Taking the Next Shot

 

Taking the Next Shot

 

L.A., Portland, Las Vegas, Kansas City, Boston, Chicago, Detroit, Atlanta, Denver, San Diego…. The list of American cities our fascist regime is sending the National Guard to? Actually, yes, many of the above cities so sadly have suffered from the tyrant’s tantrums, something that has never happened before in our nation’s history in quite this way. 

 

But I mention them here because they are the sites of joyful National Orff Conferences which I have attended every November—one in 1976, one in 1982 and then between 1984 and 2025, every single year without missing a single one—well, except for 2020 when everyone missed one. This year’s site is Lexington, Kentucky. 

 

Upon arriving at the Conference, one of my rituals each year is to recite by memory to whoever will listen the entire list of 43 Conferences, including naming a couple of memorable moments in each. Some people who I meet at Conference delight in my Mr. Memory recitation and chime in when I hit the conferences that they attended. (While some long-time colleagues cringe and suddenly have to step away to take a phone call.) The highlight of this ritual was at midnight hang some years ago with the next generation (many of them in my Pentatonics Jazz Band),  where I did the whole thing as a rap and they joined in with beat-boxing and echoing key phrases. 

 

So now in the Chicago Airport on my way to Cincinnati hoping for the renewal and refreshment of this four-decades plus annual ritual. But it feels notably different for many reasons:

 

• This is the latest November date for the Conference— it’s usually in the first week or two.

 

• I’m coming early to visit a friend in Yellow Springs where I went to college, so there are no fellow conference-goers on the flight.

 

• Many people who I’ve shared these delights with for decades have chosen not to come this year— most notably, my colleagues James and Sofia, Rick and Paul and some ten to twenty others I always enjoy seeing and hanging out with. Some are simply retired and have no motivation to attend other than seeing old friends—which I few still do, but at a pretty high cost.

 

• There is currently much turmoil between the leadership and many key members of the national organization, so amidst the joyous “family reunion,” there will be undercurrents of unresolved tensions. Which hopefully can be eased by actual face-to-face conversation.

 

All of this has me wondering, “How much longer will I do this?” I am still sometimes presenting a workshop (this time, yes) and I do like to support that younger teachers I’ve taught by attending their workshops. It’s always a fun three-day party and getting to play, sing and dance with fellow music teachers is often refreshing. But it is a high price-tag— flight, hotel, meals (though Conference fee is waived because I received the Distinguished Service Award six years ago). Still a big chunk of change. I certainly don’t need new ideas for next Monday’s classes, sometimes I’m concerned about the direction the workshops are taking—too much Power-point, too many clever ideas without dynamic music or dance, too much self-conscious “inclusive” language missing the boat of real inclusion by unleashing the deep humanity and collective connection of each participant in the workshop. 

 

Like every invitation I say yes to, I know that I will be very happy I made the effort to attend. As so often happens, I predict I’ll say, “Well, of course I had to go! If I hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened!” As hockey player Wayne Gretsky famously said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

 

So yes, I’ll take the next shot here and see if it gets into the net and scores another point for the Inspired Teaching Team. Stay tuned.