Seizonas and Why Not #1

Picture the scene: all of your friends, family, and students (current and past) have gathered together to celebrate your career. As a part of the gathering, you listen to heartfelt tributes about how much you've meant to them. 

As a part of the gathering, you listen to heartfelt tributes about how much you've meant to them. 

They speak of seminal moments, formative experiences, and memorable performances. The evening is filled with laughter and tears as everyone remembers and celebrates the craziness of their musical experiences, and the impact it and you had on their lives.  

Some use it as a chance to say the things they wish they'd said to you earlier. Some use it as a chance to remember and reflect. While others opine on how their lives have changed because of a chance encounter with you, their music teacher.

This probably sounds like a beautiful evening and a joy-filled retirement gathering - something you have already experienced or perhaps are looking forward to.

What if there was one crucial difference? What if the person on the receiving end of this outpouring of love were not actually retiring? What if we created the event on an arbitrary date to pause, reflect, and celebrate the person(s), places, and events that shape our lives?

Celebrating a well-lived life is nothing new and happens with regularity at the end of a career or life. Why do we wait until something is over to celebrate it? Why don't we create milestones designed to have us take measure of our pursuits and celebrate with the ones we love? In short, why do we wait until the end of a career to celebrate it? Why not do it sooner?

It turns out some people don't.

According to a recent article in The Guardian, living funerals (also known as pre-funerals), are becoming more commonplace as they "offer a chance for people to say goodbye to their friends and families on their own terms and to celebrate their life while they are still alive."

Living funerals, also called seizenso, are not entirely new concepts and gained traction in Japan in the 1990s. The idea is that it takes the pressure off family members and friends to organize a funeral after someone has died. In 2019, 25,000 people took part in a living funeral.

Initially designed for the terminally ill so they could hear what would be said at their funeral, the idea of a living funeral is being more broadly embraced to help those of us living to face our mortality and truly embrace being alive.

I spent fifteen years in a classroom at three different high schools. Each experience was as unique and special as the students I taught. I loved all three experiences for very different reasons.

My first job was in East Los Angeles. I left after 14 months because I was homesick and lonely. Also, my dream job opened back home, where I would spend the next decade as the band director and eventually as a building administrator on the same campus. My final four-year stint in the classroom ended with a leave of absence to start my leadership business. I left my first position mid-summer, my second position to move 100 yards away, and my third position with the belief I would one day return.

These three very different experiences had one shared trait - they ended quietly, without fanfare, and no opportunity to say goodbye.

I didn't get a chance to tell my students how much they meant to me, and for me to hear what I might have meant to them. This was not the plan or by design; I was a victim of circumstance.

I missed the opportunity to celebrate, commiserate, and bring some closure. A seizenso is something I needed and wanted but didn't know about at the time. And I regret it. 

Teaching is hard. Teaching music is really hard. Teaching music in a politicized post-pandemic world? Well, I have no words. You need something to keep you going. You need to know that your efforts make a difference and have an impact. And you don't have to wait thirty-plus years to know it.

Our lives and careers are filled with milestones: contests, concerts, new students, new year, graduation, etc. Each presents an opportunity for a (mini) seizenso - a time to pause, reflect, and celebrate. It can be at a banquet, after-concert gathering, end-of-the-quarter exam, or a post-contest reflection. Just take the time to have the students write or speak about their journey and the impact music (and you) have had on their lives. 

You deserve the time and opportunity to celebrate others and to have others celebrate you. You deserve the space and grace to share and receive love from others. You deserve to laugh, cry, and remember why we do this crazy profession, and you shouldn't have to wait thirty years to do it.

Learn from my mistakes, host your own seizenso, and feel love and appreciation

Why not?

Have a great week, everyone.

Scott

Why Not?

Hey friend:,

We've known each other awhile now, so I think it's time I shared something with you.

I learn by speaking.

Think about that for a minute. Seems a bit backwards from what you might expect. If were being honest, most people and our entire profession are built on the belief that you learn by listening.

In this and other ways, I am discovering that I am unlike most people.

I am not sure if I can fully explain it, but it's as if ideas are locked inside me, and the only way to release or free them is to speak the words into the light of day. Only then can I decipher if the idea is actually a good or bad one. I don't need anyone else to hear it, I just need to say it. It took me a long time to understand this about myself, but everything made much more sense as soon as I did. 

I am sure that somewhere in a book about speaking, there are rules reminding me that as a "subject matter expert," I should parse my words and not share anything unless I have a reasonable level of certainty or assuredness that what I am saying is, in fact, true.

As someone who speaks for a living, the idea of speaking first and thinking second is, at best, counterintuitive; at worst, dangerous.

But that is how MY mind (and mouth) works.

I vet information in real-time. When thinking through ideas, I hear words coming out of my mouth, and process them as if I were hearing them from someone else for the first time. In fact, if you see me walking through an airport, you will likely see me having a full-on, out-loud conversation with myself, gesticulations included - all of which leaves others disturbed, and my family embarrassed.

This is not to say that I walk on stage or in front of a group and just "wing it." I definitely don't.

But, most of the long-form content in my presentations, books, and this blog started as a question or thought that (accidentally) eeked its way out on stage as a "What if?" Or, "Why not?" 

It turns out that I am not alone in thinking this way, as acclaimed New York Times best-selling author Daniel Pink (Drive, A Whole New Mind, The Power of Regret, etc.) has a new project called Why Not?

