Edison and Einstein were wrong... and so are YOU!

Einstein and Edison were WRONG and so are YOU!

New research shows that students who learned that great scientists (such as Einstein/Curie/Edison) struggled in their field of study outperformed those who learned only of the scientists' great achievements.

The theory is that students are intimidated by the seemingly ease of their success, which in turn diminishes their own self-worth and self-esteem.

I wonder if the same might be true for music teachers and students. I wonder if when sitting in the audience at Midwest, Grand Nationals or other such places we find ourselves feeling diminished by the performances we see and hear. We assume they are on the grand stage and we are in the audience because we, in some way, lack what they have. We compare the person they are to ourselves. We could never do that! He must have started playing and teaching when he was in the womb!

I wonder if understanding the "great teachers" struggled (and faltered and quit more than once) that we might in fact become better teachers ourselves. I wonder if we knew that Ray Cramer once quit band (spoiler alert... great webisode coming next week), we might feel better about having similar thoughts. I wonder if we knew that a famous composer was not admitted to a composition program and went to film school instead we might feel better about our composition skills (double spoiler alert). I wonder if we knew that the same teacher standing on the stage at Midwest was once turned down by his college school of music, if it would make us feel less alone in our inadequacies.

The person we ARE is not the person we will BE. The teacher you are today is not the teacher you will become tomorrow. The ensemble you have is not the ensemble that will be. Perhaps we do ourselves and our students a disservice by not acknowledging the good AND the bad that got us to where we are. Imagine if the bio in your next program read something like this:
Bill Smith was raised in Eastern Kentucky by parents who were fairly certain he would end up in appliance repair school. After a brief and illustrious stint in the high school band, he was asked to not re-enroll on more than one occasion. After completing a degree in Music Education where he set the record for most consecutive semesters sitting last chair, Bill graduated with no honors whatsoever.

Mr. Smith has been the band director at Middle Town High School where his Symphonic Band has received seventeen consecutive Superior Ratings, while his percussion class has received seventeen felony convictions. Bill now resides in Smitherton with is beautiful wife and parents, who still think he should have gone to air conditioning repair school.

While I'm no Edison or Einstein, if it helps, let it be known that music theory kicked my butt and it was I who was turned down by my college school of music.

Everything I need to know in life, I learned in... music!

Last week, I "volunteered" in my son's kindergarten class. I use the term volunteer loosely because it was more an act of indentured servitude than one of service. With my wife serving as the class mom, my role was premeditated, predetermined, and served without my consultation or consent. (But it was really fun!)
As someone who has been described on more than one occasion as "slightly OCD," I struggled with the cacophony of color, sight, and sounds that is kindergarten. Elementary educators call it a "print-rich environment," but to me it looks like a Scholastic Books catalog threw up on all possible surfaces!

I was unprepared for the chaos that is elementary school. As a high school music educator for my entire teaching career, I was used to structure, order, silence, a classroom environment free of potty breaks, and potty humor. Well, okay, that last part isn't entirely true.

Don't get me wrong... there was structure and order, but it was in the midst of it all, it was hard to see and decipher. It's like trying to find a melody in an Ives composition, it's there... But very difficult to find and even harder to understand.

Honestly, kindergarten amazes me. Kids start school knowing almost nothing. They can deal with their basic needs, but as far as the world at large, they are a far cry from even survival level. An then, in the span of a few short months they transform into little people who are independent, confident, and wanting to do more! I am shocked by how much my child has learned in six short months: reading, writing, math, and vocabulary, with a sprinkling of music, computers, P.E., and library time, AND HE IS ONLY IN HIS FIRST YEAR OF GRADE SCHOOL. Kindergarten has definitely prepared him to learn.

I feel the same about you. Musically speaking, students came to you illiterate, uneducated, and unable to make sense of even the basics of music. They couldn't recognize a phrase or know what good tone was. They couldn't balance, blend, or understand the concept of flat and sharp (I know... You are still working on this one). They were the musical version of pre-schoolers and within a very short period of time you changed all of that.

You taught them to read. You taught them to play. You taught them to listen. You taught them how to site read and breathe. You taught them to take direction. You taught them to follow and lead. You taught them to think and feel differently tan they had before. You taught them to serve and sacrifice for others and the greater good.
I know that the days can be long and the weekends short. I know that at times the kids can be difficult and the parents unforgiving. Through it all, know that without you your students would be significantly less prepared for the world.
As music teachers we hope that our students will love music as we do, but understand that the benchmark of our success is creating great people in addition to great music.The HOW we teach might be just as important as the WHAT. That's one of the many reasons why music and YOU matter.

