“Teaching takes patience.” I thought this thought. I even thought this thought was thoughtful. But what I thought I thought was not what I thought I should thought. Think. Not what I thought I should think.
Wait.
“Teaching takes patience.” This is a truism. I think it is true... ish. What I have been finding with my own teaching has been slightly different. I'm not actually patient. I mean, I am. But that patience is not the result of some inherent virtue that I have. Although it is a virtue...
Dammit.
“Teaching takes patience.” Yes. Yes it does. But where does this patience come from? That's the important bit. Some people might be patient because they have a high sense of mission. Their clear sense of purpose allows them to slog through to the greater good. I am not really one of those people. I suppose that makes me terrible, but I don't care. Haters gon' hate. Instead, some people are patient because they enjoy the job, like me.
But the more I think about it, the odder and odder that statement becomes. “I enjoy teaching.” It's a bit like saying “I enjoy getting flogged by an 800 pound gorilla.” Especially when it comes to music. How many parents out there have literally told their kid to stop playing for five goddamn minutes because jeezus, that violin sounds like a toddler in a fist fight with a fennec fox.
Not in so many words, I mean. Just, like. “Hey, I think you should probably stop for today, you have math homework to do,” except you didn't really care about the math homework, it was just a convenient excuse at the moment. Don't lie. You know you've done it.
I'm not even the kid's parent, and I not only hear that kid play for thirty minutes, I also hear pretty much the same thing in thirty minute increments for 4-5 hours a day. And yet I say, “Oh yeah, I enjoy teaching.” At face value that seems like the height of insanity. This is not something a normal person says.
But what I have come to realize is, I am not patient as an inherent virtue. I am patient as a result of a mind-set. It's a kind of mental misdirection. When I hear a mistake, the something I sometimes say to the student is “Yeah! That sounded awesome! It wasn't right, but sure sounded cool.” This is especially true for missed pitches, or weird sound effects the cello can make if you're not careful (or if you're supremely careful to make that sound on purpose).
Usually, the student hears this and is at first amused. They laugh, because that's not what teachers are supposed to say. Teachers are supposed to say, “Oh my god that was awful, you're awful, everything about your life will be awful until you do that again and do it right. … [student messes up again] … Oh. My. GAAAAAAWD.” So, you know, it's funny and, I must imagine, somewhat relieving to hear that while they didn't play what they set out to play, they at least made me say something weird.
Then I play it back at them, and that's when they realize I'm not just blowing smoke out my ass. What they had done was honestly, truly cool. And sometimes, the “mistake” they made sounds better than whatever is written in the part. I mean, not on its own, necessarily. Usually I take what they did and recompose what we're playing to include and expand upon the “mistake.” Have you heard that insufferable Suzuki vl.1 French Folk Song played in an Arabic scale? It's kind of neat.
I don't do that all the time. I only do that when it's actually cool, otherwise it will lose all its value. But what the student doesn't realize is, I'm actually doing that a lot in my head. Nothing they ever play is anything I don't want to hear, because while they're busy trying to figure out how reconstruct sound from a bunch of squiggles and dots, I'm hearing techniques Kaija Saariaho uses in her pieces for solo cello; I'm hearing musical indeterminacy the likes of which would make The New York School blush; I'm hearing Ives as melodies from different practice rooms overlap; or Ligeti as the orchestra warms up.
That's how I can be patient. When I'm teaching, I'm not hearing a student screwing up. I'm hearing music. It may not be the music on the page, but that doesn't matter. That is totally, utterly, impossibly inconsequential. The student may or may not ever play that page correctly, and all we can do is make some changes and try again. If they do, great, if not whatever.
So they didn't play what was on the page. But what they did play... What a sound!
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Sunday, June 15, 2014
The Art of Lazy
Is it possible to start with a digression? Sure, whatever. Lets do this.
I always scratch my head when I hear people complain about scientists doing research and then concluding “the obvious.” It's like these people don't know what science is. You don't know something is obvious until it has been confirmed, yo. How many times have scientists made startling discoveries that upended what we thought was obvious? I don't know the actual number, but I'm pretty sure it is “lots.”
Digression over! Speaking of the obvious, I have been wondering over some received wisdom. It goes like this: “Practice everyday. Are you practicing? No. Is it a day? Yes. Then why aren't you practicing?”
Why aren't I practicing? Maybe because, possibly, practicing every day isn't the best way to do learn something. Do I know it isn't the best way to learn an instrument? No. Is mayonnaise an instrument? That depends on how much you practice with it. Horseradish, however, is most certainly not an instrument. Get that wanna be poser outta here.
Bear with me. I may not know that practicing everyday is not the best way to use your time, but I have a suspicion. And I would like it tested. Here is how my suspicion goes.
First! Let us say you are training for a marathon. What do? You start by running not a lot, you start by running a little. And then? And then you rest. And then you run a little again, and then you rest, and then you run a little more, and then you rest, and then... No 'and then!'
I mean, there's more 'and then.' You 'and then' until you've run a marathon. But the key here is, you regularly rest your muscles as part of the training. If you don't rest your muscles, you can do some serious harm. You rest or you run until you're forced to rest. Given a choice, I would rather just rest, thank you very much.
*two hours later*
SECOND! Have you ever been working on a problem and got stuck? The answer is yes. We all have come across problems we've got stuck on. You know what usually happens? You work on the problem until you get a nose bleed. Then you give up and go do something productive like play Farmville. Then you go to sleep. Then you wake up the next day and BAM! All of a sudden you wonder why you were having trouble with your problem. It's so obvious! How did I not see that before?!
Turns out, this happens a lot in music practice, too. A particular passage, for whatever reason, just seems intractable. Then you go to sleep, wake up the next morning refreshed, and you find the passage has become tracted. Good job brain! But I've noticed that giving yourself distance from even pieces you “know” helps.
Weird.
Third! This doesn't have to do with learning so much as balance. There's more to life than music. In fact, I wonder if our musicianing is in fact hampered if you don't have a life outside of it. I once read that Stravinsky, Poulenc, and some other musical cats got into a giant drunken pillow fight at a soiree. Arnold Schoenberg played tennis. Mendelssohn traveled. A lot. Mozart partied all the damn time. And yet, somehow, they all managed to produce masterpieces, this despite wasting their time doing so many non-musical things. How 'bout that.
In any case, I'm not making any definite conclusions. I'm just sayin'. There's a physical aspect to music, and we know that physical rest is important, especially for injury prevention (Leon Fleisher is out there somewhere, finding himself nodding in agreement, to what he does not know, but he knows it is important). There's also a mental aspect to music, and we know that rest is often a crucial part of problem solving (what, you think Newton was sciencing under the apple tree? No way. He was napping). And we know that having a social life is important for basically everything (this is more for those people who are in music school practicing 20 hours a day: seriously, go home and have a drink).
So it strikes me as not only possible, but very likely that we, as musicians, do not need to practice music everyday, and that we shouldn't feel guilty if we miss a day or two. In fact, if you do miss a day, you probably did yourself a favor. But I don't know that. I'm just pondering on something obvious that may not be as obvious as it's cracked up to be.
I always scratch my head when I hear people complain about scientists doing research and then concluding “the obvious.” It's like these people don't know what science is. You don't know something is obvious until it has been confirmed, yo. How many times have scientists made startling discoveries that upended what we thought was obvious? I don't know the actual number, but I'm pretty sure it is “lots.”
Digression over! Speaking of the obvious, I have been wondering over some received wisdom. It goes like this: “Practice everyday. Are you practicing? No. Is it a day? Yes. Then why aren't you practicing?”
Why aren't I practicing? Maybe because, possibly, practicing every day isn't the best way to do learn something. Do I know it isn't the best way to learn an instrument? No. Is mayonnaise an instrument? That depends on how much you practice with it. Horseradish, however, is most certainly not an instrument. Get that wanna be poser outta here.
