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