The Broken Bus

Amongst my modest contributions to effective music education is my Doug Goodkin^TM  method of choosing partners. In a circle, the two people to my right turn and face each other, then the next two, the next two and so on around the circle. No two can turn to each other until the ones before them have. A simple method that avoids the confusion of randomly or purposefully choosing a partner where some are left stranded. With kids, it solves the problem of popularity by making it a little game with rules. By not having to actually choose, but just accept the person who happens to be next to you, it sidesteps the issue of who picks who and who doesn’t get picked. It solves the problem of interrupting the musical flow of the class by avoiding that moment of confusion. But its power runs deeper than just that. 

 

When a kid turns to a person and makes a face or blurts out, “Ewww! I don’t want to be his partner!” my response is: 

 

“I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment. Just two minutes of a little clapping play. And then you’ll have a new partner.”

 

And how do they choose the next partner? As simple as turning around and Voila! There you are! And if that complaining kid says, “I don’t want to be her partner either!” I respond:

 

“Guess what? I bet neither of them want to be your partner! Especially the way you’re acting. But here’s the deal. One day you may be riding a bus somewhere and the bus will break down. Maybe there’s a storm or a blizzard or it just breaks down in the middle of nowhere, far away from any help. What are you going to do? You didn’t get to choose who’s on the bus with you, so you better learn how to do work with whoever is in the room—or on the bus. This little activity will help you learn how to do something with someone who you wouldn’t choose to be a partner with, but just might discover that it’s fine to do a little work or play together. Who knows? You might even discover that they could be your friend! But most important, you can begin to understand that you can find something good and decent in anyone you meet if you give them a chance or at least figure out how to work together to solve whatever problem you have, whether it’s making up a new version of the clapping game or trying to fix the bus. “

 

And then I say to the workshop folks: “We’re all on a broken bus right now. We don't get to decide who's on the bus and if we kick someone off because we think we don't want to be their clapping play partner, it might be the person who knows how to fix the engine. So we better figure out how to survive it—together. ”