Don’t Give Up.

As I read posts from friends and colleagues in the band world over the past month, I am concerned. We have hit the time of year where contest and festival are approaching or coming in, course scheduling is forcing key students to face difficult decisions as master schedules are released, budgets are due and funding is not allocated where it is most needed, and the stress of daily teaching is grinding on our mental perspective.

Don’t give up.

Sounds easy right? Don’t give up. Coming from the guy who left public education after 22 years to move into higher education, I can understand the skepticism of someone reading this knowing that I did walk away from a moderately successful program in the public schools. My decision was not giving up, but understanding my skill and insight was better served elsewhere.

I know the questions. The doubts. The fears. I know that they are still ever present in my new position. Why do my students need me? What can I possibly be doing for them? Why can’t I get through to them? My administration doesn’t support the program. I am just one person in the life of these students, this program, and the school. There is only so much of me to go around. I am stretched too thin. I am exhausted.

Don’t.

Give.

Up.

There is an art to teaching that cannot be ignored. Simply put, when an educator applies their creative skill and imagination to bring about the synergy of young minds to mold a sonic event, it is a beautiful moment. It is a moment bigger than any one person in the room can create on their own. There is an art to teaching and creating art – in our case music – and your students need you in each and every moment. I often examine myself in the mirror and fear that I am never the best educator for the job. But the job has fallen to me to be the best possible educator in every moment, and I refuse to shy away from that responsibility. Neither should you.

In most cases (with a personal nod to Doug, Katie, Becky, Brittany, Kyle, Lindsey and Andrea who all inspired and taught me a lot as students), you are the best musician that your students come into contact with on a regular basis. Don’t forget that. They can name their favorite actor, they can name their favorite band, their favorite athlete, or even self-made social media personality. Can they name their favorite musician who does what they do? For me, it was the first time I heard Sam Pilifian. Later, I got to hear Andrew Hitz at a clinic. I knew I was never destined to be professional tuba player, but I had an aural image in mind of who I wanted to sound like. It is a good idea to revisit that musician and let your students see and hear how much you love making music.

We are all human beings. They need to see a leader who wants the best for them in life and in music. They need to see a conductor who actively seeks the best possible music to lift them pedagogically, artistically, and as a human being. They need to see an advocate for their art and for their personal progress. It takes some students longer than others to recognize this perspective. We are advocates, educators, musicians, and artists – but at the center of it all we are humans helping other younger humans.

I leave you today with three thoughts: Races, trees, and ducks.

I understand the frustrations laid out and weighing on the minds of many fine music educators. I have not lived every single one of them. Each context and situation are different and when someone thinks no one else has experienced this problem they are correct. Their experience and view on the situation are valid, but others have been in a similar position. Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to conduct a new work by Philip Lowen (Juniata College) entitled The Race Before Us. It was a reminder to me from the start of the year that this race for each of us looks slightly different and pacing will be vital. But others have run this kind of race before. Some of us will run the race with colleagues and friends in the profession. There will be moments of celebration at various checkpoints, long arduous climbs, and moments of physical exhaustion. Don’t give up.

There is a certain frustration I can appreciate in that sometimes we feel in planting seeds and never getting to see the plant bloom, let alone bear fruit or completely mature. The White Cedar (found in Canada) grows but a few inches every 100 years. The account of Moso Bamboo is fascinating in that it can lay dormant for a period of years and then begin to rapidly grow (in some cases over 80 feet in just 3-4 months). We need trees (literally) and we need to care for them with water and sunshine and give them optimum growing conditions. We need future human beings who care and enjoy music (some as teachers, some as performers, some as critics, some as composers, but all as appreciators). Don’t give up planting good seeds.

I love ducks (not like I love my family or Star Wars, but I do love them). I enjoy watching them and observing them. They seem largely unaffected by the rain as water does roll off their back. They move so gracefully and effortlessly across the water. The reality is that they are paddling like crazy underneath. Ducks sometimes have to pause and assess where they are on the water, and some do not take a straight line to where they want to go. Some ducks gain a sense of the current and swim against it while others choose to ride it out. Rarely is the duck disturbed by any of those scenarios. The duck is content on the pond, only occasionally squawking at the ducklings to get in line (insert your own band section of choice in here). The duck never gives up.

I hope this helps, as it is just written by another duck on the pond looking at the trees and trying to read the current to finish this race.