Goober Music Teachers

R – Okay, I’ll let you in on a pet peeve of mine. Ready? When you say “first or second year teacher”, many people automatically speak in their “oh, isn’t that cute” voice.  As they begin to have a conversation with one, they are thinking in their mind “I remember when I was a first year.” And then… they stop taking that new teacher seriously.

Since when did experience become the prerequisite ingredient to being a good teacher? I guess I missed that recipe somewhere. I’ll let you in on a secret: there are teachers that think and question analytically about what they do every single day by nature because they are GREAT educators, and then there are those that don’t. And experience has nothing to do with it.

There’s an article that was forwarded to me this week (I’ve linked it below). In it, there are some great points about characteristics of a teacher leader. Here they are:

Teacher leaders are researchers… Teacher leaders have an insatiable appetite for the next possible means to reach every child… Teacher leaders have technology skills to create the path through thousands of apps into handheld technologies for every child so learning can truly be individualized… Teacher leaders know how to create safe environments and have the capacity of heart to listen to all voices, even silent ones, and respond with open hands of support and minds of knowledge and ingenuity…. Teacher leaders have the capacity to view things from different perspectives and are not weighed down with the old way of doing things. 

Which of these qualities have anything to do with “years taught”?

When I began my career, and all through my 20’s and 30’s, I felt very strong convictions about many things around education and the role of music education specifically. Some of these were considered radical and, well, idealistic. For over 15 years, I had to cope with widespread perceptions that I hadn’t put in enough years of teaching to know what I was talking about yet. And believe me, I felt it. Would you believe that one of the greatest days of my life was when I turned 40 because I knew I’d never again have to deal with that perception? Since then these same ideas have been listened to and embraced because NOW I apparently – allegedly – know what I’m talking about… NOW I’m speaking from experience(?)…

HUH?

I’ll tell you what’s going on: Jarika, and Ashley Smith and Drew Albert and Jennifer Etter and Jeremy Milton and Jen Nash and Alyssa Anderson and Jake Sturtevant are music teachers still in the early stages of their careers. And I could write a series of blogs on EACH of these teachers, how they have inspired me, how they have CHANGED how I teach, how I view music education and how much I need to get out of my own way and just try new approaches that are outside of my comfort zone. EACH of these teachers have also had to confront the perception that they are too new and idealistic to actually know what they are talking about in any practical way. I’ve seen it first hand, and it is so wrong on so many levels.

What is wrong with us in music education that we think the youngest teachers can’t be our greatest role models? Yes, I understand, by way of “experience”, those of us who have been in the trenches longer have dealt with many things that a newer teacher may not have yet. SO? Maybe that is WHY we should be giving them more attention than those who have been teaching longer! Maybe their knowledge – because they are already great teachers – transcends anything that someone else’s “experience” can teach us! Maybe they are approaching music education from an angle that appears idealistic to the rest of us because OUR way of doing things is the problem and NOT their ideas?!!!

Do I have a chip on my shoulder from the way I felt I was perceived earlier in my career? Yes. Sue me for it. Will I ever be a hypocrite enough to be guilty of the same with regard to beginning teachers as I approach them throuout my career? I hope not. I really wish someone would pass a law that says no one over the age of 30 is allowed to hold any leadership position, guest conduct or be hired as a clinician. I have a VERY strong conviction that amazing, cool things would result. Are there veteran educators who are still exceptional at what they do, who we should still be engaged with and utilize as our ongoing mentors to an even greater degree every single year they teach? Of course there are. That’s also not my point. I just wish more educators would embrace the educational mantra of “unlearning the irrelevant” with regard to their approach to beginning teachers. Can you identify a newer teacher in your region who you haven’t reached out to yet? I’m not talking about introducing yourself or saying “hi” to at District Festivals, I’m talking about reaching out to them and making the time to engage them in meaningful dialogue around our wonderful profession. Can you? Do so. You won’t regret it.

Teachers As Leaders

R – There are two more things that immediately come to mind when I think of Larry Bird, Carl Yastrzemski, Dale Earnhardt Sr and Tom Brady.

