A few weeks ago I read a two-sided article regarding the validity of competitive cheerleading as a sport. The pro-sport author contended that cheerleading was a sport because the participants suffered injury and still had to perform, just like other athletes.
I kid you not.
In essence, sport was defined by its propensity toward harm. Hmm. I used to think that sports were touted as healthy activity. Humility strikes again.
I couldn’t help but wonder if there are musicians with the same mindset. I do know that the technical demands of music have increased considerably in the last 50 years. Eckart Altenmüller, musician, physician and highly regarded specialist in the medical problems of musicians, lists this as one of the major reasons for the increase in focal dystonias among musicians. (Music, Motor Control and the Brain, published byOxford University Press) Our challenges are simply harder than they were in the past, and we work harder to meet them.
Does that mean we should expect - even glorify – potential pain and suffering that comes from music making?
Unlike professional athletes, musicians rarely get sophisticated physical training as part of our development. We also don’t get paid if we’re placed on the injured list. Lots of us may not have any kind of health insurance at all. Others are, to quote the old song, “playin’ real good for free”.
Fortunately, there are groups like the Performing Arts Medical Association (PAMA),
“an organization comprised of dedicated medical professionals, artists, educators, and administrators with the common goal of improving the health care of the performing artist.” www.artsmed.org
And Andover Educators ™, “a not for profit membership organization of music educators committed to saving, securing, and enhancing musical careers by providing accurate information about the body in movement.” www.bodymap.org
There is also a stronger movement toward integrating what sports medicine specialists have learned with the requirements of the performing arts. The new president of PAMA is Dr. George Shybut, whose history includes work with professional athletes and musicians. Another example of training cross-pollination can be found at the website www.athletesandthearts.com.
However, none of this developing interplay does a service if the participants are cheering for pain.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Parental Pedagogy
If you haven't heard of "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother" by Amy Chua, I'd be surprised. In her family memoir, as she calls it, Chua describes a no-excuses style of parenting that demands nothing but excellence in all endeavors, and moms are reacting. Have we really gotten too soft on our kids? Are we wrong to accept that they won't excel at everything they do? Or are some of us as equally unaccepting of lower standards as Chua, denying our children anything that won't put them academically at the forefront?
Let's face it, moms, we are to blame no matter which route we take. We keep family therapists in business, just another gift to the economy.
Seriously, as both a mom and an experienced teacher, I have to admit that it is tougher and tougher to take a tiger's stance these days than when I started teaching 40 years ago. At that time and in that place, parents watched their pennies and wanted value for every one of them. The value in piano lessons was directly related to the amount of practicing each student completed. In a lot of ways, it was easier to be the tiger mother and the tiger teacher.
The expectations and circumstances have changed dramatically. There are more families with multiple income strains and therefore, even in the current economy, with greater ability to budget music tuition regardless of the progress of the student. There are certainly more activities that pull students away from the piano and more technologically magnetic forms of entertainment at home and on the go.
There are also more students who live in two or three different residences in the course of a week. A flute student can readily transport his or her instrument from home to home, but the piano student cannot. Not having an instrument to practice on is actually a valid excuse.
Quite possibly the biggest change is a greater awareness of learning challenges and the impact of interaction styles on students. More and more students are presenting with visual learning challenges, aural difficulties, and forms of autism. We want to help them - we really do! We don't always know the best route, but we do know that standing over them and growling will probably not alter their biology and neurology.
How can moms and dads help the piano student and teacher? First, please let your teacher know if your child has been identified with a certain type of learning challenge. We will probably guess sooner or later, but sooner is always better than later. That gives us time to lay a foundation for the way that particular child will learn and to investigate resources. Most of us are not trained in special education techniques. We have to do some homework.
Second, let us know if your child works best with a tiger or a kitten. We are human, and we sometimes choose the wrong mode. We are sorry when we do.
Third, give some thought to the kind of structure your child requires. Most students do benefit from a scheduled practice time. Most families benefit from a scheduled practice time as well. I know, I know - it is not always easy. However, it is generally easier to start with something more structured and tweak it as needs arise. Be aware that youngsters do not develop scheduling skills for many years. They need help.
Fourth, give some thought to the structure you require. If you need quiet time first thing in the morning, you may not want to awaken your budding pianist for early morning practice. If you are tired at the end of the work day and not patient enough to supervise practicing, set the alarm back 20 minutes.
