Mumbai to Noise and Hello to the Sounds of Silence

New Dehli, India is home to the most crowded and treacherous streets in the world. A trip to the local market more closely resembles the movie Ford vs. Ferrari than it does Driving Miss Daisy. For many of the city's residents, the commute is as dangerous as it is maddening.

Picture it: Three-wheeled rickshaws whirl out of the roundabouts straight at you, packs of stray dogs dash into the road, and all the while you are merging with huge buses who feel no compunction to cede the right of way. To compound the problem, every side street has a slew of bicycle rickshaws, little taxis, fat Mercedes, and Uber drivers riveted to their screens. 

So many people. So many cars. So many emotions and only ONE way to communicate. The ubiquitous car horn.

In a world such as this, the car horn is more than a courtesy reminder; it is a survival tool and a weapon. People use them regularly — to berate, to warn, and especially to get sluggish drivers to move. But it has all proved to be too much as decibel levels at certain high traveled intersections are routinely exceeding 120db's all day and night.

And then the Mumbai Police Department decided to do something about it. 

Jeffery Gettlemen of the New York Times writes, "At certain vital intersections, they installed slightly sinister devices that detect horn noise. When people honked at red lights, which they often do to get other drivers ready to go, the lights stayed red. The police put up a few signs — 'Honk More, Wait More' — and while at first, not everyone understood what was happening, the signs had an impact." 

Now, people on every corner of India are laughing about it,
while officials in other cities and countries are scrambling to replicate it.

Pretty clever, huh?

At first sight, the experiment seems ingenious. Reward the behavior you want and punish the ones you don't, a concept as old as time itself (and one my 10-year-old is still trying to master).

It's no different in schools. Whether you are looking at in-school suspension or AP Calc, the process is the same. Create a series of accolades and accountabilities to drive individual behavior. We see it in academics, discipline models, dress codes, attendance policies, etc...

But it's a little different in music classes. In music (education), there is an underlying set of principals that serve as both a motivator and accountability measure. It's called...

A sense of belonging.

This intrinsic sense of identity serves both as an accountability device and a personal incentive for excellence. It meets the child where they are at, embraces them and re-orients their academic compass to point towards a home rather than a series of numbers and coordinates (GPA's and class rankings).

It does all of this by instilling a personal pride that encourages students to:

• Place a premium on the group identity while sacrificing their own individuality.

• Seek group collaboration over personal success.

• Raise their own (self) expectations while helping others to meet theirs.

• Seek more significant challenges, not for personal gain but for personal growth.

• See life through a wide-angle lens instead of a microscope.

Yes, our job as (music) educators is to prepare these young people for their life ahead. The unanswered and more critical question is, "Which life are we to prepare them for? The one they have, or the one they want?"

I would side for the latter.

Oh, as for the decibel meter in Mumbai? It turns out it doesn't work as well as they had hoped. After police removed the sign, the honking returned. What they learned was:

NO reward? NO change. 

NO GOOD! 

Have a great week! 

Dr. Stock, Nyquil, and My One Question

The Book of Questions by Gregory Stock has long been a part of my teaching tool belt. As a part of my daily teaching regimen, I would post a daily thought or question on my whiteboard. It was the first thing the students would see as they entered the room. And while the idea would come from a variety of sources, my go-to guy was Dr. Stock. 

For those of you unaware, The Book of Questionsby Dr. Gregory Stock was first published in 1987 and has sold over one million copies. It is a source of both entertainment and reflection as it often asks questions that are too bold, provocative, or embarrassing to come up with yourself. 

As a part of the book, you will find questions related to integrity, honesty, money, love, and anything else you can think of. But perhaps more important, it asks the tough questions that get to the heart of who we are and what matters to us.

Even today, some thirty years after I first came across this book, I still use it. In fact, it's right next to me as I type this. Sometimes I use it as a quick respite between emails. Other times it entertains me while I am eating lunch at my desk. Occasionally, when all else fails, I even use it as a source of inspiration for this newsletter. Today is one such day.

This week is full of noise. The Super Bowl, Impeachment, Iowa Caucuses, State of the Union, and coronavirus are just a few of the many things that are on the front page and are also front of my mind. But I don't want to write about any of that. I'm just sick of it all. I am sick of the dark, dank, and dreary news. I'm sick of the fighting and bitterness. I am sick of the smug commentary and self-righteous remarks. And on top of it all, I am SICK. (General wondering: If we can put a man on the moon, why can't we make a cough syrup that doesn't taste like cherry flavored motor oil?)

