You Have a Party to Plan

Friends, 

As I grow older, I learn things about myself. Sometimes the lessons appear in the form of an epiphany, while others are more of a slow awakening/acceptance of an idea long held inside. In recent years, one such lesson has grown in importance and intensity.

I like a party. 

I should clarify. I'm not talking about the raging bash you threw when your parents were out of town; I am talking about a celebration that honors a person or marks a milestone.

I came to this realization several years ago when I let a milestone pass without publicly/personally acknowledging it. I did it with the best intentions. I didn't want anyone to go to any trouble and wanted to be humble. What happened was I just made myself sad.

To be clear, I don't need a large gathering and I don't need a cake, although I like me some butter-cream frosting. I need and want to celebrate the people and moments in our lives that are significant. I need a moment of joy and a sense of closure.

Or I will feel sad, which is how I feel today. Because, I feel like we have missed a milestone.

You have just endured fourteen of the most challenging months of your life. You survived a program crushing pandemic, one that likely left you isolated, feeling sad, depressed, and angry. Its effects on you and your program will be felt for years to come. Many of you crossed the pandemic finish line not to a fanfare and celebration but to a whimpering sigh of relief that the year had finally ended.

This is not how I want this year to end. I want to celebrate. In fact, I want to celebrate YOU!

I want Barry Manilow's Looks Like We Made It (anybody know Barry?!) blaring from a hundred speakers as we commiserate, commemorate, and celebrate the fact that we survived. Literally and figuratively. WE SURVIVED. Yes, we're bloodied, bruised, and somewhat broken. But, we're here. 

I want hugs and high fives. I want laughter and joy. And yes, I do want cake.

When the time is right, I encourage you to dispense with the humility, gather your family/friends, and honor the accomplishments and achievements of your pandemic year.

You earned this. You deserve this. You NEED this!

Call it FOMO, call it exhaustion, call it what you will. But I am sad. Sad that I am not there to celebrate you and all that you have accomplished. 

As is traditional, with the onset of June comes a break in writing. After fourteen months of non-stop writing, creating, and webinaring (yes, I made that word up), it is time for a break—a break for you, from me. It's time for you to rest.

Me? I will be running around the country and available/willing/wanting, should you need anything, please feel free to reach out. But if not, enjoy the space and time away. As always, I will be back in your inbox sometime in mid-July.

In the meantime, stop reading this. You have a party to plan? Please send pictures of the cake so I can feel like I was there. #FOMO

Enjoy your time away, You have earned it.

-Scott 

The Race We Never Intended to Run

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Fourteen months of a global pandemic got you feeling blue? Are you stressed out, Zoomed out, and overwhelmed? If so, you're likely suffering from burnout, and you're not alone. 

The term burnout originated in 1973. Not the feeling, mind you, just the term. The emotion? Well, I imagine that occurred shortly after the invention of work.

In fact, according to a recent article in the New Yorker Magazine, one Swiss psychotherapist, while studying the history of burnout, insists that he found evidence of it in the Old Testament.

Herbert J. Freudenberger is the man who coined the term burnout. By the time he was twelve, Nazis had torched the synagogue to which his family had belonged. Using his father's passport, Freudenberger fled Germany. Eventually, he made his way to New York, attended Brooklyn College, and later completed a doctorate in psychology at N.Y.U.

The New Yorker states Fredenberber coined the term after a self-diagnosis. In 1970, he started a free clinic at St. Mark's Place in New York. Freudenberger worked all day in his practice and then went to the clinic, where he worked until midnight. "You start your second job when most people go home," he wrote in 1973, "and you put a great deal of yourself into the work. You feel a total sense of commitment . . . until you finally find yourself, as I did, in a state of exhaustion." 

Feel familiar?

As I mentioned in last week's e-zine, the global pandemic and America's do more, get more culture, add to the burnout phenomenon. Still, it is not by any means isolated to our country or our profession. The World Health Organization recognized burnout syndrome in 2019 after it declared that it had killed 745,000 people in just one year. In Sweden and other Nordic countries, you can even go on sick leave for burnout. Yet another reason I want to move to Denmark. 

If that were the case in the U.S., I suspect we would have to cancel music education entirely during the month of May.

