Enduring Dedication

What happens when each day feels like a steady diet of epiphanies? Yesterday was signing a hundred books, some eighty of which the participants bought. Back in the good ole U.S.A., I often have an hour book-signing at one of the dealers at the AOSA Conference when a new book comes out. If I’m lucky, four people come by to get a signed copy. 

 

Then today, with one day left to go, the gifts started piling up. An instrument called a Hulusi, various scarves, two beautiful scrolls with profound poems inscribed with gorgeous calligraphy. Alongside, notes from a few people that felt like they captured an essence of me that I’m almost too flabbergasted to claim, but hope is true. With an eloquence that comes once or twice in a lifetime, if that. My cup is running over into flood proportions. 

 

Then today, before breaking for lunch, I demonstrated a jazz-rock drum rhythm for our next blues pieces, Watermelon Man. Coming back into the room, I heard someone killin’ it at the drums and imagine my shock when I saw it was an 8-year-old girl who had been in the workshop! Playing while the 10-year -old boy showed off his considerable hip dance moves. Amazing! When it came time to actually play the piece, I of course, hired her on the spot and him also as the “go-go dancer.” People, it doesn’t get much better than that! 

 

But it might! Given the general energy of the two groups I’ve taught, their fabulous musicality and quick learning, the sincere appreciation for both the music they’re learning and the way they’re learning it, anything can happen. I’m not expecting it— enough is enough. But I wouldn’t be surprised. 

 

The woman who gave me the scrolls gave rough translations of the two poems and compared her experience of my teaching with their meaning. Need I say how extraordinarily touching it is to feel seen and known for what I’ve attempted to be and do in this life? The two meanings:

 

• Lasting impact is not built overnight; it is achieved step-by-step through consistent, mindful and enduring dedication over a lifetime.

 

• The ocean becomes vast because it embraces every single stream, no matter how small. It represents a heart big enough to hold all cultures, ideas and people. 

 

 It seems like my enduring dedication, an effortless affection for that which makes me happy, has indeed paid off beyond my wildest dreams. To which I can only say 谢谢.  Xièxiè. 

Technology Manifesto

A fellow Orff teacher sent me a message asking me if I had anything to say to her adult (or college?) students about the use of technology in the music classroom. Somewhere I have written something called the Technology Manifesto, but darn if I could find it. So even though I’m done with jet lag, I found myself wholly awake at 3:00 am and just decided to write something about it. And here it is:

 

“Should computers be used in contemporary music classes?” One way to answer that question is to begin with a few others. “Why should they be used and when and at what age and for how much time and for how much money in my limited budget? What is my vision of music education? Which technologies— xylophones, whiteboards, recorders, Powerpoints, Youtube, etc. — best support that vision? And again, precisely when and why and how much?”

 

My personal vision that I’ve put into practice for over 50 years now is that the human body, heart and mind is where all learning begins and ends. Before we learn how a tool can extend their capabilities— from a leg pat to a drum stroke, from a voice to a flute, from a dreamed choreography to a videotaped one—we first must wholly embrace that which is closest to us— muscle and heartbeat and ideas in the brain and images in the mind. 

 

And since my vision is not limited to the success of each individual learner, but the way that music creates a community of learners, the ways that bodies, hearts and minds can connect with each other, support and entrain and amplify our sense of belonging to each other, is crucial to every decision made about the use of various technologies. To give just one example, students in rows staring up at a two-dimensional screen without touch, taste, smell and the ability to look back at them in hopes to know them creates a markedly different—and in my experience, severely reduced— version of community. Teacher and students holding hands in a circle, throwing out a dance move or gesture or sound or song and collectively shaping it, is a far superior inroad to community. 