Piano students spend far more time teaching themselves than teachers spend teaching them. This is how skills advance, by conscious repetition, which is sometimes fun and sometimes very challenging. Progress always requires discipline, which is an orderly way of learning, by definition. The style of that discipline may vary widely from family to family and even child to child. But without it, progress is unlikely if not impossible.
Let's face it, moms, we are to blame no matter which route we take. We keep family therapists in business, just another gift to the economy.
Seriously, as both a mom and an experienced teacher, I have to admit that it is tougher and tougher to take a tiger's stance these days than when I started teaching 40 years ago. At that time and in that place, parents watched their pennies and wanted value for every one of them. The value in piano lessons was directly related to the amount of practicing each student completed. In a lot of ways, it was easier to be the tiger mother and the tiger teacher.
The expectations and circumstances have changed dramatically. There are more families with multiple income strains and therefore, even in the current economy, with greater ability to budget music tuition regardless of the progress of the student. There are certainly more activities that pull students away from the piano and more technologically magnetic forms of entertainment at home and on the go.
There are also more students who live in two or three different residences in the course of a week. A flute student can readily transport his or her instrument from home to home, but the piano student cannot. Not having an instrument to practice on is actually a valid excuse.
Quite possibly the biggest change is a greater awareness of learning challenges and the impact of interaction styles on students. More and more students are presenting with visual learning challenges, aural difficulties, and forms of autism. We want to help them - we really do! We don't always know the best route, but we do know that standing over them and growling will probably not alter their biology and neurology.
How can moms and dads help the piano student and teacher? First, please let your teacher know if your child has been identified with a certain type of learning challenge. We will probably guess sooner or later, but sooner is always better than later. That gives us time to lay a foundation for the way that particular child will learn and to investigate resources. Most of us are not trained in special education techniques. We have to do some homework.
Second, let us know if your child works best with a tiger or a kitten. We are human, and we sometimes choose the wrong mode. We are sorry when we do.
Third, give some thought to the kind of structure your child requires. Most students do benefit from a scheduled practice time. Most families benefit from a scheduled practice time as well. I know, I know - it is not always easy. However, it is generally easier to start with something more structured and tweak it as needs arise. Be aware that youngsters do not develop scheduling skills for many years. They need help.
Fourth, give some thought to the structure you require. If you need quiet time first thing in the morning, you may not want to awaken your budding pianist for early morning practice. If you are tired at the end of the work day and not patient enough to supervise practicing, set the alarm back 20 minutes.
Piano students spend far more time teaching themselves than teachers spend teaching them. This is how skills advance, by conscious repetition, which is sometimes fun and sometimes very challenging. Progress always requires discipline, which is an orderly way of learning, by definition. The style of that discipline may vary widely from family to family and even child to child. But without it, progress is unlikely if not impossible.
Friday, December 31, 2010
"It's music!"
Preparing for the annual recital is always a little nerve-wracking for students and teachers alike. My job as teacher is to focus on the positive by allowing the student to articulate what is going well, not just what needs to be improved. They have come to expect the question, "What did you like about that performance?"
As I finished playing secondo to a bright young girl's primo, I presented the same query. She looked at me with eyes full of delight. "It's music!" she said. This was the first time I had ever heard such a profound response.
Somewhere along the line, we lose sight of the simple joy of making music. Somewhere along the line, we become so concerned about the details of performance that we forget the sheer pleasure and privilege of making music.
Maybe this is why there are so many homemade performances appearing on YouTube. Surely some of these are attempts to gain attention and possibly fame, but I would like to think that there are many people who want to share the joy of making music with the wider world. "Look, I can do this! And I enjoy it!"
As the calendar year closes, I am reminding myself to return to the teaching studio with this motto in my head. Yes, it is my job to guide and correct and cajole and demonstrate. Why? Because it's music.
As I finished playing secondo to a bright young girl's primo, I presented the same query. She looked at me with eyes full of delight. "It's music!" she said. This was the first time I had ever heard such a profound response.
Somewhere along the line, we lose sight of the simple joy of making music. Somewhere along the line, we become so concerned about the details of performance that we forget the sheer pleasure and privilege of making music.
Maybe this is why there are so many homemade performances appearing on YouTube. Surely some of these are attempts to gain attention and possibly fame, but I would like to think that there are many people who want to share the joy of making music with the wider world. "Look, I can do this! And I enjoy it!"