3) Work hard at getting better; work hard all the time. Yaz was in his mid 20’s, had won a batting title, and was the captain of the Red Sox when the winter of ’66-’67 came along. He decided that he needed to get stronger to hit the inside fastball. So he went into a strict training regiment over the winter with Hungarian trainer, Gene Berde. Yaz said that after the first day of working out, Berde just laughed at him and said, “You’re a major league ball player?” But Yaz was the one laughing when the season began and he proceeded to win the triple crown and resurrect baseball mania in Boston that hasn’t let up since. Larry Bird was the same way, perhaps even more so. As the offseason of 1985 began, Bird was coming off his second straight MVP season, and he had finished second in the voting the previous three years too. His response? To work on shooting with his left hand so the opposition really wouldn’t know what was coming! Are you kidding me??? Inspiring. Honestly, I don’t know if I could ever have that level of conviction about getting better at my professional craft. But my sports legends remind me that I need to try. I am scared to death that my level of self discovery and self improvement will diminish as I continue through my career. Icons like Yaz and Larry Bird are examples that no matter your age (Yaz was hitting .323 at the all star break in 1983 and had started a game in center field… just weeks before turning 44 years old), your experience, your laurels, your abilities, it is irrelevant the moment a new year begins. You are impacting a whole new group of people or a group of returning people in a whole new way. There are SO many opportunities for professional development, books to read, colleagues to learn from. It’s inconceivable to me that if Larry Bird was a music teacher, he wouldn’t have spent EVERY summer and EVERY school year constantly evaluating his skills, doing whatever it took to get better at his craft.

4) Care… and not just when people are looking. Dale Earnhardt was killed on the last lap of the Daytona 500 in 2001. His legacy to the sport is perhaps the greatest in the history of NASCAR. But what came out in droves when he passed away was the endless telling of stories of things he did behind the scenes for others and for his sport. On many occasions he donated time and funds to charities and individuals without those things making it to the press. He’d take the fall and the heat when things would go wrong for others. He made it a habit to empathize with other people, and it didn’t matter who knew. This isn’t bad advice for all of us in music education, especially in tiny northern New England. We need to continually care for and watch out for one another. It’s easy to walk up to friends at District or All-State Festivals and catch up… less so to walk up to a complete stranger, introduce yourself and ask about that teacher’s program. Following up by keeping in touch and asking if there’s anything you can do for them. It is easy to get the auditioned choir or the top band into a rehearsal and enjoy their work… but does the same happen to an even greater degree when the lower level ensembles or kids walk in? Checking in on your top students is one thing, checking in on the students who are a thorn in your side, apathetic or going through the motions is another. I would argue that the latter is a greater need: if we aren’t making the “at risk” students our highest priority, what are we really doing here?

As I said in part 1 of this, I am not a hero worshiper… every one of these four personal sports legends were humans with imperfect lives who, like everyone, had some questionable decision making and actions along the way. I’ll leave the worshiping thing to my faith. No, what I love about them is that they were imperfect humans, showing everyone – exemplifying – outstanding characteristics that we could all learn from while enjoying their greatness in their sports. I love reading about them, hearing about them, talking about them. And learning from them.

R – My guilty pleasure in life – and I am painfully aware that this being the case reflects the necessity of my needing to lead a more interesting life – is listening to WEEI Sports Radio on the way to and from school each day. But I do so by listening to archived interviews with sports writers, coaches and players of all the major professional sports teams in New England. There are specific regularly scheduled interviews I particularly love to listen to each week. Among them is the Monday morning chats they have with Tom Brady. I was listening to his interview earlier this week and he talked about a number of things that reminded me how much I have taken from my favorite players over the years. My four favorite sports legends in my life have been Carl Yastrzemski of the Red Sox, Larry Bird of the Celtics, the late Nascar driver Dale Earnhardt Sr. and quarterback Tom Brady. Each is/was unique to their sport, but there are common threads among them as well. More significantly, those threads transcend athletics. I was thinking on the way into work on Tuesday that connecting these threads to what we do as music educators might make for a fun blog post or two (or three), so here goes! Interestingly, it is not a stretch for me to make these connections… these have been basic lessons for me in my career, and my life. I am not into the hero worship thing (there is a difference), but what I have taken from each of these four during their careers has been very entertaining and very inspiring.

