TRAUMATIC GROWTH AND THE NEW NORMAL

Everyone hopes they'll avoid the worst life has to offer—accidents, illness, and I.R.S. audits top the list of things we aspire not to have to endure.

Unfortunately, at one point in our life, most of us will have to endure something devastating. According to a 2015 study, 75% of us will experience a traumatic event in our lifetime. As you can imagine, the pandemic has only increased that number. 

But, just because an event is bad doesn't mean something good can't come from it.

In the 1980s, Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun, two psychologists, discovered that trauma changed people fundamentally. Some of those changes were negative, but to their surprise, the majority of trauma survivors they interviewed reported that their lives had changed for the better. They contacted more than 600 people who said they had gained inner strength, were closer to friends and family, and were living a life of greater meaning than before the event.

In a paper published in 1996, the scientific duo coined the phrase post-traumatic growth.

People who experience this post-traumatic growth may develop a new appreciation of life, have newfound personal strength, see improvements in their relationships, see new possibilities in life, and undergo spiritual changes. 

As I travel and speak to music teachers, I hear the same phrase repeatedly. "I can't wait for things to go back to normal!" And, for the longest time, I felt the same. I am tired of the pandemic, and watching the new variant send us backward in our progress towards unrestricted schools and lives has been maddening at times. I know I am not alone in this. 

We all long for a post-pandemic life. We yearn to breathe (mask) free and not hoard toilet paper. We look forward to a time when we can travel, eat out, and judge others for something other than their vax status. A time to hug, high-five, and hold hands guilt-free. We yearn for this and so much more.

We have been through a traumatic event, and a long one at that, and while it is understandable to want some sense of normalcy, I think we should want something more.

But, normal? 

Where is our post-pandemic growth? Where are the newfound strengths, sense of adventure, and passion for living a meaning-filled life?

I want a transformation, not just in our lives but also in our profession.

This two-year battle presents perhaps the most significant setback for music in the modern era, but it also offers the most incredible opportunity to change.

We endured the worst - now are we to forget the lessons learned?

As we emerge from these trying times, how will you change the way you:

  • Teach?

  • Interact with students?

  • Communicate with parents?

  • Schedule concerts?

  • Pace rehearsals?

  • Choose literature?

  • Select and teach leaders?

  • Infuse S.E.L. into your curricula?

  • Use technology?

  • Choose instrumentation?

  • Prioritize time?

  • Audition for ensembles?

  • Start and end a class and your day?

  • Balance the job and personal life?

  • View yourself and the role you play in your students' lives?

Keep a notepad on your desk/podium. Take notes every day on small changes you want to make (or keep) that you think will take you and your program to another (not better, just different) level.

I don't want normal. I want a do-over. I want a chance to re-invent and find meaning where it was lacking. I want to drop the stuff that was not working and add new stuff that works. I want to find the work-life balance that was missing, and I want to chart a new direction as I look to what could be the final pathway of my music education career.

I (we) may never get a chance like this again, so I don't want normal. I've done normal. I want something more from all of this; I want to transform and have that be my NEW normal.

How about you?

Have a great week!

-Scott

Very Superstitious and Writing On the Wall

WARNING: The following post is NOT a political one; it is a questioning of the practical applications of recently issued CDC guidance. Please click on the button below BEFORE reading to get you in the right mindset.

MINDSET REFRESH

Fifty years ago, in a small studio in New York City, Stevie Wonder wrote and recorded his landmark work, Superstition. Exactly one half-century later, his prophetic words foretell the situation we find ourselves in today.

Very superstitious, 
Wash your face and hands, 
Rid me of the problem, 
Do all that you can.

I am not a superstitious person. I don't knock on wood for good luck, black cats don't bother me, and for the life of me, I do not understand the fact that building elevators pretend they don't have a 13th floor. It's not like it's not there. If you count the floors on a building, there it is, and it's located right where you think it would be, between the 12th and 14th floors.

What about you? Are you superstitious?

Superstitions are most prevalent in sports, where the "Curse of the Bambino" reigns supreme. Stephen Dubner (Freakonomics author) explains it best, "The curses emanated when Ruth's original team, the Boston Red Sox, decided to sell his contract to the New York Yankees. Before the trade, the Red Sox had routinely won World Series; the Yankees didn't have a single championship. After Ruth was sold, the two teams' fortunes reversed. The Yankees, with Babe Ruth jump-starting their success, would win eight World Series over the next 20 years. They've since won 19 more, making them the winningest baseball team ever. Meanwhile, in the aftermath of letting Babe Ruth go, the Red Sox went 86 years without a championship. Their misery finally ended in 2004."

