Keeping WHY in my WHAT

I love music. I love neuro-science. I enjoy doing and using both. (Hence the career choice.) And writing about them. (Hence the blog.)

And then there's life. Reality. Depravity. Fallen Creation.
A person's first year as a classroom teacher.

And I'm wondering... What happened to my Jubilee?

Why am I doing this? Why music? Why teaching? Why bother?

Lies have clouded my WHY.

Lie #1

You're a first year teacher...
You don't know what you are doing, so don't act like you do.

Rebuttal: As discouraging as this is, it's mostly true. But if teaching Twinkle for 10 years has taught me anything, you had better ACT like you know what your doing. Even if you don't. One day, magically, you will be an all-knowing, wizened, experienced teacher. Or a really good poker player. Either way.

Lie #2

Every disruption, every argument, every failure, and every pink slip is my fault - If only my management, if only my instructions, lessons, or activities had been better, they would have been perfect students.

Rebuttal: Perfect, huh? 

One: perfect ain't a thing till Jesus makes it a thing. Get over yourself. 

Two: perfect is boring.

Three: Just NO. Students are depraved little humans, just like me! Even if I obtained perfection, they would still be Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve.
You're growing... keep up the trajectory, but don't expect to cross the finish line anytime soon. 

Lie #3

You had better make sure every kid can define each vocab word, read the staff, develop relative pitch, compose in compound triple meter, expressively move their bodies, and keep a steady beat. And plan an awesome program, make sure no one could possibly be offended, and the kids sing like the Salzberg Children's Choir.

Rebuttal: So, does "Timbre of Salzberg" go before or after my behavior documentation?

Managing expectations is proving to be a full time job. I'm overwhelmed. I'm one person. And I'm a daughter of Eve to boot. I'm gonna blow teachable moments. If I don't offend someone with what I do it will be with what I don't do.
Perfect, Supposed to, Shoulda/Woulda/Coulda... they are not part of this world. Think Kingdom mindset. What matters in the long run?

So WHY? Why do I do what I do?

This is my Jubilee...

To model grace. To give grace. To receive grace. 

(Epiphany - to truly model grace, I must model receiving grace. It's ok to blow it. Just blow it the right way.)

I have been LOVED... with an everlasting love. (Jer 31:3) When you've been filled by love, you just can't help but start loving. LOVE and the Joy from being loved are contagious. You cannot experience it alone - you must share it to fully experience it! My own expression of joy has always been through music... and THAT I can share.

These little people are VALUABLE. Why do I care if they experience JOY? Each of those tiny souls is here for the duration... literally, for eternity. How could I not care?

It's attitude adjustment time - reboot, girl.
Experience the now in view of eternity.
This isn't the end of the story... you know that part already.
Revel in it.
It's your WHY.

Gross-Motor Kinesthetics... in a fine-motor art

At the risk of sounding redundant, one of the beautiful aspects of music education is the integration of all forms of learning - Visual, Auditory, Kinesthetic... how music stimulates each lobe and center of the brain. The majority of the kinesthetic learning -and teaching- that takes place in music lessons is fine motor... which is only part of the motor coordination equation. Fine motor (small, detailed motions) and gross motor (large motion) skills work in tandem with each other; both are part of learning to coordinate brain and body.  So how do you integrate gross-motor kinesthetic learning into violin or piano lessons? With a giant floor staff!

Using heavy canvass and gross-grain ribbon, I created a giant staff with spaces big enough for feet to fit between. (But may I suggest permanent marker... stitching canvas is not fun)

Suddenly, lines and spaces become physical objects that feet can be 'on' and the question "is it on a line or space" has physical meaning.

 

Because an entire extremity - even the entire body - has to move in order to travel up and down the floor staff, music becomes a gross motor movement.

There are a plethora of games to be played and activities to use as scaffolding:

Lines and Spaces: Turn the line acrostic (Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge) into a chant and hop the chant. Bonus - it gets some wiggles out.

Sebastian Says: Simon Says, but with names or intervals. "Sebastian says G-line" "Sebastian says step-up" "Sebastian says skip down a third" etc.

Treasure Map: follow a string of directions/intervals or a piece of notation to land on a mystery line/space.

Twister-Sing: Sing (or play, for violin/viola) while stepping on the notes being played.

Like most of what we do in music, it's all about creativity. If you can think it, they can step it.