 

The broader question in all parts of our life is not whether electronic technology is “good” or “bad,” but what vision does it serve,  what are its particular gifts, what are its limitations, what are some unintended consequences that we are now seeing and documenting with some technologies?  For example, the way phone-based childhoods have replaced play-based childhoods has been proven to be to the great detriment of our children’s mental and physical health. We know this in our bones simply by noticing our children, but if we need some documentation, Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation, amongst a growing collection of other books, will give us the details. So somewhere between continuing to use these technologies—or rather, be used by them— mindlessly,  and throwing them out is the important work of regulating their use. We understand this in other areas— a glass of wine or sip of beer can be lovely, but we understand that alcoholism is a serious problem. Pain killers after surgery are a blessing, but the opioid addiction crisis is a nightmare. As such, we limit children’s access to them and try to educate adults as to their proper use. 

 

A sensible policy of regulation begins with the adults in charge understanding the issues at stake and acting accordingly to protect both the children and themselves. I have created a little Technology Manifesto that helps frame the discussion, a series of questions to consider when wondering what to buy and how to use it. As follows:

 

Is this the right tool for the right job for the right reason for the right age group for the right amount of time for the right cost? 

 

• The right tool for the right job: Is there a simpler tool that can do the job as well? Like writing rhythms on a whiteboard instead of a flashy, glitzy display on a screen. Or notating rhythms with cups on the floor. Might it be worthwhile to wean kids from screens when something else serves the purpose as well or better?

 

The right reason: A  Youtube clip of Louis Armstrong and Dizzy Gillespie performing together on the Jackie Gleason Show or Nina Simone playing and singing I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Freeat the Montreaux Jazz Festival needs a computer/ Youtube/ screen and sound system. I want my students to know these geniuses and see them at work. A solid reason to use this technology (Youtube and a screen) that does this in a way no other technology can do as effectively. 

 

The right age group: Teachers should be clearly knowledgeable about child development and the young child’s irreducible need to touch, taste, explore, play and interact with the three-dimensional world using all senses. If screens rob children of those foundation experiences through their use at too young an age, nature’s window for building a firm foundation for all future learning is slammed on their fingers. Like all child-raising, screens need the same kind of consideration that sleep, behavioral boundaries, safety, protection, sugar and later alcohol, sex, driving, curfews, etc. do. Instead, tech companies purposefully addict young children to screens for the company’s profit, without considering for one moment the child’s mental, physical and emotional health. Therefore, it is the job of parents and teachers to agree on the developmentally appropriate times to connect children with these technologies. 

 

The right amount of time: The music class in general and the Orff Schulwerk class in particular can be a healing antidote to the greater school culture’s over-use of screens, an oasis where they can be wholly children, playing, exploring and learning with all their senses, their body, voice, intellect and imagination. Given how little time we have with children, consider using it sparingly. 

 

The right cost:  54 years after a school parent bought a set of six Studio 49 Orff instruments for The San Francisco School, the children are still playing those same instruments! Meanwhile, the garage is filled with computers with non-recycleable and dangerous materials that were obsolete after one or two years and cost five times as much as the xylophones. Don’t forget to factor in hiring a tech person (or two or three or more), making space for the machines, the cost of fixing them and upgrading, the cost of increased security measures to that they’re not stolen, the time spent on training teachers to stay up to date with the next incarnation of the machine. Again, it’s simple math. Is there enough bang for the buck to justify these expenses? And where is the proof that they’ve actually enhanced student learning, helped teachers teach better, created a more connected human community? 

 

So next time you’re reaching for the Powerpoint switch, consider all of the above and make a wise choice. The children are counting on you. 

 

P.S. For more,  listen to X Is for Xylophone  on my Spotify ABC’s of Education podcast.

Surprise Party!

 

After lamenting last post that my day was less than inspired, things took a welcome turn. For the third year in a row, my host Tonny threw a surprise party for me that truly was a surprise. The occasion was the 20^th anniversary of the first workshop I gave in China, in Beijing in 2006. 

 

Six years later, I returned again in 2012. Then gain in 2018 and again in 2024. After that last workshop, I noticed the six-year pattern and suggested to Tonny that at my age, he should not wait another six years! He took my advice and I returned in 2025 and here I am again in 2026. 

