An Attitude Shift

"Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude." - Thomas Jefferson

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes.” - Charles Swindoll

"It's all invented!" - Benjamin Zander

In the last 15 hours or so I've had what might be a timely breakthrough, or at least the seeds for one. As far as what any of it has to do with music, or teaching, I'll get to that later, but the answer is, "Quite a bit."

Last night around 11 or so I went to Denny's to unwind. One of my favorite ways to unwind in recent years is to go to a place with coffee and do some planning. Instead of working on academia, I work on something else. But I'm productive. Maybe that sounds strange to you, or maybe not. Regardless, I prefer that or positive conversation to "veging-out". 

When I was an Active Member of Kappa Kappa Psi, I spent that time planning or organizing something related to my office. Since I became Conditional just over a year ago, I've instead directed that energy towards my future as a music educator, or specifically a band director. For example, I've read books on inspired teaching (a couple), rehearsal techniques, running a marching band program, and running a total band program. I've brainstormed what my programs would look like, and various other things. 

Last night I decided to start tackling the development of my leadership training materials. I've already outlined the curriculum for a Leadership Camp as well as a partial curriculum for masterclasses during Summer Camps. I'm now moving into a phase with my camp planning that I'm getting more specific than just topics, schedules, etc. etc. So I wanted to start working on those things. 

After an hour of talking to a former ASU Music student (much older man than me), I finally got to work. 

I started with the most basic, Role Modeling or Leadership by Example. Eventually I got to Constructive Leadership vs. Destructive Leadership, and so on, until I eventually started on the most complex topic, and what would surely be the first and possibly most fun session: "Attitude". I'm not 100% sure how I'll accomplish this yet, but my ideal attitude session involves not just explaining something to the students, but also putting them through activities where they experience the differences for themselves and hopefully buy in, thus planting the seeds for their own attitude breakthrough and consequent revolution.

Anyway, I remember writing about how you choose your mental reactions, whether you realize it or not, and later about how everything is what you make of it, like how failure can become growth and how whether you say you can, or you can't, you're right. To be honest, I was still really brainstorming the session. I was trying to throw in some specifics, but I found I was having a difficult time with it.

Interestingly enough, I've been having a tough time with some of these concepts myself. In high school I had them down pat. When the "Bad Old Days" came in my first two years of college, I often beat myself up more because I couldn't recapture it. And lately I've been finding it difficult to control my attitude, and my mental reactions to things. It's funny because every time I think I've reclaimed everything I lost during the "Bad Old Days", I eventually find something else I haven't fixed yet. Actually, I made some progress on this after meeting Benjamin Zander at TMEA earlier this year, but it seems my efforts were not thorough enough. 

Case in point, I've been nervous about this semester all summer. And sure enough, every day this first week had multiple things associated with it that caused me great stress. I felt like I was already in the second half of the semester stress wise, and if that were the case, what did that mean for the rest of the semester? Events outside of academia have also occurred that could honestly force me to get a job and, who knows, drop out half way through to make sure we can cover rent. I don't know! But anyway, it's been a hell of a week, and starting when I got home last night my primary goal was to unwind. The a second goal came to me when, in a moment of realization, I said to myself, "I have GOT to find a way to deal with all of this stress!"

That wasn't a tangent. Stay with me!

So I was displacing stress in this case by planning for what could be my first job as the only band director in a small town. And it seems that anytime you have books spread across a table and you look concentrated on planning or doing some kind of work, people at surrounding tables, eventually, feel the need to make a comment or ask questions and pull you into a conversation. Have you noticed this? Because it seems to happen to me almost every time. Not that I mind, of course. 

Oh, and sometimes when people find out you're going to be a teacher, and specifically a band director, they feel the need to tell you what kind of teacher you should be. That's what happened last night. 

At the table next to me were two older women. The talker, let's say her name was Betty, had a pretty depressing story. She was the oldest of four sisters, and both of her parents worked, but couldn't afford everything they needed. So Betty dropped out of school in the 7th grade to work full time. She basically took care of her younger sisters, went to work, where she was paid like a migrant worker, and came home only to fight over who got to use the shower first. She didn't have her parent's support to do anything extra-curricular. Band instruments were not provided at the school she attended, and her parents essentially told her she couldn't do anything (no sports, etc) because it would cost money. So of course now she's helping to support her granddaughter to make sure she can excel. 

"So what I wanna know is, what are you gonna do about those kids? How are you gonna help the kids that can't afford it, and have no choice but to work to support their families?"

Oh boy.

So I engaged the two women, Betty in particular, in a long discussion about the challenges those students face, and what they really need to succeed. My primary argument was that what they really need is at least one teacher that actually does care about them, and encourages them to succeed, perhaps even giving them opportunities or presenting them with pathways to success. But they need a great teacher who will just invest in them personally (to the extent that professional ethics dictate, of course!). I used the movie "Freedom Writers" as an example, which they were both familiar with. 

And her friend was nodding with me the entire time. Betty also admitted that I had good points here and there. But the truth is that nothing I could say would satisfy Betty. I knew that from the start, though. I knew that she was venting her bitterness and frustration onto me as a future educator, because her educators couldn't help her. So eventually I changed courses. I dared to start down the path of talking about her directly. I almost did something really gutsy, but really great last night. 

Almost.

I disagreed with her that some kids don't have a path. I believe that every kid who is determined can find a path to whatever it is they want to do. Call me an optimist. I admitted that kids from low income families have a wider range of challenges and obstacles, but I refused to accept that it was impossible. I then started to note that there exists many paths to the future. I said, "There are plenty of people who drop out, but later get their GED and go on to college."

Betty responded, "Yeah, I got my GED. I passed all the classes in six weeks. Hell, I'm smart! I know I'm smart! The only thing I struggled with was fractions!" Ah, progress! Opportunity, perhaps?

"Well, let me ask you Betty, who takes care of your siblings now?"

"Huh, I do! I still take care of them."

Not exactly what I was looking for, but good enough.

"Wow. Okay, so at what point do your siblings become responsible for themselves? We all have to grow up and take responsibility for ourselves at some point, right?"

"Heh, when they're 50 I guess."

And that's where I stopped. I knew what to say, but honestly I was afraid of telling her the truth. So I transitioned out with something like, "Well, at some point people need to grow up and learn to take care of themselves, right? At some point you should have the freedom to not have to support them so you can do what you want to do with your life, right?"

Now of course I knew that there were probably plenty of other obstacles preventing her from continuing her education after her GED outside of her siblings. I'm sure she isn't care taking the way she was as a teenager. But who knows, she's probably still giving them money here and there. I know how it is in that kind of family.

But here is what I almost said.

I almost said, "The only person that's been holding you back since your siblings became adults is you. You proved you were smart enough to move on to college when you got your GED. As far as your siblings go, part of parenting is teaching independence, right? So if they're still holding you back, do what a loving parental figure would do and force them to become independent. It's no different from me having to teach my son to use dinnerware to feed himself, or to use the potty, it's just more emotionally complex when they're older. You could probably get financial aid, but even if you couldn't you could probably knock off a class or two at a time until you had a degree that would let you live out your dream, assuming your dream job required a degree. And all of the wisest people I've met would agree that it is never too late to be who you want to be. That the regret of not having done something at all is far greater than the regret of not having got to do it for very long. Your circumstances as a child were very tough, and I'm sorry. But now you're older, and stronger for all of that, and you have the power to do whatever you want to do with your life. And once you set your mind to achieving you dream, once you really truly commit, nothing will be able to stop you, because nothing that has ever happened in the past or present will be a good enough reason anymore for you to not live your life's purpose."

I was on the brink of giving this a shot. Because after all, what better way to sell her on me as a teacher and my strategy of investing in students to help lead them to success, than to show her how I would do that? I learned about her past, and a little bit about her life, and even if she just considered the idea for a moment, that could be some measure of success. Had I gone through with it, it probably would have met with harsh resistance, but that's not to say perhaps she wouldn't have considered it more in a few days. I don't know.

But before I took that risk, I received a text message from my wife asking me to come home. It was after 2 AM. This was the perfect reason to excuse myself and cordially part ways. 

But between planning for leadership training, and thinking about how Betty's attitude influenced the course of her life, it all must have gelled together somehow to cause me to reflect on my own attitude at the moment. 

How could I have been so blind, so stupid, this entire time as to what I myself was doing?

I have such a high stress level because I choose to. And sometimes I rationalize this because it has been largely successful. I tell people that while I don't intend on using fear to motivate, fear has been an excellent motivator for me. It's gotten worse the more successful I've been, and the longer I've been with my family and at ASU. Funny, right? You would think that after a year in which I passed the Upper Level Jury (with all A's), and took about 20 courses that resulted in 19 A's and 1 B, that I would be pretty confident in myself. But this week proved that I'm more nervous and afraid than ever in my ability to overcome the obstacles before me.

