THE COLOR OF HARMONEY PART 2

More music teachers are role models for minority students than teachers of any other subject. 36% of surveyed minority students identified music teachers as their role models, compared to 28% for English teachers, 11% for elementary teachers, and 7% for physical education teachers. Source: Journal of Research in Music Education,1993.

Last week, I stated that while I believed money and access was a barrier to music participation, it is not the only one. Then what is?

Perhaps it's me.

Music programs are a reflection of their directors, musically and otherwise. As a teacher, my personal and musical values were deeply embedded into and permeated virtually every facet of the the program. The indoctrination to my way of thinking began on the first day of freshman band camp and continued unabated until the day the students graduated four years later. More than any other curricular area, a music teacher has immense control over each facet of the program. Every decision I made, large and small, had an impact on not just the students I taught, but the students I didn't.

Simply stated, I was not a reflection of my school community. I was (and still am) a caucasion, college educated, moderately affluent, classically trained musician, teaching in a community that was anything but. My decisions and approach to building a program were skewed by those facts. Did we find success? Yes. Did we lose some students because of it? Yes.

Our educational, personal, and musical influence is far and wide and represents both our single greatest opportunity and most significant burden. We know that musical excellence requires creating a culture of excellence that demands a strict adherence to a singular approach... My approach. Right or wrong, good or bad, it was all on me.

Because of the way I taught, and who the students were, is it possible that there were some young people that were left on the outside of the music building looking in? Is it possible there was a group of students that liked and wanted to be a part of the program but didn't like my approach or want me as their teacher?

We know that in building a successful program, the teacher isn't necessarily thinking about race, gender, religion, or creed. He is just thinking about programmatic and student success, one of which requires uniformity while the other requires individuality. Successful programs require one identity, created by one person, for one program, which fits one type of student. In this model, someone has to be left behind.

My model was built around discipline, dedication, and teamwork. The question is, did I teach it or just attract students who already had it? Perhaps in building success, I was limiting it to those who already had it. In building a program, I might have eliminating individuals. In working at a Title One school, I might have been eliminating or ignoring the Title One students.
Was I helping more than I was hurting? Was I doing more harm than good? I am not sure but I do know that my proudest teaching moment was when I brought the ENTIRE school community together for a Concert of Heroes. There were no ratings earned, no trophies won, but some true life lessons were taught, and perhaps, some new and different lives were changed.

What could YOU do to reach a new and different set of students? What way could YOU teach to reach your same students in a different way? What new person could YOU reach and what effect could YOU have?

Teaching isn't just about working with those wanting success, but those needing it! Now let's go teach!

Have a great week everyone!

 
p.s. Last week I gave you with a homework assignment: pull the enrollment data for your school, compare it to your ensembles, and ask yourself: Who am I teaching and how does it compare to the rest of the school? What did you discover?
 

The Color of HarMONEY

It's fair to say that I spent most of my teaching career in lower socio-economic areas that were diverse in population. I didn't do this for moral or philosophical reasons. I didn't do it to right a wrong or make a statement about the educational injustices of poverty. I did it because it simply fit my personality and teaching style. In other words, I did it for me.

One day in a department chair meeting, we were handed the latest enrollment statistics for the school (gender, age, ethnicity, nationality, etc.) As someone who is interested in data points, I dove into the numbers with the zeal that others might delve into a Holst score. As I looked at page after page of spreadsheets and pie charts, I came to one inescapable conclusion: the band I taught looked nothing like the whole of the school.

To be clear, in none of the traditional ways that we break down student enrollment data did my ensemble even come close to looking like the breakdown of numbers on the spreadsheet. I wasn't even within the standard deviation in one single area. I was shocked!

How could this be?

Was there a reason?

Was I to blame?

Where were the "rest of the kids" on these spreadsheets?

In order to alleviate my sense of guilt, I looked at the enrollment numbers at my feeder programs and found the same level of disparity, but why?

Yes, among my music education colleagues I was quick to point out that my school had an 82% rate of free and reduced lunch AND a successful band program, but what I failed to mention was that my band did not share the same free and reduced lunch rate as the school. Not even close.
You don't have to be a mathematical scholar to know that if my first period class was disproportionately not like the rest of the school, in a classroom somewhere else on campus was disproportionately higher in the other direction.

Listen, I don't think it comes as a surprise that music education is not as diverse as we might like or hope for it to be. You also don't have to be Einstein to take out a map and make the correlation between laudable music programs and the affluent suburbs. It's easy to say "it's about the money," but I am not convinced that money is the central issue when it comes to failure or success. An issue? Yes, but the central one. I don't believe so.

Of course, it takes money to run a music program, but if money alone were the issue and we were to buy all new equipment and build great facilities in the middle of the inner city, would those students be performing at the Midwest Clinic or Grand Nationals in the near future?
What stands in the way of success for these schools and their students? What keeps them from reaching their potential? What is holding them back? If I were to be honest, I would have to admit it might have something to do with me.

I'll be back next week to finish this conversation, but in the mean time, I have a homework assignment for you. Pull the enrollment data for your school and compare it to your ensembles and ask yourself, who am I teaching and how does it compare to the rest of the school? The answer just might surprise you.

Have a great week everyone!
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Self (deception) Portraits

Recently Canon Cameras conducted a very unique and compelling social experiment. Six photographers were given an assignment to shoot portrait photos of one man. Each photographer is told a different story about the person they are shooting: he's a millionaire, a lifesaver, an ex-con, a fisherman, a psychic, and a recovering alcoholic.
click below to watch the experiment

It was remarkable to see how the fictitious "story" changed the way the photographer shot him and the how varied the photos were. Same subject, same room, but very different results. It was also interesting to see how the photographers responded to seeing the other photographs of the same subject.