 

In the Shanghai workshop in 2024, the class gave me a surprise birthday party in honor of my “Chinese birthday” one month after my real one. In 2025, they surprised me again with a big cake and party honoring the 50 years I’d been teaching. I didn’t expect anything this year, but tonight, before beginning my Jazz Course in Hangzhou, they had a surprise banquet and presented a video retrospective honoring the 20^th Anniversary of my first course in China. First thing I noticed is that I pretty much am still wearing the same clothes from all those earlier photos! But once I got past that, I was so deeply moved by the tribute, especially from videos sent by Li Dana and Li Yanying, fellow elders who hosted me 20 years ago. The respect for teachers, the generosity of organizing such tributes, the sincere appreciation for the things I’ve brought to Chinese Orff Schulwerk that to my surprise, have proved to be useful and occasionally inspiring, is simply remarkable to me. The tears were freely flowing. 

 

To be honest, the timing was perfect. For whatever reason, I continue to be wholly energized teaching six hours a day for five days straight (as I just did) here in Hangzhou and before that, nine days in New Orleans. Inside, I feel wholly alive and present and new twists and turns with familiar material keep coming my way and that’s a delight. But outside the room where I’m teaching here, there’s a TV screen with a looping slide show of photos taken from that first course and I find myself thinking, “Who’s that old man?” And that’s not mere conjecture— I turn 75 in 12 days! How much longer can I do this? How much longer should I do this? 

 

I suppose time will tell. For now, as long as people continue to invite me and as long as it continues to bring me such happiness, I’ll keep going. Meanwhile, my deepest gratitude to the people and cultures who honor their teachers and understand the gifts of their elders. May it live on!

 

This and That

I did get out today on my day off with a group of five to West Lake and it was almost tolerable walking short distances under the shade of tree-lined walks. It did feel good to see the lake and some temples and hills in the distance. We strolled through five small, connected museums displaying stones, lacquer, Chinese scrolls and a Chinese artist painting in a Western style.  My unofficial guide was a soon-to-be Level III student of mine coming to California, like me, next week. Her English is minimal, my Mandarin non-existent, but she valiantly tried to explain much of what I was seeing, often using her native language of dance and song. It was lovely and yes, there are many roads to communication. At the same time, it is a bit wearing on the psyche to try to figure out the deep insights she was trying to communicate, followed by the usual sitting at a meal with everyone talking Mandarin and me out of the loop. 

 

Speaking of Mandarin, complimentary copies of my Teach Like It’s Music book now translated into Mandarin and published in China arrived and after a two to three-year negotiation, it was a grand pleasure to see the final product. A tasteful cover and a hardback edition and not counting a Russian translation of my Play, Sing and Dance book that I found out about wholly by accident some ten years back, this is the first of what could have— and should have—been, many translations that I discussed with eager students I’ve taught in Spain, Brazil, Germany, Italy, Iran that never quite got off the ground. I’d be pleased if some of them might now follow suit. 

 

Post-lunch, it was back to the hotel room, hand-wash three T-shirts, play hide-and-seek with my Surfshark VPN as we do every day to see if and when I can connect to e-mail and such (with me losing time after time),  sit outside the hotel in spiky grass in the shade while waiting to see how fast my shirts would dry in the sun and 100 degree heat. (Answer: Not as fast as I thought. Still damp after an hour.). Within an hour, it’s the next dinner out and return to room, a routine, truth be told, I’m tiring of. Tomorrow is the start of the three-day Jazz Course and I know that back in that big room with some 50 teachers, I’ll be back in the “zone.” But I am sorely missing the feeling of being wholly some place with its full character. Truth be told, I could have done all this work in a shopping mall in the Peninusula south of San Francisco and it wouldn’t have felt much different. Except for easier Internet.