But you know, most successful people see failure as growth (sound familiar?), something not to be feared. Despite that, I fear failure because I fear letting down my family, or dealing with repaying my student loans with a minimum wage job, or that if I don't succeed my entire life will be different. Instead of living my purpose and making a positive impact on the world, I'll end up in a job that I hate, trading time for money, instead of doing what I wanted to do, what I could've done, which is to positively impact lives through the power of music and music education. I fear ending up bitter over that. 

Like Betty, I suppose.

But it's a simple matter of how I choose to perceive things, and how I choose to react to situations. After all, I have experienced first hand the difference when you treat life as though it is 10% what happens and 90% how you react to it. It's all invented, anyway, right? Everything is what you make of it. So why on earth have I been inventing situations where the likely outcome is failure (even though it never happens that way)? For motivation, of course. But after this week, the first week of the semester, I just don't think it's worth that anymore. The truth is, I don't even get that excited about making awesome grades anymore. So it's not worth the stress, especially not when I could still be just as successful and motivated with a different mindset. 

I will be a better player and musician because of the Senior Recital. Playing at the high level of technical prowess and musicianship that they demand to pass will indeed require endless hours of practice. But as long as I make the decision to do what I need to do to pass, and I really commit to that, then nothing can stop me. So why be so stressed out about it?

Yes, my course work is going to be challenging and burdening this semester, and will make it more difficult than I'd like to get enough practice time from day to day. Challenging, but not impossible. Why stress about it when I know I can handle insane amounts of course work? I know, for example, that what I consider to be poor quality work usually comes back to me with a high A marked on it. I don't know why. That's just where I've gotten to now. Again, it will be challenging, but I will grow through those challenges. And as long as I commit and do what I know must be done, I will be successful. 

And granted, things beyond my total control, like the ability of some family members to help support us during all of this (or lack of that ability) could force me into a situation where it probably would be impossible to get everything done, and practice enough, and maintain healthy family relationships. That's true. But instead of being stressed, I'll just do what I can, when I can, and hope for the best. There is a newly established scholarship that is being awarded next month that I qualify for. It won't make up for the grants I didn't get, but it will get us half way there if I am awarded it. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll get another scholarship for being the principal tubist in Wind Ensemble. Who knows? If I'm lucky, my lesson student will be reliable, and if I'm lucky, my part time job teaching elementary kids about the tuba will book me for more presentations this semester. If I'm lucky, maybe Tuba Therapy will pick up an occasional paying gig. But that's all outside of my control. So I'll do what I can, when I can, to manage the financial impossibility of this semester the best I can, and just hope for the best. 

If I have to get a full time job and am unable to continue classes part way through the semester? Well, it's a possibility. But in the long run, isn't there always a path? Maybe it's not the one I intended. I certainly don't want to make Jenn wait any longer before she can live her dream. That's part of the agreement of her working, after all. We're building a life together, and if I fail, that life at least gets delayed. But even if it takes longer, it can still be done. If I give up entirely, that's my fault, and nobody else's. So I'm going to do whatever I can between my two unstable, part time jobs and hopefully a scholarship or two to get us through this semester, and other than that I'm going to do my best not to worry about it.

After all, as Dave Matthews sings in "Cry Freedom"...

"The future is no place to place your better days."

Instead of inventing scenarios where failure is the likely outcome (that doesn't create many possibilities, does it?), I need to invent scenarios where growth and development are the likely outcomes, and where I know that success is virtually guaranteed once I commit to doing what needs to be done. Feeling overworked is still an issue, but fearing failure is no longer an issue in these mind sets.

That would be a major step for me. 

And besides, how can I expect to teach students these concepts if I have not been successful with them myself? I can't. They'll never understand it if I don't, even if I once did. I have to role model the concepts.

Fear is indeed an excellent motivator. But fear can become a tyrannical force in your life. Most people fear their true potential. I don't have that issue. I fear failure. But I don't have to. Not ever again, if I so choose. There is a difference between accepting success as the only possible outcome, and underestimating what is required for success. I made that mistake the first time I attempted the Upper Level Jury, so I won't make that mistake again. 

But I'm just worn out from the fear. And from now on I'm going to do my best to be done with it. 

Thank you for following me on this little journey. Thank you for reading. Feel free to comment or discuss, but otherwise, until next time, take care!

Musically yours,

Mr. Cooper

Risky Business

There was something else that happened at the first summer camp that was really cool that I wanted to document and share. I've said before that the camp was amazing, the kids were incredible, etc. etc. And that's all true. But the first few days of camp we didn't feel so much amazing as we felt like it was a crazy storm.

A lot of great things were happening. It was obvious that the previous band director did a lot of great things. These kids had great attitudes, they were comfortable in multiple keys, solid leadership, stand out players in nearly every section, and the list goes on. The director challenged them to do even more of the things a band with pride would do. For example, to keep the band hall clean (or face clean up duties), show up early, etc. We also made examples of the students who gave up part of their breaks, either by staying late or showing up earlier, to practice what they were having trouble with. Pretty soon we witnessed this incredible environment where kids were so motivated that it was common for the entire band to be in their chairs working on parts with five minutes remaining in the break, where at the start of the week you might have had a single student, but most likely expected kids to casually waltz in with only a minute or two to go. We're not just talking about warming up, or being in the right place at the right time. This was the kind of work ethic you dream about in a band.

So a lot of great things to say. But there was one really large problem. They couldn't count.

And it was a major problem because the director didn't want to order the "band in a box" Journey show. These were arranged by our mutual friend (a very talented young arranger and composer), and with few exceptions, the rhythms are pretty true to the song, especially the melodies. Which is to say that the rhythms were very complex, and that the music might have been over their heads. So while we appreciated their enthusiasm and work ethic, even on the first day, we knew this might mean serious trouble. That night we brainstormed.

I tossed out an idea. I thought it was crazy, and I didn't know if it would work or just be a waste of time. We basically had two options - teach them to count, or teach them by rote. To me the latter option, especially for a high school group, gives me knots in my stomach. And while the obvious answer would be to break down individual rhythms in context, that failed epically all day. They needed to develop not only a sense of pulse, but review basic rhythmic values, how to count them, and how to dissect rhythms. So I went with what seemed obvious to me, but also what I felt was perhaps a crazy idea that I'd never heard of being done before. Perfectly open to rejection, I threw it out there.

What if we started training them as if we were preparing them for sight reading contest? At that time of the year you break down and learn to play rhythms every day, and each time you gradually spiral up the complexity. The camp schedule included two sectionals and two full band rehearsals a day, so theoretically we could make 4 days of progress each day of camp, the end result being 16 days, or three weeks plus a day, of rhythmic progress. After some debate, Adrian agreed that it wouldn't hurt to devote as much as 15-20 minutes to this in each sectional, and asked us to start with some pretty basic stuff, such as dotted quarter note, eighth note rhythms, and nothing tied across the bar line. The next morning we went to work.

And it was a disaster! There wasn't much syllable confusion, but rhythmic values were all over the place. Foot tapping was a new concept. Even a dotted quarter, eighth, dotted quarter, eighth rhythm was nearly impossible for them to count accurately. I had only written four lines of rhythms on the board, and we spend 20 minutes just getting through the first line, and not nailing it. The woodwind tech had even more trouble, spending 40 minutes trying to help them get it. We realized it was worse than we initially thought!

But then the woodwind tech had a breakthrough. During full band he started working with a clarinet player. She didn't know fingerings above the middle line Bb, and had little concept of basic fundamentals, both in reading music but to some extent, thing like embouchure, etc. etc. In his hour with her they covered a LOT of material. One of those things was the rhythm tree, which she was starting to grasp after about 15 minutes of the tree and applying it to rhythms. It was a natural thought to use the tree with her, because she knew nothing about rhythms, and he knew that going into the lesson. We hadn't done that in sectionals because we figured they had all been in band for at least two years, so dotted quarter eighths would've been a good starting point (wrong!). Anyway, in the afternoon sectional, he wrote a rhythm on the board, and this girl, who had just seen the rhythm three for the first time a couple of hours earlier, was the only person to figure it out.

So did we have to go all the way back to the beginning? Perhaps that's what it was going to take! Certainly my afternoon sectional saw little, if any progress, from the morning sectional in counting. Great progress in other areas, but not in that one.