In collaboration with The Washington Post, Pink is authoring a year-long series designed to give America's imagination an adrenaline shot where he challenges us all to "Spend less time opining about who's right and who's wrong and more time imagining what's possible?"

 

So, for the next year, each week, he will offer a single idea — bold, surprising, maybe a bit jarring — for improving our country, our organizations, or our lives.

As an example, he lists some of his introductory questions, such as why not: 

  • Pay public school teachers a minimum salary of $100,000? 

  • Relocate the U.S. House and Senate to a different city every few years? 

  • Create a new job category for people over 65 to mentor young employees? 

  • Give presents on our birthdays rather than receive them?

As a fellow mental meanderer, I like the concept of why not. So, I joined Mr. Pink in this thought exercise, albeit with a music education bent.

Why not:

  • Require every student to have a music class every day?

  • Have all students teach private lessons?

  • Sight-read at every concert?

  • Have students learn multiple instruments before settling on one?

  • Have an SES multiplier/bonus at contest?

  • Have a contest on September 1st, and again on November 1st, and the group with the greatest point differential is the State Champion.

  • Pick ensembles randomly for MEA conventions?

  • Eliminate a Bachelor of Music Education in favor of a Masters Degree.

  • Make beginner instrumental rental a three-year minimum?

  • Ensure that the marching band gets a PE credit?

  • Have teachers regularly rotate between ELEM/MS/HS?

  • Require that every pop star advocate for music education?

  • Have a "music tax" that generates funds for advocacy?

I could go on. 

Like my friend Mr. Pink (we're not really friends), I have always enjoyed reimagining things in different ways and discussing it with colleagues. It is afterall, the purpose of this blog, and why I started writing it twenty years ago.

So...

For the remainder of this school year, taking a page from Daniel's playbook, (and perhaps a few of the bullet points above), I will ask/explore/and expound upon a new question weekly via this ezine. We can discuss via our Facebook group. It should be interesting.

Remember, the goal is not for you to agree or disagree with the premise, but to free your mind from "what is," to "why not? 

You likely have much bigger and better questions than me. So, how about you use the button below to shoot your questions my way so I too can join in the fun. The only person I have to talk to is Riley, my Golden Retriever. And all she cares about are tennis balls.

So use the buttons below to shoot me an idea, or continue the conversation next week.

SEND A "WHY NOT?"

BECOME A PATRON

Did you use one of the two buttons above? 

Why Not?

Have a great week!

 

Scott

p.s. Thanks to all my MEA friends in California and Colorado for their hospitality this past week. Ohio - wheels-down is 4:30 pm today. Texas, I am headed your way next week. If you see me at these or any other events, please make it a point to stop me and say hi!

The Last Repair Shop

Tucked away in a nondescript neighborhood in East Los Angeles, surrounded by 10-foot fences and razor-encased barbed wire, sits the Los Angeles Unified School District's central distribution hub. Among the encamped buildings is one of our country's most extensive and final remaining facilities of its type, the Instrument Repair Facility. The operation has been in continuous service since 1959 and is home to - and the healing place for the district's 80,000 plus musical instruments.

This obscure building and even more obscure profession recently came to the attention of veteran filmmakers Kris Bowers and Ben Proudfoot, who decided to tell their story after meeting the people and seeing their work. The Last Repair Shop is a moving tribute that shows how mending broken instruments can also mend broken souls.

The Last Repair Shop received a nomination for an Academy Award for Best Documentary just yesterday. It is a deserving nomination, to be sure.

"Some (kids) come from a place of love; some come from a place of dysfunction - you can fix the broken instrument, but you can't always fix the child. They can't be glued back together. We're doing it all for them, and I'm proud to be a part of it." 

Steve Bagmanyan. Shop Supervisor

My first teaching job was in East Los Angeles, just a few miles from this shop. Watching this documentary took me back there and reminded me that while ALL kids need music, some need it more than others.

I hope you can find time to watch it. You'll be glad you did.

 

Scott

 

A Chat with GPT.

Dear AI, or is it Mr. GPT?

It's me, Scott. Yeah, the one who asked you last week to make a picture of a Golden Retriever playing a trombone in a tutu.

You remember me? Ohhh. Yeah, I know that was a bit below your skill set and a bit degrading. Um, sorry about that. But, you should know that my son and I got a real kick out of it.

But, if your gonna throw attitude my way, you should know that your embouchure and hand positions were all wrong, and it was more bugle than trombone.

But, that's on me. I can't expect you to know and do everything. Which is why I'm writing to you today. I am coming to you with a request. A problem if you will. One that involves you, and I am hoping you can help me resolve.

I, and most of my human-like friends, well, we heard the chatter about you taking our jobs, but listen, I need my job.

And, as long as we are being honest, I am better than you at it. Sure, you can help me with marketing, automation, and everything interwebs, but speaking? That's all me. And as long as we're being honest - I am better than you at it. When it comes to speaking, you are a bit of a, well, er, a robotic speaker.
There I said it. So you take care of your stuff and steer clear of my stuff. Sound good?

No, you say? 

There needs to be boundaries. I got music and speaking. YOU GOT IT? 

Sorry for yelling. Wait, do you have feelings? Do you care if I yell?

So, how about we both agree to stay in our own lanes?

I'm not saying I don't want you in my life, I do. Just not in my professional life.