Frequency, Intensity and Duration ~ A Tribute to Glenn Doman

As I was checking a few of my facts for a paper, I happened across a biography of Glenn Doman - with two dates. Wait, what? As in, J.S. Bach 1685-1750. My biography only has one date...

Suddenly my world was in shock.

I have cited Glenn Doman in nearly every paper I've written remotely related to development or education in the last seven years. Usually, I don't even have to check the publishing stats, but I don't trust my brain and like to double check. I have never met Glenn Doman in person - only through his writing; and yet I felt as if I had just lost a mentor. Serious doubts exist as to whether I would be involved in music at all if not for this mentor author.

In high school, I discovered an old book Doman had written chronicling his work in neurologically based physical therapy (What to do About Your Brain Injured Child). I was hooked. The idea of Frequency, Intensity, and Duration as the key components of neurological pathway development and regeneration would haunt me - and eventually get me through college.

Throughout my school years - elementary, middle school - it was evident I had learning disabilities; but being the stubborn (or the world I like - tenacious) child I was, my compensation skills kept me from exposing the extent to which those disabilities affected me. But all that compensating caught up with me in college and the roller coaster began.

In all my tenacious brilliance, I had become a music major. That life plan crashed and burned - pretty literally. I hit a reinforced cement blockade with razor wire decorating the top. What I didn't know was the name of my blockade; sight reading struggles were really named dyslexia (yep, you CAN read music backwards - and I did), and instead of 'lazy practicing,' my intonation issues were "auditory processing delay;"  The razor wire consisted of some pinched nerves in my neck, making my practice time not only ineffective but excruciatingly painful. But I didn't know any of that. Clearly, this wasn't working - and I quit.

The problem was, you can't quit who you are. A little physical therapy cleared away the razor wire, but the other issues were not so obviously addressed. I kept going, kept learning, but my interest in neurology began dominating my research time - which was a good thing. As I re-read What to Do, a comment about infant auditory reflexes exploded my world; I was twenty-one years old and still reacting to aural stimulus in a reflexive manner. That couldn't be right. But it was.

With crude instruments (a metronome, tuner, and cell phone camera) I started timing my auditory responses and reactions in the practice room. The numbers were indicative of an auditory processing delay. Not a deficiency, just a delay. Some neural pathways were having trouble communicating, and my dyslexia wasn't helping. Back to the books.

Once again, it was Doman with the light bulb moment. Frequency, Intensity and Duration became my practice room motto as I taught myself how to learn. By breaking down music into smaller pieces, I was able to triple the frequency of repetitions; playing scales slower and louder, the auditory stimulus was intensified and the duration extended. Everyone forced to listen through the thin practice walls thought the scale infatuated chic was nuts, but it started working. My practice sessions were longer, slower, and annoyingly repetitive - and at the end of the semester, my processing speed had almost doubled.

Just in time to pass my juries.

There I was, still researching and writing about my pet topic of neuro-therapy and education, but reading those two dates lined up on my computer screen brought my productivity to a halt. Glenn Doman had only mentored me through his books, but they changed my life. His stories had shown that anything is possible, even when the word 'disability' describes the struggle to get there. The struggle is real, but it doesn't define anyone.

Thank you Dr. Doman, for the inspiration to overcome.

The Meaning of 'Rote' - An Impassioned Definition

As I work through my masters program, the topic of rote memorization is continually being referenced as the ultimate failure in education. And I've had enough.

Maybe it's because I'm a music teacher, but I just can't relate. How is knowing all 36 scales in your sleep a bad thing? Or having the times tables so automatic it's faster to do long multiplication than to put forth the effort and find the calculator? According to the popular theories of learning, because these things were learned by rote, the concepts they represent were not understood and therefore meaningful learning failed to take place. I beg to differ...

Again, maybe it's because I'm a music teacher.

The problem is not rote memory, the problem lies in abandoning rote memory to fend for itself in the tangles of the neurological forrest. Hiking in the wilderness is fun and exciting... and healthy. Getting lost is not.

I am convinced - by both experience and research - that rote learning is foundational to conceptual learning. Rote memory leads to understanding... if you stay on the trail. Any student of mine (or any Suzuki student, for that matter) will tell you the very first thing they learn is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Parents learn to hate that song - because students learn it by rote; just like the ABC song and the word 'no.' And just like the first time a child mimics the word 'dog,' they have no idea of the musical implications or meaning of what they have just played and said. At this point in their musical career, they know Twinkle, but they don't KNOW Twinkle or WHY Twinkle. There is a neurological pathway labeled Twinkle connected with body coordination, words, and rhythm - all concrete. There are no abstract interconnecting pathways. Just one lonely pathway in a tangle of neurons.

