More

Well, my friends, it was yet another memorable day because I spent the morning in company with children. K through 3^rdgraders preparing for a show whose teacher brought me in as a kind of dramaturge. From the moment they walked into the room, the kids, those expert readers in body language, facial expression and sincerely spoken words, felt like I’m already their good friend. They performed for me, then sat down and listened attentively to my comments, which began something like this:

 

“First off, wonderful work!! I loved the singing, playing and dancing. But if you’d like to make it even better… hands up, if you would!… okay, almost everyone, that’s what I thought. If you’d like to make it even better, I have a few ideas. But instead of telling you them, I can show you.

 

When you came onto stage, your arms crossed moving up and down told me that it must be winter and cold out. Yes? I thought so. I’m going to do that motion two different ways. Which one looks more convincing that it’s really cold? I agree. Number two. And why? That’s right— because I showed in my face as well. And number three might even look better. Why? That’s right, those little shivers. Now show me with your arms, face and whole shivering body your new opening motion. Fantastic!! Who thought it looked better? Felt better?

Okay, now I’m going to sing the song a few different ways. Which looks and sounds the best? Yep! The one when I’m singing stronger from my belly up, not shouting, and really making the words clear. And here’s a little secret. Look over my head at some spot on the wall and sing to that. Yes, so much better! What we call your focus makes all the difference in the world!

And what about those shapes you made? Did you stretch to the edge of the imaginary canvas? Show me! What a difference!

 

In short, all these ideas can be summed up in one word that most teachers don’t say to you. When you come in from the outside with your energetic, exuberant, wild self, what do teachers often say? “Calm down, talk quieter, stop wiggling, be still.” And when you have a reading lesson, that makes perfect sense. The class needs less wild energy. 

 

But in music class, it’s the opposite! What I want is “MORE!” Bigger shapes, stronger, more expressive voices, more energy, more excitement. Take all your outside kid selves and put your whole self into the singing, dancing and playing! Okay, let’s go through the whole show again.”

 

That, ladies and gentleman, is how you get kids to love you 30 minutes after they meet you. To line up and give you a thumbs up or a knowing wink or a fist bump or hug or gather around you to tell you jokes or ask when you’re coming back. Simply give them permission to bring the whole of their exuberant kid selves into an activity that thrives at the edge of expression. 

And as adults, in a world where everyone demands to see less of us, to come into meetings following “the norms,” to hide the parts that ask the difficult questions or challenge the lie of “transparency” in decision-making or simply wants to everyone to “have a nice day,” it’s revolutionary to show the whole of yourself. I’m not talking about the false wild of the fake shamanic Capitol stormer or the rants of whiny children in adult bodies. I’m talking about taking the full measure of your authentic self and shape in with iron discipline to take those long 3-pointer basketball shots or wail coherently in your sax solo. To stop holding back and give us more.