 Hey, I can admit my weaknesses. I know you got skills. I've seen you at the grocery checkout stand, and you are amazing. And, either my son is experiencing an astonishing advance in his writing skills, or you are heavily involved in helping to write his papers. Something for which I, and his teachers, are eternally grateful.

As long as we're making a list of stuff you do well and I don't care about, how bout we put you in charge of my taxes? Also, I just got a jury summons, can you tell me in advance if they're guilty or not? It would save us all a ton of time. Finally, can you please fold my fitted sheets? Even you, in all of your brilliance,  would find that challenging.

Yes, you can have all of this and more, but if I haven't been clear enough, I handle all things music (education).
As a gesture of thanks, I promise. no more silly requests about Golden Retrievers. 
Capiche?

Besides, speaking is how I make money. And money is how I pay for the interwebs, and you need the interwebs to hang out with me, right? So, we good?

Last night's webinar you ask? That was different.

THAT was a team effort, and I couldn't have done it without you. To be honest, my background wasn't great, but other than that, you nailed it. Team Lang/AI on three... 1, 2,3! LANG/AI! 

But, that's not enough for you is it?

You still want to make music? 

Nope - that's mine. All mine. Step off and stay in your lane. This is a non-starter and a deal breaker. You're not ready for music. Heck, spell check confounds you from time to time, and now you want to make harmonies.

You think you can make music? No way!

Give me one example of music you have made! And remember, you are responsible for the "Keytar" and Milli Vanilli, so you aren't exactly starting from a place of credibility.

The latest Beatles tune? Uh huh. Excellent work bringing John Lennon back to life my friend, but you didn't CREATE that music. The Beatles did.

Midi? Nope, replicating sounds is not the same thing as creating it.

The Watson Beat Project? We fed you some Beethoven, and you just rearranged it. That's like me giving you a TV  dinner, you heating it up, and calling yourself a chef. You didn't create anything, you reheated it.

Yes, I know John Williams has made a career of rearranging Beethoven. But, if we are being honest, as much as he has written, and as long as he's been around, I'm sure he isn't one of you. A machine that is.

Listen, when it comes to music, we need to break up. It's not me, it's you.

You're just not ready to make music yet. Let me explain.

  • You don't feel joy or pain.

  • You don't understand stress and pressure.

  • You don't need to be unique or creative.

  • You don't feel the need to dance, jump, and sing. 

You don't need ANY of that. Because...

  • You don't need others.

  • You are happy in isolation and silence.

  • You don't need shared experiences

  • you don need to connect you to others in meaningful ways.

  • You measure memory in RAM and gigabytes and not smiles and tears.

  • Your drive is not personal or unique and is as ubiquitous as it is interchangeable.

  • You can read code, but not a child's face.

  • You understand playing in tune, but can't explain to a 12-year-old how to do it.

You might (soon) understand HOW to make music, I get that. But you will never understand WHY we make music. And the WHY is makes music so important and so uniquely human. You make music in a vacuum with zeros and ones; we make them in a classroom with boys and girls. Music requires emotions, and emotions are uniquely human.

So, until you replace your hard drive with a heart, You stick to your lane, and I will stick to mine. I make music, you help me with clip art and the spelling of "capiche"?

If you REALLY want to make an impact, can you remind me of my Hulu password? I need to finish Welcome to Wrexham and find out if they get promoted.

Thanks buddy.  Glad we could be honest with one another.

Your pal and human friend, 

Scott

 

p.s. Thanks for sending out this email.

p.p.s. I am a better drummer than you. Here's the proof.

The Changing Faces of Our Football Fields

Note from Scott: Lately, I have written a lot about equity and access (in music education), not just for kids but also for teachers. This is another such thought piece. 

 I understand complex issues require complex solutions, and this (or any other) newsletter will not solve anything. But, it might give you something to noodle on for the rest of the day.

This is the January free edition for my e-zine

Last night, nearly 10% of our nation's population set aside everything else to focus on one thing - college football. An estimated 35 million people tuned in to watch Michigan Wolverines defeat the Washington Huskies - a record, doubling last year's audience of 17.2 million. 

For decades, few things unite Americans as consistently and completely as football — the autumnal obsession of Friday nights, the ritualistic centerpiece of college-town Saturdays, the communal Sunday religion of a staggering percentage of the populace. In American culture, the game stands virtually alone in how its appeal cuts across demographic lines.

However, when it comes to actually playing tackle football — and risking the physical toll of a sport linked to brain damage — there are broad divisions marked by politics, economics, and race.

In a recent expose in the Washington Post, authors Dave Sheinin and Emily Giambalvo examined the state of our nation's sport and how it is changing. The Post analyzed decades of high school and college sports participation data and state-by-state demographic trends, interviewed hundreds of coaches, students, and parents, and conducted a nationwide survey about attitudes toward kids' participation in the sport.

What did they find?

"While participation is falling almost everywhere," the Post found, "boys in the poorest states continue to play high school tackle football at higher rates than those in wealthier areas. And while precise data about football's racial makeup is hard to come by, the demographics appear to be gradually shifting faster than national demographic changes."

In short, people from underserved (SES: socio-economic status) and underrepresented (DEI: diversity, equity, & inclusivity) communities participate at higher rates than their counterparts.

The question many organizations are asking is, "How many kids are playing?" This study begs us to ask the next and perhaps more important question, "Who is playing? And why?"