Yes, kindergarten has prepared my son to learn, but music will prepare him for life!
Have a great week!

The letter I should have sent my colleagues

I had something else written for this week, but changed my mind at the last minute and wrote this instead.

The following is a letter I wished I had sent to my colleagues when I was teaching. Hope it makes you smile.

Scott

Insert your program logo and personal information below

(insert date/time of death here)

Dear Scott/colleague:

No doubt you have seen the ghost of me wandering through the halls of late and thought to yourself, "Good Lord... What happened to him? He looks like he's on death's doorstep."

I wanted to put to rest some of the rumors that have been floating around campus lately:
No, I am not auditioning for the Walking Dead.
No, I haven't recently taken up meth as a hobby, although I am not ruling it out at this point.
No, I do not have Zika.
Why do I look this way? Because it's March 1st and I haven' slept since... well, DECEMBER! I know what you're thinking... "But marching band is over, life is so much easier now." I WISH!
I long for the days when I only had commitments every OTHER weekend. I dream of returning to a simpler time when the students and I were laser focused on a singular activity and a common goal. That was my happy place. That was my Zen garden.

Now, you ask? Now I have three different concert bands, two jazz ensembles, solo & ensemble, basketball band, winterguard, and wait for it... THE SCHOOL MUSICAL. Apparently in our blissful state of summer relaxation, we thought it would be a good idea to recreate Spiderman; The Musical using uncoordinated high school kids, fishing line, and some leftover spandex from the color guard closet.
I have worked the past nine consecutive weekends and still have eight more to go. My freshman band struggles to remember where the rehearsal room is, so I think we can rule out making a musical phrase. My top group? Well, when programming the Hummel Trumpet Concerto I should have probably remembered that I only have two trumpets, and to be honest, neither is headed to Julliard, that is unless they teach air conditioning repair there.

Don't get me wrong. I love my job, my students, and my colleagues. I believe in the power of this activity and what it can do for young people. I also fully understand I did this to myself and you and I both know that in all likelihood, I will do it to myself again next year.

I guess this is my way of saying thank you for your support. Thank you for letting Timmy make up the test he missed while we were at contest. Thank you for not marking the kids tardy when I released them from rehearsal late three times last week (yes, I know it was only a four day week). Thank you for putting up with me and I am sorry if I have not been myself as of late. I know I can do better and will as I have recently discovered the wonders of Red Bull.

Just... Thank you!

Regards,

insert your name here

p.s. I hope you can make it to the musical next week! Insider tip: I wouldn't recommend sitting in the first few rows. It's not the singing that concerns me, although it does. It's that the lead has put on a few pounds and the fishing line is looking a little thin.

I am a WILD and CRAZY guy!

Last night, in a small dingy comedy club in uptown Manhattan unbeknownst to anyone in the audience, a monumental moment occurred. With no warning or fanfare, Steve Martin returned to the stage to perform stand up comedy.

Why is that monumental? Because twenty-five years ago, at the height of his popularity, without telling a soul, he dropped the mic, walked off stage and never returned.
In 1981, Steve Martin was the biggest stand-up comedian in the country. He was arguably the biggest stand-up comedian ever up until that point, regularly selling out amphitheaters when other top names were still playing clubs. And then one day he just stopped. He played a show and after the show he decided not to do stand-up anymore.

"My act was conceptual. Once the concept was stated, and everybody understood it, it was done," Martin wrote in his classic 2007 memoir Born Standing Up. "It was about coming to the end of the road. There was no way to live on in that persona. You know, I didn't announce that I was stopping. I just stopped."

Honestly, I miss "Stand-up Steve." I miss his irreverent humor and slightly off color humor. I miss my dad and I always saying "WELLLL EEEXXCCUUSSSEE MEEEE" in our best Martin voice. Or "We are ... two WILD AND CRAAAZYYY GUYS!" I miss my dad waking us up behind our mother's back to watch him sing King Tut on Saturday Night Live. Maybe I miss Steve because I miss my dad.

It makes me sad that the audiences of today never saw the Steve Martin I knew. It makes me sad that they only see Steve as an actor in the same way it makes me sad that the same audiences only know Don't Stop Believing because of GLEE! I don't begrudge Steve Martin for leaving. I just miss him.

Like Steve, we all have second (and third) acts in our lives, and we should! I don't think we are meant to be and do the same thing day after day, year after year. But if we are not mindful, that is what this profession can lull us into doing. It forces many of us to be one thing, one act, one person for far too long. I suspect this is a big part of the reason so many people burn out and leave this incredible profession; they feel that they have simply "outgrown it."