Bear with me. I may not know that practicing everyday is not the best way to use your time, but I have a suspicion. And I would like it tested. Here is how my suspicion goes.
First! Let us say you are training for a marathon. What do? You start by running not a lot, you start by running a little. And then? And then you rest. And then you run a little again, and then you rest, and then you run a little more, and then you rest, and then... No 'and then!'
I mean, there's more 'and then.' You 'and then' until you've run a marathon. But the key here is, you regularly rest your muscles as part of the training. If you don't rest your muscles, you can do some serious harm. You rest or you run until you're forced to rest. Given a choice, I would rather just rest, thank you very much.
*two hours later*
SECOND! Have you ever been working on a problem and got stuck? The answer is yes. We all have come across problems we've got stuck on. You know what usually happens? You work on the problem until you get a nose bleed. Then you give up and go do something productive like play Farmville. Then you go to sleep. Then you wake up the next day and BAM! All of a sudden you wonder why you were having trouble with your problem. It's so obvious! How did I not see that before?!
Turns out, this happens a lot in music practice, too. A particular passage, for whatever reason, just seems intractable. Then you go to sleep, wake up the next morning refreshed, and you find the passage has become tracted. Good job brain! But I've noticed that giving yourself distance from even pieces you “know” helps.
Weird.
Third! This doesn't have to do with learning so much as balance. There's more to life than music. In fact, I wonder if our musicianing is in fact hampered if you don't have a life outside of it. I once read that Stravinsky, Poulenc, and some other musical cats got into a giant drunken pillow fight at a soiree. Arnold Schoenberg played tennis. Mendelssohn traveled. A lot. Mozart partied all the damn time. And yet, somehow, they all managed to produce masterpieces, this despite wasting their time doing so many non-musical things. How 'bout that.
In any case, I'm not making any definite conclusions. I'm just sayin'. There's a physical aspect to music, and we know that physical rest is important, especially for injury prevention (Leon Fleisher is out there somewhere, finding himself nodding in agreement, to what he does not know, but he knows it is important). There's also a mental aspect to music, and we know that rest is often a crucial part of problem solving (what, you think Newton was sciencing under the apple tree? No way. He was napping). And we know that having a social life is important for basically everything (this is more for those people who are in music school practicing 20 hours a day: seriously, go home and have a drink).
So it strikes me as not only possible, but very likely that we, as musicians, do not need to practice music everyday, and that we shouldn't feel guilty if we miss a day or two. In fact, if you do miss a day, you probably did yourself a favor. But I don't know that. I'm just pondering on something obvious that may not be as obvious as it's cracked up to be.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Art is Not Just Art
Continuing my musings about building societal value in music, I come to an interesting point: Music, art in general, is not just music and art. It's also a service. Now, I personally hope that we can come to an age where music is learned just because music is awesome and fun. But the reality right now is, we have politicians who are deciding whether it is worth the budget space to fund music programs in schools across the country, and those politicians need "reasons" for music to be included. Especially in a culture which highly prizes its standardized testing, and is constantly giving weight to that which is testable and 'objective,' the arts tend to get shafted. How do you test music or art? How do you test its impact on the life of a person? You can't. Not really, because those values are totally subjective, holistic, and multifaceted. There is no multiple choice answer to the question "How has music made your life better?"
A. It lets me socialize with my peer group.
B. It helps me form my own identity distinct from other people.
C. It helps me learn how to regulate my emotions.
D. It lets me communicate with my grandmother who has Alzheimer's.
The list goes on, but "all the above" doesn't cut it because music is everything for everyone, and everyone has different issues, and you can't just say "This is the right answer. Oh, music helped you form a social life? Wrong, the correct answer was 'Music helped you regulate your emotions.'"
However! There are, of course, numerous benefits to music, both listening and performing. Granted, many of these benefits are merely correlations, as we find in the Dana Arts and Cognition Consortium. Things like art relating to increase in sustained attention, geometrical representation, long term memory, etc. They are careful to note these are not yet causally related, but that's why they exist. To help draw research attention to these correlations for further study.
Music Therapy
Music in the realm of medicine has been increasingly validated by science. I admit, when I first heard of "music therapy," I was pretty skeptical. It sounds awfully similar to a lot of snake oils we've had in the past. But then I started reading. Alleviating Alzheimer's has already been noted. But there are numerous other benefits as well. Everything from helping depression and bipolar, to speech and even movement therapy.
Oh man. Speech and movement therapy. Let me tell you about that. Paraphrasing from Oliver Sacks' book "Musicophilia": A patient, Samuel S., developed severe aphasia following a stroke. Regular speech therapy produced no results even after two years. Then, a music therapist heard him singing "Old Man River," though only managing one or two words of the lyrics. The therapist worked with him to recover the rest of the song, and soon other songs followed. After two months, Samuel was able to make short answers to questions.
Also from Oliver Sacks' "Musicophilia," regarding movement therapy: An old lady required surgery for her hip, which required a long period of immobilization, both before the surgery and after. However, even after recovery, the leg remained apparently paralyzed, with no obvious cause. Upon questioning, Sacks found that the patient's leg responded to movement while listening to Irish jigs. Wondering if, perhaps, dance music could help, they went through jig after jig, march after march, for weeks. At the end of it all, she had totally regained the movement in her leg.
The Usual Disclaimers
It should be noted, Oliver Sacks' book is filled with the extraordinary. It may be we cannot expect such phenomenal results from every person who needs therapy of one kind or another. However, research continues to show the benefits of music for people recovering from stroke, or suffering from Parkinson's or Alzheimer's.
The ultimate point is, music is not just music. Art is not just art. These activities have benefits beyond just the pleasure of doing them (which is, in itself, quite a motivation for including these activities in your life). One day, we will understand that we do art just for the sake of doing art. Until then, we should strive to remind everyone we can that there are powerful justifications for the inclusion of the arts in any educational program, and beyond.
Recommendations of the Day
I think I should recommend something in line with today's article. To that end, I highly suggest, almost demand, that you put Beethoven's Heiliger Dankgesang into your life. It is longish, about 15-20 minutes or so, but you will not regret it. The piece itself is a "Song of Thanksgiving," and is dedicated as such: "A Convalescent's Holy Song of Thanksgiving to the Divinity." This was written after a long period of illness, and is phenomenal in every respect.
Heiliger Dankgesang, Beethoven String Quartet op*. 135, 3rd movement**
*Opus. Meaning "Work."
** Longer compositions are often divided into units which are simply called "movements." A typical symphony, say by Mozart, has four movements. It might be helpful to think of them as chapters in a book.
A. It lets me socialize with my peer group.
B. It helps me form my own identity distinct from other people.
C. It helps me learn how to regulate my emotions.
D. It lets me communicate with my grandmother who has Alzheimer's.
The list goes on, but "all the above" doesn't cut it because music is everything for everyone, and everyone has different issues, and you can't just say "This is the right answer. Oh, music helped you form a social life? Wrong, the correct answer was 'Music helped you regulate your emotions.'"
However! There are, of course, numerous benefits to music, both listening and performing. Granted, many of these benefits are merely correlations, as we find in the Dana Arts and Cognition Consortium. Things like art relating to increase in sustained attention, geometrical representation, long term memory, etc. They are careful to note these are not yet causally related, but that's why they exist. To help draw research attention to these correlations for further study.
Music Therapy
Music in the realm of medicine has been increasingly validated by science. I admit, when I first heard of "music therapy," I was pretty skeptical. It sounds awfully similar to a lot of snake oils we've had in the past. But then I started reading. Alleviating Alzheimer's has already been noted. But there are numerous other benefits as well. Everything from helping depression and bipolar, to speech and even movement therapy.
Oh man. Speech and movement therapy. Let me tell you about that. Paraphrasing from Oliver Sacks' book "Musicophilia": A patient, Samuel S., developed severe aphasia following a stroke. Regular speech therapy produced no results even after two years. Then, a music therapist heard him singing "Old Man River," though only managing one or two words of the lyrics. The therapist worked with him to recover the rest of the song, and soon other songs followed. After two months, Samuel was able to make short answers to questions.