What to do? Ahhh, yes, hit up my go-to guy, Dr. Stock, and his book of questions.

When using the book, I always open up to a random page. This is a technique I learned from my favorite book, Illusions, The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. In Illusions, Bach states, "Hold some problem in your mind, then open any book handy and see what it tells you." 

So I grabbed the book, closed my eyes, and opened to a random page and found this:

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"If you were to choose 100 random people from your high school graduating class, how many do you think would be leading a life more satisfying than yours?"

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To be clear, I am not sure my high school graduating class is a fair barometer for success, but I suspect I am not alone in this respect.

As with most questions in this book, the right answer is as unknowable as it is irrelevant. What Stock is really asking is, "Are YOU satisfied?"

This is not the first time I (or likely you) have thought about this, and for me, I would answer his question with one of my own. 

Would I risk starting my (professional) life over to become something new if it meant I might lose everything I currently have?

For instance, if I started over, I might have had better music groups, but I wouldn't trade it for the groups I had. If I started over, I might have found a different, more lucrative profession, but I would not trade it for the one to which I dedicated my life. If I started over, I might avoid the mistakes I previously made but could be exposed to ones with even graver consequences. If I started over, I might gain a skill or trait that I lack, but might lose one that I already have.

For me, the answer has always been, "No." In short, I am not willing to risk the "what if" for the "what is." So yes, I am satisfied.

Teaching (music) is hard. It's a never-ending grind. And February is a no-good, rotten month. But through it all, would you risk trading all of your experiences, memories, and impact for what might have been? In this world filled with famine, plague, poverty, and civil unrest, would you roll the dice of life in hopes of being someone or something new?

I wouldn't. 

Too much to lose and not enough to gain. So yes, I am satisfied. 

Charles Kuralt, Huey Lewis, and the Case for Music



This weekend, amidst the political circus that is the impeachment trial, and the clamor of Super Bowl LIV, the CBS News Sunday Morning Show will quietly celebrate its fortieth anniversary. 

Initially conceived as a Sunday newspaper supplement by journalist Charles Kuralt, the idea was to counterbalance the hard-hitting and edgy weekday news shows with softer stories and long-form journalism.

This weekend, my brother called and asked if I watched the show. I responded with some snarky comment along the lines of, "No, because I am not a geriatric with 16 cats and a therapy chicken named Elvis." His response was, "You should, because it's the best show on television. It's like 60 Minutes but with happy tears. And besides, this weekend's edition was all about music."

"Music, heh? OK, let me check it out." So I got out my laptop and watched. And my brother was right. It was all about music.

Or the lack thereof. 

The first story, Strike Up the Band, was a heartwarming piece about nine-year-old Henry Boyer who, after attending a University of Michigan football game, fell in love with the band. Honestly, it was like watching myself forty years ago. His exuberance and passion for the Wolverine Marching Band is as sweet as it is authentic. Bravo to the folks in the Michigan Band department to make his dream come true. (Spoiler alert: he gets to live out his dream).

The next story featured the iconic eighties pop band, Huey Lewis and the News, who were having to call it quits after nearly forty years when Huey Lewis was diagnosed with Ménière's disease. For those of you who don't know, Ménière's disease is a disorder of the inner ear that is characterized by episodes of feeling like the world is spinning (vertigo), ringing in the ears (tinnitus), hearing loss, and a fullness in the ear. 

What started as minor symptoms came crashing down during a performance in Dallas, on January 27, 2018. Lewis said, "As I went on stage, it was horrible. I couldn't hear anything. I sang out of tune. It was the worst night of my life."

The sudden onset and subsequent disability not only forced the cancellation of their most recent tour but ended the band's forty-year career of making music.

The final segment featured well-known conductor Gustavo Dudamel and his groundbreaking music-making program El Sistema. Founded in 1975 by economist and musician José Antonio Abreu, this innovative Venezuelan program designed to help eradicate poverty is thriving in cities and countries throughout the world.

In a recent piece by Bob Simon from 60 Minutes, he states that "El Sistema is less a music program than a profound social movement that takes kids off the streets, away from crime, drugs, and despair."