Last night, Steve Martin reminded me that you can never give up who you are. And, no matter how hard you try, what you do is not just a part of who you are, but sometimes the best part. His return to stand up reminds me that sometimes you don't choose your profession, it chooses you!
Since leaving the live stage, Steve Martin has been met with unrivaled success as an actor, writer, artist, composer, and musician, but to me, he will always be just a "wild and crazy guy."

I left the classroom long ago and now most everyone I know now only knows me as Scott Lang Leadership; however, a part of me, and perhaps the best part, is the part that few remember as Scott Lang, the band director.

I miss him a little bit too.

Thanks for listening... just wanted to share.

The kids are alright!

Kids today are a group of lazy underachievers who for the first time in history are actually doing less than their parental counterparts. Honestly, when you look at the statistics today's teens aren't just failing, they are doing so in a spectacular fashion. How bad is it? According to a recently released national report, it's getting harder each and every day to get today's teens to do more as they seem to be spending all of their time and energy doing LESS!

For instance, kids today smoke less than we did. They get pregnant less than we did. They binge drink less than we did. They watch less TV, don't fight as much, and don't do nearly as much meth. Maybe they're too distracted by their phones. Maybe they are a smarter generation. Maybe they're spending all their time building billion dollar startups. Or maybe they're just sort of boring. Whatever it is, these are slow times at Ridgemont High, and it's getting harder and harder to find Jeff Spicoli compared to twenty-five year ago.

We know this because every two years the federal government asks more than ten thousand teenagers dozens of questions about their behavior. For the past twenty-five years the government has been conducting a study called Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance Survey to inquire about all sorts of bad behaviors that range from drug use to fighting at school.

Most of the survey questions show that today's teenagers are among the best-behaved on record. They are, comparatively, a mild-mannered bunch who will probably be early for curfew and remind YOU to lock the door as they head upstairs to floss before going to bed (oral hygiene is important you know). This is different from what adults typically expect. In fact, polls show that we generally think teens' behavior is getting worse when the exact opposite is happening.

So while the adults continue to argue over how to best reform our nation's schools, it might be important to know that these kids, well, they're all right.

It's us over-achievers we have to worry about!

Black Violin plays The Tonight Show!

By now you have probably already heard that Black Violin is joining Be Part of the Music as Artist Advocates. We could not be more proud of our association with these incredible artists as they evangelize the importance of music in our schools and in our lives.
image

Just hours before our announcement yesterday we learned that our friends would be performing on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. For those of you who missed it, we wanted to provide a link to the performance for you (it will compliment the materials on our site).
See the performance

As you can see, we are working VERY hard to continually add new and innovative resources to help you recruit and retain more young people to Be Part of the Music, but we can still use your help. Do you have an idea or a question for us? Do you know someone who can help us and want to help make the connection? Do you want to see if we actually read and respond to email? Well then, you can contact us here!

Have a great week!

A recent study unearthed data that suggests that precocity at a young age, more often than not, fails to manifest itself in adulthood accomplishments. This isn't to say that they aren't successful, just not exceptional. A vast majority of these exceptional children grow up to be well adjusted and happy. They are as winning at a neighborhood social gathering as they once were in a childhood math spelling bee.

Why don't child prodigies often become adult geniuses? Nobody really knows but New York Times journalist Adam Grant argues that, "What holds them back is that they don't learn to be original." He further states, "The first step in raising a creative child is to back off."
He believes that they strive to earn the approval of their parents and the admiration of their teachers but as they perform at Carnegie Hall, something unexpected happens: practice makes perfect, but it doesn't make new.

According to Grant, the gifted learn to play magnificent Mozart melodies, but rarely compose their own original scores. They focus their energy on consuming existing scientific knowledge, not producing new insights. They conform to codified rules, rather than inventing their own. Research suggests that the most creative children are the least likely to become the teacher's pet, and in response, many learn to keep their original ideas to themselves.

Something to keep in mind as you stare at your All-State player with adoration and your percussion section with contempt.

Thanks for reading and have a great week!

p.s. My parents backed off on my percussion lessons, and now I'm writing a newsletter. Just sayin...

p.p.s. It was great to see a Super Bowl halftime show that included choirs, orchestras, and bands. Go Dudamel and the Cal Marching Band!

Joe Montana and our cognitive dissonance

"My hands... in the middle of the night they hurt like crazy!

My knee? I can't really run or do much with it. They keep saying I'll have to replace it.

My eye acts like lazy eye. Every time you're tired, it kind of goes wherever it feels like. Not dramatic but just enough where you can't read or you have to refocus.

My family likes to be active, and I regret that there are things I can't do with them anymore."