Now we spiral. The one lonely neuron has just coordinated finger dexterity; the student's brain is finally free to shift focus. If the student and teacher continue on the metaphorical trail, new concepts - such as musical notation, intervals, etc. - are introduced and added to what the student already knows - Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. A teacher intent on traveling down the path of understanding guides the student three steps down the path, only to back up two steps and make connection, build pathways. The only reason those steps are there to compare is because of rote memory. As concepts are applied and new pathways built, the rote memory of Twinkle becomes a vast network of finger mapping, half and whole steps, tonality, perfect fifths and fourths, binary form, phrasal contour, cadencial emphasis... need I go on? What was once rote memory becomes a complex understanding of the musical world - attached to a melody that students can't forget. Rote memory has become deep memory.

Learning all 36 scales is painful. They are initially learned by rote. Eventually, the math and theory behind the construction of the various scales starts to make sense within the context of rote memory; the memory becomes meaningful, and subsequently unforgettable. But in order to understand the theory of the scale, I needed to understand half and whole steps. To understand half and whole steps, I had to feel and hear half and whole steps - which was done through rote imitation of my teachers. The process is similar for the times tables - rote memory, followed by concept development leads to deep, accessible memory. It is impossible to forget what 2x2 is - but rote came first.

Here lies the problem: many have made the assumption that if a student can supply the desired response (scales) or answer (times tables), they must therefore understand what they have done. Not so. Rote answers precede understanding; they are not diagnostic of understanding. When rote memory is confused with understanding, spiral concept development is abandoned as the teacher races ahead through the forest of abstract concepts. The rote memories of students are left to wander off the trail only to be lost in the dense tangle of neurons, never to be accessed again. Deep memory never forms and the rote pathways are recycled for more pertinent memories. When teaching and learning stop after rote memory has been achieved, learning does not take place.

I contend that this is not rote learning; this is an attempt to cheat the system. When master teachers were observed using rote memory with great success, the fallacious conclusion was reached that rote memory was an end in itself. Why spend so much time teaching scales when they can simply be memorized? Rote has come to mean 'merely memorized.' This is not rote learning - it is rote faking.

So please - do not confuse my rote learning with your rote faking.

True rote learning leads to deep memory. This appears to be a familiar concept to musicians; maybe the rest of the educational world just needs time to catch up with what we already know. Maybe the arts initiative and our new status as a 'real' school subject will give us the opportunity to differentiate between real rote and fake rote... I can dream, can't I?

Making Music with a Metal Allergy

When you have a severe metal allergy, playing certain instruments presents an itchy challenge. While I crave making music, it simply wasn't worth the fluid filled blisters and swelling around my face.

So what's a musician to do? Not play metal instruments? NEVER! 

There are solutions - maybe not conventional looking solutions, but solutions nonetheless. 

Here are the budget friendly solutions I have found when gold and silver didn't make the hypoallergenic list - and they work!

For the brass family, there are these wonderful beauties - Kelly mouthpieces. Fully plastic and fully hypoallergenic.

Stainless Steel mouthpieces are available, but less than budget friendly.

Flutes are more complicated than the brass family - and no, plastic lip plates are not a thing. But Blue Painter's tape is!

By creasing a piece of wide tape around the edges of the lip plate, you can cut a close fitting cover...         

 Depending on how severe the allergy is, more of the head joint can be covered with tape, as well as other points of contact with the hands.

Blue painters tape doesn't leave a residue, and the beautiful part is - the effect on sound is minimal.

I have found that I am more sensitive to different alloys - I don't need to cover this much of the head joint when using solid silver, but nickle causes a reaction with mere proximity... no contact required!

Nuvo and Allora plastic instruments are new options for the metallic challenged musicians. Stainless steel is a highly hypoallergenic alloy, but unfortunately, at a high cost when it comes to instruments.

But the good news is... there are options! A metal allergy need not determine what methods of music making are open to you!

If you have found other solutions, I would love to hear about them! Leave a comment with your blue (or any other color) solutions.

The MYELINATOR

Yes, I made that word up.

This is the single most useful thing to have in a practice room - and not just for my students! As an ADDer, this awkward little contraption helps me stay on track when I'm working sections of a piece - because "SHINY!" happens quite frequently in my practice room.