Burnout is not unique to music education or education in general, but I believe it to be more common than other professions. The unique nature of the activity, the ever-increasing performance demands, and the visibility associated with performing ensembles add fuel to our souls, but also to the fire. And increased fuel means a bigger and more dangerous fire. 

I guess you could say that for music educators, burnout is an occupational hazard, and we should never find themselves too far from overhead sprinklers or a fire extinguisher.

But for me, the emotional baggage associated with burnout is worse than the physical exhaustion.

In my experience, music educators often feel ashamed when we experience burnout. We are embarrassed to admit that we have lost our way, our fire, and need some help. We need to be reminded that we have done nothing wrong, nor have we brought this upon ourselves, and that this is a natural response to an unnatural situation.

Keep in mind, being burnt out means you were at one time ON FIRE! And that is something to be admired.

Think about it. What kind of teacher do you want to be? What kind of teacher do you want teaching your children or your loved ones? One who is ON FIRE, or one who played it safe, kept it cool, and never took risks?

To my way of thinking, experiencing burnout is an indicator of success. A sign that you ran as fast as possible, helped as many people as you could, and made every effort to make an impact. Burnout is a badge of honor and proof-positive that you went all in, gave everything you had in service of your students, and have nothing more left to give. 

You should scream from the rooftops, "I burned out because I was ON FIRE, BABY!!!

I am not a psychologist. Nor am I a trained counselor. And, If you need help, please seek it. 

All I am saying is that in some small and perverse way, feeling bad should make you feel good. You just completed a sixty-week pandemic marathon that you did not choose to run, having had no time to prepare for it. 

After this year, I would be more concerned about your mental health if you WEREN'T burnt out. But as bad as you feel now, it will soon feel better. The schools will reopen, the masks will be removed, the hugs will happen and music will once again ring through the concert halls.

Herbert Freudenberger died in 1999 at the age of seventy-three. His obituary in the Times noted, "He worked 14 or 15 hours a day, six days a week, until three weeks before his death." He had run himself ragged.

But when he stopped running, he stopped living. Perhaps the lesson is not to stop running. but pause for recovery. 

The race begins anew in August. Now is your time for recovery.

Have a great week!

- Scott

South of France and Hygge

Several years ago, after a family dinner conversation filled with ribbing dad (me), I screamed, "SOUTH OF FRANCE, PEOPLE... SOUTH OF FRANCE! When my then nine-year-old asked what that meant, I retorted, "That's where I wish I was right now!" Fast forward to the next Father's Day. I now own, not one, but two, coffee mugs that say, "South of France, people." 

My family loves nothing more than to mock me.

I have long wondered what it would be like to live in a foreign country, and on multiple occasions, we as a family have had discussions over dinner about where we would like to move and why.

My wife has her ideal destination as somewhere warm and close to a beach. She has specifically mentioned the Mediterranean or Central America. Having lived in Arizona most of my life, I dream of a cooler climate and four seasons. Canada or any of the Nordic countries would do just fine by me. My kids? They don't care as long as there is good wi-fi! 

Seeing as Canada would not be THAT much of a leap, let's stick with Northern Europe. Switzerland is stunning, and the music and culture of Austria are second to none. Germany has a killer economy, and I have heard that Prague is the prettiest city in all of Europe. But my ultimate destination is Denmark.

The Danish people and their Nordic counterparts have long been known as home to the world's happiest people. For the past 60 years, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development(OECD) has been tracking ten characteristics that lead to happiness, including income, work-life balance, education, community, and general life satisfaction. Denmark scored 9.7 out of 10. 

The United States score? A distant 7.4.

When you ask a Danish person why they are so happy, they are likely to answer with just one word, hygge. Defined by Websters, "acknowledging a feeling or moment, whether alone or with friends, at home or out, ordinary or extraordinary as cozy, charming or special, hygge (pronounced hue-guh) is a defining characteristic of Danish culture and life."

Denmark is not alone in this sentiment, and each Nordic country has its own version of the term (lagom-Switzerland, kalsarikännit-Finland). Still, all the terms boil down to the concept of setting modest expectations and being happy and content with what you have.