It was not the first time I had seen this interview, and I am sure, will not be the last. It is touching in every way.

What I found interesting about these three stories was that, intended or not, they were not about how music was positively changing the lives of people, but was about those who did not have access to it and were desperately wanting it. A subtle but important difference.

Frequently we approach the subject of music from the standpoint of "look at all of the good it does," instead of the perspective "this is something the human soul can't live without." 

Think about the difference in the approach.

We don't validate feeding the hungry by saying, "Look at all the good food does." We unconditionally understand the need for proper nutrition as a part of human existence.

We don't validate clean water by touting all of its many benefits. We accept it as a understood and a universal truth.

We don't talk about sleep in terms of better mental acuity or lucidity; the human body requires, dictates, and mandates it as a part of our daily regimen. 

Why treat music differently?

I am not saying that music is akin to food, water, or sleep but, I am saying that perhaps by trying to rationalize or justify the need for music, we are unintentionally marginalizing it. We unintentionally treat it as an after-thought and a luxury, instead of a primary need that cannot be ignored. 

Perhaps, by arguing for the BENEFITS of music, we are arguing against the NEED for music. Again, a subtle but important difference.

I guess my brother was right, CBS Sunday Morning had celebrated both the existence and the absence of music in our lives. And that brought a tear to my eye, both happy and sad.

Have a great week. 

NAMM and My Inner Mowgli



Rudyard Kipling was a prolific author who published 21 books and dozens of other literary works. He was a best selling author with an international reach. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1907 for his "power of observation, originality of imagination, virility of ideas, and remarkable talent for narration." 

And while the entirety of his writings allows him to stand among the greats of his time, for most of us, he will always be fondly remembered as the author of the timeless childhood classic, The Jungle Book. 

Kipling's life was not always an easy one. He endured multiple hardships, including illness, bankruptcy, and the untimely loss of those he loved. But through it all, he wrote, and wrote, and wrote until he passed away in 1936.

The Jungle Book is a beautifully written story about self-discovery, family, and finding a home. It helps us to understand that being a part of a pack does not mean you all look, act, and think the same way, just that you share the same mission, passions, and are willing to act in the best interests of those you love.

This lesson is driven home when the loveable Baloo sits Mowgli down and explains to him The Law of the Jungle. Baloo explains:

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"NOW this is the Law of the Jungle - as old as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk the Law runneth forward and back - For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."

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This is as true in the jungle as it is on a jungle gym.

Last week, after a few in-service events, I spent the remainder of the week at the National Association of Music Merchants Convention (NAMM). For those of you who are unaware, the NAMM Show is described as "the world's largest trade-only event for the music products, pro audio, and event tech industry."

To say that the event is overwhelming would be an understatement. Vendors build two-story booths complete with soundproof meeting rooms, twenty-foot video walls, and fully operational television studios. All of this for a four-day event.

The amount of time and money spent is as impressive as it is staggering.

As I walked amongst the hoards of people and towering displays, they served as a stark reminder of how big this industry is. And yes, just because we don't use flash pots and stage rigging (yet), we are still a part of the same industry.

Maybe it's just me, but events like these always make me feel small (insert short joke) and disconnected, which is ironic, because the whole purpose of the event is to make connections. 

I am Mowgli, seeing the city for the first time. Yes, this is my industry, and many of my colleagues and friends are here as well, but this is not the jungle I grew up in.

This Mowgli sees his new pack, and it is different than what he is used to.

While much of the NAMM show is geared towards professional gear, audio, lighting, and instruments, that does not make them foreign. They are a part of our pack, just as we are a part of theirs. We don't always act like it, but it is true.

I wish our two worlds were more intertwined. I want to understand them better. I wish we collaborated more. I want to get to a place where we ALL speak with a singular message and a unified voice.

MANY amazing organizations are doing incredible work in advancing the cause of music education. And, they are making a difference and having an impact. Truly they are. 

But I can't help but wonder if we wouldn't all be a little better off remembering the words of Rudyard, and Baloo, when they remind us that, "The strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."

It just seems like this would be the Bare Necessity.

Have a great week.

- Scott

p.s. If you haven't signed up for our #YouMatter campaign, you should. It's pretty nifty.

Content, Context, Content...

