Patience and Perseverance

One of the great qualities of this particular group of 30 Orff-Afrique students is that over 2/3rds of the group are Orff-trained, most of them with myself, James and Sofia. That means that they not only have clear musical skills, love kids and have a good understanding of pedagogy (Orff-style and otherwise), but that they’ve played their share of xylophones and have a solid sense of the pentatonic scale. They come to the gyil xylophone classes with all of that firmly in place as a foundation and though they still have to work hard to transfer the familiar—xylophones, mallets, pentatonic scales, etc.—to a new instrument with no spaces between mi and sol, la and do, no letter names on the bars and new style of playing with sophisticated rhythms and relationships between the left and right hands. The Orff background means that the brain has a foundation of previous experience to draw from— this scale is familiar, coordinating hands with mallets is familiar, the sense of rhythm is familiar. That frees it up to attend wholly to the new challenges and work to make those neural connections until the strange new information becomes embedded as familiar. 

 

But a few folks have come never having played the xylophone— a piano tuner, a Humanities teacher, a Waldorf teacher and such— and that has been a challenge for teacher and student alike. Their brain has never had to make connections between what they can sing and what they can play, never had to coordinate the two hands in this particular way, had less exposure than others to the rhythmic structures of music. That means their brains don’t have the same foundation to draw from, are frantically searching for something that looks or sounds familiar that they can relate all the new input to. And in a group class, it’s coming at them faster than it would in an individual lesson and they’re struggling to keep up. Just as they begin to get it, the next new learning is introduced, but they’re already two steps behind and the system starts to go on overload. 

 

This is where a good teacher is put to the test. Out of the back pocket come the multiple strategies to make them feel included and begin to feel successful. Things like slowing the tempo, having them play just a few notes in the overall pattern (but at the right time), pairing them with a partner who can be right next to them and help them when they’re floundering. If they look like they’re edging to a melt-down, you can also give them the simple bell pattern to play or have them sing the song while others are playing. 

 

Most importantly, you need to acknowledge out loud in front of the class how the brain makes connections and that for a variety of reasons, some skills and understandings come easier to some people than others, but that 95% of it is simply enough previous exposure and practice and that with patience and perseverance and enough time (and the optional strategies of participation listed above), everyone will eventually get there. This is what is now commonly known as Growth Mindset, a new term for an ancient understanding, accompanied by one of the post potent 3-letter words in education—yet. When someone says in frustration, “I don’t get it! I can’t do this!”, we train them to add that word—yet. 

 

Today we had our last of six xylophone classes and it was so satisfying to see the progress everyone made, particularly the three of them who had never touched a xylophone before. It was the truth of everything I just said in action as each made breakthrough after breakthrough. If we had had six more classes, I believe they would be wholly there, playing every note side-by-side with their more experienced colleagues. 

 

I am very patient with all the music students I teach and pretty good at encouraging them to persevere, noting their progress, praising them both privately and publicly. But not so good when it comes to patience with those who have never read a single book or chosen to see a single movie or had an honest conversation with a marginalized person dealing with how injustice of all sorts works. People who don’t know history from multiple viewpoints (or these days, simply history at all) and the inner mechanisms of how people in power manufacture consent, protect money that was earned by others’ sweat and blood, keep the toxic narratives going so they continue to benefit from them. Someone without that foundation of knowledge and care is simply not capable of playing the simplest tune on the xylophone of social justice. Nor can they vote responsibly. 

 

If I was in charge of teaching them the responsibilities of citizenship, I would have to meet them where they are, as I do with my music students. Once voluntarily in my class, I think I could show the patience and perseverance to reveal the needed stories, facts and emotions to play the tune of Peace and Justice. But they would have to sign up for the class, show up like these Orff-Afrique students did, humbly acknowledge that they are beginners in this field of study and be open to both doing the needed work and accepting guidance. And the refusal of so many to admit their ignorance and aspire to do better and know more is what I have no patience for whatsoever.

 

But nevertheless, I persevere.