As the calendar year closes, I am reminding myself to return to the teaching studio with this motto in my head. Yes, it is my job to guide and correct and cajole and demonstrate. Why? Because it's music.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
The irony of it all
Think about the music.
Honor the composer.
Listen to the sounds you are making.
Advice from past teachers is echoing in my head during recital season. After all the hours spent practicing and refining, there should be no doubt that the performance will be successful.
But there is doubt, and often plenty of it.
And then there is irony. In our classical training we are taught that the performance is about making the music as good as it can be. But what happens after the performance is about hearing praise for the performer, not the composer. I am still waiting for an audience member to say, "That Beethoven, what a genius!" Sure, they may say how much they enjoyed a certain piece, that it is a favorite or something they would like to hear again. Truth be told, they can hear their favorite pieces without ever leaving home, thanks to electronic access to music of all kinds.
Truth be told, they come to hear a certain performer play a recital live. And this starts with children in my studio. I can't fool myself into believing that townspeople would come to my studio recital to hear other people's children play, or to hear yet another arrangement of "Ode to Joy". They wouldn't, and they don't.
The challenge is to accept that the performance is not just about the music. However, it is not just about the performer either. A successful performance is about the performer at a given moment in time interpreting a piece of music written at another moment in time. Oh, yes, and an audience listening to the performance. It is the whole ball of musical wax.
The trick, if I dare call it a trick, is to find a conscious balance of these elements. A successful performance includes technical control, musical mastery, personal expression and communication with the audience. In other words, an inclusive awareness of the music, the performer and the audience.
Thinking about the music can be a great way to prioritize these elements, not ignore them, but prioritize them. After all, the music will not play it itself - at least not live.
Honor the composer.
Listen to the sounds you are making.
Advice from past teachers is echoing in my head during recital season. After all the hours spent practicing and refining, there should be no doubt that the performance will be successful.
But there is doubt, and often plenty of it.
And then there is irony. In our classical training we are taught that the performance is about making the music as good as it can be. But what happens after the performance is about hearing praise for the performer, not the composer. I am still waiting for an audience member to say, "That Beethoven, what a genius!" Sure, they may say how much they enjoyed a certain piece, that it is a favorite or something they would like to hear again. Truth be told, they can hear their favorite pieces without ever leaving home, thanks to electronic access to music of all kinds.
Truth be told, they come to hear a certain performer play a recital live. And this starts with children in my studio. I can't fool myself into believing that townspeople would come to my studio recital to hear other people's children play, or to hear yet another arrangement of "Ode to Joy". They wouldn't, and they don't.
The challenge is to accept that the performance is not just about the music. However, it is not just about the performer either. A successful performance is about the performer at a given moment in time interpreting a piece of music written at another moment in time. Oh, yes, and an audience listening to the performance. It is the whole ball of musical wax.
The trick, if I dare call it a trick, is to find a conscious balance of these elements. A successful performance includes technical control, musical mastery, personal expression and communication with the audience. In other words, an inclusive awareness of the music, the performer and the audience.
Thinking about the music can be a great way to prioritize these elements, not ignore them, but prioritize them. After all, the music will not play it itself - at least not live.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
This is a test. This is ONLY a test?
The screech preceding these words vibrates through my bones like a dentist's drill. I can't ignore it. That's the idea. I'm supposed to be alerted, alarmed, and aware that my life could be in danger. The reminder that this is only a test is designed to calm down my excited nervous system so I can return to enjoying the scheduled radio programming of classical music.
Today my mind is unable to move beyond the words only a test. For me, the word test is rarely an only. It is a challenge I am required to meet, or a determination of my skills by an outside judge, or, even worse, a recital.
When did I develop the idea that playing for others was more of a test than a pleasure? I suspect I connected tests to performances on my own as a young student. I heard the older students play and wanted to measure up. I don't remember my first piano teacher ever referring to a recital as a test.
Undergraduate school was a different matter. I was introduced to the jury process. A jury is a measure of a music student's progress from year to year, and it involves playing for faculty members. In other words, it's a test.
