when push came to shove. There was music program in a different state a few years ago that was in danger of being removed from the school day to allow more time for the other academic classes. Advocacy efforts went into high gear. A colleague contacted me asking if I could help them out. I went to that music program’s website and read press releases they were putting out. The web site provided nothing in the way of what they were doing academically, 40% of the students’ grades were based on “participation”, and their argument for the program being essential was that it promoted teamwork, self-esteem and the concerts were really great. I never lifted a finger for them. To state it plainly: if you cannot educationally justify every single syllable of what you say, what you write, what you think, what you do, do not expect your program to be viewed as an educational necessity. There are a lot of co-curricular music programs in this country cleverly disguised as academic subjects. Don’t let yours be one of them.

“Teaching is the sacred profession… my life was saved by teachers.” He referred specifically to his latin teacher and then to his mentor, Oscar Hammerstein. It’s a reminder that a teacher is someone who reaches out and positively impacts a person. Your area of teaching expertise is irrelevant to this; the prior paragraph notwithstanding, we have an obligation to simultaneously get out of “music teacher” mode and just get into being a good teacher too… for every student. Oscar Hammerstein was not a teacher by profession and yet had a profound impact on a young man who viewed him as one. How much more of an obligation do we have, those of us in the profession, to model this impact? His other teacher wasn’t even a music or english teacher. We need to get out of this mindset that somehow our effectiveness as true teachers is confined to our aptitude in music (go back to what I said about going into teaching because you love music). My own High School music teacher had the greatest impact on me growing up, and he utilized his music program to impact kids in that fashion. You can get there from here, but my point is that it does not have to be mutually inclusive, and that just caring about your students as people can transcend merely the music.

“The people who like my work are expecting so much, and it makes me… tense.”¬†Cautionary to newer teachers, and essential for veteran teachers: this has the potential to eat away at you. Early in my career I had to each year “outdo” what I did the year before or else I felt like a failure. It ate me up inside. I’ve already spoken to two colleagues of mine this Summer going through the very same thing in their careers. As Sondheim went on to add, “It’s not that you want to ‘top’ yourself, it’s that you want to write something fresh. It requires more courage as you get older.” We become our own harshest critics and, while that can be a healthy thing in process, we need to – in equal measure – be able to reflect on each school year as it’s own entity. In the concluding song from his Sunday in The Park With George, Sondheim wrote the dialogue between the contemporary George and his muse, Dot. For this coming school year, these are profound words to remember:

[Dot:] Are you working on something new?
[George:] No
[Dot:] That is not like you, George
[George:] I’ve nothing to say
[Dot:] You have many things
[George:] Well, nothing that’s not been said
[Dot:] Said by you, though. George
[George:] What am I to do?
[Dot:] Move on…
Stop worrying where you’re going-
Move on
If you can know where you’re going
You’ve gone
Just keep moving on

I chose, and my world was shaken-
So what?
The choice may have been mistaken,
The choosing was not
You have to move on

Look at what you want,
Not at where you are,
Not at what you’ll be-
Look at all the things you’ve done for me

Stop worrying if your vision
Is new
Let others make that decision-
They usually do
You keep moving on.

Stephen-Sondheim 2.jpg

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a year gone by

It has been a calendar year since I last posted posted here on goobermusicteachers after averaging one every three weeks for 5 previous years. I was aware it’s been awhile, but I honestly had no idea it had¬†been that long. Ironically, I know precisely¬†why. It’s a funny thing that happened to me this year: I rediscovered my own classroom.

My entire career, 30 years to this point, has been spent looking at the big picture of music education as a profession. It’s led to my involvement in more district, state and national work than I think I can honestly remember. I’ve never done this because I think “I’m all that” and somehow my voice is more important than anyone else’s. On the contrary, my goal has been to carry out the wishes of others and to further the profession through service. This drive was instilled in me during my undergraduate years at Keene State College and it’s stayed with me ever since. Goober Music Teachers was started because Jarika and I would talk philosophy all the time, and I found myself wanting to speak to those big picture topics. Towards that end, this blog has been heaven sent for me – a vehicle to articulate thoughts and beliefs, a forum to state opinions, an opportunity to help me think through and articulate fuzzy concepts that I need to solidify for myself if for no one else. Starting this with Jarika was twice the fun as well. But for me personally, it helped me to find my own voice. Tie this in with my desire to “think globally and act locally”¬†as it pertains to music education, and you can begin to see the significance of this blog to my personal and professional well-being.