Also from Oliver Sacks' "Musicophilia," regarding movement therapy: An old lady required surgery for her hip, which required a long period of immobilization, both before the surgery and after. However, even after recovery, the leg remained apparently paralyzed, with no obvious cause. Upon questioning, Sacks found that the patient's leg responded to movement while listening to Irish jigs. Wondering if, perhaps, dance music could help, they went through jig after jig, march after march, for weeks. At the end of it all, she had totally regained the movement in her leg.
The Usual Disclaimers
It should be noted, Oliver Sacks' book is filled with the extraordinary. It may be we cannot expect such phenomenal results from every person who needs therapy of one kind or another. However, research continues to show the benefits of music for people recovering from stroke, or suffering from Parkinson's or Alzheimer's.
The ultimate point is, music is not just music. Art is not just art. These activities have benefits beyond just the pleasure of doing them (which is, in itself, quite a motivation for including these activities in your life). One day, we will understand that we do art just for the sake of doing art. Until then, we should strive to remind everyone we can that there are powerful justifications for the inclusion of the arts in any educational program, and beyond.
Recommendations of the Day
I think I should recommend something in line with today's article. To that end, I highly suggest, almost demand, that you put Beethoven's Heiliger Dankgesang into your life. It is longish, about 15-20 minutes or so, but you will not regret it. The piece itself is a "Song of Thanksgiving," and is dedicated as such: "A Convalescent's Holy Song of Thanksgiving to the Divinity." This was written after a long period of illness, and is phenomenal in every respect.
Heiliger Dankgesang, Beethoven String Quartet op*. 135, 3rd movement**
*Opus. Meaning "Work."
** Longer compositions are often divided into units which are simply called "movements." A typical symphony, say by Mozart, has four movements. It might be helpful to think of them as chapters in a book.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
The Art of Programming II: Rabbits and Turtles
Yesterday I talked about programming concerts/recitals. More specifically, I talked about goal setting for your concerts, as well as the machine gun/sniper rifle spectrum of program structure. Today I'm going to talk about cute things. Today, I am going to talk about bunnies and turtles.
Wascawwy Wabbits
Once upon a time, there was a rabbit. He had a lot of friends, but because he was a bit of a dick, he didn't have any particularly close friends. On the other hand, people enjoyed his antics and generally liked having him around for parties. You were never really sure what the rabbit would come up with next. Sometimes, it was glorious fun. Other times, somebody shot their eye out while brandishing a Red Rider BB Gun with a compass in the stock.
Durdle the Turtle
On the other end of the forest lived Durdle the Turtle. He was a fine, upstanding citizen. He paid his taxes on time. He looked both ways when he crossed the street. He was very deliberate with his choices. Sometimes, it would take him weeks to decide what box of cereal to buy at the grocery store. Then he would realize, he was a turtle, and didn't eat cereal. BUT! If he did, he sure well knew which box of cereal he would get. Durdle was not very popular. He did not get invited to the reindeer games, and not just because he was not a reindeer. The friends he did have, however, were very loyal to him, and vice versa.
GET ON WITH IT!
I bring up the Wascawwy Wabbit and Durdle the Turtle to help draw attention to the most basic of economic choices: risk vs reward. The rabbit is always taking risks. Sometimes, it pays off gloriously. Other times, it ends with a trip to the hospital. Durdle the Turtle is never taking risks. Sometimes, this lets him lead a safe and comfortable life. Other times, it leads him to choose a box of cereal he doesn't really need. He's also kind of boring.
So breaking it down to extremes: High risk versus low risk; high reward vs low reward. This makes a box. High risk/High Reward, Low Risk/High Reward, etc. etc. I hope I don't have to spell it all out.
Why talk about this at all? Because certain pieces of music will carry with them a certain amount of risk, and a certain amount of reward for taking that risk. The trick is, figuring out which is which. Occasionally, it is obvious. Schoenberg, bless his heart, is a very high risk proposition in American concert halls. The reward you might get from a concert featuring Schoenberg is a bit iffy, but in America, at least, the reward is likely to be rather low. Beethoven is generally rather low risk. People love Beethoven. It's also rather high reward. People love Beethoven!
In the art of programming, we need to carefully balance our risk. It is not that we can never play Schoenberg. It's just that we need to construct a context in which the risk of programming Schoenberg is mitigated by other factors. And it's not that we should always play Beethoven. While Beethoven is rarely boring, Durdle the Turtle always is. If you're constantly making low risk programs, people will lose interest. This means that we need to take a certain amount of gambles... while carefully balancing those gambles against much less risky programming choices.
The polls don't lie. Except when they do.
The big question is, how do you figure this all out? The most direct method is to just ask people what they like and what they want to hear. This has the advantage that you know exactly what to give the people. It has the disadvantage in that the people don't know what they didn't know they wanted to hear. That is, they will only choose piece based on their existing knowledge. Beethoven and Mozart will come up a lot. Schumann less so. Why? For the simple reason Schumann is less known. It has nothing to do with Schumann being a worse composer, far from it. Whenever I've seen or played Schumann, he has always been spectacularly received. He just doesn't have the same public image, and so won't jump to mind as readily.
Another method is less direct. You take opportunities to program lesser known works and judge the audience reaction. Was the applause polite or enthusiastic? Did the standing ovation seem obligatory or spontaneous? Was the audience falling asleep in their popcorn, or were they carefully paying attention throughout? Things like that. It takes careful observation from several perspectives. How did the orchestra feel they were received? How about the CEO in the audience? What about the ushers? What did everybody see and feel? That's how you tell what the audience felt. You have to watch closely and compare notes, because everybody has a different perspective, and it's only when you take them all together that you get a clear picture.
Tomorrow, Tomorrow
Alright. We're getting some focus here. We've got our goals. We've got our gun spectrum. We've got our rabbits and turtles. Now what is out poor befuddled flatulaphonist to do next? How do we start bringing this information together? Join me next time for the exciting conclusion to The Art of Programming: Building your Rabbit and Turtle Army! Time to crush our enemies, drive them before us, and hear the lamentations of their women!
Wascawwy Wabbits
Once upon a time, there was a rabbit. He had a lot of friends, but because he was a bit of a dick, he didn't have any particularly close friends. On the other hand, people enjoyed his antics and generally liked having him around for parties. You were never really sure what the rabbit would come up with next. Sometimes, it was glorious fun. Other times, somebody shot their eye out while brandishing a Red Rider BB Gun with a compass in the stock.
Durdle the Turtle
On the other end of the forest lived Durdle the Turtle. He was a fine, upstanding citizen. He paid his taxes on time. He looked both ways when he crossed the street. He was very deliberate with his choices. Sometimes, it would take him weeks to decide what box of cereal to buy at the grocery store. Then he would realize, he was a turtle, and didn't eat cereal. BUT! If he did, he sure well knew which box of cereal he would get. Durdle was not very popular. He did not get invited to the reindeer games, and not just because he was not a reindeer. The friends he did have, however, were very loyal to him, and vice versa.
GET ON WITH IT!
I bring up the Wascawwy Wabbit and Durdle the Turtle to help draw attention to the most basic of economic choices: risk vs reward. The rabbit is always taking risks. Sometimes, it pays off gloriously. Other times, it ends with a trip to the hospital. Durdle the Turtle is never taking risks. Sometimes, this lets him lead a safe and comfortable life. Other times, it leads him to choose a box of cereal he doesn't really need. He's also kind of boring.
So breaking it down to extremes: High risk versus low risk; high reward vs low reward. This makes a box. High risk/High Reward, Low Risk/High Reward, etc. etc. I hope I don't have to spell it all out.