 

Walking alongside the lake this morning, I remember a couple of inspired thoughts coming up the way they do when I’m out and walking in the world. But as you can see, none of them made it to this post! So I’ll leave it as a little bit of this and a little bit of that and close with a photo of the book covers. Hope your day is more inspired—and cooler— than mine!

More or Less

 

Back in my early days teaching workshops, I pressured myself to do everything I had planned, felt that I failed if I fell short and would sometimes do a quick superficial run-through of something just to make sure I did it. Time and maturity helped, as I got a better sense of estimating ahead of time how long something might take. What helped even more was the ability to send notes via e-mail after the workshop so no one knew what I actually had planned. 

 

Today I had hoped to share three Ghana xylophone pieces, yet another from Uganda and two jazz pieces. It quickly became clear, “What was I thinking?” and told the people that the Uganda border was closed today and never mentioned the third Ghana piece or the second jazz piece. It was crystal clear that it would have been worthless to just rush through them and of course, absolutely no was thinking, “If I don’t learn a Uganda xylophone piece today, this whole 5-day course will be a grave disappointment!” 

 

So happy to report that it’s fine to have a big appetite, but wise to know when to stop and not put another helping on your—or the students’— plate. We had already done so much! With two hours left in the afternoon, I wrote a summary of the 4 ½ days (see photo) grouped into games/ body percussion, dances and Orff Ensemble pieces. We zipped through shorter versions of each activity just to remind ourselves in our body and voice what we had done once and what we all could benefit from by doing again. This also prepared them all for the final reflection where each in turn choose one or two activities or ideas that are their “takeaways.” Very satisfying when they named the things that I care about that seemed to touch them. From there, a closing spiral while they sang a Mongolian lullaby for the perfect musical ending. 

 

Now I have a whole day of rest ahead before the 3-day Jazz Course, but truth be told, am not happy about the 100-degree temperature prediction for tomorrow and being in a hotel without a swimming pool. I continue to testify that my 6-hours daily teaching is a wholly happy place, but I really need some fresh air and exercise as well. Can’t imagine being out in the heat nor staying in my hotel room the whole day. Aargh!

 

Maybe I’ll just grab a xylophone and practice the Ugandan xylophone piece.

Food Matters

As much as I’m loving each and every minute of the 6-plus hours I’m teaching every day, it’s a strange life to be indoors all day, walk a few blocks to a restaurant for dinner and back to the hotel room. I’ve always loved the remarkable array of food in previous China trips, but somehow these local restaurants feel uninspired. Mostly white rice with unusual vegetables that I can’t even always identify— perhaps cooked green tomatoes or cucumbers and one that I discover was loofah. Yes, the sponge that you use to bathe in its young version is actually edible. 

 

So it was with great delight that four of us stepped out on the town last night and went to a Thai restaurant in a bustling neighborhood alive with night life and filled with a 4^th-of-July-finale number of diverse restaurants. Often my dinner companions speak Chinese only and I just enjoy their banter and constant explosions of laughter. Confirming my feeling that these are happy people with great senses of humor! But tonight a new student who came today was a drummer from Hong Kong who actually studied for two years at the Berklee School of Music in Boston and along with my friend/translator Li, 3 out of the 4 of us could talk in English. I have to confess it was a welcome change. 

 

And the food! One bite of papaya salad and I was in heaven! On it went with shrimp cakes, Tom Yum soup, Pad Thai and other familiar and welcome tasty dishes. In some ways, I’m not that fussy about food and am grateful to take what is offered, but it indeed makes a difference when it tickles both the palette and satisfies the stomach. It is one of the minuses of travel to be constantly at the mercy of whatever happens to be available and one of the great reunions when I come home and am the master of my kitchen yet again. 

 

As predicted at the end of the last post, the “final exam” performances of the four groups arranging a traditional folk song using everything they already knew and everything they’ve learned in four days was simply spectacular. Each group got A+++ without exception! And an added bonus which I wouldn’t have been able to discern for myself is that the four pieces represented distinct Provinces and musical styles. Like just about every place—Italy, Spain, Ghana, Brazil, the United States, come immediately to mind— the fiction of one unified country that is homogenous flies in the face of history, ethnic groups, languages and dialects, cuisines, dress, musical styles, weather, watersheds, bioregions. Extraordinary diversity is the norm, despite an official language, currency and over-riding government. 

