Success Comes in Many Forms

I hope to keep this blog short and sweet. It's both a reflection of my second year of teaching, but also it
might help some of you who have had a frustrating year as well. Maybe you've been here before.

It's been a tough year! In many ways my first year of teaching was more successful than my second year. In my first year I was at a "one man gig" and was responsible for everything from 1st grade to high school (7-12) band. Marching season was a huge misstep of over programming and knowing too little about how to teach it, but concert season went much better, with a 1st Division in Concert and a 2nd Division in Sight Reading. This year I only had to teach band classes in a larger program (and okay, a math class, too), and I was part of a duo. My responsibility here is the Middle School, which we split into two bands, and I took the top band to UIL. We earned a 2nd Division in Concert and a 3rd Division in Sight Reading. On top of that I was less organized all year. The beginners turned out much better this year, but I felt unsuccessful in turning around the band in the same way that I turned around the band at my first job. What happened? Was I a worse teacher, or should I accept that success comes in many forms?

Building Beginners Through Sound Before Sight

The first several weeks of Beginner Band are crucial to the over all success of the students. These kids are often required to learn two skills at once, both of which involve multitasking - playing and instrument, and reading music. I had heard for years about the idea of Sound Before Sight, mostly as an elementary pedagogy but also by some as a beginning band method. My earliest attempt at this was missing some key components that ultimately resulted in a slower start to reading and playing, and less progress over the year. This year my friend and I worked together to develop a comprehensive curriculum that would both train the students on the basics of playing while simultaneously building them up for reading and playing. The two classes who got the full treatment are currently having better success than anything we've experienced, while the class that didn't get all of it is still struggling on the literacy end. Hopefully there's something in here that will give you ideas for your own Sound Before Sight curriculum, as having one that is effective can definitely make a big difference for your students!

First Lesson of the Year

I haven't had much to update on here lately, and I apologize for that. I've been finding out that, while I only have one subscriber, there are actually a few of you out there who read this thing. Cool! And thank you!

So currently I have one private student under my wing. We finally got to have our first lesson of the academic year this past Monday. I have to admit, it wasn't great teaching on my part. I allowed several factors to contribute to my lack of enthusiasm:

1. We were initially planning on having lessons over the summer to work, primarily, on fundamentals. We had two lessons, and after that something almost always came up.

2. This turned into a trend. Once the year started, the student always had a reason why we couldn't meet. They were always legitimate reasons, but disheartening none the less. It makes you question if the student actually wants to continue lessons, or if they're just dragging you along.

3. It culminated in the last two weeks when he sent me a message on Labor Day asking where we would meet since the school was closed, and I replied with a location, and he didn't show up (probably didn't check his messages), and then the very next week I drove out to his school, low on gas, only for him to have already left for a doctor's appointment which I didn't know about.

I honestly considered giving him an ultimatum. I simply can't afford to drive 40-50 minutes round trip for nothing, not to mention that I could use that time to prepare for my upcoming senior recital. But he apologized and I drove out the next week (this past Monday), still not sure of whether or not he would show up.

Luckily he was there, and he was excited to get started. Of course, he also hadn't even looked at his audition etudes. I had asked for copies of the music weeks ago since I don't own the particular book they came out of, and never got them, so this was my first time seeing the etudes.

While waiting for students to clear out of the area I proceeded to warm up. Then the first cool thing happened. I sight read the snot out of two of those etudes. Considering I haven't done much sight reading in several months, I felt pretty good about it, but my student was inspired. As kids walked in and out of the area he was pointing, "Are you hearing this?" "Hey, this is my tuba teacher!" It was great to know that, while I've been struggling with many aspects of my recital music, I can nail the more traditional etudes without much effort. But it was also great to provide a model for my student. Finally, it was time to get started.

As I didn't have the music ahead of time, I didn't have much of a plan. I let him pick the starting point, and we gradually worked our way through the etude. I showed him some tricks to make learning the licks easier. In fact, that's basically how the entire lesson went. Probably not bad. He seemed to be enjoying the experience. I just didn't feel like we were making big enough strides for my taste, and I blamed myself for that. Maybe we were making some big strides. There were at least two things that happened that are pretty note worthy that I wanted to document:

The first was the coolest, for me at least. Once we got to the recap in the first etude, we understandably picked up speed. Since he was basically hitting the right notes and rhythms, even though it wasn't with a great sound yet, I decided to act on something I saw in the music. It was a stylistic thing. A musical nuance.

My lesson teacher forbids working on musical nuance until your "base line playing" is nearly flawless. He is of the school that you have to have your fundamentals down before you can get to the music. This is a debate I've read about, and all of the greatest names in the music education world seem to agree that you should teach both musicality and playing technique at the same time. With that in mind, I pointed the style out to him and modeled it for a single phrase, then had him play it back to me.

"So, what do you think?"

"Yeah, that sounds cool! I like it!"

And just like that, we had our pearl for the lesson. On his first day with one of the etudes, this student was making music, and of course, he was pumped about it. After seeing his excitement I suddenly realized that he is much more likely to practice his etudes again before our next lesson for the simple fact that he now feels excited about playing it, even if it's just that one etude for now. That will still be good progress.

The other thing was actually mentioned earlier. One of the positive things I've gained from my lessons is a set of tools to break down passages to make them easier to learn and refine. Using a variety of these tricks, I showed the student that two of the etudes really won't be as bad as he might have originally thought. He actually voiced that idea before I did, which is great. If students don't know that something is hard, they aren't as much at risk of getting in their own way, so to speak.

So really, it wasn't a bad lesson. Just not up to the standard I expect of myself. Next week will definitely be better since I have the opportunity to analyze the music and prepare. I am determined to have at least one major breakthrough this Monday in addition to good progress in as many other areas as possible.

I'll start observing at a local middle school this next week, and if the teachers don't mind then I'll probably mention some of the things I gained from those experiences in here as well. Additionally, I've been tossing around some other ideas for small school programs that I wouldn't mind discussing in here. I'm always open for discussion or ideas!

I really appreciate the positive feedback I've received from a few of you regarding this blog. Thank you for reading! If this one isn't up to snuff, I apologize, but I haven't had a lot of cool opportunities lately. I'm hoping that will change soon. In the mean time, the major take away I think is that yes, teaching music and technique simultaneously can have cool results. It certainly seems like it would be more enjoyable than being beaten into the ground for weeks at a time before you're allowed to make music!

Thanks again for reading, and 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

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