Why talk about this at all? Because certain pieces of music will carry with them a certain amount of risk, and a certain amount of reward for taking that risk. The trick is, figuring out which is which. Occasionally, it is obvious. Schoenberg, bless his heart, is a very high risk proposition in American concert halls. The reward you might get from a concert featuring Schoenberg is a bit iffy, but in America, at least, the reward is likely to be rather low. Beethoven is generally rather low risk. People love Beethoven. It's also rather high reward. People love Beethoven!
In the art of programming, we need to carefully balance our risk. It is not that we can never play Schoenberg. It's just that we need to construct a context in which the risk of programming Schoenberg is mitigated by other factors. And it's not that we should always play Beethoven. While Beethoven is rarely boring, Durdle the Turtle always is. If you're constantly making low risk programs, people will lose interest. This means that we need to take a certain amount of gambles... while carefully balancing those gambles against much less risky programming choices.
The polls don't lie. Except when they do.
The big question is, how do you figure this all out? The most direct method is to just ask people what they like and what they want to hear. This has the advantage that you know exactly what to give the people. It has the disadvantage in that the people don't know what they didn't know they wanted to hear. That is, they will only choose piece based on their existing knowledge. Beethoven and Mozart will come up a lot. Schumann less so. Why? For the simple reason Schumann is less known. It has nothing to do with Schumann being a worse composer, far from it. Whenever I've seen or played Schumann, he has always been spectacularly received. He just doesn't have the same public image, and so won't jump to mind as readily.
Another method is less direct. You take opportunities to program lesser known works and judge the audience reaction. Was the applause polite or enthusiastic? Did the standing ovation seem obligatory or spontaneous? Was the audience falling asleep in their popcorn, or were they carefully paying attention throughout? Things like that. It takes careful observation from several perspectives. How did the orchestra feel they were received? How about the CEO in the audience? What about the ushers? What did everybody see and feel? That's how you tell what the audience felt. You have to watch closely and compare notes, because everybody has a different perspective, and it's only when you take them all together that you get a clear picture.
Tomorrow, Tomorrow
Alright. We're getting some focus here. We've got our goals. We've got our gun spectrum. We've got our rabbits and turtles. Now what is out poor befuddled flatulaphonist to do next? How do we start bringing this information together? Join me next time for the exciting conclusion to The Art of Programming: Building your Rabbit and Turtle Army! Time to crush our enemies, drive them before us, and hear the lamentations of their women!
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Teaching Orchestra Classes
Continuing with my educational theme, today I'm going to discuss orchestra as a school class. I make the distinction between a 6th grade orchestra and a college orchestra because at the college level at least the players know how to play their instruments. Although, after having lived through numerous college orchestra rehearsals, I sometimes wonder if that is a fair assumption to make.
Anyways. After hearing a student orchestra rehearse the same piece for five weeks and not really ever get better, I began to think maybe we're doing something wrong. Is it possible that perhaps we don't know as much about teaching music as we think we do? I think it is.
So lets get cracking.
Problems Facing School Orchestras
1. Class size. It is well known by now that class size is an important factor contributing to student success. Large classes tend to hinder learning, smaller classes tend to help it. Or at least, not get in the way. The book "Boys and Girls Learn Differently"(a book which I recommend with reservations... it's a whole article unto itself) says that the optimal classroom size for middle school is around 20.
Twenty.
Excuse me while I vomit out my nose from laughing too hard. I'm not saying this is unattainable, but 'good' orchestra programs, even at the 6th grade level, rarely if ever have fewer than 30-40 kids in a class. It's not surprising, as orchestra is by nature a group activity. But still.
2. Lack of teacher's aides. In absence of low class size, "Boys and Girls etc" recommends the help of one or sometimes even two teacher's aides. These teachers are able to provide individual assistance where the head teacher cannot. When staring down a battalion of 6th graders, allies will at least give some moral support. But in an orchestra, you are far outnumbered, and they can smell your fear. Just say to yourself, "This. Is. SPARTA!" and go down in glory.
No. I mean, get some additional help.
"But what about money?"
Money? Oh right. Money...
3. There are other problems, but I'm going to stop with a big one here. When learning music in an orchestra or a band, there are actually two subjects going on. There's the subject of the instrument, which is obvious. It's the thing you just dropped $500 on for a ten month rental. Then there's the subject of music. Which is less obvious, but mostly because it's so obvious nobody thinks to think about it.
See, music isn't just playing notes. It's also knowing how notes are put together. Learning patterns. Reading notes. As it is, we're teaching those kids the ABC's without teaching them how to string them into words, much less how to string words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs and paragraphs into whole compositions. Imagine trying to read Les Mis one letter at a time, and you'll get some grasp of what we're expecting orchestra classes to accomplish.
Ultimately, it is problem number three which poses the most difficulties to a student orchestra and their director. They are really trying to learn and teach two different subjects in the same amount of time as one. Problems 1 and 2 exacerbate this problem greatly, as individual help cannot be provided to struggling students in real time, and the class is usually far too large to facilitate group discussion of music or problem solving.
So it's no wonder orchestras take so long to learn a piece. The students are reading one letter at a time without comprehending words, there are more students making mistakes than a single teacher can reasonably be expected to keep up with, and that teacher somehow has to try and divide 45 minutes worth of time into teaching instruments and teaching basic music theory. Yeesh! Even Sisyphus had it easier than school orchestra directors.
Possible Solutions
1. There's not a lot that can be done here because orchestras are, by nature, usually rather large. There are some things that immediately spring to mind, however. The first is the divide orchestra classes into sections, rather than the full orchestra. This will not only reduce the class size, but also make it easier on the teacher as he or she will not have to deal with all of the little idiosyncrasies which plague each instrument. Other than that, I don't know what to say. This is the most intractable of the problems.
2. Get aides. No, not AIDS. The other aides. This is only problematic insofar as it requires money, but the benefits would be well worth the cost. The size of the classes almost requires additional assistance for effective teaching. And I don't just mean "Let's divide the orchestra into sections and have the assistant teach one and the head director teach the other." I mean the class is going on with two teachers: the head director giving the large scale instruction, and the assistant weaving in and out helping individuals with their own unique problems in real time.
I cannot stress this enough. Mistakes must be addressed quickly as the mistake is being made. Otherwise, it is highly likely the student will not even realize there is something wrong and keep on doing what you don't want them to be doing. Not that they weren't doing what you didn't want them to be doing in the first place, but... you know what I mean.
In addition, assistants can provide much needed moral and psychological support. "Is it me, or does Jimmy's intonation sound worse than a donkey getting eaten by a velociraptor?" "No, it's not just you. But at least his tone is good. Emily's violin sounds like it needs an exorcism. I keep expecting the scroll to twist around while spewing out obscenities about my mother." "Ha ha! I know, right?" (This is totally not an actual conversation I have had with an orchestra director. Totally not at all.)
There. Don't you feel better now? This way, you can relieve all your frustrations without ever taking them out on your students.
3. And now the radioactive elephant in the room. I mean, I don't even know where to start. However! There is some hope. At the 6th grade, beginners level, I highly doubt students need more than 15-30 minutes of practice a day. There's just... not enough to practice, you know? They know all of three notes. Only so much you can do with that.
Keeping this in mind, it is entirely possible orchestras spend far too much of their class time teaching the students how to play. Given a 50 minute class, if you divide up the class into a 25 minute theory class and a 25 minute practice, we can probably cover everything we need to cover so long as we are exceedingly efficient about it. This is still far from ideal. Music theory is a class of its own, but it is progress.
Another possibility is the use of computers. "How People Learn" describes an experiment wherein students learning physics are allowed deliberate practice through a computer-based tutoring program. The students exposed to this program were able to reduce the time it took to reach real-world performance criteria from 4 years to a paltry 25 hours.
I mean. What? Really? Is this real life? Did I seriously just read that? Well.
I can attest to the usefulness of these programs, as well. One of the private schools I teach at has several computer modules where piano students go to learn their music theory. It would not be difficult to adapt those kinds of programs to the specific needs of string, wind, and brass players (and singers who, judging from performance at the college level, seem to need help the most).
