Thankful

This Thanksgiving break, I've been reflecting on the good in my teaching situation. It's very easy to get caught up in the "could be" "should be" mentality, and while there are things that could be improved, I'm really lucky and have a lot to be thankful for:

• I'm thankful that all students in my school have music taught by a trained music teacher.
• I'm thankful that my school has a music room (a lot of schools don't), a dedicated space for music making.
• I'm thankful that I have supportive colleagues I can confide in.
• I'm thankful that my students have instruments to play, and that they're able to experience a wide variety of high-quality instruments in music class.
• I'm thankful that grants help me get more instruments for my students and replace those that are worn or damaged.
• I'm thankful for the enthusiasm of my students.
• I'm thankful for supportive families who bring students to outside events and rehearsals beyond the school day.

Things aren't perfect in my school or any other, but I'll be going back to school tomorrow filled with gratitude for what my students and I have.

Beginning Band and the Joy of Starting Again

If you've never heard a first day beginning band class, you should. Also, go hug your friendly neighborhood beginning band teacher. The first week of band is incredible, joyful, and totally exhausting. There's an entire world of things to teach, from how to assemble instruments to how to make a sound to how to get the spit condensation out after playing (gross, but necessary). But there's this spark in the students that makes it all worth it, even when I find myself saying "left hand on top" for the millionth time. They chose to play an instrument, and are so excited to finally get to do it. The first sounds are always full of squeaks, squawks, and whistles. They're often followed by laughter or disgusted-looking faces. But that moment right before they play, that first inhalation as a group... that's where the magic is.

One breath, one momentary collective pause, holds so much potential. They made the choice, honored the commitment and showed up, and now they're headed somewhere. It might be towards our first concert, middle school band, or maybe even a professional musician gig, but nonetheless we're working towards something. They're cooperating, collaborating, and all those other buzzwords. And they're taking a big risk, because after that breath in...

There's a sound. A joyful noise, as a I call it. Something, even if just a whisper of air, comes out of their instrument. But it's a start. Something to work from. The first note of thousands more to come. There's so much beauty in potential, in hope, in moving forward. In learning and improving. Beginning band has so much to teach... especially to this band teacher.

Progress in Mediocrity

I managed to snag a great deal on a clarinet this summer to complete my basic woodwind trifecta. I haven't played much in several years, but I know it's easier for my students to learn an instrument through hearing a model. So here I am, practicing my clarinet fundamentals again. It's certainly easier this time than when I first picked up the instrument during my undergrad. But I sound mediocre. Actually, mediocre might be generous. I sound pretty bad, a mix of Squidward and some kind of very angry bird. I know that's normal, I've had a clarinet in my possession for two days and learning an instrument takes time. The basics are coming back to me pretty quickly, and I've been able to play through most first and second year band music without too much trouble. My sound is getting better. I'm noticing and changing some weird embouchure tendencies that will help me play more advanced music. My fingers are starting to know where to go and when in familiar tunes.

Even as a mediocre clarinetist, progress is possible. In fact, I think progress is easier to see in mediocrity. Going from playing a tune with three squeaks to zero is a very clear measure of improvement. Being able to play a song ten clicks faster than I could yesterday is a clear measure of progress. There's something to be said for remembering how it feels to wield an instrument that isn't quite comfortable yet, to feel the discomfort of muscle fatigue and unfamiliar sensation. Clarinet isn't foreign, it's very similar to flute and saxophone, both of which I play at a better-than-mediocre level. But it's different enough to force me to remember what it's like to be mediocre.

Mediocrity is hard! It's frustrating to see so much clarinet music that I can't play yet. To have to stop to look up fingerings when less common notes happen. To have to play slower-than-slow on a piece I could play at lightning speed on another instrument. And solving major musical problems (squeaks, incorrect notes, etc.) is much more exhausting than fine-tuning the details as I would on flute. No wonder my students get frustrated with the process.

Playing an instrument takes practice. There's no changing that. Looking beyond mediocrity is not that easy when you're in the thick of it, trying to remember the fingering for G-sharp for the third time and keep your teeth on top of the mouthpiece. But progress is possible, progress is rewarding, and progress will happen. Instrument fundamentals are an exercise in patience just as much as a physical exercise.

Books in the Elementary Music Room: I'm Here by Peter H. Reynolds

When I went to shop at Blue Bunny Books recently, I figured I'd go home with at least one book by the shop's owner, Peter H. Reynolds. I had read The Dot before and students at my school do art projects relating to it, so I wanted a different book to use in the music room. I found exactly what I was looking for in I'm Here.

With simple language and evocative imagery, the book is a first-person narrative of a child trying to find their place in the world. The imaginative illustrations and straightforward text, this book tells a story that will touch hearts and minds.

I plan on using this book as the basis for a student-created soundscape. In a soundscape, students make musical sounds and movements that match a story or idea. For example, the book's phrase "gentle wind" might be represented by wind chimes, or a student making a blowing sound or moving gently across the room. Because the story is short, and the sounds needed range from very literal to more abstract and challenging, there is an opportunity to allow students to choose their own challenge by picking which part of the book they want to soundscape. I haven't decided which grade to use this book with yet, but my process will look a bit like this:

1. Read the story to students
2. Have the class come up with a "scope of work" by listing the sounds/ideas that should be represented by music or movement
3. Read the book again, have students revise the scope as needed
4. Have each student/partnership pick a part of the book to soundscape and plan how to represent their part 
5. Students share their idea with another student/partnership, giving feedback to each other and revising their ideas as needed
6. Student practice/revision time, I check in with them to guide as needed
7. Read the book with soundscape as a culminating in-class performance

I highly recommend this book! While it will be interesting to look at in a musical context, this book has a lot of lessons beyond the music room. 

Books in the Elementary Music Room: Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? by Bill Martin Jr and Eric Carle

I love using books in my music classes! Picture books engage students in so many ways - visually hearing the story (sometimes with a song), seeing beautiful illustrations, and often acting out the story - that enrich their imaginations and help them create music. I'm planning to make a little series out of these posts, but today I'll be discussing Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? by Bill Martin Jr. and Eric Carle.

This adorable little book is the sequel to the well-known Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? by the same authors. Each page follows a question and answer format, leading the reader through bright, large illustrations of each animal mentioned. I've used it in general music classes for a few different concepts:

• Vocal exploration (making animal sounds from the book and discussing how they are similar/different)
• Musical phrases (musical "questions and answers")
• Ensemble skills (differentiating between a soloist singing the question and the group singing the answer, or different groups singing the question and answer)
• Sequencing (remembering the order of animals in the book, creating new possible orders of animals and figuring out which words need to change to make that happen)
• Introduction to instruments (two animals in the book are described as "fluting" and "trumpeting", which I used as a chance to demonstrate flute and trumpet)

I also used this book as part of our December Singalong assembly. I learned a simple melody that works with the words of the book from another teacher, and taught parts to all my students K-5. At the assembly, we were able to put the whole thing together and sing the book as a school, complete with student trumpet and flute players for those animals! It was a really nice way to have all the students cooperating towards a common goal and having a lot of fun roaring, hissing, and snarling their way into December break.