Progressively Unnecessary

 

“ A real teacher becomes progressively unnecessary.”

 

Today I put on my Icelandic sweater, gloves and a winter hat (it’s cold in San Francisco!) to bike to yet another class helping out my mentee Yari Mander at the school where he works. I’ve been doing this for four years now and for the first few years, the school paid me a modest consultant fee. This year they decided enough was enough, but Yari was still hoping I’d check in once in a while. 

 

The given wisdom is that in accepting work, there are three factors. 

 

1.    The money.

2.    The people. 

3.    The work itself. 

 

Two out of three is reason enough to accept the work. One usually not, unless the one is the money and it’s twice what you’d ordinarily be paid. 

 

The 8^th graders I’ve worked with this Fall were in 5^th grade when I started and from the beginning, were a musically impressive, highly focused and socially affable group. So it was enticing to work with them yet one more time in their last semester of the music program. Check people. 

 

The work is, of course, what I still love beyond any reasonable measure. Making music with anyone, but especially kids and with an extra boost when they’re in 8^th grade and can play some complex, swingin’ and satisfying pieces. They’ve come a long way in terms of technical skills, listening skills and ensemble cohesion. Their repertoire is taken from my own arrangements taught to Yari over the years, so both the choice of tunes and the particular forms and improvisational structures are not only familiar, but all pieces I chose because I loved (and love) them. The kids are playing them so well and so the energy comes back to me (and them) and does what music well-played can do— boosts my vitality, soothes my soul, restores my vigor. Check work.

 

Following my two out of three ratio, I agreed to do it without getting paid. Uncheck money. Ironically, I’m working more than I did when I was paid, sometimes two or three times a week and sometimes five classes for a whole day. And with one extra perk— I ride my bike there and back, so there’s a guarantee of needed exercise in fresh air. 

 

While I write this, they’re playing Herbie Hancock’s Chameleon with a killer groove, led by a girl playing drum set (who had never played it before). Now comes the electric guitar solo. Yeah!! And why can I be writing while they play? Because they don’t need me! They have it down, so Yari and I can just say, “Go!” And they do. 

 

It also happened in the 7^th grade class just before us. With a concert coming up next week, they went through their repertoire— a marimba piece on Zimbabwe marimbas, then C-Jam Blues and Mo’ Betta Blues arranged for Orff Ensemble. They played each expertly and did such a good job that there was still 20 minutes left in the class. Yari asked if they’d like to play the marimba piece again and they enthusiastically shouted “Yes!!” and ran over and just started playing on their own. Again, expertly. 

 

This is a music teacher’s dream. To be wholly present each step of the difficult journey from just starting a piece to performing it and then stepping back. As the kids gain understanding and begin to master the parts, the teacher takes tiny steps away from center stage, transferring their knowledge and power to the kids. 

 

And the enthusiasm in that “Yes! Let’s play it again!” is testimony that they are so happy to feel their own power— both individually and collectively. They feel in their bones that it’s so damn fun to be connected through music! Remember these are Middle Schoolers who according to our slightly weird cultural perceptions, are supposed to be disengaged, eye-rolling, arms-folded-across-chest, shut-down students. Instead, they’re spontaneously and enthusiastically shouting and feeling “YES!!”  like kids on Christmas morning unwrapping their favorite present. 

 

I made a good choice to be part of this all. Money is money, but to help create this kind of musical community is a rare opportunity and gift worth more than all of King Midas’s gold. I like the kids and I let them know it and they are warm with me. To keep this kind of social engagement and connection is another perk far beyond any monetary value.

 

And to be clear. “Progressively unnecessary” doesn’t mean leave the room— it’s just about changing the weight of each of the ways you are necessary. You move from leading the band to playing with the band to letting the band play alone sometimes and then offering both the next detail and the earned praise. The class before me at the moment just finished their pieces and erupted into a spontaneous percussion jam session — and they sound great! 

 

My cup runneth over. And their’s too.