So what happened this year?

I have gradually been able to sense myself getting tired. In the late Fall of 2011, I felt myself¬†starting to burn out, and it scared me. I was in the throes of quite a few professional activities including chairing our YHS accreditation and the tank was beginning to approach empty. I responded by reluctantly (and temporarily) removing as much as I could from my plate to focus on “me” for bit. It not only worked, it largely reenergized me. I didn’t dive back into things to the same degree as before, but I hopped back on board many things outside of school and went back on my merry way. All of this coincides with the blog posts I’ve written since. But last year I felt myself slowing back down again. The difference was that I was beginning to almost resent everything that was shifting my attention away from myself and my teaching. I am also unable to emotionally detach myself from what I do ¬†– it took me YEARS to reconcile that “what I do” is not “who I am” for instance. But I felt myself¬†becoming emotionally drained last year and mentally worn down. Whereas before it was fueling me, pending a reasonable professional load, now it was doing anything but. Consequently, I made a vow¬†that the 2016-2017 school year would be all about my classroom, my students, my choirs, my own teaching. I think, in a very warped way, it took me this long to finally feel like I could do so without feeling guilty about it. That is a larger issue I guess I’ll have to investigate¬†on my own time for another day, and certainly not one for inclusion in this¬†blog ūüėČ But I finally reached the point in my professional life, at age 51, that my focus can just¬†be on what I do. I ditched everything else in my professional life last Fall and moved forward.

And what a miraculous school year it’s been. For decades I would lie awake at 2:17 am thinking about the problems and issues of the profession. This year, for the first time, I found myself awake at 2:17 am thinking about my kids, my curriculum, my classes. And it’s been¬†so cool! “So this is what this feels like!” I don’t feel like I’ve been shortchanging my employers/students for the first¬†few decades of my career – I’m very proud of what I’ve been able to do with and for my students and my programs. I know I’ve given¬†it everything I had. But I always simultaneously had my other foot somewhere else. This year they’ve both been “all in.” I am present with my students in a way that has truly made me a better teacher. It’s felt¬†remarkable. I spend my time outside of class being more analytical of each day’s successes and failures and why they were or were not. I notice myself making adjustments to my teaching and curriculum more often and more sharply. I communicate more and better with my students outside of class about their work in class. I became so enamored with skill development in my warmups, that I devoted my mid-term exam time with my students¬†to¬†filming them as they incorporated my techniques and then having them write¬†analytically about each one. Not only was it the most meaningful exam I’ve ever given, it yielded footage which led to my creation of the Choral Warmups Project and youtube videos of my techniques and approaches. This was invigorating not only because it forced me to look at MY OWN classroom, MY OWN students, but because it also¬†gave me a new outlet to deliver resources for¬†others in the field to think about. I have been so energized to focus on my own assessment strategies. What a difference that has made.

My work with the Portland Community Chorus was transformed when they became my focus last Winter over December break, culminating in a survey – the results of which shifted our policies and beliefs and practices. As a result, PCC this past term became a brand new entity in so many exciting ways. They have never achieved the level of musical and motivational uniformity/excellence that they achieved this Spring, and their concerts reflected it. In 13 years I’ve never felt so excited about working with them as I do now.

A year ago I was asked to serve on the New York Board Of Regents review committee to redesign¬†their state music assessments, a great honor. I was contacted by NEASC to join them in reimagining and rewriting their accreditation standards and process. I was contacted to take a lead role in our district move toward proficiency. I was contacted by the Maine DoE to take a leading role in the development of statewide proficiency exemplars for Music Education. I turned them¬†all down. You don’t get a second chance to get involved in amazing opportunities such as these. But this year I guess I also discovered something much more important and much more substantial. I realized that you go through your career believing you have total control over so many things and that you are the captain of your own ship, but that it’s never really true. You go where the wind directs you. You go where you physically and emotionally are called. I realized that the crime is not in what you do or don’t do, it’s in the not listening to the wind or¬†to your own self. If I could write a letter to my younger self, I’d tell myself that.