The concept of modesty of abundance and accepting one's station in life is decidedly un-American. In addition to being the land of the brave and home of the free, we are also home to those that want more, do more, and achieve more. I suspect that this drive is the root cause of both America's success and our unhappiness. Americans do and achieve GREAT things (think three vaccines in 10 months), but we seem incapable of stopping afterward, taking a breath, celebrating our achievement, and being content with what we have accomplished.

The chances of me moving to Denmark (or the South of France) are zero. I love where I am and the life I have created. But that does not mean we all couldn't use a little more hygge.

During last Tuesday night's webinar, I asked all of the attendees to rate how they were doing emotionally on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the best. One respondent stated, "I am a 3, and I don't know why." I responded, "I know why! YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC; YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO FEEL LOUSY!"

That got a pretty good chuckle out of the room. But, it's true.

Listen, I doubt if any of your spring concerts were as good as they were pre-pandemic, and many of you are seeing declines in musical skill sets and ensemble achievement. I am also guessing that lower enrollment numbers for the upcoming fall are keeping you up at night. Seeing all of this might have some of you feeling down, dejected, or despondent.

Hygge people.

Maybe, just for now, it's okay for our groups to be just okay. Perhaps, we should accept the concert for what it was, the kids for who they are, and worry about those in front of us instead of those who aren't. This is not embracing mediocrity so much as accepting reality. 

Do this for your students, for the profession, and your sanity. Be content that you are healthy, have a job, and are surrounded by people who love you. You made it through the worst by being at your best.

Next year will be better—a time when you can start anew and kick some serious backside. But consider the possibility that for the next couple of weeks, we should take a moment, take a breath, and celebrate being okay. Celebrate the wrong notes, missed classes, and bad internet. Celebrate the masks, the social distancing, and air hugs. Celebrate that you are alive and able, and that for now, that is enough.

Hygge.

As for me, I might need a new mug. One that says, "South of Denmark, people... South of Denmark!

Have a great week. 

- Scott 

Yolo Whipash

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There's a movement sweeping across America. A post-pandemic whiplash response to thirteen months of Zooming through their days staring at a screen while dreaming of sough dough bread and looking forward to your one human interaction of the day – your Pelaton coach! The movement?

YOLO (You only live once)!

An acronym popularized nearly a decade ago by the rapper Drake (I had to Google that as I am not cool enough to have already known that), YOLO has become the rallying cry of the millennials in search of happiness, fulfillment, and meaning. After fourteen months of being home, yearning for anything but the status quo, and flush with cash, workers everywhere are throwing caution into the wind and are rethinking their lives and careers.

Some are dictating return to work terms while others start side hustles and passion projects. For some, they are changing jobs or leaving corporate America altogether. Regardless of the circumstance, one thing is clear, when things go back to normal, normal will look very different.

To be clear, the Pandemic is not over, and the continued loss is as significant as it is real. But, as vaccines are administered, and mask mandates are removed, people are anxious to do something, anything... Too LIVE! 

As I mentioned last week, Languishing has been the dominant emotion of the past thirteen months. According to a recent Microsoft poll, a staggering 40% of all workers are considering a change of job by year's end.

Wait! Did you think I was talking about you? NNNNOOOOO! I am talking about your students.

YOLO is not limited to those over eighteen. Students might embrace it more than adults. Ever since the 1982 landmark education study A Nation at Risk, America's public schools have been escalating expectations in an academic arms race measure by high states test scores. With each passing year, students are expected to go more, do more, and learn more. They are pressured to score higher, graduate earlier, and do it with more credits. All of this puts pressure not just on kids but on the academic system itself.

And then the Pandemic hit. YOLO!

Young people want to be happy. They want to explore, push boundaries and experience new things but are trapped in a system that doesn't say YOLO; it says LATOP (Live According To Our Plan, and yes, I just made that up.).

If 40% of workers say they want a change, is it unreasonable to think that the number might be the same for students? Few students (if any) would say, "You only live once, so take Trig 2!" They want to play, dance, sing and make music. They want to express, explore and expand. They want to find friends and make memories. They want to be challenged and to change. They want to discover who they are and how they fit into the world around them. This is the reason that now, more than ever, MUSIC MATTERS.

As students return to school, they do so with masks on and eyes wide open. What are they looking for? Their best lives... 

YOLO!

Have a great week. Big announcement tomorrow, be sure to look for it.

-Scott