 And, in case you didn't get it - I'm no longer talking about football.

"Who is playing? And why?"

In the past decade, rightfully so, we have seen a growing spotlight on SES and DEI issues for music teachers and their students. In my experience, we tend to look at the overall school, not program demographics.

Let me elaborate.

Many of you know I was a high school band director for sixteen years - all in Title 1 schools. I am FAR from being an expert, but I am also not short on experience. I started my classroom career watching the riots in East Los Angeles and ended my career in the infancy of school-based shootings.

One day, to ask for a bigger budget, I broke down my band in every conceivable way (instrument, class size, year, gender, ethnicity, etc.) When I reviewed the numbers, I was shocked to see that while my school was roughly 34% Hispanic, 33% African-American, and 33% white. In contrast, my ensembles were 45% Hispanic, 47% white, and only 7% African-American.  

My program did not represent my school community. I was operating under the false flag of inclusivity. 

 Like football, I focused on how many students were playing (24% of my high school was in the band) rather than on who they were. 

Yes, I taught in a very balanced (culturally and economically) school community, but my ensembles were under-serving the African-American community. And, if I were being honest, despite having no numbers to prove it, I suspected that the median household income for my band members exceeded that of the school average. Looking at my upper SES school colleagues, I wondered if they had the same imbalances, but in reverse. Did they have students they were not seeing?

Hang with me for a second, and let me explain.

When looking for barriers (and opportunities) to access and inclusivity, perhaps we should be "school-blind" and "student-centered." In other words, we as a profession can't solely focus on specific schools, zip codes, or communities. My experience tells me that regardless of where and what you teach, all schools have lower SES students and under-represented communities. The numbers and percentages may differ from school to school, but issues related to poverty, equality, and other barriers to participation in music exist in every school.

Don't believe me? Answer the following questions. In your school community, do you have:

  • Apartments in your attendance zone?

  • Single-parent households?

  • Parents who lost a job recently?

  • Households that struggle with inflation?

  • First-generation Americans?

  • Mono-lingual parents?

  • Households without a college degree?

  • Families that make payments incrementally?

  • Students who have to wait to buy accessories?

  • Students who can't afford lessons?

  • Students who require jobs?

  • Students who take public transit to school?

  • Students who get free or reduced lunch?

  • Students who don't dress warm enough in the winter?

What about other barriers? Do you have:

  • Students who need a scholarship to go to college?

  • Students who need an AP class that conflicts with music?

  • An AVID or IB program that consumes their schedule?

  • Families that pressure their students to take "real" classes?

  • Counselors who push career pathways?

  • A district that requires a foreign language but does not see music as one?

I could go on, but you get my point.

Those are barriers and obstacles to inclusivity as well. Those problems are just as real to those students and their families.

Diversity, inclusivity, and access are not just Title 1 problems; they are all our problems. They exist in every community and every music program. They may even fool you. The impoverished might not be as poor as you think, the wealthy might not be as rich as you think, and (as I found out), your program might not be as diverse as you think.

 

The Washington Post article points out that for most high school football players, the sport is an opportunity to push themselves, grow, and be a part of a team or family. For those in need, football can be seen as that and more - a way out and up - a chance to change their lot and build a brighter future. And every team has both types of athletes.

That is where I believe music and football are the same.

 On Friday nights, players of sport and players of sound share more than the same field - they share the same dreams, obstacles, and opportunities.

Something to think about. As I said, I don't have all the answers, but I do have some experience.

Have a great week!

Scott

 

p.s. Be Part of the Music just launched Grants, Growth & Gratitude 2024 - $10,000 in offerings designed to impact you and your students. Be sure check it out using the button below.

 

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My Holiday Gift for You!

 Hey friends:

Every year, to thank you, the incredible teachers who make up this community, I create pre-written gratitude emails for you to use.

I know that you are all capable of writing better than me, but I do this to save you time and effort and provide a gentle reminder to show gratitude for the people that enrich your work life.

As we approach the 2024 Holiday Season, I thought I would once again share this simple offering as a gesture of thanks and a reminder that I know how hard you work.

As always, these are templates. You can copy and paste as is, or modify to suit your individual needs or writing style. 

READ TILL THE END TO OPEN THE MOST IMPORTANT EMAIL OF ALL!

Happy Holidays, friends.

Scott

p.s.  I tried to be as inclusive as possible in my writing to celebrate all people in all ways. If your school community reflects certain traditions or celebrations, feel free to ad and include.

p.p.s.  I provided "hint's and highlights for you to consider and change.

 EMAIL #1: To site administrators:

<< HINT: Make sure your building colleagues are not sending the same note. Or, add their names to this email.>>

Subject line: A long overdue not of thanks.

Dear Admin Team:  

As we approach the end of the semester and the Holiday break, I just wanted to drop you a quick note to tell you how much I appreciate you and your daily efforts on our behalf. 

Every day, you're not just leading from above; you are there in the trenches with us, working hard to ensure that WE and OUR STUDENTS are experiencing success. You do it without fanfare, accolades, or much gratitude. 

In recent years, schools and education have become more politicized. The toxicity, disrespect, and intolerance shown towards administrators are sometimes unbelievable. Through it all, you keep your cool (as far as I can see), and show yourself and our school to be the shining example that it is.

