Why we teach music and art in school?

dstark · September 15, 2012, 5:09pm

Because music and art are life. What is more important than life?

This is one of the better videos I have ever seen.

It is 20 minutes, which I know will be a turn off for some.

Maybe some of you have seen this already or know of Benjamin Zander.

[Benjamin</a> Zander: Classical music with shining eyes - YouTube](<a href=“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9LCwI5iErE&feature=youtube_gdata_player]Benjamin”>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9LCwI5iErE&feature=youtube_gdata_player)

“I will never say anything that couldn’t stand as the last thing I ever say”.

I wish I saw something like this when I was younger, but, it is never too late. :)

mini · September 15, 2012, 6:36pm

Hey, I took up the violin at age 47 (see below), and opera singing at 52, and I’ve actually turned out okay at one of them. ;)

The Low End of Submediocrity

So in case any of you are interested, let it be known that I am still playing the violin.

Playing is the operative word. Having taken it up 14 years ago (I’m now 61), I haven’t actually worked on my playing in a long time. I have no expectation of ever getting any better (whether I actually could if I put more effort into it will never be proven one way or the other), and I’m accepting of the fact that my violin playing has settled down to inhabit the low end of submediocrity.

The reality is that I’m quite comfortable there. I sit in the second row of second violins in my local community orchestra (perfect for my eyes), and we are a fun bunch and enjoy each others’ company. I joke with my stand partner that if one of us manages the correct notes and the other the correct rhythms, together we’ll equal one whole violinist. When it comes to the notes, I am batting better than .300. I am in no danger of being dropped from the orchestra – I am one of its founders, and we have no auditions. We’ve had players from 12 to 90.

We make name plates out of file folders. Paul the conductor is an old Yankees fan, so I’ve labeled the four sides Mantle, Maris, Berra, and Ford. When I’m feeling angelic, I use the other one – Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Michael. I rotate them on occasion, just to keep Paul on his toes.

I still can’t do runs of sixteenth or thirty-second notes, and sometime struggle with the eighth-note ones as well, but I’ve learned to count pretty well, and play the first note of each measure of the run with authority. With long notes, I work on tone. When it’s too difficult, I sit it out. When I can play an entire piece well, Paul knows the work is probably a little too easy for the rest of the orchestra.

There was a day when, due to illnesses and etc., I was the only second violinist present. I was quite surprised at how well I could hold my own (actually, I think it might have been a little easier). And just this year, we had a breakthrough! Paul asked the second violins to play more quietly. We looked at each other in disbelief, unsure whether to take it as a compliment that we were playing boldly enough that someone could actually hear us, or to worry about poor intonation. (Paul did explain it was the former.)

At any rate, playing the violin in the orchestra for me is like doing yoga for others. All other thoughts disappear from my mind. Worries, concerns, and shopping lists vanish as I struggle to read the music and keep up. Occasionally, my playing is sufficiently adept that I can actually revel in the sounds produced by others.

My most memorable occasion playing the violin was a time I didn’t play at all. In the summer, the Northwest Mahler Festival holds “reading sessions”. A full orchestral work is chosen, a professional conductor engaged, and for $10, any one can get on stage and play. The first chairs of each section are often professional players from the Seattle Symphony, and some of them bring their students along. In the first half of the evening, we read through the music, with the conductor providing commentary. In the second half, the group actually performs the work straight through.

I went the night the group was to work on Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. It’s an extraordinary composition, filled with what are often described as “primitive” (actually, very complex) polyrhythms, and scored in typical Stravinsky fashion so that instruments all play at the highest and lowest parts of their individual ranges. When first performed as a ballet in Paris in 1913, it is said to have caused riots in the streets.

When I plunked myself down in the middle of the second violin section, I already knew I was in way over my head. I occasionally knew where we were, I did manage to play about 25% of the notes, but that really wasn’t why I was there.

At intermission, I approached the conductor, and he readily agreed to my plan. For the second half of the evening, I put away my violin, and took my seat in the second violin section, still with my score. And I got to hear Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring from the middle of the orchestra. The music (which I know by heart – I have a very good musical memory) swirled around me – English horns honked, violins whistled, oboes swooned, cellos murmured, drums rattled. I was in the orchestra, even if I didn’t play a note. It remains one of the highlights of my musical life.

I had learned in school that one can only enjoy things one is good at, and, more critically, one should only pursue things one is good at, and furthermore, resources should only be expended for students to participate in activities they are good at. And, still further, one shouldn’t undertake anything difficult unless one is prepared to sweat at it. I am a living demonstration that all four principles are schoolish mythology, and act as detriments to the ultimate quality of our lives.