That afternoon I talked to the woodwind tech. I was curious to see if he was thinking of reintroducing the rhythm tree to everyone, because I was now considering it. He said that was his plan, and I jumped on board. This way the entire wind section would get it. We told the director that's what we were going to do, and he agreed.

Wednesday morning - rhythm tree. They had all seen it before, but it was rusty. As we went deeper into subdivision, we counted a few measures worth to get the hang of values and syllables. Then we went straight into a number of rhythms, mostly involving quarter notes, eighth notes and sixteenth notes. I wasn't prepared to use dots or ties. And they were finally getting the hang of it! Foot tapping, counting, transferring it to playing, all of it. They just had to go back to the very basic concepts.

One of the tunes, "Faithfully", was easily the most troubling. The first section they could barely hold together on, but as soon as the B section hit, everyone fell apart. In the afternoon sectional we quickly warmed up, reviewed the earlier rhythm lesson with additional rhythms, worked on another tune, then hit up Faithfully. Although I knew B was the major problem, I started from the beginning. Now that they could grasp 16th note rhythms, I could make the jump to dots and ties with rhythms in context and hopefully clean up A a little to prevent them from learning it wrong any more than they had. We managed that to an extent, but quickly ran out of time when we hit B. I felt like an idiot for not just going straight to the parts that sounded the worst, like my training told me to do.

Following the afternoon full band rehearsal, The director's concern grew exponentially. Everything else was coming along but this tune, and if needed he felt he still had just enough time to drop it and switch it for the generic version of "Open Arms", which would be much easier and possible to get somewhat performance ready by Friday. At one point he said, "I'm such an idiot! I can't even count some of these rhythms!" (which of course meant that he had to work at it with syllables, not that he couldn't do it). But I saw the progress they were making after seeing the rhythm tree. I knew that all they needed was to make the jump to dots and ties, and they could get it. They were SO CLOSE! I pleaded for more time, and we all agreed that they would be devastated if he pulled the tune after working so hard at it. So he gave us an ultimatum. They had to get it by the end of the night. He would cancel marching rehearsal to give us one more sectional and full band rehearsal. If we didn't get it done by then, he felt he was going to have to cut the tune.

So I put my war paint on. I couldn't relax all through the dinner break. I didn't know if I could pull this off, but  we were all going to give it hell, by God!

I got to the board 45 minutes early and started writing out every complicated rhythm on the board, starting in the B section, going to the end, then back to the beginning up to B. My plan was to have everyone in the group break down and count every single rhythm, play every single rhythm, and then have the section that actually had the rhythm put it into context. There must have been something like 13 of those bad boys. After our warm up we got straight to work.

It was like diffusing a bomb with numerous lives on the line, where the clock was ticking, and throughout the whole ordeal you were just screaming for more time.

They knew what was on the line, so all of us were on our A game. Even so, it was still often just beyond their reach when we looked at every new rhythm. For roughly an hour they plugged through one rhythm after another. Everyone could understand, count and play them on a Bb (even the tubas!), and significant progress was being made. We managed to hold together through the B section, and we managed to hit up a couple of the rhythms from the A section before running out of time, but when I looked at what was left I felt mortified. Like a failure.

We probably only made it through 9 rhythms.

I sent them off on break, forcing some of them, so that they could rest their mushy brains. Then I went outside, found a corner, and tried to fight back tears of frustration. I had worked so hard, and they were giving me everything they had, but I just couldn't do it!

After a few minutes I calmed down a little. They were starting to grasp the rhythms. We made it through the B section. There was still a chance they could make it the rest of the way after another 45 minutes with the director. Maybe we had done enough. "Don't lose faith in them, Chris!" I said to myself, "They might still pull this off!"

So I went back inside. I quietly went around to the brass players, fielding questions and fixing problems. But I never gave them the answers. I helped them break it down, just like in sectionals. The director allowed me to do this and occasionally worked with a different group while I did. They were working so hard, you could just feel the brain sweat pouring out and pooling on the floor! But yes, they were struggling, but they were understanding.

At some point, someone (not me) remembered that one of the main tricks to teaching rhythms with tied notes across the bar line is to simply remove the tie, have them count it, remind them of what happens when you add the tie in, and have them count it, and if needed, switch back and forth, with and without the tie, until accuracy occurs. What a great trick.

By the end of rehearsal the band made it through the tune, from beginning to end. It wasn't beautiful, but they made it, with the right notes, and most of the right rhythms. We met the goal!

But I still felt horrible. Like a failure. And then I realized something.

At approximately 8:20 AM, we started with the Rhythm Tree! The Rhythm Tree!!!

When we considered implementing remedial rhythm work, we all agreed that they probably wouldn't start to really understand the rhythms in their music until a week or two afterwards. In fact, I compromised and agreed to teach by rote in some cases until we reached a point that they could look at the rhythms and really understand what was going on, and why it was the way it was. But after rhythm disasters on Monday and Tuesday, Wednesday we went from the beginning (rhythm tree!!) to some of the most complex eighth note/sixteenth note rhythms you'll find in a 4/4 meter. They knew just enough, were just hard working enough, and just smart enough, that they grasped it all in a day. And we helped them get there.

So actually, at that point, I started to feel pretty great!

Thursday I formally introduced dots and ties in our afternoon rhythm workshop, but after making the jump during rehearsal the previous night, all the sudden it wasn't so bad for them. It took a few tries, but they were understanding and breaking it down with great success. By the afternoon band rehearsal, when they played "Faithfully", they were nailing not just the notes and rhythms, but gelling with ensemble sound and making the jump to style and musicality. In fact, I thought the last time they did it that afternoon that, with maybe two exceptions, it sounded gorgeous. They were excited about it. Why they had every right to be! What an accomplishment!

Two weeks after their camp, at their debut concert, it sounded amazing. Their intonation became the biggest weakness once rhythm was addressed, and they've obviously turned that into a strength in the two weeks I was away. But rhythms? Pssshh. Those rhythms were locked in tight. It was the kind of cleanliness that only occurs when every student has a sense of pulse and understands how to play correct rhythms. They didn't learn it by rote. They knew exactly where to place those notes. And it sounded amazing! Not just on that song, mind you. The rest of their music dramatically improved as well once they gained more counting confidence. They're going to knock people out! I was so proud of them, and excited for them. Not only that, but now that they're on the same page as the director in regards to discussing rhythms, it will be so much easier for him to communicate anything that is going wrong.

So this crazy idea of remedial rhythm workshops within sectionals actually worked out, especially once we figured out that we needed to start all the way back at the rhythm tree, and that the key to teaching tied rhythms is to remove the tie first.

It makes me feel much more confident in some other ideas I've had for camps. I've actually considered in the past that devoting an hour a day for two days over the course of camp to dust off their rhythm skills with a review and working up to some rhythms that were a little more advanced than anything in our show or stand tunes would not be time wasted. I've also had ideas for other masterclass kinds of things, with the goal being to create highly knowledgeable students. The master classes would all need to be interactive in some way. I've only seen one band director dedicate a time outside of sectionals for "Masterclass". I don't know how well it worked out for him, but he also left that time up to the techs. Mine would be more structured and have specific learning objectives.

But I've always wondered if it would work, if it could be done. It seems unorthodox. But anyway, perhaps I'll write about that another time. Perhaps after I've tried it out. But this experience made me feel like, yes, it could work.

And the experience as a whole was incredible. And the kids were so grateful to learn how to do it, including those that were slow to hop on and participate. They felt so accomplished, so much better as musicians! And the truth is that they did grow quite a bit in a very short time. It was all very highly rewarding!

So anyway, I didn't have anything to propose, or questions to ask with this blog. I really just wanted to document what happened there so I'll have it. But if anyone has any thoughts, questions, or comments, please have at it!

Thank you for reading! And until next time, take care!

Musically yours,
Mr. Cooper

A Breakthrough on Friday

Friday was one of those days where my excitement level shot through the roof. In a private lesson with a student I helped her achieve not only a major breakthrough in her playing, but perhaps personally as well! It was one of those eye opening experiences where you are reminded of the power music has to positively change lives.

We'll say her name is Susie. But I'm getting ahead of myself just a little bit.

As mentioned in a previous entry, I've been taking the time to pull about a student a day from the full band rehearsals at the camp I'm working for private lessons. I started with the weakest students and gradually worked my way up. Most of what I dealt with were theory things: note names, understanding key signatures, chromatic finger pattern, figuring out fingerings, etc. etc. The last couple of days I worked with stronger students. When the director decided that he might give the band Friday off until picture and performance time, I realized I might not get to work with a couple of the students who had asked for help. On Wednesday I managed to get through two students, but that still left one who really wanted a lesson, and two tubists who were improving in their sound production through our sectional time, but still needed additional help in that regard. I wanted to pull at least two of them on Thursday, but decided since it was their last rehearsal before Friday's concert that they needed to be in the band. Instead I offered each of them a time to meet me on Friday, since there were no rehearsals. All three students eagerly agreed to show up.