I will never fully see or understand WHAT you do every day, but I do see HOWyou do it, with intelligence, grace, compassion, and integrity. You fight for us and serve as an example of the professional we all strive to be.

As an employee, colleague, member of this faculty, and fellow human being, I just wanted to say "Thanks."

Have a restful and relaxing Holiday break. You deserve it.

Sincerely, 

(insert name) 
(title)

EMAIL #2 - Email to Parents/Guardians

<< HINT: "Family" can be anyone who contributes to the child's success.>>

Subject line: Happy Holidays from a grateful music teacher.

Dear parents, guardians, friends, and families (insert other):

I hope this email finds you happy, healthy, and SANE! 

Teaching young people is tricky at best and a nightmare at worst. So, I can only imagine what raising them must be like.

Your kids are wonderful... to me.  I doubt that at home, they are as delightful as they are for me here at school.

They are wonderful to be because:

You taught them to be that way.

You gave them an example to follow.

You set the standard and held them accountable.

You reminded them to be their best selves whenever possible.

You loved, cared for, and supported them in everything they do.

Even when it was hard, YOU were the parents!

As we approach this season of joy, I wanted you to know how much I appreciate your continued support - the instruments, the lessons, carpool, reeds, sticks, etc. You do so much for your children, in and out of music, and I am confident that while it may seem underappreciated, I assure you it is not. 

I usually am able to acknowledge and thank you (the parents) at meetings, concerts, and events. But, I wanted to make sure that I connected with each one of you and shared the following... 

I appreciate you. For the things I see you do and the things I don't. I appreciate your support, patience, and understanding. I appreciate your willingness to allow, encourage, and insist that music be a part of your child's life. It will be worth it in the end, for you and your children.

So let this email serve as my personal "Thank you" for all you do as a parent of a child in music.

Sincerely,

 

(insert name)
(title)

 

Email #3 - Email to Your Board/Superintendent

<< HINT: Make sure your district music colleagues are not sending the same note. Or, add all their names to this email.>>

Subject line:  A sincere note of thanks.


Dear Board Member/Superintendent (Insert names and titles):

I would not want your job. The toxicity and politicization of our schools leave you in an unenviable, if not impossible position. As I said, I would not want your job, but I am glad you do!

As we approach the end of the semester, I want to let you know that I appreciate you and your efforts to ensure that every child has access to a good (music) education.

I believe that music is more important than ever for every child. Music and the arts are not just creative outlets; they are safe spaces and facilitators of excellence that will guide children long after they leave our halls. 

As you continue making the hard decisions regarding our schools, please know that your support of our arts and music programs has played a vital role in helping students grow as academics and as young humans. You had an important role in making this happen. And for that, I thank you.

As we approach the Holiday break, it seems appropriate to end this email with a simple, but well deserved, "Thank you!"

With great sincerity,

(insert name)

(school)
(title)

  

Email # 4 - to a special friend/parent/colleague

<< HINT: If you are sending this to another music teacher - make sure that they are not receiving this note as well. >>

 

Subject line: You make this job easier...

Hey (insert name):

Today, I sat down to write some notes of thanks to the people who have helped me along the way. I do it to thank those who typically don't receive it, and remind myself that there are those who have helped me along the way.


And then I got to you...

I want you to know that you make this incredibly difficult job just a little bit easier and the difficult days just a little bit less hard.
I could list the dozens of times you came to my aid. But, that wouldn't reflect the dozens of other times you weren't there, but just knowing I had some support made me feel better. 

You are amazing - and during this season of giving, just know that I give thanks to YOU for being YOU!

Have a great break my friend. You deserve it!

(insert name)

 

Email #5 - to YOU...YES, YOU!

<< HINT: This is the most important email of all - I wrote it just for you.>> 

Subject line:  You make the world a better place!


Dear Scott, 

Yes, now it's your turn. No copy and paste, just sit, read, and smile.

As things return to "normal, " it's easy to forget what you did (and are still doing) to return to normal. Because of your tireless efforts and boundless energy, kids feel as if things ARE back to normal, when you and I both know that we are not quite there yet.

Whatever it took, you never stop TEACHING. You meet kids where they are at, assess what they need, and adjust on the fly. You make abnormal seem NORMAL - which, for many of your students is the best Holiday gift of all.

As most of you know, I spent 16 years in the classroom and another 20 traveling from music room to music room, which is what makes me appreciate you even more. I see how hard you work, and know how much you sacrifice. And, if we're being honest, I don't think I could do what you do. At least not as well as you are doing it. YOU are the better teacher. YOU are the harder worker. And YOU are making a more significant difference than I am.

So...

No coal for you! Your stocking will be full this year. Being an Elf (insert short joke), I checked Santa's list, and YOU ARE AT THE VERY TOP OF IT!

As we heard towards the Holiday break, I can't think of anyone who is worthy of my gratitude more than you. You are a role model, sherpa, and shining beacon of light for young people . YOU ARE A MUSIC TEACHER!

And that is the greatest gift you can give to a child.

 

Your biggest fan, and Elf on the Shelf, 

 

- Scott

 

 

Through the Holiday season, I match and donate all Patron memberships to the Patricia Allen Pediatric Recovery Wing at Children's Oshei Hospital. This is my way of giving something back to people who gave something to my family.

Please consider becoming a Patron, or giving it as a gift.