1) Watch and learn. TB was asked that since his boyhood hero, Joe Montana, had a chip on his shoulder for being a 3rd round draft pick (instead of a 1st), how should Brady feel about having being a 7th round pick? “Well Montana should have been picked higher, he was that good!” A great reply, which alluded to the fact that Brady believes he was picked right where he should have been, based on how good he was at the time. Then he talked about how he consequently grew and developed by carefully watching others and receiving their tutelage. He talked about the quarterbacks he was a backup to, he talked about the quarterbacks who were backups to him. He talked about all sorts of players he had been around. He even talked about loving watching the playoff games last weekend on TV because he learns so much from watching the other quarterbacks… still! The lesson here is simple: we all can learn from those around us. It isn’t relevant how long they’ve been around, what their roles are, whether they are on your team or not. This approach to what we do day in and day out in education is so important. We all can be better at what we do, but we don’t have to reinvent the wheel. Our colleagues offer so much to learn from. Whether it’s me talking to Jarika about the latest vocal pedagogy idea she’s come up with, observing Heidi Corliss working wonders with a non-auditioned chorus of teenage vocalists or just watching Bob Russell conduct for even 5 minutes, I am a different rehearsal technician and conductor next time I get in front of a choir. I’ve blogged before about how much better a choral conductor I am every time I watch a band rehearsal. Tom Brady said a mouthful when he talked about he grows because he learns from watching everyone he comes across; learning something from each of them.

2) Fundamentals, fundamentals, fundamentals. Randy Pausch in his “Last Lecture” (if you have never watched this, you must reserve an hour and 15 minutes to do so) alludes to this very point. But to hear Tom Brady say a few years ago that he devotes at least as much time to training camp fundamentals, if not more, than he did when he was younger, well, wow! He is bound for the Hall of Fame, arguably the greatest quarterback in the history of the game, and he devotes more time to practicing the fundamentals than he did when he was younger. And Larry Bird, the best free throw shooter in the NBA, practicing his free throws hours after he just finished playing a game? In our society, there seems to be a prevalence of, “I can change my routine once I’ve paid my dues”. I’ve seen this mindset carried out in our culture and society over and over again, and so have you. The refreshing message here is that the only “dues” that will ever really matter are the day to day requirements of being the best you can possibly be – and doing what is fundamentally required to make that happen over and over and over. And over. Repetition. Basics. I have neglected this advice FAR more often than I am proud to admit. The most recent reminder was an unconscious flip; a “curl” that I inadvertently added to my conducting pattern this past year. I was mortified when I saw videos of my conducting at the MSYM summer choir I direct, realizing that I had allowed a lazy habit to enter into my craft. I’m not being overly dramatic by saying that. I want to be proud of the work I do as a conductor, and I wasn’t when I saw what I was doing. Fundamentals. At age 47, aren’t I way past the point of needing to be concerned about my 4 pattern? Nope. That bad habit creeping into what I was showing my choir? Fundamentals. I need to always keep them fresh. We all do. And doesn’t this likewise translate to rehearsal technique, piano skills, listening skills, analytical skills, interpersonal skills, curriculum development, assessment strategies, etc, etc, etc…. ???

R – In my last post, and a few others as well I believe in the last year, I alluded to my KSC sophomore education professor, Stephen Smith. I could write a book on the lessons he taught his students, and he is more responsible than anyone for the type of educator I’ve tried to be. Two days ago I was honored to guest conduct a wonderful High School choral Festival in New Hampshire… it was formed 9 years ago with specific growth goals in mind for the students, a truly student centered event. As I reflected back on the day on the drive home Thursday night, I thought often of Steve. In retrospect, the day ended up being a microcosm of what Steve told us we should always be trying to do as educators. Educators of ANY discipline or subject area. He told us to be like Peter Pan.

“Bring your students to a different and exciting world.” Any honors festival begins by bringing diverse people together in a new environment. That much is a given. But that environment will dictate the success or failure of the event. I really believe that. The students are already outside of their comfort zone being around so many new people… what is the teacher going to do to turn that environment into a comforting, welcome one? I think that needs to constantly be reassessed by every teacher in every classroom every single week of their entire careers. Providing students the opportunity to interact, laugh with each other, giving them the opportunity to see what positive things each person around them brings to the table, that’s all pretty essential stuff. But it’s a tap dance though, because doing so runs the risk of loosing the student’s focus and concentration too. Doing one without loosing the other occurs through trial and error and constant practice on the part of the teacher. I will never be able to overstate the importance of finding this balance in the classroom. Steve knew what he was talking about here… and developing a classroom atmosphere that is comforting, engaging AND focused is a lifelong goal of any worthy educator, especially in music where requiring the student to perform in full view of their peers is a daily expectation.

