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

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