In 2002, the nationally renowned author Dave Eggers ("A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," "The Circle," "What Can a Citizen Do?") started a nonprofit organization with educator Nínive Calegari dedicated to helping kids learn how to write well. The program pairs middle and high school aspiring writers with journalists, teachers, and creative writers. In the eighteen years since it's inception, student authors in the program have written and published over one thousand books on subjects from baseball to botany.

One of the most successful elements of the program is their student magazine. Over the period of a semester, middle and high school students decide on the topics, research the contents, and write (and rewrite) every word in the magazine. They are guided through every step by professionals, teachers, and mentors, but in the end, it is the students who do the work. There is no set curricula or format, and it can change from issue to issue. The objective of the program is to get excited about writing because they are writing about things that they are passionate about.

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The program has produced noteworthy results and is making an impact on the next generation of writers. If this approach can affect the language arts, could the same hold true in the musical arts?

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I have always been a fan of integrated thematic instruction. One of my most memorable teaching moments was a nine-week project my students and I worked on called a Concert of Heroes in which the students chose their personal heroes and then researched, communicated with, and created artistic representations of people they admired. Several years ago, Richard Saucedo and I collaborated to recreate the project with original music called Heroes Near and Far.

In my observations, we as a profession are getting better at context. Program notes, the internet, self-publishing composers, and commissions are allowing students greater access to information and a better understanding as to what the piece is trying to say and how it is being said. But I wonder if we did a deeper dive, if it would result in a different or better experience for our students.

To be clear, I know that the vast majority are already doing this. But, if you will permit me to think out loud for a bit, we might come up with something interesting. For instance, what if we asked our students to:

• Write a poem about how the music makes you feel? 

• Take a segment and write lyrics/words to the melody?

• Create a piece of media or art centered around it?

• Copy their music with colored or torn paper?

• Rehearse in a room with minimal or colored light?

• Create a dinner menu or recipe with ingredients inspired by the music?

• Create a photo essay inspired by the various movements?

• Write a short story using the title or elements from the piece?

• Improvise/rewrite the melody in a small section?

• Performed outdoors, in the cold, or the heat, in front of an audience rich and poor?

We are only limited by one's imagination. But the hope is that by allowing time and energy to spend on peripheral exploration and understanding, it's possible that the students will not only grow in their knowledge of the literature but become more attached and emotionally connected to it as well.

In other words, with better or different context comes better or different content.

Creating music is different for every individual and piece of music. We consume, internalize, and create in a way that is unlike any other class or curricula. This presents both opportunities and obstacles that are unique just to music. As teachers, this is where we can connect and impact our students in profound and meaningful ways that will help shape their personal and emotional identity long after the music has faded away.

Just something I've been thinking about. 

Have a great week.

Block Chain Reduction

The "retail apocalypse" is the term coined when closings of brick-and-mortar retail chains became a noticeable national trend. The downward started in 2010 and reached a fever pitch in the latter half of this decade when thousands of physical stores were closed in otherwise high-density malls and retail locations. 

Whether you blame the Great Recession, stagnant wages, changing consumer buying habits, or online retailers, it doesn’t change the fact that our once packed malls are filled with empty storefronts. Iconic American brands such as Sears, Tower Records, Circuit City, and Dean & Deluca are gone.

Well, gone for us.

You see, it seems that these brands are not just surviving, but thriving, across the Pacific Ocean on the tiny island of Japan. Yep, that’s right, these companies, and more, are posting record profits and have plans for rapid expansion not just in Japan, but all across the Pacific Rim.

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Yes, in many Japanese cities, you can sip a cup of joe, grab the latest Taylor Swift vinyl, and listen to it on your new turntable, all of which can be purchased from once blue-chip American brands that no longer exist in the place they were born: America!

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And this isn’t the only thing our friends from across the pond have taken a shine to. Japanese are crazy about baseball and basketball. They have long been admirers of our fashion and beauty trends. And, if you’re looking for some of America’s best bourbon, then grab a plane ticket and make your way to the land of the rising sun. In fact, Japanese designers are re-engineering and, in many cases, improving our very own culture in loving detail, including music education.

Yes, that’s right.

In David Hebert’s book, Wind Bands and Cultural Identity in Japanese Schools, he states, "Japan has become a world center for the production and consumption of "Western" music where the All-Japan Band Association Annual Competition draws 700,000 participants. The number of Japanese children who not only play wind band instruments, but do so well enough to participate in this contest brings home how staggeringly mainstream the playing of Western musical instruments is in Japan.”

