My
Bulgarian bagpipe teacher once told me I should take some lessons with another
teacher. I responded that this teacher didn’t speak English very well and it
would be a challenge to communicate. He admonished me, “Words don’t matter. You
just need to be in his energy field to understand how to play this instrument.”
He was
right, of course. Music can go directly from vibration and vibration and it is
that direct transmission that is the most powerful. We can use words to
understand theory and concepts and so on, but the bottom line is just being in
the presence of a master musician as they’re playing music. Most of what you
need to know is in that exchange.
How many
people hear this when being trained as music teachers of children? We focus on
curriculum, on national standards, on some clever step-by-step process
“guaranteed” to yield good results, but how often do we hear things like this?
“You yourself are the musical example of the music you want to draw out from
your children. The way you stand, the way you sing, the way you move, the way your
face looks, the way you feel— that’s your
lesson for the children. If you want great results from them, you must be the
best musician that you can be, bring your whole self to the endeavor and draw
them into the force field of your passion and craft.”
This is
scary stuff, because you can’t package it or market it or capture it on a
computer. And schools hate that. Well, to hell with schools. Yes, you need a
curriculum yes, you need lessons that proceed in logical steps, yes, you need
to eventually stand to the side and let the children step forth, but when you
are in front of them teaching or side-by-side with them playing, singing and
dancing, be your 150% musical self. To paraphrase Gandhi:
“Be the music you want to
hear in the world.”
Too many
in the new generation of music teachers have drunk the Kool-Aid of the
Smart-Board presentation and have their packaged lesson up on the screen with
the next steps a click away. And where are the students looking? At yet another
bright screen with words or images or occasional sounds. And where aren’t they
looking? At the teacher whose job it is to model the music. And the teacher
likewise is often not looking at the students, not attentive to any pongs
they’re returning to his or her pings.
The good
news about Orff training is that it does attempt to train teachers to higher
levels of their own artistry through dance classes, recorder classes,
percussion classes, singing classes, improvisation and composition classes. But
some people get sidetracked into the steps of the process instead of stepping
more fully into their own musicianship. And that’s helpful to exactly no one,
kids and teachers alike.
In our
recent Ghana concert, we the teachers sang, danced and played with our students as we often do. We
don’t take the solos or steal the spotlight, but we play supporting parts and
experience the pleasure of making music side-by-side with our students now
fellow band-members. The kids feel it, that level of respect that elevates them
to a fellow musician rather than a trained student putting on some show. It
creates the kind of musical culture and community that I happen to believe in
our final aim, far beyond any measurable curriculum fulfilling someone else’s
rubric. It’s vibrant, it’s musical, it’s fun!
Again,
the new Gandhi-esque quote to hang up on your classroom wall:
“Be the music you want to hear in the world.”
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