So like I said. There is hope. But we have a lot of work to do. Now lets hunker down and prepare for the onslaught. It's a long night, and Gandalf isn't guaranteed to show up.
Anyways. After hearing a student orchestra rehearse the same piece for five weeks and not really ever get better, I began to think maybe we're doing something wrong. Is it possible that perhaps we don't know as much about teaching music as we think we do? I think it is.
So lets get cracking.
Problems Facing School Orchestras
1. Class size. It is well known by now that class size is an important factor contributing to student success. Large classes tend to hinder learning, smaller classes tend to help it. Or at least, not get in the way. The book "Boys and Girls Learn Differently"(a book which I recommend with reservations... it's a whole article unto itself) says that the optimal classroom size for middle school is around 20.
Twenty.
Excuse me while I vomit out my nose from laughing too hard. I'm not saying this is unattainable, but 'good' orchestra programs, even at the 6th grade level, rarely if ever have fewer than 30-40 kids in a class. It's not surprising, as orchestra is by nature a group activity. But still.
2. Lack of teacher's aides. In absence of low class size, "Boys and Girls etc" recommends the help of one or sometimes even two teacher's aides. These teachers are able to provide individual assistance where the head teacher cannot. When staring down a battalion of 6th graders, allies will at least give some moral support. But in an orchestra, you are far outnumbered, and they can smell your fear. Just say to yourself, "This. Is. SPARTA!" and go down in glory.
No. I mean, get some additional help.
"But what about money?"
Money? Oh right. Money...
3. There are other problems, but I'm going to stop with a big one here. When learning music in an orchestra or a band, there are actually two subjects going on. There's the subject of the instrument, which is obvious. It's the thing you just dropped $500 on for a ten month rental. Then there's the subject of music. Which is less obvious, but mostly because it's so obvious nobody thinks to think about it.
See, music isn't just playing notes. It's also knowing how notes are put together. Learning patterns. Reading notes. As it is, we're teaching those kids the ABC's without teaching them how to string them into words, much less how to string words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs and paragraphs into whole compositions. Imagine trying to read Les Mis one letter at a time, and you'll get some grasp of what we're expecting orchestra classes to accomplish.
Ultimately, it is problem number three which poses the most difficulties to a student orchestra and their director. They are really trying to learn and teach two different subjects in the same amount of time as one. Problems 1 and 2 exacerbate this problem greatly, as individual help cannot be provided to struggling students in real time, and the class is usually far too large to facilitate group discussion of music or problem solving.
So it's no wonder orchestras take so long to learn a piece. The students are reading one letter at a time without comprehending words, there are more students making mistakes than a single teacher can reasonably be expected to keep up with, and that teacher somehow has to try and divide 45 minutes worth of time into teaching instruments and teaching basic music theory. Yeesh! Even Sisyphus had it easier than school orchestra directors.
Possible Solutions
1. There's not a lot that can be done here because orchestras are, by nature, usually rather large. There are some things that immediately spring to mind, however. The first is the divide orchestra classes into sections, rather than the full orchestra. This will not only reduce the class size, but also make it easier on the teacher as he or she will not have to deal with all of the little idiosyncrasies which plague each instrument. Other than that, I don't know what to say. This is the most intractable of the problems.
2. Get aides. No, not AIDS. The other aides. This is only problematic insofar as it requires money, but the benefits would be well worth the cost. The size of the classes almost requires additional assistance for effective teaching. And I don't just mean "Let's divide the orchestra into sections and have the assistant teach one and the head director teach the other." I mean the class is going on with two teachers: the head director giving the large scale instruction, and the assistant weaving in and out helping individuals with their own unique problems in real time.
I cannot stress this enough. Mistakes must be addressed quickly as the mistake is being made. Otherwise, it is highly likely the student will not even realize there is something wrong and keep on doing what you don't want them to be doing. Not that they weren't doing what you didn't want them to be doing in the first place, but... you know what I mean.
In addition, assistants can provide much needed moral and psychological support. "Is it me, or does Jimmy's intonation sound worse than a donkey getting eaten by a velociraptor?" "No, it's not just you. But at least his tone is good. Emily's violin sounds like it needs an exorcism. I keep expecting the scroll to twist around while spewing out obscenities about my mother." "Ha ha! I know, right?" (This is totally not an actual conversation I have had with an orchestra director. Totally not at all.)
There. Don't you feel better now? This way, you can relieve all your frustrations without ever taking them out on your students.
3. And now the radioactive elephant in the room. I mean, I don't even know where to start. However! There is some hope. At the 6th grade, beginners level, I highly doubt students need more than 15-30 minutes of practice a day. There's just... not enough to practice, you know? They know all of three notes. Only so much you can do with that.
Keeping this in mind, it is entirely possible orchestras spend far too much of their class time teaching the students how to play. Given a 50 minute class, if you divide up the class into a 25 minute theory class and a 25 minute practice, we can probably cover everything we need to cover so long as we are exceedingly efficient about it. This is still far from ideal. Music theory is a class of its own, but it is progress.
Another possibility is the use of computers. "How People Learn" describes an experiment wherein students learning physics are allowed deliberate practice through a computer-based tutoring program. The students exposed to this program were able to reduce the time it took to reach real-world performance criteria from 4 years to a paltry 25 hours.
I mean. What? Really? Is this real life? Did I seriously just read that? Well.
I can attest to the usefulness of these programs, as well. One of the private schools I teach at has several computer modules where piano students go to learn their music theory. It would not be difficult to adapt those kinds of programs to the specific needs of string, wind, and brass players (and singers who, judging from performance at the college level, seem to need help the most).
So like I said. There is hope. But we have a lot of work to do. Now lets hunker down and prepare for the onslaught. It's a long night, and Gandalf isn't guaranteed to show up.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Birth, Death, and Beer
Today is Wagner's birthday. I say this with little enthusiasm. Wagner induces drowsiness in me better than coitus. However, I understand there are some non-zero number of misguided souls who fly into raptures at the mere mention of Wagner. I therefore feel compelled to mention today is his 200th birthday in deference to the lunatic ward of the classical music community.
For me, Wagner was only worthwhile insofar as it led to Elmer Fudd in a viking costume. If ever there was an argument for historical inevitability, this is it: Kill the wabbit.
In other news, Henri Dutilleux died today. Mr. Dutilleux is one of those composers who is criminally underplayed. If you don't believe me, just pick a piece of his and go crazy. I recommend his Cello Concerto. Granted, 20th century music is not every person's cup of tea, but Dutilleux is definitely worth a try, at least. What could possibly go wrong?
Famous last words, I know.
Bringing Music to the People
I have already mentioned Classical Open Mic in one post. Due to a recent news article, I feel I should mention it again.
Apparently, the Cleveland Orchestra has decided it would be a good idea to play around in bars. Lets just hope there aren't any lumberjacks in the audience. Oh, but what am I saying... It's a new century. If lumberjacks want to dress up like women and hang around in bars, who am I to judge?
Sorry, got off track there. This move is, I think, brilliant, not least because bars are where people go to get drunk, and when you're drunk everything sounds awesome. Why do you think country music has stuck around for so long? Whisky. So not only are you close to guaranteed to get an audience, they are almost guaranteed to like what you play due to inebriation bias. It's like beer goggles for the ears.
Alcohol also leads to decreased inhibitions. I only bring this up because classical music culture is almost as socially inhibited as the Royal Guard outside Buckingham Palace. Seriously, the most excited expression a classical music audience ever gives is a "standing ovation." Oooo. So enthused. Where's the crowd surfing? Where's the mosh pit? For God's sake, can we have a decent orchestra hall riot sometime soon? It's been almost 100 years since the last one! Step it up people!
Ahem.