 

BECOME A PATRON

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved

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Do You Hear What I Hear & the Wicked Truth

Do You Hear What I Hear? is a worldwide holiday classic penned in 1962. Originally released by the great crooner Bing Crosby, this Holiday staple has been covered more than 200 different artists since its inception. 

Written by the husband and wife team of Noel Regeny and Gloria Shayne, this iconic work was conceived and composed as a plea for global peace during the Cuban Missile Crisis. 

This Holiday staple asks three simple and yet profound questions:

Do you hear what I hear?
Do you see what I see?
Do you know what I know?

Recently, my wife and I attended the hit Broadway musical Wicked. We have seen the production multiple times since its release and are well-acquainted with both the music and lyrics. However, this experience was profoundly different.

To get my son (who is in band) more interested in music, before the start of the show I took him to see the pit orchestra.

OMG!

The underground and mostly covered space contained four partitioned plexiglass spaces with thirteen musicians playing 36 different instruments into 46 microphones. It was ridiculous!

Geeking out on the enormity of it all, I asked the lead flutists about her instruments - she showed me her array of flutes, head joints, foot attachments, and explained the reason and rationale for each element.

I was entranced - my son? Not so much.

As I returned to my seat for the show's start, I decided to "tune out" on the production and "tune in" on the orchestration. I wanted to hear the alto flute, and understand this choice every other musical one that had been made.

I had an intensely different experience than previous shows. It was like I was hearing the musical for the first time. Not only did I hear things I had never heard before, but I found myself wanting to ask the arranger (William David Brohn) so many questions.

  • Why the alto flute in the ballad? What did it bring that new traditional flute could not provide?

  • Why use the suspended, diminished chord with the Eb clarinet on top as the opening overture statement?

  • Why 5/8 time during the dance sequence?

  • Why bassoon and not bari-sax at the close of the first act?

  • How did he factor instrument doublings and the logistics of instrument switching in the arrangement?

And so much more.

I was giddy with questions and thoughts. Even though it was my fourth time seeing the musical, it was my first time hearing it. 

I was on fire and wanted to share the experience and my curiosities with someone - but I had no one. I wanted to ask my wife and son:

Do you hear what I hear?
Do you see what I see?
Do you know what I know?

My wife is a true sport. Despite having little interest in how music is composed/orchestrated, and even less knowledge, she has accepted that she lives with a music teacher and is a willing and eager participant in all that comes with it. But,  as much as she enjoys music, she does not UNDERSTAND it. That is completely different.

How could she?

She did not sit in a practice room for hours in college. She is not a music theory "survivor." She did not analyze four part figured bass writing until three in the morning. She was never chastised by a professor for not working hard enough (even thought you had been at school for twelve hours seven days in a row). She doesn't know the difference when resolving a German 2nd chord versus an Italian 2nd chord. But, if we're being honest, neither do I. 

In the end, despite her deep love of music, our experience with music will be deeper, richer, and more complex because:

We know what she doesn't. 
We see what she can't. 
We hear what she misses.

She knew the story; I knew the music elements used to tell it effectively. She could see the costumes and props; I could see the complexity of the instruments, chambers and equipment required to bring them to life. She could hear the melody; but I could hear the harmonies and orchestrations that gave it depth, complexity, and a sense of irony.

We saw the same production, but had two VERY different experiences.

Remember what Noel and Gloria asked us?

Do you hear what I hear?
Do you see what I see?
Do you know what I know?

Being immersed in the musical world means that you and I are surrounded by musicians. People who see what we see, hear what we hear, and know what we know.

Because I am surrounded by this, it seems normal to me, when in fact, itis not. I forget to stop and appreciate the fantastical, magical world I get to live in. A place where I am fluent in a language that few people are. I need to remember the time and effort that went in to training my ears, mind, and hands my brain to process information and produce these experiences.

This gift of understanding we have is special. It is born of hard work and sacrifice. It took time, effort, and work done in solitude that few outside of this calling will ever understand. It can't be replicated in the Metaverse, explained  by Chat GPT, or recreated by Apple Glass. It is ours. we earned it, and so we must appreciate and treasure it for the gift that it is.

Yes, I can take my wife to Wicked again. I can introduce her to the conductor who can show her the score and explain the orchestration. I can even try to explain the nuance and irony of all of the musical choices that the musical team made. But, even after all of that, she will never...

See what we see.
Know what we know.
Hear what we hear.

And that's just Wicked!

Have a great week everyone.

Scott

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved



The Warbler, Movin' on Up, and Our Glee

If you are a pop-culture or choral aficionado, you may remember the hit television show Glee - an American musical comedy-drama airing from 2009 to 2015. 

This cultural phenomenon centered on a cast of diverse characters participating in show choir at William McKinley High School.

Part teen fantasy, part caustic comedy, this Broadway-level television show featured some of the best young talent in America going head-to-head in the blood sport of show choir. And sport it was.

Their arch nemesis? 

The Dalton Academy Warblers. A group of well-to-do students attending an all-male elite private boarding school that intensely supported the arts. 

While fictional, the show does not stray too far from real life in that show choir is indeed a competitive sport that can trace its origins back to (all male) highly prestigious private schools.

The Harvard Glee Club is America's oldest known glee club, tracing its origins back to 1858. Soon thereafter, Yale, Wesleyan, Princeton, and Cornell followed in the Crimson's footsteps with their own musical organizations. Now, "amateur" singing groups can be found on virtually every affluent college campus in America. Like on Glee, the TV show, the Warblers can trace their musical roots to access, privilege, and money.