This is not a paean to mediocrity. On the contrary, my experience with the violin has massively increased my appreciation for those possessing the talent, and who put in the time, energy, and effort to reach the pinnacles of musical excellence (or anything else for that matter). But I also have learned that I need not be a passive spectator, and that I can take control of my experience, and my learning, at whatever level I choose. It has taken me four decades to get there, and an awful lot of deschooling, but I am thankful to have arrived. I sweat at writing this article, not at playing the violin. And, hey, I play better than Yehudi Menuhin! (he’s been dead a long while)

In the meantime, I owe a great debt of gratitude to Paul and my fellow players for putting up with me.

dstark · September 15, 2012, 7:13pm

Mini, I love your post on so many levels. Each part of the post. The whole post. I don’t even know where to start commenting. :)

I guess I will just start with my story. I played the clarinet in middle school. The music department was broken up into two sections, the orchestra, which played classical music, and the band, which played popular music and marches like Sousa.

The way it worked was you started in the band and if you were good, you switched to the orchestra. I was in the band. I was happy in the band. Like I said I was ok.
My first day at my last year at the school, I look around. I am the
number two clarinetist in the school. Wow! That’s awesome.

Uhhh no. All those sharps and flats…maybe…I can manage them. Maybe…probably not.
And all those sxteenth notes, or was it 32nd notes? Can’t remember, but I knew those were going to be a problem. And the orchestra leader was nuts. That was a problem.

The biggest problem though was…I couldn’t hit the high notes. I couldn’t play the high notes. How could I be in the orchestra if I can’t hit the notes?

The day before I was supposed to switch to the orchestra, I switched to
the base clarinet. The base clarinet musicians stayed in the band. Ha ha ha ha ha.

I have been thinking about starting to play an instrument. I am going to have more time to practice. But then, I watched the Zander clip where he shows the progression of children playing the piano and I don’t know
if I can wait 5 years to sound ok. Plus I am older so I may never sound ok.

dstark · September 15, 2012, 7:20pm

Mini, I think it is great that you can play with others and not be self conscious about your playing. The benefit from aging is we do become less self sconscious as we age.

And as I age I do care less and less about what others think. But 25 to 33 percent of the notes played correctly. I don’t think I am there yet. :)

“At intermission, I approached the conductor, and he readily agreed to my plan. For the second half of the evening, I put away my violin, and took my seat in the second violin section, still with my score. And I got to hear Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring from the middle of the orchestra. The music (which I know by heart – I have a very good musical memory)
swirled around me – English horns honked, violins whistled, oboes swooned, cellos murmured, drums rattled. I was in the orchestra, even if I didn’t play a note. It remains one of the highlights of my musical life.”

I love that.

This is not a paean to mediocrity. On the contrary, my experience with the violin has massively increased my appreciation for those possessing the talent, and who put in the time, energy, and effort to reach the pinnacles of musical excellence (or anything else for that matter). But I also have learned that I need not be a passive spectator, and that I can take control of my experience, and my learning, at whatever level I choose. It has taken me four decades to get there, and an awful lot of
deschooling, but I am thankful to have arrived. I sweat at writing this article, not at playing the violin. And, hey, I play better than Yehudi Menuhin! (he’s been dead a long while)

Wow. I play better than Yehudi too. :)

“I had learned in school that one can only enjoy things one is good at, and, more critically, one should only pursue things one is good at, and furthermore, resources should only be expended for students to participate in activities they are good at. And, still further, one shouldn’t undertake anything difficult unless one is prepared to sweat at it. I am a living demonstration that all four principles are schoolish mythology, and act as detriments to the ultimate quality of our lives.”

This is huge. I agree with what you wrote.

dstark · September 15, 2012, 7:35pm

“This is not a paean to mediocrity. On the contrary, my experience with the violin has massively increased my appreciation for those possessing the talent, and who put in the time, energy, and effort to reach the pinnacles of musical excellence (or anything else for that matter). But I also have learned that I need not be a passive spectator, and that I can take control of my experience, and my learning, at whatever level I choose. It has taken me four decades to get there, and an awful lot of deschooling, but I am thankful to have arrived. I sweat at writing this article, not at playing the violin. And, hey, I play better than Yehudi Menuhin! (he’s been dead a long while)”

I took an astronomy class at Berkeley and the class went to look at one

of those enormous telescopes. The professor said something that I have never forgotten. People with different experiences look at the same things differently. They don’t see the same thing.

An engineer will look at the enormous telescope differently than a student. Differently than an astronaut. Differently than a politician.

Mini, you will never look at an orchestra the same. The Rite of Spring will play differently in your mind. But I don’t need to say this . You said this already. I am really just shaking my head and saying, “Yes”. I don’t share your expericence, but I understand what you are saying.