Susie, a trombonist, was the first, and as it turns out, the only one I worked with Friday.

On her music bio she basically wrote that she wanted help with everything. Rather than a simple line, it was a paragraph of bullets. The thing is, she was one of the strongest brass players. She had good playing technique for a freshman. But she was also very hard on herself, which I later explained to her is both good and bad. Good that she can recognize and wants to fix what isn't going well, but bad because she wasn't giving herself credit for good things she was doing.

I then discovered that she wasn't even hearing the good things!

She confirmed my suspicion that she suffers from low self esteem, which carries into her perception of her playing, despite making the All-Region Band twice. I knew that to help her have a breakthrough in her playing, I also had to start planting seeds for her confidence and a better self-image.

Since we had done enough breathing in sectionals and had so many things to cover, we went straight to long tones and a discussion about warming up. She was blown away by this information because their previous teacher never really discussed what to do when warming up, and had never given them warm up exercises for individual use. She said she never really knew what to do when practicing. So I gave her the elements of a very, very basic warm up. Stretching, breathing, buzzing (we did a couple of exercises there), long tones, lip flexibility (which I pointed out was part of her band warm up), articulation and scales. I got her to a point where she was playing with a great sound on her long tones... but she couldn't recognize it!

Remember when I previously discussed how the entire brass section seemed unable to get excited about doing something great? It was like that, but worse. Even when she did something great, all she could hear was the one note she missed, or the hardly noticeable wavering of pitch on the last note, etc. etc. She couldn't recognize the tremendous progress!

Of course I asked her time and again, "Yes, there was that, but don't you think it sounded a lot better that time?" She often agreed, though timidly, and there were times when I didn't ask, but said, "Wow, that sounded so much better!" To which she often responded, "It did?"

So we had a talk. I talked to her about how the brain is hard wired for success, whether you succeed in playing poorly or playing well, doing something or failing at something, if you believe either one, you will succeed in that outcome. I talked to her about rewording her internal dialog so that instead of saying things like, "That was really bad" she could say "That wasn't as good as I want it to be." or "I can make that better". I talked to her about recognizing and appreciating progress, that while you should never be content with where you're at, you should be proud of any progress that you've made, because after all there is no limit to how good we can make a piece of music.

But in spite of her progress, she still didn't like her sound. I'd told her in the first week that she had a good sound, that trombones were supposed to sound that way, but it was as if she didn't believe me. So we went into the office and the director pulled up a video of Joe Alesi performing "Blue Bells of Scotland".

Given she wanted to discuss so much, I had scheduled her for an hour and a half. That ended up being a good decision.

So after she captured the actual timbre of trombone in her mind's ear, we went back to long tones. We also had to grease up her slide. It was sticking so bad that she couldn't play notes in time. Once that was fixed, she had less to feel bad about in terms of her playing. Okay, what else?

So she got to a point that she was feeling pretty good about her sound. She thought it could still be better, and I explained that she was right, but that it would take some time, with the promise that if she used long tones 4-5 times a week and pushed herself on the exercise, then her sound would continue to improve, and she would notice a major difference in the next couple of weeks and beyond. But we finally got to move on.

We did a very simple articulation exercise. I drew a diagram of what the tongue should be doing in the mouth, and we used quarter note wind patterns so she could practice a relaxed, light, but quick tongue action. She quickly caught on, and picked up her trombone and used a very nice, legato articulation. Then when I demanded she do it with the same sound she had on long tones, she did that as well. Articulations were another very frustrating point for her in her playing, and when she heard herself she finally felt a jolt of excitement!

My second student hadn't shown up yet, so I decided to apply these things to some of her music. She was game. So we pulled up her opening solo from the ballad. It's just three bars quoting the melody, but it was perfect for the exercise.

So I just let her have at it. Her inhalation was good, and I only had to occasionally remind her to keep her shoulders relaxed. Her articulations were awesome. But her sound was not (though better than usual). So we went to the part of the long tones that goes through that range of the instrument to recapture that sound. She played the solo again, this time significantly improved. But she wasn't happy! Too many small mistakes, not enough progress. Which was fine by me once she at least recognized the better sound. From there I had her play, buzz, and play again. Much better (of course). She noticed that whenever I had the brass section play, buzz, and play, it always sounded a lot better, so I explained why that happens, and that she should always feel free to use that trick.

There were still a couple of small issues left, but we eliminated those as well, and suddenly she sounded like an All-Area trombonist, if not something close to an All-Stater!

And this time, I didn't have to tell her how good she sounded.

Her face lit up, her eyes beamed, and her voice raised in pitch, in fact her entire body was bouncing in excitement! She was going giddily on and on about how much better she sounded and how happy she was. When she later went to put her instrument away, she practically hopped over to her case! It took two hours (though admittedly at a somewhat casual pace), but the transformation and the break through was totally worth it. In two weeks I had never seen more than a forced grin from her, and a single genuine grin from her boyfriend when I helped him with his solo the day before. Now, finally, she was filled with musical excitement and accomplishment!

If I could change one thing about that lesson, I would've liked to have done the same work in probably half the time. But it really wasn't because I didn't know what to do to help her. I made one right step after another. It was in part because of our attitude talk, in part because I was explaining too thoroughly, perhaps, in part because of the Joe Alesi video, and in part because of the time she took to grease her slide. But all in all, I don't regret the lesson. Guiding her through that playing transformation and hopefully a small personal transformation was indeed well worth the time and effort. My pacing could've been better. It's always worse in lessons than in ensemble rehearsals because I want to take some time to explain what's going on so that their understanding reinforces their concept of how it's physically done. But anyway...

THIS is the power of music education. I later reminded myself that band programs have the power to achieve that on a large scale, and then let myself dwell in the possibilities.

Through our programs, we have the power to transform lives.

We can create a safe and supportive atmosphere in which individual students with low self-esteem eventually feel comfortable enough to come out of their shell, be themselves, and open up to fellow students about the issues they're going through at home or otherwise.

We can use music to help them feel a high level of achievement. This is something they can become good at, and be proud of, and feel good about. The feeling of reward that comes from hard work paying off through inspired musical performances and thrilled audiences.

We can also use music and the mission of music as a whole to make them feel like they're part of something greater than themselves. To give them a sense of purpose. We're not just playing music for ratings or trophies. We're thrilling audiences, but more than that, we're delivering the deep personal messages of the composers and of the cultures/people from which the music originates. In this way, we can also challenge them intellectually to grow.

And we can take the opportunity from time to time to spread attitude concepts about self-esteem, time management, and the slew of other things that will help them grow into happy, healthy human beings.

That is the real mission. To use the power of music to change lives. We have the chance to not only change their lives, but perhaps if our performances are exciting enough, to perhaps get a few more audience members interested in the genre as well. After all, as Benjamin Zander argues, Classical music is for everybody.

So am I on the right track, or just crazy? I know we can't save them all. We can't radically change everyone, but even a few would be remarkable, don't you think? And you can't tell me that if we're providing that kind of quality educational and musical experience mixed with a supportive atmosphere and a dash of life coaching, that we wouldn't have a significant positive impact. Feel free to leave your thoughts!

Thank you for reading and sharing this journey with me. Until next time, take care!

Musically yours,
Mr. Cooper

Looking in the Mirror

Monday's Brass rehearsal was rough. A group that had come to be pretty disciplined and was developing a great sound was, after two days, giving half the effort on everything from breathing to the warm up to, well, everything that happened during my hour and fifteen minutes with them. I went home and thought about it.

If I'm going to subscribe to the school of thought in which I take full responsibility for how my students are acting, then what was that rehearsal telling me?

That I had not given my best that day. Far from it. Although I'd walked out initially thinking, "Man, I really had to push them to get them to do anything, and it was still a mess," I came to realize that there was quite a bit I hadn't been doing myself. I'd made a few small excuses, but I decided to work around certain limitations and try to fix other elements that were holding me back.

For example, I didn't have scores for any of their music. I think I'd requested them, but amongst the chaos of my friend's first week, he wasn't able to do that. Having had scores for the music at the last camp I noticed how much easier it was to identify problems and communicate things quickly with the students (as a tech, I've never been provided scores until that point). So I asked my friend again, and also told the other techs I was hoping he could get them for me. Because they were so considerate, when I arrived the next day they'd taken the liberty to copy the scores for me during the marching fundamentals session.