And it doesn't stop there. The Japanese are embracing all facets of music education and the pageantry arts, including indoor winds, winter guard, and even drum corps. 

They have taken our national pastime and adapted it to their cultural values, and while the instruments and literature may be the same, the experience can be very different.

So, given their incredible success, why don't we all mimic ways of the Japanese? Because we are not Japan. As my friend Jason Shian states, "to implement such ideas simply because that's how Japanese bands do it, without consideration of cultural contexts, previous training, etc., unintentionally devalues American music education."

Each country approaches music education in a unique way. The notes and rhythms we play may be the same, but the way we teach them can be very different. The same differences can even occur in the same country from town to town, school to school, and program to program. What works for the inner city might not work for the suburbs, and a meaningful experience in an orchestra might look and feel very different than one in a choir or band.

Music education is as varied as music itself. And just as we celebrate and learn from all types of music, we should celebrate and learn from all types of music education. Our differences don't make us inferior or superior; rather, they celebrate how our varied and unique approaches make us who we are. 

Yes, our world and our profession are a complex, complicated, and diverse space, which is just as it should be.

But I would like Tower Records back. 

Welcome back and have a great week. 

OK BOOMER, AND MY SON THE SNOWFLAKE.

Like most kids his age, my oldest son is obsessed with his phone. He approaches me multiple times a day with some obscure factoid he has picked up from a weird Reddit stream or Youtube channel he is following. 

I try to act interested as he talks passionately about some obscure Marvel character or a new micro-bacteria that can regenerate itself 17,000 times a second, I really do. And, most times I can hide my disinterest. But, last night I didn't have to fake it as he got me fired up when he told me that it was HIS generation that was having to undo all of the problems MY generation created.

"What?" I responded. "Listen snowflake, while your generation got woke sitting on the couch, staring at your phones and texting emoji's to each other, my generation was actually getting stuff done. So while you are Instagramming about your cause de jour with your clever Bitmoji's and Giphs, me and my peeps will be busy working to solve problems. 

His response? "OK, BOOMER!" "What?" Did you just OK, boomer me?

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In case you didn't know, "OK, boomer" has become Generation Z's wiseacre response to older people who they think just don't get it. Almost as insulting as it is uninformed, this two-word retort has become a rallying cry for millions of Youtube watching, insta-posting millennials.

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I further explained to him that while his generation was busy doing… Ummmm, NOTHING, we boomers brought him clean water, clean air, voting rights, and an end to AIDS. And while we are on the subject, my peeps brought him cell phones, bluetooth communication the inter-webs. So as far as I was concerned, he should be personally thank ME on behalf of Al Gore every time he stared at that stupid little screen (See what I did there?! The Al Gore thing. Man I am fire today).

So why am I talking about this with you, and where is this headed? Very fair question and probably one you asked three paragraphs ago.

Lately, I have been thinking about my relevancy and have realized that part of this profession may have passed me by.

Maybe I am a boomer teacher.

I can no longer arrange music or chart drill that would be successful in today's competitive landscape. Even if I could, I am not proficient in the newest versions of Pyware or Finale. I can not choreograph the guard or teach the band body movement. I can still design a show, but I don't think I could create a subtle modern mash-up seamlessly combining the music of Rachmaninov and Rush in a way that would bring today's audience to their feet. 

Yes, part of the activity has passed me by, but part has not. I can still teach!

Yes, I can still teach an ensemble and do it quite well (just as soon as you program the Dr. Beat and tell me which of these buttons to push on the Harmony Director to get a tuning note).

Yes, some of you younger directors know things I don't and can do things I can't. But before you "OK, boomer" me, let's remember that it was my generation that lost the spats and created the glide step. We brought marching band indoors and concert music outdoors. We used weapons not in war but as art and elevated the color guard into a modern dance phenomenon. 

We brought you electronic tuners and drill writing software. We created the "keytar," (ok, we whiffed on that one), but by-in-large, we did OK. And to be clear, your professional life is better because of the people who came before you. As is mine. 

We all owe a debt of gratitude to those who came before us for all of the sacrifices they made for our success. But most important of all it's important to thank a boomer, because they taught YOU!