And we're not just talking about a TV show.

(Editor's note: Brace yourself for an enormous leap - even by Scott Lang standards).

Last Monday's edition of the New York Times featured an article stating that warblers, the feathered flying kind, were flocking to more affluent neighbors to sing their songs. The article cited a study in which wildlife researchers had noted an unequal distribution (lack) of birds and other species in low-income areas, which they believe can be traced back to urban policies adopted decades ago.

The study author, Christopher J. Schell, from the University of California, Berkeley, concluded that discrimination and inequality affect how people and other species experience life in dense urban cities.

(Let me give you the Cliff Notes version.)

Birds require housing (trees), food (bugs & worms), foliage (bushes), and ground cover (grass) - all of which require space, care, and maintenance. 

It will shock no one when I say that well-manicured lawns, tree-lined streets, and flower-filled parks are far more prevalent in places of affluence. So, the places most needing natural song are left with silence.

Following their singing roots, the warbler moved to a  more affluent neighborhood to survive.

Modern (classical) music has always been associated with affluence. History teaches the costs of acquiring, learning, and performing music have always been more accessible to those with means. The great masterworks were commissioned by large bodies (church/state) and performed in front of great wealth (aristocracy/royalty). And, while America's public school music programs have made incredible strides in accessibility, there is too much silence in places that need music the most. The songbirds have moved to the suburbs.

How do we rectify it? We look to Mother Nature and the warbler.

Science and evolution teach us that the warbler WILL return to places it once left if grass is grown, trees are planted, and flowers bloom. When the habitat is safe and supportive, the species will inevitably return. But returning to a forlorn and forgotten environment (musical and otherwise) requires considerable investment, planning, and resources. In other words, it was the intentional act of man who drove the songbirds away, so they need the intentional act of man to bring them back home.

Are you following my analogy?

For the music programs to return to underserved communities, we must plant "musical trees" - a space where students can nest and feel safe. We must provide "musical nourishment" - high-quality experiences with high-quality educators. And, we must ensure that the "musical eco-system" has the needed resources (instruments and equipment) that allow the students to survive and thrive.

How do we do that?

What would make a music educator commute far from their home and teach in a community far from where they live? What would make teaching in a place with fewer musical opportunities and more danger desirable? How do we incentivize the best and brightest to work with those needing their valuable experience and skills? How do we return music to places and spaces that are musically uninhabitable and deafeningly silent?

There are many possible answers. It is likely a challenging and lengthy fix, but we can all agree it will require a significant and intentional act by our communities and profession. 

Remember, the silence is not the fault of the school community; it's a reflection of it.

In moving uptown, the warbler is not trying to make a political statement or advance an agenda. It is not seeking to increase its social status or improve its zip code. Much like its human counterpart, it's just trying to survive. The warbler and her sweet song will return to their former home, given the opportunity.

I believe this to be true for my feathered and non-feathered friends. And that would bring me GLEE!

 

Have a great week everyone.

 

Scott



BEING A HANDYMAN & USING THE RIGHT TOOLS

My father was NOT a handy person. In fact, his tiny tool set consisted of one hammer, one screwdriver, and if we're being honest, I don't know that I ever saw him use either one of them. 

Growing up in a "DDIY" (don't do it yourself) household meant I had little exposure to tools and learning how to fix things - something I have spent my entire life trying  to overcome. So, in addition to overcoming my lack of experience, I am also trying to ensure I don't handicap my own two boys the same way.

So, with the help of my friend, and YouTube, I tackle every big and small project that comes my way. I now am proud to report that I am fairly competent with basic electric, plumbing, and can even hang some drywall. In fact, just last week, I tore apart my back deck and rebuilt the entire substructure - 32 8x10 beams. It is mostly straight, but I would recommend you hire someone other than me if you are considering a similar project.

To be clear, when I do projects, I ask lots of questions, make WAY too many trips to Home Depot, and usually take twice as long to complete the project than it should. My wife always asks, "What are these parts on the ground?" I try and convince her that they are extras from the manufacturer, but I don't think she's buying what I am selling.

But I am getting better and learning a lot. So I soldier on.

The most important thing I have learned is that having the correct tools makes all the difference. 

Not only does it ensure the job is done correctly, but it makes it more efficient and less frustrating.

Which is what makes this next story so amusing.

This week, while on a spacewalk to complete maintenance work on the International Space Station (ISS), a tool belt slipped from the astronaut's hand and floated away. According to EarthSky, a website tracking cosmic events, "The tool bag is currently orbiting Earth ahead of the ISS, and can potentially be spotted with a pair of binoculars."

Listen, no judgment here, as I have dropped plenty of tools, and lost plenty of stuff, but this is next level.

It's not like they can make a quick run to Home Depot to get some new tools now can they? They are stuck.

So, they will have to make do with what remaining tools they have - which is a lot like what you do.

As teachers, we use tools every day. We use ones that make our jobs easier and some tools that make it harder. Tuners, dot books, computers, mixing boards, mouthpiece pullers, parent helpers, and software, to name a few. And just like with the tools in our garages, we all have different levels of aptitude and interest in using them. But there they are, nonetheless. 

Until they aren't. Like with the astronauts.