Next on my list was to write out the objectives. Don't misunderstand, I always thought through what we were going to do, but for whatever reason I didn't write them out. I did at Junction, though not always on paper (only when I had ideas right before bed that I didn't want to forget). But I was at the band hall early each day, and having already thought through things, I wrote out the objectives on the white board for all students to see, knowing that was a good practice. The details were marked in my scores, but regardless, not having to work from memory does help save time, even once you've established a routine.

I didn't have a white board, or any board in my rehearsal space, and apparently there wasn't one on wheels they could transport there. So I had not physically written out the objectives. Bad! I didn't know if it would help the group's work ethic (since they couldn't see the list), but I wrote it out anyway, knowing it would help me, and knowing I could always verbally run down the list of what we needed to get done at the start of rehearsal. Hopefully that would help their motivation some.

And of course, Tuesday's rehearsal was remarkably better, and perhaps the best of the camp to that point. Wednesday I realized another error - not reminding them to bring pencils, and not having had them mark their music after fixing things. So I reminded them, and they all brought pencils. I made sure we used them, if not over used them (is that possible), and of course, Wednesday's rehearsal was even more productive.

We were accomplishing things in some respects. Their ensemble sound was improving every day. They were grasping many of the concepts of playing together as a group. They were retaining more (though not all) of what we'd fixed. But something crucial was wrong.

One of the strange things about this group of students (at least the Brass) is that whenever they would do something really well, they would often be expressionless, except perhaps one or two trumpet players. Last blog I discussed the idea (originally presented to me by Peter Boonshaft) of making sure each rehearsal had at least one "pearl", something, anything, that sounded really great so they could feel accomplished and musically excited. Well, we had been doing that multiple times (at least 2-3) each rehearsal. But no reaction! Even with my genuine responses to it. It was so strange! Everyone else seemed to notice their improvement day after day, and I had told them something to the effect of, "You guys are sounding better every day" every day! So what was it? Why weren't they getting excited when they played well?

Because then my other concern was that it was contributing to their lack of retention. When you get excited about doing something well, you become intrinsically motivated to continue doing it that well, and when you don't, you feel a sense of loss that motivates you to recapture it. So why wasn't that taking place?

Again, on Wednesday night, I looked in the mirror.

They had come a long way. They rehearsed with great etiquette, especially considering they weren't used to having structured rules about how to rehearse. I moved quickly and efficiently with rare exceptions. What was it? Was it just them? Was their self-esteem as players just not very high? What?? And the reminder came:

"You can and should take full responsibility for the good and bad things that are happening in rehearsal."

I remembered the Tim Lautzenheiser clinic I attended at TMEA. He gave this awesome demonstration in which a line of people were each holding cards in front of their foreheads. They didn't know what they said. Another row of people were tasked with communicating to each person, in one instant of non-verbal communication, what that card said. Everyone either figured out what their card said, or came very close. The lesson was that we all wear a card on our head, and our students react to that. If we're enthusiastic, they will be, too. Etc.

So what card had I been wearing? As Ben Zander says, "Who are you being that their eyes are not shining?"

I thought about it. Did I smile at them? Sure I did, when they did something well. Was I being respectful? Absolutely, and so were they. Was I enthusiastic?

Well....?

Kind of. But not nearly enthusiastic enough. I wasn't smiling nearly enough. I was energetic, but often failed to relieve the tension that comes with focused work, especially for long periods of time. So I gave myself another goal for Thursday's rehearsal.

I was going to show up with a different mood. I was always excited on some level about rehearsals, but I wasn't excited enough, because I wasn't showing it enough. I was going to smile more - a lot, in fact. I was going to compliment them more, even if they only did one thing right among a pile of problems. A lesson with one of the trombone players that day revealed that he had low self-esteem, even in regards to his playing, and even though he is the best in the section and, in my eyes, has been great both weeks. When I told him he was sounding great, and I was smiling and excited about his playing, he grinned for the first time all camp. How wide spread was this? And when I thought about the individual students, there were only a few I could safely rule out from this possibility. So let's tell them the problems, sure, but at the same time I definitely needed to stroke their egos a bit. Much more than I had been trying to.

So I did all of these things today. I even managed to use a couple of humorous analogies. Of course you would expect them to do their best playing further into the camp, but except for some range issues the 1st trumpets were struggling with on featured melodies, they were sounding much better than anticipated. We had what was easily the most productive brass rehearsal of the two weeks. And while their enthusiasm and excitement over things played well didn't match mine, there was a significant difference. The further into that time we got, the better their responses were.

Had I started this on Monday, who knows where they would've been at this point? But then, the past is merely data to be learned from.

The important thing is that they were starting to make good music, they were retaining better, they were starting to get excited. The retention and excitement things, while not a total turn around, were noticeably improved over previous rehearsals. So then, it worked! After all, Rome wasn't built in a day!

The real shame is that I didn't get back on that track until today. I felt like I was on a roll after the last camp, and granted, those kids had incredible attitudes. But still, I allowed myself to react to the chaos of the first day. I allowed myself to react to my friend's first day jitters, to the total lack of rehearsal etiquette by the band, to the circumstance that I didn't have scores to study, or a white board to use, etc. etc. Let the record show that when this camp started, there were plenty of obstacles, both enormous and small.

Instead of allowing myself to react negatively to that, I should have just done what was necessary to put those things to rest so that I would be free to be my best. And don't get me wrong, I was still putting in effort. Actually, between sectionals and my lessons with a kid per day, they were making pretty good progress in a lot of areas each day. I was a good teacher. But I wasn't great, and had I responded differently to everything that happened at the start of the camp, I would've been great the entire two weeks.

So all I had to do was look in the mirror and really think about who I was being during rehearsal, and in preparation for rehearsals.

I've always bought into the idea that, as a leader, the organization is truly a reflection of you. Followers are rarely ever as committed to the vision as you are, but that's okay. You don't let them know that you expect that, but you do for your own sanity. Granted, you don't take credit for things, and you accept compliments graciously and humbly, but in private you accept responsibility for everything good and bad that is going on in the organization from the top down, pat yourself on the back for the good things, and problem solve the bad things.

Having seen that principle in action (both from leadership positions and as an observer), it's only natural that I would buy into the idea that how a band rehearses and performs is a reflection of who you're being, and that you should take full accountability for the good and bad things.

Again, I'm kicking myself in the butt for not putting my feet to the fire sooner just because they were making as much progress as they were from day to day. But eventually my idealism came around, and to me, the entire experience merely reaffirms this ideology.

Problems with the organization? Problems with rehearsals? Chances are the answers to at least most of those problems are staring at you in the mirror. That's what I've learned more than anything else in the past two weeks.

Well, that and some trumpet fingerings!

Thank you for reading! If you have any stories about similar experiences, or would like to tell me how wrong I am and why, then (as long as you're civil) please leave a comment! And until next time, take care!

Musically yours,
Mr. Cooper

Using Compassion Instead of Fear

Sometimes I'm a little afraid to blog about stuff like this, because I don't know how experienced music teachers will respond to it. Please understand, always, that in my blogs I'm not trying to bash anyone for a particular method they use. However, I am trying to explore the true effectiveness of various methods. As Peter Boonshaft would say, the past is merely data to be learned from. If I disagree with a method you use, that doesn't mean I hold it against you, and I hope you won't hold my disagreement against me on a personal level! I just thought I might need to throw that disclaimer out there. After all, I'm still in college and have very little experience, and certainly none in the day to day grind of teaching music. However, I am very interested in what methods are not only effective for achieving the end result, but also awaken the possibilities for music making in the individual student, and in the band as a whole. For example, you could teach a student to play something by rote, and get a Division I, but I think it fails to awaken the true musical possibilities that lie within the student! Anyway, onto the blog...

A couple of nights ago, Jenn and I watched Freedom Writers. The movie is based on a true story, which most educators are probably familiar with. A first year, idealistic English teacher takes a job at a school that has recently integrated a slew of low income students of various race. In two years (by the time the teacher starts) it has gone from being a top school to a war zone. The first year teacher initially thinks it’s exciting what the school is trying to accomplish, but quickly realizes the frustration of trying to reach students who seem uninterested in learning, and more interested in surviving the real world each day. Meanwhile, she can’t get any support from her administrators or fellow teachers, because they feel burned after their own battles to get the students to learn, and many blame the students for the school’s downfall. Books sit unused because those in charge are unwilling to give them to the students, since experience shows they will just destroy the books anyway.

