The
discipline of writing is mostly about trying to capture experiences, images,
ideas in a net of language and release them whole into the reader’s own
imagination. By committing to the craft of constant practice, the law of
probability suggests that occasionally you’ll get it right. Just like a
composer stumbles into the perfect melody or harmony to accompany it, so does
the writer occasionally discover just the write combination of words that click
together and send the thoughts out like a great song.
It’s not
“Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments…” or “April is the
cruelest month…” or “Whose woods these are I think I know…” but when someone
quoted me on Facebook (and I’m not clear from which piece of writing!), I liked
it. Short, pithy, to the point and saying exactly what I would want to say
speaking to a roomful of the young music teachers about to embark—or already
begun their travels—on this marvelous journey. Something to pin up over their
desk or have visible on their screensaver.
Here it
is:
As I look to you, the next
generation of Orff teachers, I would advise you to read voraciously, write
reflectively, study ceaselessly, keep pushing the boundaries, stand up against
institutional thinking, beware of the cute and contrived, distinguish between
glitz and substance, dream big, work the details and let the children be your
guides.
It’s working for me, at
least.
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