I realize it's a bit of a stretch (since when has that ever stopped me?) but I wonder what a similar experiment might look like with music teachers and their students?

Here is my experiment:
Imagine you receive a call from the front office saying that a new student is registering for your class and would like to meet you. Excited at the prospect of adding to your class count and possibly filling a musical void in your ensemble, you make your way to the office with visions of grandeur and hopes of all-state playing... Twins perhaps? YES!

You reach the registrar's office, the new student student stands up, extends her hand and says, "Hi, my name is Malika and I play the....

STOP RIGHT THERE!
If we were to video tape the exchange that follows, how might your reactions change if the next word to leave the her mouth was;

• drum set
• oboe
• alto sax
• violin
• guitar

or if she followed it with, I am

• a brand new beginner
• an all-state player
• a jazzer
• only here for a semester

Would your reaction change if she played an instrument of need in your ensemble? Would your response change if she were coming from a very successful program or a very weak program? Even more uncomfortable to think about is how your reaction would change based on her age, gender, dress, height, weight, vocabulary, etc.

The change in your body language/tone/energy level would likely be small and perhaps imperceptible to the student, but would likely be there nonetheless.

I do firmly believe that en large music educators are among the most welcoming, kind, and accepting group of people you will ever meet. I also believe that they work tirelessly to ensure that EVERY student grows and evolves, both musically and otherwise, but the nature of what we do has us placing "value" on students that may not necessarily be fair.

Yes, it's human nature. Yes, we strive to treat every child equitably. But as unintentional as it may be, it's possible that we may bring biases to our students that might in some way change how we (or other students) treat them. Perhaps, the lens we see our students through affects the way they see themselves.

Just some Wednesday morning thoughts...

Heads up, around here we are equal parts stressed out and excited. We have LOTS to share in the coming weeks, so you may hear from us a little more than usual, but we promise it is worth it!
Thanks and have a great week!
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p.s. Keeping the newsletter light and the stereotypes alive... Researchers have found that participating in a drum circle can have mental health benefits. Maybe that's what we have been doing wrong with the drummers? We forgot to put them in circles!

Watch me go all fanboy

You're on my list mister! No, it has nothing to do with who's been naughty or nice. It's not that kind of list. My list is a kind of bucket list. Not of things I want to do, but of people I want to meet. The list has been my constant companion for decades, but has changed and evolved and over time. When I get the opportunity to remove a name from the list, I simply add another. It is a work in progress.

I've never been described as a shy person. I am unabashedly bold and at times somewhat brazen. I come by it naturally as my mother is the exact same way. I remember her telling me at a very young age, "You can go anywhere you want and meet anyone you want, as long as you are polite, courteous, and willing to leave when they ask." Following in her gregarious footsteps, I have never been shy about going all "fanboy" on someone, musically or otherwise!

The combination of my tenacity, audacity, and lack of decorum knows no bounds and once I have you in my cross hairs, it is unlikely you will escape without a meet and greet. When I see my prey, I lay in waiting ready to pounce at the opportune moment. You call it stalking, I call it ... Fennell, Reed, Paynter, Revelli... I met them all and glad to say that I have. Through it all, only one name from my original list remains... Ray Cramer. He has been the Clark Kent to my Superman, the Snuffleuppagas to my Bob and Maria, the... well I think you get the point. We've been in proximity of each other but have never met, that is UNTIL NOW.

A recent chance meeting, turned into a webisode, which turned into coffee, which turned into lunch. Trust me when I say that hanging out with Ray Cramer for three hours was truly a bucket list moment for me.

Be My Yoko Ono

The great heroes of life and literature have always been defined as much by their nemesis as the battles they engage in. In sports and in life, it's hard to find a hero without an equal and opposite counterpart who is willing to stop at nothing to make their life more difficult.
Think about it...

• Thomas Edison had Nikola Tesla
• Larry Bird had Magic Johnson
• Bobby Fisher had Garry Kasparov
• Steve Jobs had Bill Gates
• The Beatles had Yoko Ono

Which one of the above figures struck the strongest chord with you? Chances are it's Yoko Ono, one of the most maligned villains of our time.
Yes, with every hero comes a villain. They are as much interdependent as they are intertwined. Without the other, each individual is simply a master of their craft... nothing more, nothing less. A single superhero stands waiting for a counterpart to challenge them and elevate their game. They are bonded as much by love as they are loathing. Love for each other? No, love of the battle. Love of the challenge. Love of someone who helps to elevate their "skills" to another level. So it was with the Beatles, and so it is with you!

With most students teaching is a joy. An effortless act of service that is a daily reminder of how lucky we are to call music education our profession. But if you teach long enough, you WILL encounter your "Yoko," a student or class so maddening and frustrating that it causes you to rethink your place in the entire profession. Trust me, I've been there on more than one occasion. You never read about THESE kids in Chicken Soup for the Teacher's Soul!
Dealing with difficult students is soul-draining, life sucking hard work. But in the end, these students will not only force you to become a better teacher, while simultaneously making the student a better person.

Through these epic battles for good, bad and classroom control, try to remember that while your student nemesis may be at fault, he is a child and you are the adult. And while you see him as the villain, to others he is the hero.

Remember that Yoko was responsible for some good. Without her, we wouldn't have had Imagine, or Baby I'm Amazed.

Let me be among the first and the few to thank Yoko for being our villain.

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!