Over time the teacher seeks to understand the daily lives of her students, and changes her initial curriculum and activities so that it can be more relevant to them. She picks up two part time jobs to buy supplies (like books and composition notebooks) for her class. They slowly open up to her and give her a chance. After learning about the holocaust, they start to treat each other differently. Eventually that room becomes the only place where they feel safe, and able to open up and be themselves. They start achieving and believing that they can make a difference. A lot of other things happen, too. It’s a great movie, but an even more incredible true story. This teacher sacrifices nearly everything for them, including her marriage after her husband leaves her. In the movie it’s because he seems jealous that she’s living her calling, and he’s not, but that it’s not due to neglect. Was that the real reason? Who knows, but it’s something I may touch on in a later blog.

Freedom Writers is also a book, a compilation of the student’s journal entries in which they vent about the struggles of everyday life. It deals with race wars, violence, sex, family issues, survival, but also hope, and tolerance. It has actually been banned at many schools for its content. This is really an amazing series of events, and it makes me remember something important about education.

Everyone has potential.

Most of these kids were involved in gangs, even though they couldn’t admit it in class. Most of these kids had lost at least one, often more close friends or family members to violence. Many of them had witnessed, or were directly involved in violence, including violent crimes and other crime. It’s easy to understand that if this is what their lives are about, that they wouldn’t be interested in learning, or that they would have difficulty understanding how any of the subjects would be relevant to them. And because of that, it’s also easy to understand why many teachers would view them as “bad kids”. How do you reach kids that aren’t interested in learning, anyway, especially when you’re competing with other things going on in their lives that are of that magnitude?

I honestly don’t know. One day I’m sure I’ll have to figure it out.

But what this teacher proved is that they were not bad kids at all. To get them interested in English, they needed literature that wasn’t comprised of the masterworks, necessarily, but of stories that they could easily relate to. She gave them journals with the expectation that they had to write every day, but they could write about whatever they wanted to. It wasn’t graded for grammar, and she promised not to read the entries unless they wanted her to. But the point is that they were writing! They came to appreciate these journals, and writing, as an outlet for their daily struggles. She then used a field trip to a holocaust museum and later reading the Diary of Ann Frank to teach them lessons in tolerance, and where the road of intolerance eventually leads. And she later empowered them to make a difference, both as individuals and as a class.

These weren’t bad kids. And their apathy towards learning was only made worse by teachers who they knew didn’t believe in them, and ultimately didn’t care.

Fortunately I haven’t had to work with students like this, but I have worked with students that some might consider “slow” or “behind the curve”. And I’ve already learned that these students can surprise you.

It reminds me of something Benjamin Zander says, that when you take responsibility for how your students are acting, then when they’re not interested in what’s going on you get to ask yourself a question,

“Who am I being that their eyes are not shining?”

When I arrived at the first summer camp I was teching, the director warned me of a student. “He’s a Hispanic kid, tuba player, and from what I was told he likes to joke around and talk during rehearsal. He can be disruptive. He’s one of the problem students in the band.” Neither of us had dealt with him directly.

But it turns out that’s only who he was for the previous director.

This director's first language is Spanish. The fact that the two could converse in Spanish helped this student relate much easier. I was jealous and kicked myself for not paying more attention to my Spanish classes in high school. It makes me want to learn sometime in the future.

During the first day he actually was much better behaved and more motivated than the section leader! After all, he had a clean slate with us. He missed Tuesday morning for work. During a break he walked by the office and asked us a question, and we decided to chat with him. Turns out that his work involved waking up at 5 AM to go cut down logs with his dad and a couple of other guys and transport them to a factory. Hard work! I gave him props for that kind of hard work, and said, “You know, if you could bring that same kind of work ethic to the band, that would be a great example to set and a great way to lead.” He understood, and complied happily. And after more of the section leader screwing around, he asked us what was involved in challenging for that spot. He was a senior, and the section leader a freshman, so it then came out that the reason he wasn’t section leader is because he missed a marching contest due to something going on with his family at the time. But because he missed that performance he was disqualified from the office. The freshman was a slightly better player, granted, but didn't yet match this kid’s level of maturity and motivation.

(By the way, we quickly got the section leader to act according to our expectations, and did it without yelling or threatening, but that’s another story!)

If the previous director had shown compassion in this case, would the student have given him attitude problems in the Spring? I’m not bashing the previous director, by the way. While these students all shared a weakness in breaking down rhythms, they could also do a LOT of great things (like playing comfortably in more keys than most small school bands), and they showed up with a great attitude. But directors often are very harsh on students who miss performances... and typically with good reasons. The previous director surely was trying to impart a life lesson onto the student with this consequence, but in this case it seems to have backfired. Nobody is perfect.

We offered compassion for what happened, and lifted him up for his great work ethic and his leadership, even though he wasn’t an officer. All in addition to us previously giving him props for having a tough job and still being dedicated enough to show up to band after a hard day’s work, only to work hard with us the rest of the day. This motivated him even more to work harder for the band. What an incredible student!

So far this last week I’ve worked with two tubists at the current camp who might be considered by some as behind the curve. And in both cases they were timid, almost afraid that I was going to be ugly towards them for not having already known these basic, beginning band concepts. Things like note names, accidentals, key signatures, fingerings, etc. But I was compassionate, and explained that all I cared about was helping them to understand these things so that they could be on the same level as their band mates moving forward. Both of them were in high school, and ranked under a freshman tuba player who did understand it all. Turns out that was a good thing, too, because the freshman tubist discovered that band conflicted with agriculture, and decided he wanted to do that more. These guys don’t have him to lean on anymore (at least this year). I found them just in time! Where other teachers may have just frowned or even said ugly things about these kids for their lack of caring, or inability to learn, or whatever, I just saw possibilities. And trust me, they worked hard to get the concepts, but once they did, you saw the light bulbs go off, the smiles on their faces, the relief, the excitement. No, they weren’t incapable, they just needed a little more help. Even the student I helped who doubles as a member of the football team got excited once he understood how to read key signatures and figure out how to get from the Eb fingering to the E natural fingering. His previous teacher probably wasn’t one of those teachers who tries to rule through fear and intimidation (based on what I’ve heard), but you know you’ve met some of those teachers who, regardless of which school they subscribe to, think lesser of students who can’t play at the level they should be at by a given time.

Which reminds me there was another thought I was going to blog about in this post, but it really deserves it’s own post. The differences between the two schools of dealing with students. Compassion/Collaboration vs. the old school of Fear/Intimidation (made famous by William Rivelli and used by nearly every teacher I’ve had). I’ll discuss that more later.

But anyway, I just wanted to write about some of these recent experiences. I could write about more of these kinds of students. I meet them nearly every time I work with a group of students. The kids who you may think are here more for the social experience. The kids who don’t seem to care that much. The kids who just seem a little slow.

Chances are they’re not bad kids at all. Chances are they just need one of two things (or both). They might just need some one on one time to help them understand some fundamental concept they missed (even if they can’t afford lessons... it will be worth your time!). And if they don’t care, they probably just need a high quality music making experience. It doesn’t have to be a performance, or an end result. It can be what Peter Boonshaft calls a “pearl”. It’s one thing per rehearsal that you really work to perfect so that the kids can experience something truly amazing in band that day. A crescendo, perhaps, or a single chord played beautifully. When a kid is part of making something like that happen, when it happens, they feel it somewhere deep down. Remember that feeling? It’s that feeling you get when something sounds so amazing that you just get pumped, or otherwise filled with excitement. If a kid doesn’t care, it’s probably because they either haven’t had that experience, or they haven’t had it regularly, or have been too long without it.

If what I witnessed at the last camp is any indication, if you can deliver at least one pearl a day, even, they’ll be hooked. The first three days of that camp were not typically fun. We worked them really hard to get them caught up on their counting abilities, or at least to where they needed to be for their show music (which involved some of the most complex rhythms you’ll find in 4/4). But on Thursday they played beautifully on the “slow song” of their show, and every kid got excited. We knew they were hooked after that. But if there was any doubt, then when they created the wall of sound previously discussed on “Iron Man”, they were definitely hooked! From what I’ve heard, they’ve had something exciting like that happen nearly every day, even if it was just a really well done crescendo.

Some people think that guys like Ben Zander, Peter Boonshaft, or even Tim Lautzenheiser are just guys who run around making a living by making other people feel good about themselves, or by telling jokes that only we would get. Yes, I may be idealistic, and I’m sure that will be tested. I expect it to be tough (and luckily, I’m pretty tough myself). But actually, my youth and idealism has allowed me to, with relatively little fear, try out some of these things during the camp season. And guess what - I’m a believer.