“Be who you are.” The demeanor of the teacher can take many shapes and forms too, and I’ve seen successful classrooms with conductors who are complete goofballs and others who are very stoic. I have a conviction that either way, it’s only effective if the teacher is wearing their personality on their sleeve. If it’s contrived, the kids will know it! There is no one smarter than a teenager (I will always believe that) and their BS-ometer is fine tuned and well crafted. If they see a teacher who isn’t being authentically themselves, the kids will see right through it and any sense of trust is out the window. In the story of Peter Pan, Peter was exactly who he is, and the others gravitated to that. Not a bad lesson to remember. The problem here is that, to a degree, this requires you as a person to become vulnerable in front of them. If you are going to be authentic, then the students will necessarily see you. I don’t believe there’s any way around that. I have seen some colleagues over the years turn their classes into forums to discuss their own personal lives – that is not what Steve was talking about (and those colleagues should have been fired), nor does it mean allowing students to become your friends, et al. I know the difference and so do you. Steve simply communicated that, within all professional parameters, being an effective teacher means putting yourself out there as you are, warts and all, serving by example that it is okay to do so. How many times have we heard, “we want you to be yourselves”, said by someone who isn’t?

“Cause them to grow.” In a safe environment, get the students brains to hurt. Get them to go outside the 9 dots. In a guest conducting scenario, I love challenging the students with choral concepts that require them to rethink their own beliefs and perceptions about choral music. The simplest points such as, “Why do we inherently equate dynamics with pitch?” “Why, when I asked for better diction, did you sing the vowels louder?” “Why do we inadvertently equate tempo with dynamics?” Singing higher notes quietly and lower notes loudly in warmups, singing with pianissimo vowels and forte consonants, singing slower loudly and faster quietly… it requires the singers to become analytical, and they grow. Even in a one day festival I mess with the singers tone a LOT. I do a number of different things that requires them to think pretty deeply about their tone and how they should develop theirs. These are just skimming-the-surface examples, but what is going on in the classroom or rehearsal that causes the students to be different when they leave than they were when they arrived? I have a very strong conviction that merely “teaching them more facts” doesn’t get it done. When I began my career, I used to believe that the most important thing in guest conducting is getting the right notes and rhythms in place so that the kids can really enjoy the concert. I don’t believe that any more. Yup, they had BETTER musically perform the correct notes and rhythms and dynamics and phrasing and articulation, doing so with impeccable posture and breathing technique while healthily producing a mature, rich vocal tone in correct proportion to the others in their section and the entire choir, for the purpose of bringing back to life the musical intent of the composer!!! 🙂 BUT, that is not going to be of lasting value to them as much as getting them to rethink things and grow as musicians and as people. I love all the challenges of guest conducting, but accomplishing as best as possible the former goals while making that latter one the highest priority is the greatest challenge of all. And every ounce of this is likewise true in my own classroom.

“Let them go.” The last thing that happens to Peter Pan is that he has to let those he has grown to love go. And that happens all the time to us as teachers, doesn’t it? But the beauty of it, and the healthiest thing about it, is that’s the whole point to it all. The overused statement of, “catch them a fish or teach them how to for themselves” is applicable. I used to take this too far, and I would emotionally shut myself off from my alumni, because that’s what I felt I was supposed to do. It is a phenomenon of the last 6 or 7 years that I have opened myself up to keeping up with them after they go and it’s been one of the great joys of my life to do so. But Steve’s Peter Pan lesson still applies. If we as music educators are going to do right by our students, we need to let them go. And if we did our job right, they – and we as teachers – will be prepared to have that happen successfully. I always want to be here and available for my alumni, but having them keep in touch doesn’t negate one ounce what Steve was driving at. Are they prepared to move on as a person and/or musician they weren’t when they arrived? In a guest conducting scenario, this – to me – is the litmus test of if the festival was even worth holding or not.

Guest conductors always get no shortage of kudos… they’re nice to hear but I always reflect on a quote I reference often by singer/guitarist Lindsay Buckingham, “If you’re any good at all, you know you can be better”. I could write a novel on all the things from Thursday I wish I had done better both in rehearsal and in concert. But Steve wasn’t about us as educators being perfect. It was about going after our true goals as educators as best as we could. And that translates powerfully to our own classrooms. We do NOT get the rounds of kudos for what we do day in and day out. But what we provide our students is far more valuable than what a guest conductor could ever provide, because we see them daily. And remembering what Steve taught me, including the lessons of Peter Pan, has helped me immeasurably. And it all works. I know this first hand. Because, after all, Steve was my Peter Pan.

R – I’ll tell you later why I’m writing this post this morning, but first I want to allude to two former teachers who had a profound impact on me.