- Joe Montana
Those are just a few outtakes of the former NFL quarterback talking about his body a few years removed from his remarkable NFL career, and yet he still encourages his son to play. And he's not alone!
According to a recently study, most Americans know there's a risk of concussion from playing football -- and yet most Americans also say they'd still let their kids play the sport.

I recently read about a poll where people were asked about their attitudes toward the Super Bowl and football. It stated that eighty seven percent of respondents had heard about the concussion problem facing the NFL. Sixty seven percent of those people were still comfortable allowing their own kids to play.
All of this is to say that there is a cognitive dissonance, or disconnect, when it comes to what we know and what we BELIEVE. Joe Montana is a man who knows and feels the effects of a career in football, but believes the activity is good for his son.

I wonder if the same thing is happening in reverse for music education? We have a huge body of evidence which shows that students who participate in music making become better students and human beings. We have study after study, and facts ad nauseam, and yet we still struggle to get people and politicians to BELIEVE in it's importance. As a society we KNOW the benefits of music but I wonder if we actually BELIEVE in them.

Perhaps in the fight for advocacy, we should focus less on what we know (facts and figures) and more on what people believe. They are both important, but people tend to make decisions on the latter.

You're my Mr. Miyagi

We're close, right? If I tell you something that is a secret, do you promise not to share? Seriously, some of my closest friends don’t even know about this. Promise?

For the past twenty months I have been taking karate. Kempo, to be exact.

I wouldn't say that I am good at it, nor would I say that I am bad at it. I guess I am just “at it.” To be clear, I’m closer to Kung Fu Panda than I am Kung Fu.

I don’t think that I am achieving at very rapid pace, but every couple of months, there they are anyway, handing me a new belt. They say it's because of the techniques I have mastered, but I assure you,  if you saw me perform the term "master" would not be what comes to mind. Iam convinced they just give me different colored belts in an effort to color coordinate with my latest bruises.

Once you are an “intermediate belt”  you're required to fight for forty-five minutes after every class, whether you want to or not. The belief is that learning karate is not enough, you have to apply it in real life situations. They call it sparring, I call it reliving my childhood, as every night someone bigger, more experienced, and stronger channels his inner Bruce Lee on me.

Because of this, I wear my belt as a badge of honor, as I have earned every bit of it, bruise by bruise.

I think karate and the martial arts have something here. I think we should award teachers belts. And like karate, they would be awarded not just for the skills you have mastered but for the bruises you have earned, emotional and physical. Teaching is a beat down and although the bruises are not as visible, they are every bit as painful as they are real.
 
Like sparring, for teachers it's not enough to learn about learning, you have to get into a classroom and do educational hand to hand combat to learn how to really teach. If you want to survive, you have to be able to take AND deliver a blow, day after day, month after month, year after year.

In this way, your belt is as much a sign of high achievement as it is a statement of battle scars. It as much about pain as it is performance. You are a black belt, not just because of what you know, but because of what you have survived. Then one day, you find yourself as Mr. Miyagi to someone's Daniel-san.
 
On a side note...

My wife recently asked me if I was learning anything in karate. More specifically, she wanted to know if after all this time I felt that I was better able to defend myselffaced with a confrontation. My response, "If you attack me, with advance warning, very slowly, in just the right way, and wait for me to remember the correct sequence to react in, I am fairly confident I could take you.”   

The problem is, my wife is not likely to be my attacker.  If some guy sucker punches me…  Well, I’m going down.
 
 

The worst thing you could say to me...

Those were the best years of my life...

These are the words of a long ago grateful former student.

It left me wondering… “Where did I go wrong? How did I fail him so spectacularly?”

I know the sentiment he was trying to share and am appreciative of his kind intent, but I hope that no one ever says that to me again. What if the time they spent with me WAS the “best years of their life”? What if those four years were the apex of their life-long existence? What if nothing got better after they left my program? What if my efforts to teach them more than just music had failed?
 
To be clear, I don’t want my class or the time you spent with me to have been the best years of your life. I DON’T!

What do I want?

I want my class to have taught the lessons and set the stage so that every day going forward is more successful than the ones in the past. I want to know that the time spent with me placed you on an upward trajectory personally, professionally, and academically. I want to know that while you look back with fondness, that you are also looking forward with optimism. I want you to remember the days of frustration and angst as clearly as the ones filled with happiness and joy as they were likely more formative to who you are.

Listen, I loved my high school experience. I loved the friends I made and the experiences I had. I acknowledge the role they played in making me the person and the teacher I am today, but they were not the best years of my life.

I am living those right now! The best years of my life were not in my high school band, but they are in part because of my high school band.
 
The comments I am waiting for is, "those were the worst years of my life."
 
THAT would make me feel good!