Sometimes you have to be firm. I understand, and I agree. Hey, I’m a father, after all. But if a kid doesn’t know something, don’t blame the kid. Blame yourself or whoever was supposed to teach them. Don’t beat yourself up, and certainly don’t beat the kid up. Just try to get the kid to show up after school or during lunch for a bit so you can help them. Because they really just need your help.

Of course if you yell at a kid for being way behind, they’re going to feel bad about themselves. But most kids I’ve found aren’t motivated to act based on that. They just shut down and feel more worthless, and less motivated. I know that old school was used on most of us, and it can work when done properly. But what about when it doesn’t work? And what was the cost to the student, and/or to the trust/relationship you’ve established with that student? Try being compassionate instead.

By the way, this does not explain my thoughts about classroom management. Please don’t interpret that as such. I have other ideas about that, and am still developing some ideas on how I would handle it. So far I seem to be doing good things, but it will be more difficult once I am the teacher rather than a technician. Here I’m just referring to how you deal with students individually, whether it’s in front of the ensemble, or outside of class.

And help them to take part of a great music making experience. Part of why the kids at that last camp are hooked, and why their old director is now old news (even though they still love him), is because they have never sounded this good. This was a band that made it to the Area finals for the first time last year, but they’ve reached a new level in their music making ability. Of course they’re excited! Anytime a band does something well, the kids will be excited. Even if “well” just means “good compared to what they normally sound like”.

Anyway, I’ve rambled for quite long enough. If you have disagreements, or other thoughts, I’d love to discuss it! After all, the more I have to think about this stuff, and the more I can discuss it with other educators, or future educators before I’m actually employed next year, the better!

Thanks for reading, and until next time, take care!

Musically yours,
Mr. Cooper

PS. If you haven't watched Freedom Writers, and you're a teacher, please go rent it! Or at least learn about the true story and the current state of that movement by checking out the foundation's website: www.freedomwritersfoundation.org

A New Idea for HS Summer Band Camps

I couldn't think of a good title for this one, but it's something I thought of earlier that I wanted to document somewhere.

On my first day in my second camp I spent time observing the students playing to see if I could spot anyone who was behind the curve. It was obvious that the woodwind section was very strong. I wasn't surprised to learn that the previous director was a woodwind player himself. But the brass seemed to be having a tough time in some ways. After noticing a tubist constantly second guessing himself on fingerings, I politely asked him a couple of questions.

"What's this note called?"

"Uh... I... can't remember."

"That's okay. Can you tell me what this is? (pointing to the key signature)"

"B Flat!"

"Good, but what does it mean?"

"Uh... I... They never really taught us that."

"That's okay. I can help you with that."

And I did. Yesterday I pulled the tubist from the full band rehearsal. I showed him the chromatic finger sequence, then we wrote down the open notes on staff paper, and gradually built a fingering chart using the finger sequence he had just learned. In fact, when I first introduced it to him I had him play from the F below the staff down to the Bb below the staff by following the sequence I'd written down, and when I told him he just played a chromatic scale from F down to Bb, he said he couldn't believe it.

Next I showed him now to figure out note names by going up the staff in alphabetical order, or down the staff in reverse alphabetical order. He's a Junior in High School, and it blew his mind how easy it was once I showed him this trick. It always blows their minds how easy that part is.

Anyway, we got through the fingering chart. His brain was really crunching, but he made it. Good!

Next we went to key signatures. I told him I was less concerned about knowing the names of key signatures, and more concerned that he could understand what they meant. When I pointed out that a flat sign on the B line of the staff meant that all B's were to be played flat, and then applied the same logic to other key signatures, he was once again astonished at how easy it was to figure out, and at how much less frustrated he would've been all these years if someone had just shown him these simple tricks. I told him I understood, because I was in the same boat until I took my first private lesson my sophomore year in High School.

We talked about a couple of other things as well. He asked me to explain accidentals, for example. And even though we'd built a fingering chart, I had another one printed off for him for good measure. I sent him back to band armed with a ton of new knowledge and some quick references we'd worked out together, with the promise that it would take some work at first, but that eventually all of these things would become second nature to him. He felt good, and I felt good for him.

Today in sectionals I got to do a couple of things I'd wanted to do yesterday. I had the kids make name tags to hang from their stands so I could start getting to know their names, for example. But more importantly, I gave them a couple of minutes to write music biographies.

"What's a Music Biography?"

It's an idea I picked up in an education class, Reading and Writing Across the Curriculum. The teacher had us each write a bio with our name and our reading experiences. She used these to get to know us better, in addition to helping her learn our names. In the first camp of the summer, I gave them about 2-3 minutes to write their name, grade level, bands they like (not genres), and hobbies. It worked beautifully. Where as I'm normally bad with names, I quickly got to know each of the brass players, and I could actually talk to them about common interests. I'll probably use this forever now. Even when I pushed them hard and got intense, they were sold enough on me to not get upset. I don't think they were angry with me once. With the music, perhaps, because they couldn't get it yet, but not with me. Well, there were other factors, too, like the fact that they were learning so much. But anyway...

With the group at this camp I added something. I asked them today to write down any questions they had about reading music, or playing the instrument. I gave them examples (note names, key signatures, etc.etc.) and gave them a little extra time to think and write. It didn't take much time. But when I collected those sheets I not only had the music bio, but individual player weaknesses, all with the promise that I would help each person who wrote something down before the camp was over. During full band I looked at what they'd written and prioritized students. After all, a few of them put down non-critical items. One player just wants a lesson, which is fine, but I'll get to her last.

So now part of my mission, in addition to building up the brass to the point that they're capable of blowing away the woodwinds (even though they will be discouraged from doing so), and understanding what it takes to play as a section at a high level, is to strengthen the weakest players in the group by giving them that one on one time they need to get caught up to their peers. Or at the very least, I can arm them with the tools to get there. Yesterday it was a tubist

Fortunately there weren't as many students critically behind as I initially anticipated in the brass. Actually, they're picking up quickly on sectional playing, and generate a good sound, which I hope I can turn into a wall of sound by camp's end. But by working individually with the players that either need or requested individual time, I'll be getting everyone up to par. I've heard that a band gets better one player at a time, and I'm predicting that this time investment will greatly boost the performance of the total brass section, and thus the band, throughout the season and the year.

Not to mention that it just feels good to show students who got lost at some point what the need to know to be on par with the people they sit next to. They're always excited, grateful, and you know that you've probably just drastically improved their music experience for however much time they have left in high school.

So on my way home I thought about the potential of something like this if it were implemented camp wide. After all, I'm toying with the idea of a camp that not only sets the foundation for the marching band, but truly for the year through methods which I've never seen employed before (at least not like I'm debating). That may be for another blog, but here is a new idea which I'm considering now. I'd love your thoughts on this.

Every good camp has technicians. Some have more or less techs than others. The last camp I worked basically managed a brass, woodwind and percussion tech. Larger schools have one tech per individual section, and in some cases, assistants to the techs. I'm already planning on using Music Bios in my programs to get to know my students better, and thus gain their trust faster. If I add the "Problem Inventory" to the Bio, then I can have techs, regardless of how many of them there are, prioritize the students with problems in the group they're responsible for, and then work with them during a larger ensemble rehearsal time. Funding could be a factor, of course. If my techs are professional symphony players, as was my high school experience, then they'd probably want an increase in pay for the week for their additional 1/2 hour to 1 hour of work each day. Of course, if it's a small school and I hire university students as techs to come out for the week (as is the case in these parts), then I can probably ask them to do anything for the same cost. Either way, imagine the possibilities for a band program in which all of its members understand everything they need to know about reading music and the basics of playing the horn, even if they have always previously been behind or got lost as some point. Not only for the marching band, but for the year as well. I'm a big fan of the notion that you should invest time to save time, and this has that written all over it. I'll sacrifice a player in each section during full band for them to get caught up like this - gladly. I can always put the responsibility on the section members to catch their peer up afterwards.

So any thoughts? Personally, I think this could be a great addition to summer camps. I'll be interested to see if I can tell whether or not it's having an impact as the camp progresses, especially into next week.

Until next time, thanks for reading, and take care!

Musically yours,
Mr. Cooper

On Black Sabbath's "Iron Man"

No, not THIS Iron Man.

It took me a few days to set up this blog the way I wanted it, but I digress. There's something I've been wanting to put out there on the net for a few days now. I hinted about it on the old facebook.

"Iron Man" by Black Sabbath is a widely used stand tune in the high school band world. I can't recall how many times I played a "Stand Jamz" version of it in my high school band, nor can I recall how many times I've heard it performed by other bands. And with good reason!