The first is Stephen Smith, my Intro to Education professor my Sophomore year at Keene State College. It would take a novel to adequately portray the type of person and teacher he was, much less all the lessons he taught me. He was one in a million, and he made a profound impact on me. His definition of education for example was, “to get students to unlearn the irrelevant”. I’ve since based my entire foundation of educational philosophy on that wonderful premise. He told stories that captivated us, and related them to concepts I have never forgotten as a result. He is the one who taught me that being a successful teacher means being a bit like Peter Pan: bringing students into a magical world where they are fostered and challenged, where they mature and grow as people… and have the most wonderful time doing so in the process. He told us to be more, and I’m not making this up, to be more than a “dinosaur fart”… don’t be a big deal for the moment only to fade away. Be someone and something of lasting and permanent value. He taught me to look beyond the obvious and to “eschew obfuscation” (if you haven’t heard that phrase before, google it… it is in vogue to use the phrase now but trust me, in wasn’t in the years pre-internet). Going outside the 9 dots. In short, to a unique degree, he molded me into the teacher and person I have since tried to become. As a guest conductor, as a guest speaker, I have never spent time in front of others without mentioning at least one “Steve Smith story”.

The second is my Junior year voice instructor, Louis Burkot. Prior to working with him I had two years of virtually no success as a voice student despite the hard work of a really fine voice teacher I had been working with up to that point. There were many pieces of vocal pedagogy I just wasn’t able to put together or apply to my own voice. I was convinced that my speaking voice was also my singing voice, and I just couldn’t make the connections to the work that was being done with me. Well Louis took me on as a student (as a challenge I’m sure!) and knew exactly what needed to be done. Our very first lesson, he made me speak with absolutely no resonance at all. At ALL! Then he had me sing the exact same way! I knew he was crazy, and the sound was awful, but I went with it. And went with it some more… he kept this up with me for six full weeks of lessons. But then in the middle of October he finally said, “okay, now bring the other (resonant) part of your voice back in but keep what we’ve been working on”. And so I did… and for the first time in my life I sang with a rich, mature and vibrant tone. It worked!!! But I thought I was simply being “fake” and told him so; it wasn’t my voice. I’ve never forgotten his response: “Oh yeah? Well, whose was it then?” 🙂 That moment changed my life, my thinking about my voice, my thinking about vocal pedagogy and how to teach it. In the years since, I have shared this story with every single choir I’ve ever worked with – my own, summer choirs and honors choirs I’ve conducted. And every single time there are singers who get the same lightbulb “a-ha” moment that I had. Louis transformed me because he is a truly a master teacher, taking me where I was at and elevating my craft to the next level.

Here’s why I’m writing this blog post today. I have an alumni who is now singing for Louis Burkot at Dartmouth College. It reminded me that I have never, ever thanked Louis for what he did for me. And he clearly had no idea how many voices/lives he’s indirectly impacted via the story I always tell of his work with me in the Fall of 1985. He deserves to know. I finally e-mailed him last week and though I’m embarrassed to admit that it took me 27 years to do so, I’m happy that I finally did. Steve Smith on the other hand, I’m unable to. Steve died 5 years ago of ALS. I remember hearing about when Steve first got sick – from another classmate in that same Sophomore class no less –  and I just knew he would be okay in the end. I couldn’t contemplate the idea of his not being okay or his not being around. E-mailing him was something I’d eventually get around to doing, “when I had a few minutes”.

And I never did.

I am blessed to have had many wonderful mentors in my life… Dan Graves at Woodstock Academy, Carroll Lehman, Bill Pardus, Doug and Jean Nelson at Keene State, Lori Routhier in Vermont, Dennis Cox at UMaine, Joan Hamann with MMEA and Marv Crawford throughout the time span just to name a few. And I’ve been grateful for the opportunities to let them know face to face what they’ve meant to me, although they’ll never fully appreciate the depth to which it is true. But if there is a teacher in your formative years who made an impact on you who you have not been in contact with, my hope is that, especially during this season, you will make the time to contact them and thank them. And putting it off really shouldn’t be an option. I’m not saying this as someone who is good at following through at things like this, quite to the contrary. I’m saying it as someone who too often hasn’t… but has been thinking recently about how important it is to do so. Be that person who thanks a teacher from your formative years; be that person who articulates gratitude where gratitude is due to them. And be reminded that the blessings of our lives come in all shapes and sizes, and that the people who provided them are worthy of our recognition and “thank you”.