The playing of an instrument…It isn’t just about sounding good or competency.

lmkh70 · September 15, 2012, 7:43pm

In addition to it being life and all that…studying these actually does a lot for the brain and making connections that help train a person overall for learning.

dstark · September 15, 2012, 7:46pm

Lmkh70, Yes. You are right.

mini · September 15, 2012, 9:07pm

Thanks, d. This was actually one (the last) in a series of three articles. I’ll post the first and second:

Carmenizing

In the morning, I gave the keynote address at the annual Washington Homeschool Organization Convention. I put up a sign in the back of my book-signing booth, “Leaving at 4:00 p.m. Singing an Opera in Hoquiam. (Really!)”

It was a busy day. Up at 6 a.m. to get to Puyallup (I’m not even going to begin to try to help those of you unfamiliar with the place to pronounce it properly), pack up my wares, jump in the car, drive through Olympia, pick up older daughter who was selling her sculptures and jewelry at a local fair, and speed (guilty as charged) another hour-and-a-half to this small coastal community, change into costume (gypsies don’t have to be too precise), throw on some makeup (mascara takes care of the gray in my moustache and I am young again!), and be on stage for the 7:30 curtain. I’m still recovering.

It had never been one of my life goals to sing opera. In fact, I can truthfully say it had never really crossed my mind until less than a year ago. I have been an intermittent opera lover for more than 30 years, but the closest I had ever come to actually being part of one was when I’d threaten the kids that if they didn’t clean their rooms, I’d sing the high coloratura soprano aria from Norma at full volume. (Hint: it always did the trick, but you’ll have to invite me to your home until I can figure out how to market the CD.)

I happened upon the new opera company by accident (or perhaps it was part of some higher plan). A flyer announced the need for choristers for Mozart’s The Magic Flute, and Aliyah desperately wanted to sing. Knowing (or at least imagining) that it was unlikely a new opera company was going to take a flyer on a 14-year-old (however experienced a singer she happened to be), and also aware of the great shortage of male singers in most communities (let alone those interested in singing Mozart!) we figured to offer ourselves as a package deal. It worked! And instead of having to drive Aliyah to and from interminable rehearsals at all hours of the day, night, and weekends, I was already there!

To call our semi-professional company “Opera Pacifica” (<a href=“http://www.operapacifica.com%5B/url%5D”>www.operapacifica.com</a> ) a labor of love is an understatement. It was founded by two local aficionados whose paths to each other, and to us, could hardly be more unusual.

Claudia, the music director and conductor, now in her 50s, grew up in rural Georgia. By the age of 10, she could play the piano, pipe organ, clarinet, oboe, and baritone ukelele. She moved to Las Vegas where she became part of a successful nightclub act that toured the U.S., Canada, and the Bahamas. When the act went out on the road, they quickly realized they could save money if they had their own airplane pilot. Claudia volunteered, and logged thousands of hours in the air, so many, in fact, that she became one of the first three women hired by Continental Airlines to fly 727s. But the opera bug had bitten her early, and when she retired from Southwest Airlines in 1997, she spent the next five years in training as an opera conductor, including a stint with the National Opera Orchestra in Beijing. Now she rushes downs to conduct rehearsals from having spent the day training pilots on a flight simulator.

Bob, the vocal director and tenor soloist, grew up about three miles from me in New York City. Having joined the military after high school, he ended up in the (supposedly non-existent, but very real) CIA operation in Laos during the Viet Nam War, for which he learned to speak (and sing) fluent French. Returning stateside, he studied for a couple of degrees in vocal performance in Philadelphia, but soon enough realized it was no way to make a living. Fate would have it that he met a famous Spanish tenor who was giving a master class. The tenor told the class that he elected to pick and choose his engagements rather than make his life on the road. He spent the rest of the year selling real estate on the coast of Spain. Not slow to take the hint, Bob’s opera career slowly but surely went by the wayside, even as his real estate career flourished. He now had plenty to eat, but was, at age 55, hungry! Soon it was off to Beijing with Claudia to cut a CD – “An American Tenor in China.”

Our little company includes (among others) a Montessori teacher, a pastor, an environmental engineer, a Wal-Mart shipping manager (who in college had some serious training as a makeup artist), a fisheries expert, a retired video producer, two college students, a high school student, a middle school student, an insurance company clerk, another realtor, a mental health counselor, a construction worker, a coffee barista, and a soldier. Funny where you find opera singers these days.