Yep, that's right. A boomer taught you how to read music, march, and spin. We taught you that details matter and excellence was the standard. We taught you how to work hard, play hard, and commit to something bigger than yourself. But perhaps most important of all, we taught you to follow your dreams and pursue your passions. But more important than any of that is the fact that...

A boomer taught you how to teach!

Yes, after thirty years, I might be a little dated, but while you Insta-tweet-a-gram about how great your generation is, I'll be busy making an ensemble better.

So yeah, I wear my boomer badge with pride. I earned it... The hard way.

Whew. Glad I got that off my chest. I feel better, don't you? Now, if you'll excuse me, it's 4:15, and I am meandering over to Golden Corral for the senior special. Care to join me?

Have a great week, and thanks to everyone who joined me last night for my webinar. Your thoughts and comments were immensely valuable.

p.s. I shared this with my son, to which he responded, "Whatever, boomer." 

p.p.s. He then said, "Hey Dad, did you know that more people die from getting hit by coconuts then attacked by sharks?" Maybe I am a boomer after all.

UNDER THE INFLUENCE

According to a recent article in Bloomberg Magazine, "social-media influencing has become so much a part of life for young Americans that an overwhelming majority say they are interested in getting paid to promote products on sites such as Instagram and YouTube."

According to the same article, "no less than 86% of people ages 13 to 38 are willing to try out "influencing," according to a survey from Morning Consult. But only 12% currently consider themselves to be influencers. Add in that advertisers are desperate to find ways to connect with a cohort that spends less time watching television and more time on social media feeds, where there is plenty of room for growth."

There's little reason to see why this will slow down. This generation already tends to trust influencers more than celebrities and athletes, and more than half have made a purchase based on a recommendation from someone in their feed. Plus, "61% say they are already posting online about brands they like without receiving any compensation, so why not get paid?"

I AM SHOCKED! 

You mean young people want to be paid to sit around, do nothing, and tell other people what to think? Yes, I am shocked! 

Shocked that the number is only 86% and not higher. 

Why not ask what percentage of people think puppies are cute or believe they should pay fewer taxes? Or perhaps, the number of people who claim to hate Taylor Swift but secretly know all of the lyrics to her songs! 

Of course, young people want to be an influencer. In fact, let's skip the word young. PEOPLE want to be influencers. (Editor's note: It is likely that the irony of making this statement in a blog is lost on Scott).

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Why do so many people want to be influencers? The answer is in the psychology of influence. Sure, there is the allure of perceived power and prestige, but it goes deeper than that. At the heart of influence is the sense of community and belongingness. People are bound by their passions and feel safe expressing them in a place where they won't be ridiculed or mocked.

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For instance, if a student goes "fanboy" on another band student at a drum corps show, they feel safe because they know they have a shared passion. Sharing that same passion with a stranger in your third period English class is an entirely different experience. Trust me, I know.

Being an influencer implies community and community suggests trust. 

YOU are an influencer. Not just because you are omnipresent in your students' lives and are a subject matter expert. Other teachers share those qualities but don't have your level of impact. You are an influencer because you have created a real community of shared passions that can be trusted. Trusted to be there in good days and bad. Trusted to do what is in their best interest. Trusted to be consistent, fair, and hold them accountable to a higher standard. They listen to you and believe in what you say. 

You are an influencer because your students are under the influence… 

Of YOU!

Have a great week.

SIR ISSAC AND YOUR FORCE

Sir Isaac Newton (1642–1726) was an English mathematician, physicist, astronomer, theologian, and author. He is widely recognized as one of the most influential scientists of all time. 

His book, Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica (Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy), first published in 1687, laid the foundations of classical mechanics. 

While the scientific community reveres his brilliance, his peers reviled him for his petty mean spiritedness. The inescapable truth is that Isaac Newton wasn't the rosy individual our elementary teachers portrayed him to be. Cold and calculating, cunning and quick-tempered, he was not a nice person.

But, he was a genius in the truest sense of the word. His thinking and writing about mechanics and motion are still revered today, nearly four hundred years later. Among the most prolific are Newton's Laws of Motion. Simply stated, they are as follows:

First Law: An object at rest remains at rest unless acted upon by a force.
Second Law: The acceleration of an object is directly proportional to the net force exerted.
Third Law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

These laws are not just timeless; they are limitless and apply to music education just as much as they apply to physics and science.