What I really want to know is, why is this such a big deal? Beethoven, Mozart, and Haydn played for parties. Chopin played in parlors. I remember reading Stravinsky, Poulenc, and some of the French crowd got into a giant pillow fight at 1am during a house party. Bach wrote music about coffee addiction when coffee houses were all the rage. (They still are, I suppose...) Where did all of this go?
Maybe it was never really there. In medieval artistic representations of music, instruments were considered vulgar. Angels certainly don't play the hurdy-gurdy! How droll! It didn't get much better in the Renaissance. So even then, there was a sharp social distinction between "art music" and "music of the people." And, true, the Viennese School played for parties, but they were upper-crust... sorry, upper-class parties. Not that they weren't unruly, just, you know. Politely unruly.
That said, whatever the historical case may be, classical music's move into the barroom is something that I know can work. I've seen it work. I've participated in it. Even when I played in a band, I would sneak in some Bach cello suites. They never failed to get applause. I just wish classical musicians would go farther.
The problem I have with the symphony model isn't just that the culture is on life support. It's that the musical hall is centralized. If you're in the burbs and you want to see some classical music, be prepared to drive for an hour that evening. And then spend twenty minutes parking. Oh, and you have to dress up, too, so... Right, and dinner. Don't forget dinner. Going to the symphony requires as much planning as a wedding anniversary. It's no surprise people aren't going.
But what if, just, you know, bear with me here... What if musicians, now hold on, this is some mind-blowing stuff coming up... What if musicians went to their audience. Instead of expected their audience to come to them. What if, you know, musicians went out to the burbs to play for their money instead of sat on their butts wondering why no one is showing up? I know, I know, it's a lot to wrap your head around.
Seriously, though, if classical music is to survive, the musicians have to become mobile. There are many ways to do it. Bars are one. Churches are another. Local performing art centers. Parks. Restaurants. There's a lot of options.
And don't forget the internet! The MET has had some success broadcasting their operas to movie theaters, which is great, but let me introduce you to a little website called twitch.tv. This site is used to stream video games, usually tournaments, like Starcraft 2, DotA, and others. Think of what would happen if classical musicians leveraged this kind of infrastructure for live performances. Granted, the accounting side would have to work hard to monetize it well, but no harder than they are working now, trying to give CPR to a beached whale.
Just think about it. Brainstorm about it. And don't take my word for it... Actually do it. You may be pleasantly surprised.
For me, Wagner was only worthwhile insofar as it led to Elmer Fudd in a viking costume. If ever there was an argument for historical inevitability, this is it: Kill the wabbit.
In other news, Henri Dutilleux died today. Mr. Dutilleux is one of those composers who is criminally underplayed. If you don't believe me, just pick a piece of his and go crazy. I recommend his Cello Concerto. Granted, 20th century music is not every person's cup of tea, but Dutilleux is definitely worth a try, at least. What could possibly go wrong?
Famous last words, I know.
Bringing Music to the People
I have already mentioned Classical Open Mic in one post. Due to a recent news article, I feel I should mention it again.
Apparently, the Cleveland Orchestra has decided it would be a good idea to play around in bars. Lets just hope there aren't any lumberjacks in the audience. Oh, but what am I saying... It's a new century. If lumberjacks want to dress up like women and hang around in bars, who am I to judge?
Sorry, got off track there. This move is, I think, brilliant, not least because bars are where people go to get drunk, and when you're drunk everything sounds awesome. Why do you think country music has stuck around for so long? Whisky. So not only are you close to guaranteed to get an audience, they are almost guaranteed to like what you play due to inebriation bias. It's like beer goggles for the ears.
Alcohol also leads to decreased inhibitions. I only bring this up because classical music culture is almost as socially inhibited as the Royal Guard outside Buckingham Palace. Seriously, the most excited expression a classical music audience ever gives is a "standing ovation." Oooo. So enthused. Where's the crowd surfing? Where's the mosh pit? For God's sake, can we have a decent orchestra hall riot sometime soon? It's been almost 100 years since the last one! Step it up people!
Ahem.
What I really want to know is, why is this such a big deal? Beethoven, Mozart, and Haydn played for parties. Chopin played in parlors. I remember reading Stravinsky, Poulenc, and some of the French crowd got into a giant pillow fight at 1am during a house party. Bach wrote music about coffee addiction when coffee houses were all the rage. (They still are, I suppose...) Where did all of this go?
Maybe it was never really there. In medieval artistic representations of music, instruments were considered vulgar. Angels certainly don't play the hurdy-gurdy! How droll! It didn't get much better in the Renaissance. So even then, there was a sharp social distinction between "art music" and "music of the people." And, true, the Viennese School played for parties, but they were upper-crust... sorry, upper-class parties. Not that they weren't unruly, just, you know. Politely unruly.
That said, whatever the historical case may be, classical music's move into the barroom is something that I know can work. I've seen it work. I've participated in it. Even when I played in a band, I would sneak in some Bach cello suites. They never failed to get applause. I just wish classical musicians would go farther.
The problem I have with the symphony model isn't just that the culture is on life support. It's that the musical hall is centralized. If you're in the burbs and you want to see some classical music, be prepared to drive for an hour that evening. And then spend twenty minutes parking. Oh, and you have to dress up, too, so... Right, and dinner. Don't forget dinner. Going to the symphony requires as much planning as a wedding anniversary. It's no surprise people aren't going.
But what if, just, you know, bear with me here... What if musicians, now hold on, this is some mind-blowing stuff coming up... What if musicians went to their audience. Instead of expected their audience to come to them. What if, you know, musicians went out to the burbs to play for their money instead of sat on their butts wondering why no one is showing up? I know, I know, it's a lot to wrap your head around.
Seriously, though, if classical music is to survive, the musicians have to become mobile. There are many ways to do it. Bars are one. Churches are another. Local performing art centers. Parks. Restaurants. There's a lot of options.
And don't forget the internet! The MET has had some success broadcasting their operas to movie theaters, which is great, but let me introduce you to a little website called twitch.tv. This site is used to stream video games, usually tournaments, like Starcraft 2, DotA, and others. Think of what would happen if classical musicians leveraged this kind of infrastructure for live performances. Granted, the accounting side would have to work hard to monetize it well, but no harder than they are working now, trying to give CPR to a beached whale.
Just think about it. Brainstorm about it. And don't take my word for it... Actually do it. You may be pleasantly surprised.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Teaching Movement
I read. A lot. One of the books I have been reading lately is titled "How People Learn." This book is amazing in so many ways. It is well researched. It is clear. It cites its sources. It's bibliography is 80 pages long. And it admits where more research needs to be done before definitive conclusions can be drawn. I mean, really. What more could you ask for from a $20 book? Almost nothing. Except what today's article is about: movement.
Specifically, skilled movement. Stuff like walking, dancing, typing... playing an instrument. You get the idea. "How People Learn" focuses mostly on knowledge based learning, like math, history, science, language. Great! Thank you! This is very helpful when I am teaching my kids music theory! It does absolutely bupkis for movement based learning. Or does it? I don't know. That's the problem. The book just doesn't talk about it. Maybe it's the same, maybe it's not. I have a feeling its similar, which is an evasive way of saying "they're different." But today I am going to assume they are the same. Or at least similar enough you can generalize principles of knowledge based learning towards movement based learning.
Three Aids to Learning
The introduction of the book provides three keys to learning something well. They are as follows:
1. Students enter learning with preconceptions about a topic/task. That is to say, the "blank slate" philosophy of learning is totally wrong. If a student is coming in with incorrect assumptions, and you don't ferret those assumptions into the open, learning will be very difficult.
2. To develop competence, you must have a deep foundation of factual knowledge, understand those facts in the context of a conceptual framework, and organize knowledge in ways that facilitate retrieval and application. In other words, you have to know a lot of stuff, that stuff has to be related into a larger scheme, and it has to be organized in a way that the brain has easy access.
and 3. A "metacognitive" approach to instruction can help students learn to take control of their own learning by defining goals and monitoring their progress in achieving them. So it's best to help the students "get outside of themselves" as they are learning, thereby increasing their ability to learn without aid from a teacher.