 

Today, the last day of this course exploring the many faces of the pentatonic scale in cultures worldwide, will bring us to Uganda, Ghana and the U.S. and we’ll end with a review of the material and reflection of what the course meant to people. Then a welcome one day off before another 3-day Jazz Course with 50 new participants. Although with a predicted 107 heat, my day off may not be the promising welcoming walk-in-the-park day I could use. And this hotel without a pool. So it goes. Maybe we’ll go back to that Thai restaurant!

 

Pass It On and Let It Go

My takeaway from the last two courses I’ve taught is to keep reminding myself to give the whole show over to the group and let them fly. I’m pretty sure I routinely do this, but as anyone who knows me and my work can testify, I have a lot of material, a lot of ways to think about teaching and developing material, a lot of understanding as to how to sequence and scaffold it all and a lot of pleasure in the simple acts of playing games, singing songs and playing music. In short, I love to sing in the ring with the group as one participating member of the community and also am quite comfortable being the sage on the stage sharing what others have called wisdom in regard to this lifetime work in music education. No need to rank those roles, but the proof of success in the two just named is when I shift to the guide on the side and so happily witness the excitement and bubbling energy in the room as the kids—or adults in the workshop– take it on themselves to create something together. 

 

And I felt it just before lunch as I announced their afternoon project, that shift from listening attentively, respectfully, with interest and intrigue to whatever I’m presenting to the explosion of energy as they began to already form groups. Their task is threefold:

 

1)   Take something they know— a Chinese rhyme/ song/ dance/ musical piece— and creating a performance of it. 

2)   In so doing, they should apply something they didn’t know before and now have learned— for example, the principles of elemental orchestration or the integration with body percussion or movement or including their newly-learned recorder skills. 

3)   Finally, they should include something they don’t know, something that bubbles up from the imagination as they improvise musically or trade ideas compositionally or let the material suggest a way forward. 

 

All of this is routinely included in Orff workshops and widely acknowledged as a great practice. However… Many times the teacher skips the stage of actually teaching something new that can now enter their compositional/ choreographic project. Far too often, a teacher throws a little idea out and says, “Go off into small groups and make something up.” I, for one, often find this profoundly unsatisfying, as we simply charge ahead with the way we already think. Without the step of being led by a master teacher/ musician who has been further down the path, it feels a bit indulgent. And yes, if the sage never steps off the stage, that’s a problem in a different direction. But sometimes one I prefer over the superficial small group brainstorm. 

 

After three and a half days of offering so much new information and material and ways of developing material and structures that build dependable foundations for the creative instincts, I’m fairly confident that the results will be stunning. Especially as by singing songs embedded in the cultural tradition, the sense of their ancestors entering the room will probably be palpable. As I’ve often commented, I’m fine being the perpetual outsider with just enough understanding about how particular musical styles work to get some dynamic music-making out into the air. But a simple folk song sung in the voice that should be used in that style is always a moving moment for me. 

They’re working now while I write. I’ll report back later. 

 

PS In choosing the title for this post, I was thinking how this dynamic is the workshop microcosm of our life’s task. To pass on what’s worthy of our attention to the next generation and let them re-create it in their own time and their own voice. The history of jazz is a great example of that process at work. But the current climate of disdaining elders because they’re not on Tik-Tok and not looking to them or expecting the necessary wisdom to keep the human experiment evolving is a grave mistake. As it would be for the elders to expect the young to preserve their work as museum pieces. Both sides must do their proper work. As the oldest guy in the room almost everywhere I teach (though found a participant today born the same year as me!), I feel great pleasure in both passing it on and watching the next generation begin to run with it.