“If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some
flowers in your hair…”
This the song in the background during one of my
kimchee/cornflakes breakfast at the Korea Orff Course. It must have leaked into
my subconscious, because when someone asked me “What is the most important
thing for the teacher to keep in mind?” I unexpectedly answered by talking
about coming of age in the ‘60’s. I said something like this:
“When I was in college, I was part of a counter-culture that
sought to change the world. We were convinced that we were the ones to
eliminate war, erase injustice, eradicate racism and sexism and classism and
lead the future into a loving place dressed with flowers in it's hair. We were hopeful and idealistic, but so young— what did we know of the world? It awaited
us with its harsh lessons, its bitter disappointments, its crushing blows to
our naiveté. And so of course, we failed miserably. War is still rampant,
ignorance and greed still mostly run the show, George Zimmerman is walking
free, fine jazz artists like Eliane Elias and Diane Krall still succumb to
dressing in sexy nightwear for their album covers.
And yet we did indeed make a large impact. My daughters grew
up with basketball and a can-do confidence, my granddaughter will grow up in a
world significantly more capable of judging her by the content of her character
rather than the color of her skin— and with Michelle Obama as a role model. Gay
marriage is beginning its roll down the alley, knocking down the pins state
after state and people who spout hateful vile publicly are mostly expected to
apologize. Small but significant steps.
Back in college, we were all looking for the way to
transformation. And for me, it came from an unexpected place— a chance class
with my first and most important Orff teacher, Avon Gillespie. I felt a certain
spark in his classes unlike any other classes, a quality of belonging and
connecting with others in a shared venture. Avon loved to create big
multi-layered events, often from a simple premise. One class, we made a
spontaneous opera out of the song Frere Jacques with an accompanying story of a
sleepy monk. Frere Jacques was never the same after that.
I found myself as a young teacher very interested, like
Avon, in the feeling of the group as a whole, intrigued by the way certain
songs, games and musical pieces could create a atmosphere in the room that was
both fun and profoundly serious, relaxed and spiritually intense, personally transforming
and collectively connecting. To this day, I tend to first feel the whole forest
and it takes me awhile to see each tree. Both are necessary, but I found that
my default setting was the group, the circle, the community. I began to create
some all-school ceremonies and rituals with the community in mind and with
music, movement, poetry and song at the center. Here was something real and
concrete, far beyond the rhetoric of political revolution or the notion that
because we felt good at the end of our yoga session, the world was healed. Here
was a way to “be the change we want to see in the world.”
So for me, this became the most important guiding star of my
daily classes— to have each class be the world I want to live in and the world
that we all would like to live in. Naturally, there is conflict and problems and flowers that
wilt in the hair (or can’t find enough hair to hold them!), but it all has the
intention and possibility of healing through the power of music, dance and the
presence of the imagination. Whether with children in San Francisco or adults
in Korea, it is the world I still live in and still love to live in and by the
smiles and tears I see here, I suspect it’s a world you all have enjoyed as
well.”
A college buddy of mine just turned 60 and made the astute
observation, “Hey, I’m back in the 60’s!” Now there’s a great perspective. And
indeed, despite World’s best efforts to squash them, my hope and idealism are
still kicking and mostly due to these blessed opportunities to witness the many
ways both kids and adults rise to the invitation to show their best selves. In
my 60’s, the 60’s are alive and well. Minus those illegal (well, finally legal
in some places) substances!
And now back to San Francisco, with the metaphorical flowers
refreshed and blooming in the few remaining strands of hair. Kamsahamnida!
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