Application to Movement
Warning: Hypothetical Territory Ahead
The book goes into a fair amount of detail applying the above principles to knowledge based learning. Here's where I move into an area which I have not specifically read research about. I am merely operating under the assumption that the three principles will work in the same way for movement as they do for knowledge.
1. Assumptions. Believe it or not, students do assume things about how movement works. One of the first assumptions I have come across is that because movement in other areas of life is easy to them (walking, opening doors, etc), learning how to play the instrument should also come easily to them. They are quickly disabused of this notion, and I need to do very little to help them realize how wrong that is.
Another assumption is 'Learning an instrument is different from other physical tasks." This can make things quite difficult for the student as they start to move in very unnatural ways that they would do for other tasks (like walking, opening doors, etc). One of my friends, Brandon Sterrett, reminded me of Mr. Miyagi. When the Karate Kid is first learning, Mr. Miyagi makes him wax cars and paint doors. Why? Because the basic movements in karate are similar to the basic movements in other, simpler tasks. I have found discussing similar movements helps students better understand what is required for the instrument.
A more subtle assumption is "The body moves in blocks." That is, the arms move in one large chunk. This leads to other unnatural movements as they tense up the wrist and elbow and end up moving their arms only from the shoulder. A related assumption is "More tension equals more power," which is pretty much exactly wrong. Tension is necessary, but power comes from relaxed, fluid movement that is coordinated across the whole limb.
There are more assumptions, I am sure, but you get the idea. Moving on.
2. Creating a conceptual framework for movement is proving to be very difficult. I do have some ideas, however. One of the first things I have noticed is: strength starts high in the center (the core) and decreases as you move towards the extremities (hands and feet). The wrist muscles are naturally less strong than the chest muscles. The thigh muscles are stronger than the calves. This is one of those obvious observations that I have never heard anybody point out. It has dramatic applications for something like the cello, because it leads directly to the next concept.
Movement should start with strong muscles and "ripple" out towards weaker muscles. I myself have fallen prey to using weak muscles for movement, particularly in the left hand where the intricate fingering is done. Mark Landson, a wonderful violinist colleague of mine, helped make me aware of other possibilities. Using the weight of the arm in conjunction with the stronger shoulder muscles to depress the strings, for example. What this concept also says is, the weaker muscles should respond to the impetus provided by the stronger muscles. Take advantage of physics, not fight it. I guess this concept could also be phrased as "Let your your body do what it is good at." Wrist muscles are not good as sustained effort, but the larger muscles are. The larger muscles are not good at precise movement, but wrist and finger muscles are. Etc. Etc.
3. Metacognition is an important part of learning. This is a fancy way of saying "being aware of yourself." Metacognition in movement is pretty difficult. I have noticed most of my students are hardly aware of their bodies at all. I have had some success, however, by asking them to focus on specific movements. Move the wrist this way, then that. Notice how it feels when the wrist is flexed. Move your wrist while moving your elbow. Tense your hand, now relax it, feel the difference. Etc.
I have also had some success by using external objects to force the student into playing correct form, like wrist guards for the left hand. Guiding the bow back to center while the student is playing. Etc. It is also helpful to ask the student to play incorrectly, because it makes them aware of what the body needs to do while playing "wrong." In fact, asking the student to play incorrectly often leads to the student playing correctly. When this happens, I often point it out to them: "If it feels wrong, you're probably right." Usually, they return the next week much improved.
Conclusions
It is difficult to draw conclusions at this point. It does seem, however, that applying the three principles outlined in "How People Learn" will help students both with knowledge based and movement based learning. Without experimentation, however, there's no way to know how well it all applies. Still, in the absence of a better way, it seems to work pretty well.
I hope this helps you teach better! Please, share any comments, constructive criticisms, and ideas you may have. If teachers don't help each other teach better, we're doomed. Doomed, I say! So stop sitting in the back row pretending you're not playing Angry Birds and interact!
I read. A lot. One of the books I have been reading lately is titled "How People Learn." This book is amazing in so many ways. It is well researched. It is clear. It cites its sources. It's bibliography is 80 pages long. And it admits where more research needs to be done before definitive conclusions can be drawn. I mean, really. What more could you ask for from a $20 book? Almost nothing. Except what today's article is about: movement.
Specifically, skilled movement. Stuff like walking, dancing, typing... playing an instrument. You get the idea. "How People Learn" focuses mostly on knowledge based learning, like math, history, science, language. Great! Thank you! This is very helpful when I am teaching my kids music theory! It does absolutely bupkis for movement based learning. Or does it? I don't know. That's the problem. The book just doesn't talk about it. Maybe it's the same, maybe it's not. I have a feeling its similar, which is an evasive way of saying "they're different." But today I am going to assume they are the same. Or at least similar enough you can generalize principles of knowledge based learning towards movement based learning.
Three Aids to Learning
The introduction of the book provides three keys to learning something well. They are as follows:
1. Students enter learning with preconceptions about a topic/task. That is to say, the "blank slate" philosophy of learning is totally wrong. If a student is coming in with incorrect assumptions, and you don't ferret those assumptions into the open, learning will be very difficult.
2. To develop competence, you must have a deep foundation of factual knowledge, understand those facts in the context of a conceptual framework, and organize knowledge in ways that facilitate retrieval and application. In other words, you have to know a lot of stuff, that stuff has to be related into a larger scheme, and it has to be organized in a way that the brain has easy access.
and 3. A "metacognitive" approach to instruction can help students learn to take control of their own learning by defining goals and monitoring their progress in achieving them. So it's best to help the students "get outside of themselves" as they are learning, thereby increasing their ability to learn without aid from a teacher.
Application to Movement
Warning: Hypothetical Territory Ahead
The book goes into a fair amount of detail applying the above principles to knowledge based learning. Here's where I move into an area which I have not specifically read research about. I am merely operating under the assumption that the three principles will work in the same way for movement as they do for knowledge.
1. Assumptions. Believe it or not, students do assume things about how movement works. One of the first assumptions I have come across is that because movement in other areas of life is easy to them (walking, opening doors, etc), learning how to play the instrument should also come easily to them. They are quickly disabused of this notion, and I need to do very little to help them realize how wrong that is.
Another assumption is 'Learning an instrument is different from other physical tasks." This can make things quite difficult for the student as they start to move in very unnatural ways that they would do for other tasks (like walking, opening doors, etc). One of my friends, Brandon Sterrett, reminded me of Mr. Miyagi. When the Karate Kid is first learning, Mr. Miyagi makes him wax cars and paint doors. Why? Because the basic movements in karate are similar to the basic movements in other, simpler tasks. I have found discussing similar movements helps students better understand what is required for the instrument.
A more subtle assumption is "The body moves in blocks." That is, the arms move in one large chunk. This leads to other unnatural movements as they tense up the wrist and elbow and end up moving their arms only from the shoulder. A related assumption is "More tension equals more power," which is pretty much exactly wrong. Tension is necessary, but power comes from relaxed, fluid movement that is coordinated across the whole limb.
There are more assumptions, I am sure, but you get the idea. Moving on.
2. Creating a conceptual framework for movement is proving to be very difficult. I do have some ideas, however. One of the first things I have noticed is: strength starts high in the center (the core) and decreases as you move towards the extremities (hands and feet). The wrist muscles are naturally less strong than the chest muscles. The thigh muscles are stronger than the calves. This is one of those obvious observations that I have never heard anybody point out. It has dramatic applications for something like the cello, because it leads directly to the next concept.