I don’t regret one single thing I’ve ever been involved with even though there was a price to pay for each of them. I had to decide 20 years ago if I was going to immerse myself in the trenches or get my PhD. I chose the trenches. I received an invitation from a Superintendent one year to become a High School Principal though I never took a course in administration. I turned it down. I had to decide several times in my career where I was going to plant my roots. Each time I made the choice that was best for me at that moment at the sacrifice of other opportunities in front of me. I had to decide several times how my personal life was or was not going to impact my professional life. Each time required a sacrifice of one or the other. The difference this year is that I felt like this choice was made for me, I really didn’t have a say in it. A leap of faith? Yes. Disconcerting? Yes. New? Yes. A sacrifice to elements of my life I’ve always believed were essential to my professional happiness? Yes. An amazing year as a result of all this? You betcha. The epiphany is that apparently this getting-old dog can learn a few new tricks, and it happened by concentrating on what was right in front of me the whole time.

I’ll post again in this blog, and Lord knows I’ll move forward with the choral warmups project. But It’s been a year since I’ve posted anything here and I wanted to make sure to do so this month. In thinking on¬†what¬†was most near and dear to my heart to write about, this is all what came to mind. I apologize that it is so introspective and self-serving, but it feels really good to finally write it all down. Maybe I’m not so¬†sorry after all. ūüėČ

images

 

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tug of war

R – I just saw a funny post on facebook, a collection of memes; teachers reactions at common circumstances (“Teachers in May”, “When a student reminds me that I forgot to change the date on the board”, “When a student asks what to do after having just given directions”). ¬†I laughed but also thought about why teaching is so unique.

I am not one of those teachers who believes education is the most difficult job in the world, we’re underpaid/under-appreciated, blah, blah, blah. But I do believe that teachers are by definition fighting¬†a perpetual, never ending tug of war between being a professional and interacting every moment of every day with students who are at a profoundly personal level. Students do not attend school as “professionals”. We do, but they don’t. Consequently we have a moral and ethical obligation to meet them where they are as people, develop them as people, foster them as people and hold them accountable for their actions as people. All the while, we are expected to be professional.

Explain to me exactly how this works?

Additionally, I’ve used the analogy that teaching a classroom of students is like programing 20+ computers to do the exact same thing at the exact same time (curriculum). But instead of just PC and Mac platforms, there’s 20+ different platforms, only 10+ if your class is completely homogenous. At any given moment, two of the computers have the power off and you don’t know why, the keyboard is missing from one of them, the keyboard is there¬†for two of them but inputs letters different than the ones on their keypad, three of them randomly turn off for no apparent reason multiple times during class, some of the computers have been through the ringer and others are virtually in brand new condition… you get the idea.¬†We are expected to be consummate professionals and program them the same way academically.

Now throw¬†in that every computer is a person with feelings, moods, perceptions, emotions. Fears, beliefs, biases. Hates and loves. If we program the computer successfully but don’t meet these emotion needs, we’re looked at as poor teachers and get (appropriately) called out by parents. If we meet the emotional needs but don’t get every computer to the same programming goal, we’re looked at as poor teachers and get called out (appropriately) by administrators. Oy.

Truth be told, we LOVE this challenge. That’s why we teach. Or is it? I wonder if the disillusion of so many in this profession is based on the fact that they entered their career based on the love of their subject matter as opposed to loving the challenge I just articulated above. I hate to say it, but I believe this is a question that holds even more weight when applied to music teachers. Did we go into music education because we first loved music, or because we first loved working with kids? Caveat: when I say “kids”, I am referring to all of them, not just those who love music as well. Do we love working with those students just as much as we love music? There’s the other tug of war.

As we approach concert season again, I think it’s good to be reminded that this is not about the concert, it’s about our kids, even as our programs are evaluated as¬†the product by so many (I’ve written posts asking if we are guilty of having perpetuated that). As we get weary over the professional expectations of assessment, accountability, instructional practices, teacher evaluations, it is good to be reminded: that’s our job; that’s what were HIRED for. Remember? But we cannot forget all the while: it’s about the kids. I find this tug of war exceptionally draining, more so every year. But I still find it fulfilling, I still look forward to it, and I still believe that I do it relatively effectively so I know I’m still in the right profession for now. It’s exhausting but so worth it. Keep fighting the good fight as the school year winds down, keep the tug of war going. A lot of people are depending on you to do so.

Tug-Of-War

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