Oh, so what did we sing? Bizet’s Carmen. Wholesome family entertainment. Lots of sex and sexual innuendo, jealousy, lying, cheating, violence, intrigue, murder, cruelty toward animals, alcohol abuse, and ethnic stereotyping. Typical operatic fare, the same sort of stuff our kids should be learning when they study the Roman Empire. Lots of gyrating hips, though, unlike in the opera Salom

mini · September 15, 2012, 9:11pm

I should write you about my disastrous experience with the saxophone (which was very similar to yours.) And my friend who went back to the bass clarinet at 60.

A Grand Spectacle

Last week, I went to the opera. Well, not quite, but the next best thing. The Metropolitan Opera provides simulcasts to selected movie theaters around the country, and today was Turandot by Puccini (or at least most of it – he died before completing the score, and the third act suffers accordingly.) A grand spectacle, an opulent Italian representation of a greater China. It is said that Puccini got his major theme from a little Chinese music box.

The theater was almost full, and my first thought was, “Oh dear, I must be the only person here under 60.” And then I gulped, recognizing that, by the time you get to read this, I will be over 60. My wife says not to worry. Next time I go the opera I am likely to think the same thing, only this time with “70” as the reference number. One of the singers, Charles Anthony, playing the Emperor of China, is over 80, and has been singing at the Met since 1954. In the opera, the Emperor is repeatedly praised, with the universal hope that he may live 10,000 years.

Though the scenery was the real star, the vocal show was stolen by a young Russian woman playing one of the secondary roles (Liu), and everyone knew it. Her name is Marina Poplavskaya.

So when I got home, I hurried over to my trusty computer, and looked her up. She is from Moscow, and tells a wonderful story about how she came to be an opera singer.

She had begun singing as soon as she could talk, but her two scientist parents weren’t particularly encouraging of her musical gifts. Anyhow, one evening, when she was eight, she heard on the radio in her room that the Bolshoi Opera was auditioning for members of their children’s chorus. The next morning, after her mother had gone to work, she left a little note for her on the dining room table. “Gone to audition for the Bolshoi,” it read.

She took a train by herself (having figured out with a little help at the station which train she needed to take), then got out and took a bus, and finally arrived at the audition location. There were some 300 parents, with their children in tow, all with sandwiches and other things to eat. She was hungry, but she wasn’t going to lose her place in line.

At last it was her turn. The conductor asked her what she was going to sing. “What would you like to hear?” she replied, “I have a very large repertoire.”

Almost needless to say, she got in. A star was born. Her mother was very proud (though Marina notes there “was some trouble” when she got home that night.)

I shudder to think what might have happened had she been enrolled in an American public school. Actually, in at least one case, I know. We had a friend, Barry, who was a very talented 13-year-old singer (and had sung the role of the Shepherd Boy in Tosca.) There was a tryout for one of the three sprites in Mozart’s The Magic Flute with the Portland Opera. His mother wrote a note to the school a week in advance that she would be taking him (no unaccompanied train rides for him!) A note came back – this would be an unexcused absence. Oh, the horrors of it! The mother thought, “Wait! I thought I was the one who does the excusing for my own son.” On his return, the school threatened to suspend him for a week.

In both cases, I would have preferred it otherwise. In the best of all possible worlds, the school (and Marina’s mother) would have thrown a party the night before, and provided a hearty sendoff – a bon voyage – as they each sailed off to confront their operatic destiny, or at least a piece of it. And they’d be prepared to help their charges deal with the disappointments that would inevitably occur along the way. If a future career in opera was not in the offing, there would always be community or church choruses, or maybe a flirtation with hip-hop. Who knows?

But I can hear the objection in my ears, as I channel my inner assistant principal. “What would happen if all the kids decided to do it?” he whines (not being aware in the least that he is echoing Kant’s ‘categorical imperative’.)

What indeed? The opera companies would be filled with new young singers, who would be assiduously studying Italian, French, German, and Russian for real (not the ersatz variety they often get in school, but the genuine article), and the discipline that operatic performance requires. Communities would be raising funds to send them on trips to New York, Paris, Milan, London, Bayreuth. The opera audiences would be filled with middle school and high school students (I might occasionally be the oldest person in the audience), as well as with fathers, mothers, uncles and aunts, grandparents and family friends.

The local orchestras would be replete with an abundance of players as well (there would even be enough bassoon players!), and new ones would be formed all the time. Community theater companies would see a revival, with young people playing and singing alongside older ones (like me). In fact, when bringing their kids to rehearsals, parents would get excited and want to join in as well. The high schools would make money renting out space.