This is not just about physical tools, but emotional and musical ones as well.  Tools such as empathy, patience, judgement, and understanding? It's not just about having them, it's about knowing when and how to use them. And that's hard, because there's no set of procedures or rules to follow, or step-by-step instructions.

Not every tool or problem comes with a YouTube video explaining how to fix it, because there are too many unknowns and some problems aren't easily fixed.

Just this week, an old friend and colleague reached out to tell me that a student had posted lies about the band and staff on social media. He didn't know what to do. He lacked the experience and tools to deal with it. He then added that his building was just declared structurally unsafe, and starting tomorrow, no one would be allowed back in for the rest of the year.

Looks like beyond patience, creativity, and flexibility, he needs a bulldozer - which he does not own or know how to operate. But if that were me - I would also be lacking in the patience and flexibility area as well. In those spaces, my father and I share an alarming lack of depth.

As music educators and people, there are a lot of tools at our disposal. Additionally, you have a lot of experience to draw upon when you use them. However, even with a well armed tool belt, filled with lots of options, you can't solve every problem, it's impossible. So, you ask for help, and do the best you can. It's all there is. And that's ok.

It's easy for adjudicators, administrators, and parents to find the flaw. A place and space where they see shortcomings. It's easy for outsiders and adjudicators to assume that all situations are the same, and all tools are accessible and in working order, when in fact they aren't. So we (me) feel flawed and like a failure.

But we (I) need to remember, it's not just about the final product. It's about the growth we experienced while making it.  So yes, the 8th board on my deck is raised by a 1/16th of an inch, and I love it, because it is evidence that I did it.

Someone reminded me in a less-than-pleasant email after last week's blog - me, my writing, and my projects are far from perfect. And while the delivery was mean, I  did agree with the premise. I am imperfect, and so is my work, handyman and otherwise.

But I show up every day, put in the work, and am doing my very best. And that is good enough for me - and I hope it is good enough for you.

At least I don't lose my tools.

Have a great week.

Scott

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved


THE POWER OF POTENTIAL AND THE ROOKS

In 1991, the US National Junior High Chess Championships in Detroit gave birth to one of the greatest upsets in the history of the sport.

The elite team from Dalton, a private school in New York, was the prohibitive favorite, as they had won the title in each of the previous three years. In contrast, their upstart opponent, the Raging Rooks from a public school in Harlem, New York, had never even attended before, much less won.

The Rooks surprised everyone with a strong start but soon crumbled, falling to fifth place. Sensing declining morale, the team's coach, Maurice Ashley, gathered his team and reminded them that the game was won and lost in their head and not on the board and that strategy and discipline would beat talent and experience. Kasaun Henry, the team captain, went on to beat Dalton's best player, giving the Rooks the tournament trophy and the title of United States School Chess Program Champion.

"How could a team with barely enough players that practiced in parks where drug dealers did their business beat experienced and highly trained chess professionals?" author Adam Grant questions in his book Hidden Potential.

Grant asserts that everyone, not just geniuses and superstars, can achieve great things. In his book, he provides a three-part framework for developing character skills, sustaining long-term motivation, and designing opportunity systems that allow anyone to grow, learn, and reach their highest heights.

He states:

"People who achieve great things are rarely freaks of nature - but are freaks of nurture."

 He believes learning how to grow is more important than the growth itself. To prove his point, he traces the income earnings of a control group based on the experience level of their kindergarten teacher. The more experienced kindergarten teachers didn't necessarily give kids better skills in reading and math, but they instilled the character skills to help kids be proactive, prosocial, disciplined, and determined. 

In short - good teachers develop good people who go on to do good things.

I doubt this will come as an epiphany to any of you.

But it probably is to the rest of the world.

We all know the power of music and the importance it holds in a child's life; however, for most people, music is no different than math, science, or foreign language.

As an industry, in my view, we have not done a very good job of educating parents about the profound and long-term benefits of music. They see the "what" but not the "how."  Much like any other curriculum, parents see the grade, attend the concert, and understand that their child has had some mastery of playing their instruments. What they don't understand are the character traits and cognitive skills that are developing as a part of the process.

Compounding the problem, we (music education) do a poor job of explaining the long-term growth trajectory associated with music - that this is a step in a six-to-sixty-year journey that could change the trajectory of their child's life.

You know who does this really well? Youth sports.

When a parent puts their child on a sports team, they understand that their child will not hit a home run, master the underwater flip turn, or run a 4.7 forty-yard dash on day one. They walk in the door (or on the field), knowing this is a multi-year or even decade-long process that will not have any shortcuts.  

As long as we're being honest, deep down inside, most parents know that the probability of their child becoming a professional athlete is minuscule, but they encourage their kids to pursue it anyway. Why? Because parents see the ancillary benefits associated with being on a team: dedication, commitment, selflessness, overcoming obstacles, pushing oneself, etc.

In short, they see character-building activities, and the potential it creates for their child on and off the field. 

Music does all of this and, frankly, does it better (in my opinion). Better because, with time, sports separates based on athletic ability and body development, both of which are largely not within a child's control.

Music has a place and space for every child - regardless of their circumstances, genetics, size, or ability. A place and space that will help them find and develop their life-long potential, by building character, all under the watchful eye of a caring and experienced educator.

It is as true for music as it is for athletics or chess. We just don't frame music in that way. If we did...

It would be checkmate.

Have a great week.

Scott