One of my wise friends asks the questions, "If this is a jury, who is on trial? What is the crime?" Taking that analogy further, I ask, "Am I the defense?" Usually, in my own mind, the answer is yes. I am defending my interpretation, my tempi, my dynamics, my pedaling. The problem is that I don't know what charge I am defending myself against until the verdict - the jury sheets or the critical feedback - are handed to me. It is only then that I know what laws I have broken. Thanks to the uncertainty of the sentence, I can become alarmed, alerted, and aware that my musical life could be in danger. All because I am playing classical music!
Reframing this experience to something more generous and more satisfying is part of my process, especially because I work in an undergraduate school. I am around the nervous - and often judgmental - young students who are laying their musical lives on the line for juried performances. It is part of my task to help them present confident musical performances, knowing that they are also required to survive the tests built into the structure of music school.
I remind them that music is a means of communication. Even the occasional mistake in speech and writing can be understood, as can the occasional mistake in musical performance, if the performance is NOT only a test.
Today my mind is unable to move beyond the words only a test. For me, the word test is rarely an only. It is a challenge I am required to meet, or a determination of my skills by an outside judge, or, even worse, a recital.
When did I develop the idea that playing for others was more of a test than a pleasure? I suspect I connected tests to performances on my own as a young student. I heard the older students play and wanted to measure up. I don't remember my first piano teacher ever referring to a recital as a test.
Undergraduate school was a different matter. I was introduced to the jury process. A jury is a measure of a music student's progress from year to year, and it involves playing for faculty members. In other words, it's a test.
One of my wise friends asks the questions, "If this is a jury, who is on trial? What is the crime?" Taking that analogy further, I ask, "Am I the defense?" Usually, in my own mind, the answer is yes. I am defending my interpretation, my tempi, my dynamics, my pedaling. The problem is that I don't know what charge I am defending myself against until the verdict - the jury sheets or the critical feedback - are handed to me. It is only then that I know what laws I have broken. Thanks to the uncertainty of the sentence, I can become alarmed, alerted, and aware that my musical life could be in danger. All because I am playing classical music!
Reframing this experience to something more generous and more satisfying is part of my process, especially because I work in an undergraduate school. I am around the nervous - and often judgmental - young students who are laying their musical lives on the line for juried performances. It is part of my task to help them present confident musical performances, knowing that they are also required to survive the tests built into the structure of music school.
I remind them that music is a means of communication. Even the occasional mistake in speech and writing can be understood, as can the occasional mistake in musical performance, if the performance is NOT only a test.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Same old, same old
Merriweather played beautifully at her first adjudicated master class. I should know - I'm her teacher and one of the two judges. I had a pretty good idea of what to expect, and of what I would like to hear change, but I was pleased with her performance. I jotted down the good points and the suggestions, as did my co-judge, and we handed them to Merriweather.
Dr. Great-with-Kids gave her a thumbs-up as well, pleasing Merriweather and her mom.
Merriweather's mom said, "What did Mrs. Hooper say?" Merriweather rolled her eleven-year-old eyes and said, "Same old, same old."
I had to laugh, my other choice being a good sulk in the corner for being such a boring teacher. Then I looked at the comments from Dr. Great-with-Kids. Slightly different words, but the same suggestions I made! Why was her opinion so well-received and mine so quickly dismissed?
A mental har-rumph was in order.
After a few days of har-rumphing, I was ready to challenge myself. There is no denying what one friend calls the "guest conductor syndrome" - same information, different delivery style. A change of environment alone is stimulating to the brain, as is the sound of an unfamiliar voice with its unique rhythms and cadences. Nonetheless, I still felt the need to rethink my delivery style.
Even though Merriweather has been in my studio for years, and I hope will be for more years to come, I may need to take on the "guest conductor" persona from time to time. I could listen to the sound of my voice for pitch, rhythm, speed and inflection. I could change some of my time-honored phrases for the "same old, same old" challenges. I could change up the order of lesson materials covered. I could bring out different learning aids from time to time. Every now and then I could surprise the student by doing something completely different, whatever that something is.
I have never thought of myself as a boring teacher, that is for sure. But I am re-evaluating the difference between "tried and true" and "same old, same old."
Dr. Great-with-Kids gave her a thumbs-up as well, pleasing Merriweather and her mom.
Merriweather's mom said, "What did Mrs. Hooper say?" Merriweather rolled her eleven-year-old eyes and said, "Same old, same old."
I had to laugh, my other choice being a good sulk in the corner for being such a boring teacher. Then I looked at the comments from Dr. Great-with-Kids. Slightly different words, but the same suggestions I made! Why was her opinion so well-received and mine so quickly dismissed?