Black Sabbath made an important mark in the world of rock and roll. Although they may not sound like more than a hard rock band by today's standards, they laid the foundation for Metal.Without Black Sabbath, there would have been no Metallica, and so on. In other words, they were ground breaking.

"Iron Man" was one of their earlier hits, off of their second album, "Paranoid". Even though it was released in the 70's, I actually owned and regularly listened to a cassette tape of "Paranoid". My favorite track was probably "Pigs of War", or at least that's the one I remember the most... other than "Iron Man", of course. It would've been in the mid-nineties when I came across the tape, twenty years after the album's release. Need I say more?

Anyway, I remember at some point this last semester thinking, "You know, most bands really take 'Iron Man' too fast. It's a slow, powerful song. It's not meant to see who can play it faster." I think it was after being inspired by Benjamin Zander at TMEA. Of course I was into his "Art of Possibility" talks (great book, by the way!), but I was also fascinated by his interpretation of the Shastakovich 5th Symphony. It made perfect sense! And then later on I read his "Rite of Spring" blog, and caught a glimpse of what it takes to find great interpretations of music. That said, I also remembered something simple he said. Basically, he said sometimes you would be surprised if you just take the tempo marked, as many works often are performed a certain way out of tradition.

I quickly decided that "Iron Man", then, was one of these tunes in regards to high school bands.

Here is a video of the kind of tempo I'm talking about. The band seems to perform it well, and a lot of bands take this tempo, I just disagree with it. Anyway, here you go:



You may be laughing. Good! Granted, it's not a symphony, but it's a powerful song. And when performed correctly by a high school band, it can pack a major punch. This past week, I got to put this hypothesis to the test...

Adrian sat in his office dealing with the aftermath of his first negative encounter with a parent. Meanwhile, I sat across from the percussion tech listening to the band playing stand tunes (the entire band) just for fun since they were waiting on Adrian. They all were in their spots practicing music, ready to go a few minutes before start time, and some had even given up their entire break to work. Now they were having fun, jamming out. Adrian was understandably a little upset, but Caleb (the Percussion Tech) and I were just smiling from ear to ear at this band.

They soon got to "Iron Man", and no surprise, they performed it at the typical high school band tempo. Fast! After that rehearsal, once Adrian was off the phone, I asked him, "So, are you going to take the typical high school band tempo, or the Black Sabbath tempo?" I seemed to recall discussing this with him once. I didn't know if he'd thought about it yet, but I knew with the way I worded it that the choice would be obvious.

"Oh yeah, I want to take the Black Sabbath tempo!"

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to take credit for this or anything. Even if it becomes a trend to go back to the regular tempo, it really doesn't matter in the scheme of things. Besides, since it's NOT the norm, I think it takes some guts to go with the Sabbath tempo, so Adrian gets the credit there. I simply asked him the question, and was supportive of his response.

And don't get me wrong, I'm sure there are bands out there doing it this way. It's just that if I've heard them, I can't remember them. And actually, I found a couple of videos on YouTube of bands going at a slower tempo, but still not the Sabbath tempo, and even those bands didn't quite catch the character of the piece. But I digress...

And by the way, they're using a great arrangement for this tune. It's not a stand jam. It's a stand alone arrangement. Adrian said it's the standard arrangement for "Iron Man", and I'm sure he's correct. But to the rehearsals!

"Okay, so we're going to slow this one down a bit" Adrian began. A collected groaning followed from the band. It was probably the first collective groan I'd heard all week. Did I mention this was Friday?

Adrian's tempo was pretty good, but you could tell the band wasn't really into it. They sounded okay, but failed to change notes together, failed to find the groove, the character, etc. It lacked excitement to be sure.

"We usually play this a lot faster," one of the kids remarked. Adrian explained that the slower tempo was the tempo of the actual song. And then I switched something on, and Adrian graciously allowed me to step in with some comments. I'm going to paraphrase, but it was something like this:

"(In a passionate tone) You have to understand what this song is about, band. It's not about the Iron Man in movies. Black Sabbath's 'Iron Man' was about a hero turned outcast. He was a man who was placed in a suit of iron so he could save the world from something... I can't remember, but the sun I think. Anyway, in the process of saving the world, the iron suit melted onto his skin, and he survived, but became permanently disfigured. They couldn't remove the iron from the man, and so he had to live the rest of his life in that suit of iron. And even though he saved everyone's lives, nobody loves him, nobody helps him, nobody wants him. They just turn their heads! The tempo is so slow because the iron suit is heavy!"

At this point I began slowly walking like RoboCop, but with a mean look on my face, and singing the riff to "Iron Man". I promise it was very dramatic!

"And then at the end of the song, where it says 'Double Time Feel', at the end of the song he finally snaps, and goes on a murdering rampage, killing the people he once saved! And they can't stop him, because he has iron melted onto his skin! All they can do is run in fear! And THAT'S what this song is about, band. And that's what you have to think about while you're playing it."

(It was my "Teaching the Inner Game of Music Moment" for those of you who attended that clinic, or have read the book, or seen the DVD.)

I apologized for the speech taking a little more time than I meant, as I admittedly got carried away, but everyone in the room felt a spark (and Adrian said it was no problem). The next time they played it, they found the groove, the sound... the character! And I have to say that it was really pretty cool. After finishing, the entire band was pumped, and so were we. This is what it was supposed to sound like! But of course it gets better...

Before rehearsal ended I retreated to the office and pulled up Iron Man on YouTube. I hadn't heard the song in a while (outside of the movie commercials), and the video had lyrics, which was great. For my Metal Head friends out there, I realized it was a magnetic field and time travel, not an "Icarus Effect", but my memory was shoddy. Please forgive. Anyway, it was surprising listening to the song again. When Adrian walked in after rehearsal he was pleasantly surprised to see the video, and we all began listening to the song. Pretty soon a hand full of students crowded the door way to listen, and once they heard it, their eyes got big.

"Have you guys ever heard this song before?" I asked. They shook their heads. "Yeah, this band started Metal. This is a good pop music education!"

They were digging it, especially once Adrian pointed out to them that the section at the end doesn't actually change tempo, it just uses the faster rhythms to give that effect. They thought this was amazing.

But all of that was nothing compared to Friday's last full band rehearsal. They got to the song again, and they were doing well on it, but it lacked a little power. I think Adrian was also inspired by listening to the song again, because he pulled out this great analogy for what he wanted out of their air. He said that if he put a dollar bill on the white board, that he wanted them to push their air so fast that it would keep the dollar bill from falling. He even went to the trouble of drawing a JHS Band $100 bill on the board. And then something magical happened. This tiny band of about 30 kids discovered... their wall of sound! It was so loud in the band hall, and we were all so blown away by it, that Adrian was only able to conduct about five bars before his laughter could no longer be contained. I had jumped in with the tuba section for the first time all camp, and even I stopped playing in amazement. Pretty soon everyone dropped out in a collective moment of musical joy at what had just taken place!

Not to mention that the brass player's chops were practically shot after playing so much that week (roughly 7 hours a day, and we didn't take it easy on them until that afternoon). Incredible! Within a few minutes they were able to get through the entire song, duplicating that same powerful sound each time they saw ff on the the page. And once they had that it was explained that this was to be the band's fortissimo on almost every piece, with noted exceptions. They weren't able to duplicate it on every other piece they worked on that afternoon. Sometimes it depended on the scoring itself, of course. But they typically came close, and certainly much closer knowing now what they were actually capable of!

Granted, they were blowing so much air and had so little chop left that they weren't always able to sustain notes, but that will improve as their playing continues to mature. The main point is that not only did they discover that wall of sound as a band, but with that they were able to communicate the intention of the song even more effectively!

Now when a band hears JHS perform this, they will feel the true spirit of that world savior turned unstoppable mad man in the permanent suit of iron who plots, and then exacts his revenge on the world.

Now I'm not trying to put down anyone who has their band perform it at the faster tempo. I'm just arguing that the song is musically much more powerful when the original tempo and character are employed instead. Does anyone out there have any thoughts? Agreements? Disagreements? I'm always up for a good conversation.

But I'll say this for sure, once I heard them nail it, I had no question in my own mind that it was the correct interpretation as I'd hypothesized a few months earlier. The difference was that now I was more confident about doing it with my own bands, and I certainly plan to. Additionally, I hope I can just as successfully convey the spirit of other pop tunes to my bands as well.

Anyway, if anyone has thoughts on this, I'd love to dialogue about it. Otherwise, until next time, thanks for reading, and take care!

Musically yours,
Mr. Cooper

PS. Oh, and here is a video of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man". If you haven't listened to it in a while, take another listen. You might be surprised at how cool it is - Enjoy! Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LjbMVXj0F8