Movement should start with strong muscles and "ripple" out towards weaker muscles. I myself have fallen prey to using weak muscles for movement, particularly in the left hand where the intricate fingering is done. Mark Landson, a wonderful violinist colleague of mine, helped make me aware of other possibilities. Using the weight of the arm in conjunction with the stronger shoulder muscles to depress the strings, for example. What this concept also says is, the weaker muscles should respond to the impetus provided by the stronger muscles. Take advantage of physics, not fight it. I guess this concept could also be phrased as "Let your your body do what it is good at." Wrist muscles are not good as sustained effort, but the larger muscles are. The larger muscles are not good at precise movement, but wrist and finger muscles are. Etc. Etc.
3. Metacognition is an important part of learning. This is a fancy way of saying "being aware of yourself." Metacognition in movement is pretty difficult. I have noticed most of my students are hardly aware of their bodies at all. I have had some success, however, by asking them to focus on specific movements. Move the wrist this way, then that. Notice how it feels when the wrist is flexed. Move your wrist while moving your elbow. Tense your hand, now relax it, feel the difference. Etc.
I have also had some success by using external objects to force the student into playing correct form, like wrist guards for the left hand. Guiding the bow back to center while the student is playing. Etc. It is also helpful to ask the student to play incorrectly, because it makes them aware of what the body needs to do while playing "wrong." In fact, asking the student to play incorrectly often leads to the student playing correctly. When this happens, I often point it out to them: "If it feels wrong, you're probably right." Usually, they return the next week much improved.
Conclusions
It is difficult to draw conclusions at this point. It does seem, however, that applying the three principles outlined in "How People Learn" will help students both with knowledge based and movement based learning. Without experimentation, however, there's no way to know how well it all applies. Still, in the absence of a better way, it seems to work pretty well.
I hope this helps you teach better! Please, share any comments, constructive criticisms, and ideas you may have. If teachers don't help each other teach better, we're doomed. Doomed, I say! So stop sitting in the back row pretending you're not playing Angry Birds and interact!
Monday, May 20, 2013
First!
EDIT: There used to be a couple links in here. They went to Leroy Anderson's 'Typewriter' recorded by the BBC, Dvorak's 'Silent Woods' performed by Jacquelyn du Pre, and Miyoko Shida balancing a feather on a bunch of sticks. Alas, they are copy written material, which AdSense does not take kindly to. I'm not complaining, it's reasonable, but I wanted to make a note so if you wanted to find this stuff, you can.
I started a blog. It is going to be about music. And teaching. And maybe other random stuff. But mostly music and teaching, because I play music and I teach. Specifically, I play and teach cello, the best of all possible instruments. There are some who will disagree with that on personal grounds. I don't care about them so much. There are some who will disagree on philosophical grounds, because Dr. Pangloss. Those people may have a point. Upon further reflection, however, they are still wrong. Why do I say this? No particular reason.
So music. Classical music blogs are woefully lacking. I don't know this for sure. Maybe they are hiding. It amounts to the same thing. I'm positive this is not such a good thing. There's so much wonderful music to be heard, and I know from personal experience many people want to hear it. But they don't know where to look. Well, look no further. I will discuss classical music here, hopefully in a clear, non-pedantic, non-judgmental manner. Ok. Maybe a little judgmental.
What will I discuss? Mostly composers, classical music culture, and other things that come to mind. Also contemporary musicians/performers/composers, because an art only survives if it is alive, and it is only alive if new compositions are created and performed. Otherwise it's a museum. There is a difference between a museum and a gallery. Mostly money. But partly the artist's age, give or take a few centuries. Granted, both are important, just for different reasons. Right now, classical music is only museum music, or mostly so in the large cultural centers. This must change.
But why? You don't hear anything about the dwindling Grateful Dead audience. It's a catastrophe, really, when you think about it from the Grateful Dead's point of view. They're hemorrhaging audience members faster than a patient losing blood in an episode of House. Do people still watch House? I don't know. I don't. Some of you know what I'm talking about. That's the important thing. Where was I. Right.
Because classical music is better than the Grateful Dead. Deadheads will disagree, but their nickname implies, well... I don't want to judge too much. Everybody has their thing. Go have some fun watching Grateful Dead cover bands. What does it mean, 'Classical music is better.'? It means it has more depth. It has more interesting things hiding under its surface. Its more clever, sometimes too clever by half. It has more variety. Sometimes it has more of everything. Like, sometimes it uses a typewriter.
Not to say it's all better. Classical music also tends to be long. And require focus. And possibly some amount of knowledge to fully appreciate it. Possibly. I'm not 100% convinced of that. Probably. But I go to an Open Mic dedicated almost exclusively to classical music. Almost nobody in the audience is a trained musician. Other than the musicians, who are highly trained. But other than them. Few of them know much about classical music, or music at all other than the Top 40. And yet they love it. And they come back. And they tip.
As it turns out, people like seeing things that are done well. It really doesn't matter what that thing is. It could be somebody balancing twigs on a feather. Or sports. Or anything, really. As long as it's done well, people will like it. But you also have to show it to them. You have to let them know it exists. You have to bring it to them. That is a full article in itself, but really: You cannot expect your audience to come to you. You must go to them. Symphonies are quite poor at making this happen. Maybe that is why symphonies are failing.
Ok. That's enough. Now go listen to music.
I started a blog. It is going to be about music. And teaching. And maybe other random stuff. But mostly music and teaching, because I play music and I teach. Specifically, I play and teach cello, the best of all possible instruments. There are some who will disagree with that on personal grounds. I don't care about them so much. There are some who will disagree on philosophical grounds, because Dr. Pangloss. Those people may have a point. Upon further reflection, however, they are still wrong. Why do I say this? No particular reason.
So music. Classical music blogs are woefully lacking. I don't know this for sure. Maybe they are hiding. It amounts to the same thing. I'm positive this is not such a good thing. There's so much wonderful music to be heard, and I know from personal experience many people want to hear it. But they don't know where to look. Well, look no further. I will discuss classical music here, hopefully in a clear, non-pedantic, non-judgmental manner. Ok. Maybe a little judgmental.
What will I discuss? Mostly composers, classical music culture, and other things that come to mind. Also contemporary musicians/performers/composers, because an art only survives if it is alive, and it is only alive if new compositions are created and performed. Otherwise it's a museum. There is a difference between a museum and a gallery. Mostly money. But partly the artist's age, give or take a few centuries. Granted, both are important, just for different reasons. Right now, classical music is only museum music, or mostly so in the large cultural centers. This must change.
But why? You don't hear anything about the dwindling Grateful Dead audience. It's a catastrophe, really, when you think about it from the Grateful Dead's point of view. They're hemorrhaging audience members faster than a patient losing blood in an episode of House. Do people still watch House? I don't know. I don't. Some of you know what I'm talking about. That's the important thing. Where was I. Right.
Because classical music is better than the Grateful Dead. Deadheads will disagree, but their nickname implies, well... I don't want to judge too much. Everybody has their thing. Go have some fun watching Grateful Dead cover bands. What does it mean, 'Classical music is better.'? It means it has more depth. It has more interesting things hiding under its surface. Its more clever, sometimes too clever by half. It has more variety. Sometimes it has more of everything. Like, sometimes it uses a typewriter.
Not to say it's all better. Classical music also tends to be long. And require focus. And possibly some amount of knowledge to fully appreciate it. Possibly. I'm not 100% convinced of that. Probably. But I go to an Open Mic dedicated almost exclusively to classical music. Almost nobody in the audience is a trained musician. Other than the musicians, who are highly trained. But other than them. Few of them know much about classical music, or music at all other than the Top 40. And yet they love it. And they come back. And they tip.
As it turns out, people like seeing things that are done well. It really doesn't matter what that thing is. It could be somebody balancing twigs on a feather. Or sports. Or anything, really. As long as it's done well, people will like it. But you also have to show it to them. You have to let them know it exists. You have to bring it to them. That is a full article in itself, but really: You cannot expect your audience to come to you. You must go to them. Symphonies are quite poor at making this happen. Maybe that is why symphonies are failing.
Ok. That's enough. Now go listen to music.
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