Opera, of course, is just escapist fantasy. I have one in my mind – a tragedy – about a handsome young assistant principal – a tenor - who falls in love with an unfortunately recently widowed homeschooling mom – a soprano – with five lovely homeschooled daughters, (one of them in a ‘pants role’, all of them talented in different ways, and each uniquely insightful about the situation and about the world around them) and is brought low because he has been urging his students that they have better things to be doing with their time and energy than sitting in a high school classroom. The villain – an evil, moustachioed baritone with a pompadour – is the local school superintendant, who embezzles milk money from the schools in his charge, and who is trying to force himself on the soprano under the threat of finding a way of coercing the kids into the box. Want to write the ending? (send me an e-mail at <a href="mailto:david@skylarksings.com">david@skylarksings.com</a> )

EPTR · September 15, 2012, 9:17pm

I teach art and KNOW that it teachers so much more than painting and drawing skills. It teaches critical thinking and problem solving. It teaches tenacity and flexibility and it opens a form of communication that is unique and abstract.

dragonmom · September 15, 2012, 9:35pm

mini, I always enjoy your essays, your real skill (like any good LAC grad) is writing.
I was reminded of one of my favorites from NPR’s “This I Believe” series from a few years back. 
[Failure</a> Is a Good Thing : NPR](<a href=“http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6196795]Failure”>Failure Is a Good Thing : NPR)

My youngest has her first job. It’s with a non-profit so she isn’t making much. Shares a house with several others, shops at thrift stores, but bought a violin from a friend and takes lessons every week. Most people would think that $40/ week is an extravagance for someone on her salary. She calls it “soul food”.

dstark · September 15, 2012, 9:42pm

EPTR, sounds good to me.

Mini,“I should write you about my disastrous experience with the saxophone (which was very similar to yours.) And my friend who went back to the bass clarinet at 60.”

Mini, if you want to write about those experiences, I want to read them.

I liked your other writings. The people are interesting. I liked how you tied participating in opera to education.

dstark · September 15, 2012, 9:47pm

Dragonmom, great link.

Cirque du Soleil…

I agree with what the author wrote about failure. He is wise.

Your daughter is wise too. Very, very wise. I smiled when I read what your daughter said.

Yeah. Mini is a great writer.

mathmom · September 15, 2012, 11:01pm

I love mini’s experience. Mine is a bit different. When my oldest was in 2nd grade (a while ago he’s a college graduate now), I signed him up for piano lessons. I’d always felt badly I’d dropped piano in junior high and thought what better way to get your kid to practice than by taking lessons yourself and demonstrating good habits. I took lessons with the same teacher. I loved her. But what I realized was that I could practice my half hour everyday, and I was never going to get much better. I wasn’t even convinced I’d get to the level I’d been in middle school - though musically I understood the music much better. I loved having a teacher who emphasized developing my ear and even improvising as much as learning pieces. But in the end there’s only so much free time and my talent lies in the visual arts. So I made the decision to get more serious about painting and realize that making music should be someone else’s job. I’m a pretty good painter now. I don’t regret my two years of adult music lessons, but I’m glad I put my efforts elsewhere.

dragonmom · September 15, 2012, 11:26pm

I love google since I can never remember the titles of books that I have read, and frequently can’t even remember the author…
[Piano</a> Lessons: Music,Love,and True Adventures: Noah Adams: 9780385318211: Amazon.com: Books](<a href=“http://www.amazon.com/Piano-Lessons-Music-Love-Adventures/dp/0385318219]Piano”>http://www.amazon.com/Piano-Lessons-Music-Love-Adventures/dp/0385318219)

Noah Adams takes on the piano. It’s a good quick read.

dstark · September 15, 2012, 11:49pm

Dragonmom, looks interesting.

I might buy that book.

dragonmom · September 15, 2012, 11:51pm

Or just do like I do and reserve it from the library…

dstark · September 15, 2012, 11:54pm

Yep. I see a nearby library has it.

lake42ks · September 16, 2012, 12:41am

Thanks for sharing the TED video. I’m glad my kid got 10+ years of training and turns out to be good at music. I’ll see the next kid get trained well even though it’s kind of against the trend.

gouf78 · September 16, 2012, 10:07am

I sing in a 4 part harmony chorus. When my son was in 3 rd or 4th grade he came home from school very upset around Christmas time and on the verge of tears.
Me: What’s wrong?
Son: The chorus teacher told me I couldn’t sing!
Now my son really has a great ear and was a very good singer for his age so I was pretty dumbfounded.
Me: “Well, sing something for me!”
He sang Jingle Bells in BARITONE! He didn’t even know how the real tune went! He’d sung with me so long that all he knew was harmony parts. I switched to sing lead because I was afraid of being accused of child (music) abuse.

Why we teach music and art in school?

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