Think about it.

First Law: An object at rest remains at rest unless acted upon by a force.

When you first encounter your students, they are an object at rest. They come to you after being dormant academically and musically for 8-12 weeks. You are the force that brings them from inactive to active.

Second Law: The acceleration of an object is directly proportional to the net force exerted.

It takes an incredible amount of force from you to achieve incredible things with young people. I have always said, teaching music is a soul-sucking, life-draining profession because it is a soul-enriching, life-changing experience.

Third Law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

For every action a student takes with you, there is an equal and opposite reaction that they are not taking without you. For example, every time they are at rehearsal, they are not on the streets. Every time they are with you, they are not with someone who might bring them harm. Every time they have an instrument to their face, they are not putting drugs, alcohol, or a vape pipe to their lips.

As you transition from the outdoor to the indoor, the field to the gym, or classical literature to holiday music, it's worth taking a moment to reflect upon Sir Issac and his laws of motion and remember that...

You are a force.

Have a great week.

PUNCHING THE CLOCK AND KEEPING (EXTRA) TIME

What's the best way to become more productive at work? Work less! At least that seems to be the finding of a recent pilot project. According to NPR's Bill Chappell, "Workers at Microsoft Japan enjoyed an enviable perk this summer: working four days a week, enjoying a three-day weekend — and getting their normal, five-day paycheck. The result, the company says, was a productivity boost of 40%." 

It turns out that productivity problems are not unique to Japan. If you're someone who has recently spent a part of your prep hour adjusting your fantasy football line up or watching a live stream of puppies and kittens snuggling in a box, you're not alone. Yesterday, the Labor Department reported that its standard measure of worker productivity ("real output per hour") dropped an annualized 0.3% in Q3, the first quarterly decline in almost four years. Now I'm no Milton Friedman, but this doesn't seem like a good trend.

But I don't see the same holding true in music education.

I believe that today's music teachers are more productive than ever. With increased demands and decreased time, we have no choice. Whether you are preparing for this week's Grand Nationals or next month's holiday concert, rehearsal time is at a premium, and efficiency is at the heart of every decision we make. And it's working.

As I mentioned last week, the level of student achievement is at an all-time high. In the dome and on the stage, marching bands, symphonic orchestras, and barbershop quartets (sorry for that one choir directors) are performing better than ever. Why? Because teachers are teaching better, and kids are learning faster. And I don't see this trend changing any time soon.

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But the question isn't whether you will be more focused, more efficient, and more accomplished, the question is, what will you do with the time you just saved?

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I'm not being metaphorical either. I literally want to know what we should do with those extra minutes. Do we do more of the same or try something new?

If we increase efficiencies next year by five percent, do we do five percent more drill or music? If we can shave two hours off of our concert prep cycle, do we spend the two hours singing or playing the same music? If we can prepare for a contest with one less week of rehearsals, do we fill the extra week with the same music?

As I have said many a time, music teachers are among the most productive and efficient people I know. No one knows how to do more in fifty-three minutes than someone holding a baton. But, I think the lesson to be learned from the Microsoft study is not that the employees were 40% more productive given less time, but that they filled that extra time with something other than the work they were already doing.

I am not trying to make a point about too many rehearsal hours or working less, and you wouldn't listen to me if I were. I am trying to shift the discussion from the "how" we do it, to the "what" we do.

Perhaps, as you plan for your next season or concert cycle, you look for a new way to spend that sliver of time. Create a new activity, lesson, or play a different genre of music. Have a philosophical discussion. Sight read the classics, have your students to conduct or create chamber ensembles. Skype an exchange concert with a group from a different state or country. Teach a little music history. If you're an instrumentalist, sing, if you're a singer, play an instrument. Just don't do what you have always done. What you do is up to you, as long as it's new to them.

This new found time is a gift. It's a precious commodity and should be treated as such. It's something your students didn't have before and are not likely to have again. So, be bold. Take a risk. Try something new and take a chance. 

After all, you have nothing but time on our hands. What will you do with it?

Just a thought. 

p.s. Good luck to all of the bands performing in Indianapolis this week. I will be there cheering for you. If you see me, say hi!

p.p.s If taking one day off resulted in a productivity increase of 40%, would taking the other four off, we would be 200% more productive. Just sayin...