A mental har-rumph was in order.
After a few days of har-rumphing, I was ready to challenge myself. There is no denying what one friend calls the "guest conductor syndrome" - same information, different delivery style. A change of environment alone is stimulating to the brain, as is the sound of an unfamiliar voice with its unique rhythms and cadences. Nonetheless, I still felt the need to rethink my delivery style.
Even though Merriweather has been in my studio for years, and I hope will be for more years to come, I may need to take on the "guest conductor" persona from time to time. I could listen to the sound of my voice for pitch, rhythm, speed and inflection. I could change some of my time-honored phrases for the "same old, same old" challenges. I could change up the order of lesson materials covered. I could bring out different learning aids from time to time. Every now and then I could surprise the student by doing something completely different, whatever that something is.
I have never thought of myself as a boring teacher, that is for sure. But I am re-evaluating the difference between "tried and true" and "same old, same old."
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Them Bones, Them Bones
Hammer, anvil, stirrup. One by one, these are large objects with a common connection to saddle and horseshoe construction. Together, they are three tiny bones that are critical to hearing. Together, they would fit on a dime.
The eardrum is the membrane which picks up sound vibrations. These vibrations need amplification to be perceived. Amplification is the job of these three little bones. Small as they are, they amplify sound. If such tiny bones can amplify sound, imagine what the other 203 bones could do!
When I get a tooth drilled, the sound is the worst part of the process. Thanks to novacaine, I don't feel much pain sensation, but I do "feel" the sound. Teeth are rooted in the jaw, a large bone that connects to the skull, an even larger bony structure. The jaw connects to the skull in very close proximity to the ear. The big bone amplifies the sound of the drill directly to the three little bones in the inner ear. When the drill is not in contact with the tooth, the sound is not as loud as when the drill touches the tooth.
Singers and wind players may be more aware of the way their sounds resonate in their bones than pianists and string players. Even so, they may forget that the whole body resonates, not just the ear bones, the skull and jaw. In fact, ancient healing chants were designed to resonate in order to activate the healing process throughout the body. Modern medicine has ever-developing uses of sound for diagnostic and healing purposes.
"Hearing" sound in the whole body can be a very freeing experience. It helps to put the performer smack dab in the middle of the sound. A constricted body does not amplify sound as well as a free, balanced body amplifies sound. Allowing the whole body to experience sound is a way to release unnecessary tension. The result of this is good for the performer and good for the audience.
And... you don't need electricity for these amplifiers. Or a roadie to carry them for you.
Practice feeling sound in your whole body. Notice where the sound gets blocked. Notice how pitch and volume change the sensations. Notice how certain spaces change your access to natural amplification. Enjoy being in the middle of the sound.
The eardrum is the membrane which picks up sound vibrations. These vibrations need amplification to be perceived. Amplification is the job of these three little bones. Small as they are, they amplify sound. If such tiny bones can amplify sound, imagine what the other 203 bones could do!
When I get a tooth drilled, the sound is the worst part of the process. Thanks to novacaine, I don't feel much pain sensation, but I do "feel" the sound. Teeth are rooted in the jaw, a large bone that connects to the skull, an even larger bony structure. The jaw connects to the skull in very close proximity to the ear. The big bone amplifies the sound of the drill directly to the three little bones in the inner ear. When the drill is not in contact with the tooth, the sound is not as loud as when the drill touches the tooth.
Singers and wind players may be more aware of the way their sounds resonate in their bones than pianists and string players. Even so, they may forget that the whole body resonates, not just the ear bones, the skull and jaw. In fact, ancient healing chants were designed to resonate in order to activate the healing process throughout the body. Modern medicine has ever-developing uses of sound for diagnostic and healing purposes.
"Hearing" sound in the whole body can be a very freeing experience. It helps to put the performer smack dab in the middle of the sound. A constricted body does not amplify sound as well as a free, balanced body amplifies sound. Allowing the whole body to experience sound is a way to release unnecessary tension. The result of this is good for the performer and good for the audience.
And... you don't need electricity for these amplifiers. Or a roadie to carry them for you.
Practice feeling sound in your whole body. Notice where the sound gets blocked. Notice how pitch and volume change the sensations. Notice how certain spaces change your access to natural amplification. Enjoy being in the middle of the sound.
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