The Melinator...

You see correctly -
  - two clothes pins
  - one tiny dowel (1/8 inch I believe)
  - 15 large beads
  - and a lot of hot glue
It can clip to a music stand, a book, rest on top of a piano - it's basically a music room abacus.

But what do you do with it?

It counts the number of repetitions done while chunk practicing. The beads slide across to the opposite side of the dowel each time you play a chunk of music - CORRECTLY. Only when the repetition was done correctly does the bead get to move across. This sounds simple, but is incredibly difficult to do 15 times correctly.. and then in a row.

The magic behind FIFTEEN:

There is something about the number 15 that is magical in a practice room - or when you are learning any other skill for that matter. The first five consecutive times you do something will be laborious and painstaking - or just annoying. The second set of five repetitions will go significantly smoother - until you hit number 10. Right around the tenth rep, something snaps. The chunk you have just played successfully 9 times in a row simply will not be played. Just when you thought you had it, your brain disengages, it disappears and you have to slow down again to regain control - and reengage your brain. But it's when you push past that wall to play a third set of five that big learning happens. The battle has been waged, but this time won. When you come back to that section the next day, thes ease with which it comes back into your fingers (or mouth) evokes an involuntary sigh of relief. It stuck!

Don't believe me? Try it! Grab a piece of music (something that furrows your brow, not that piece from three years ago...) and try to play even 11 times - in a row - without crashing. Keep in mind, you won't notice what is going on if you have been practicing already; the wall will be far too subtle. To experience face-planting into the 10 rep wall, use material that is at the far reaches of your ZPD (zone of proximal development). Is this not painful? And sad, how accurate the math can be...

Learning is greatly accelerated when we push past the moment when the brain has shut down and move into intentional learning. This is where having a learning disability has made me keenly aware of the learning process; my brain needs more reps in varied contexts to turn practice into skill. Having the visual of the myelinator became incredibly helpful in giving my brain what it needed to learn.

Somewhere out there is research on why the brain responds this way after 15 repetitions. But that is what google.scholar is for. To quote Dr. Suzuki: "Knowledge is not skill. Knowledge plus ten thousand times is skill." It takes around two years to do something ten thousand times - if you do it 15 times a day. Skill is being able to do something correctly without even thinking about it. With these numbers, the skill becomes part of you - cognition not required. Is it any wonder musicians describe music as being part of who they are? They may not realize what is going on, but the act of music is being woven into the fabric of their brain and becoming part of their being.

Up the Sleeve - Tricks of my Trade

Practicing - especially the chunked way - can be a real drag for students still getting used to the routine; seeing the benefits can take awhile, and even then it can feel like trudging through mud.

While it's true that making music isn't all fun and games, there's no reason for it to stay that way! Here is one of my favorite ways to liven up chunk-practicing - with a card game.

 Remember all those awesomely decorated Valentines that flood the stores in January? Now I have a reason to stock pile them when they hit the clearance shelves.

Voila! With a dash of my conductors baton, these nifty pre-cut cards are now practice cards.

I teach musical form right from the start, and use form to chunk practice sections - so your first step in this musical card game is to label the form of the piece with A's and B's and C's (micro-form and phrasal forms in larger works). 'Lightly Row' is in a simple (phrasal) ternary form, so the phrases are labeled as A1, A2, B, and A2. At this level, I have found it helpful to differentiate between A sections when cadences are different.

Your music is marked and your students have listened and discussed why the phrases have names... now for the cards.

The cards now get a makeover: using a sharpie, each phrase gets a card named after itself.

The simple version of this card game is to shuffle and have the student pick a card... any card. Ok, now we chunk practice the section named on the card 5 times using....

The Myelinator:

Kinda like an abacus, but for counting practice repetitions. Fancy, I know...

The process is repeated through the rest of the cards.

Now you can put the cards in order and play the whole thing!

Having the parts of the music mixed up aids learning by removing context cues - students must know the section as a section and not merely as the middle of the song. This is great for memorizing - the cards can be used like flashcards, but for phrases. When it comes time for performances, freezing on a given phrase is no longer the end of the show - the student can simply choose a phrase and keep going. Because the phrases were practiced out of context, their performance doesn't depend on the previous phrase going well. 

Practice brain wise! And with a fun twist :)

I imagine 'Go Fish' could be incorporated somewhere in all of this...