I'll ask again, are you superstitious? If you are, you are not alone. A recent poll conducted by YouGov found that nearly one in three American's are superstitious to some degree.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, superstition is "a practice or action based on an unjustified belief in supernatural causation." In other words, believing that there is a causal relationship between an action and an outcome without any evidence to support it.

With this in mind, it makes me wonder if the Center for Disease Control (CDC) is a superstitious agency! Do they avoid the number 13 and throw spilled salt over their left shoulder? Do they avoid walking under ladders and only open umbrellas outside? Do they respond to every chain email and shudder at the thought of a broken mirror?

Based on their recent guidance, I think they just might be superstitious.

This past Monday, the CDC issued guidance urging schools to shutter football, choir, wrestling, band, and any other "high-risk extracurricular activities [including] those in which increased exhalation occurs, especially when conducted indoors."

So no band? No choir? For me, this doesn't make sense. As a music educator impacted by this new guidance, I have some questions: ( Before we begin, How are you doing? Need another puppy dog fix?)

I am not a scientist, and the CDC knows FAR MORE about this new variant than I do. But, I suspect that I know FAR MORE about schools than they do.

  • Is there a study that shows that music students have a higher rate of Covid than non-music students?

  • What about the fact that a typical music room housing a 45 piece ensemble allows for an average of 53 feet per student, while a regular classroom with 25 students in it only provides for around 40 square feet per student?

  • Does the guidance acknowledge that music rooms (more often than not) have multiple (and oversized) doors and hallways better designed to have socially distant traffic flow?

  • If we do cancel music - where do we send these students? Classes are already too full, and space is too small.

  • What about other activities that increase inhalation, i.e., drama, debate, dance, cheer, P.E., etc.?

  • What shall we do with Foreign Language classes where entire classes are speaking/reciting at out loud at the same time?

  • What about in-class discussions, presentations, and debates? Should we tell ALL teachers and students to calm down and keep it down? Passion and enthusiasm for the content will NOT be tolerated.

  • How does canceling music address our crowded lunchrooms, hallways, locker rooms, doorways, stairwells, etc?

  • To clarify, the new guidance cancels the halftime show but leaves the 80,000 screaming fans three inches apart in the stands. (I watched the playoffs this weekend, and there was A LOT of "increased exhalation" going on. Especially at the end of the Dallas/49ers game.)

More saliently, how much does canceling music mitigate the risk of catching Covid when all other school risk factors are considered?

My family and I are fully vaxed, boosted, and wear masks when needed. We take appropriate precautions and are mindful of the times we live in. But, both of my boys also play instruments AND sing. And they are where I want them to be, doing what they love to do.

Why music? 

Because kids are isolated and lonely. Because for two years their emotional growth has been stunted. Because they lack joy, creativity, and collaboration in their day. Because shutting down music won't change the hallways, classrooms, or lunchrooms. It won't change stairwells, handrails, or faucets. 

As it applies to the Omicron variant, you can mitigate risk, but you can't eliminate it. With music, I feel the same, you can mitigate it, but not eliminate it.

It won't change the hugs, high fives, or Friday night hangs that are going to happen (in and out of school). In my opinion, following the guidance would profoundly impact my sons without providing a profound benefit. The cost is far too great and the benefit far too small.

NOW, more than ever, music matters.

My stance from the beginning of the pandemic has been consistent. Twenty months ago, I publicly stated, "I am not interested in eliminating what you think is not safe. I am interested in discussing what is important for students and figuring out how we make them safe."

So before making these drastic recommendations, we pause, take a breath (not an increased one), and figure out how to make this work. TOGETHER!

Stevie said it best in the final verse of his song:

When you believe in things,
That you don't understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition ain't the way,
No, no, no.

I support what is best for students, but what the CDC issued Monday isn't a recommendation; it's a superstition. 

And I am not superstitious. 

Have a great week. 

- Scott

p.s. Just two more editions of the weekly newsletter before it becomes monthly. Become a Patron to keep the weekly version coming to your inbox and the monthly version coming to everyone's inbox.

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Scott Lang Leadership 505 South Camellia Drive Chandler, Arizona 85225 United States

Hedonistic Motivation and My Cone of Shame

It's good to be back. I hope you are all staying safe and healthy during these crazy times.

Hedonistic Motivation and My Cone of Shame!

Let me ask you a question.

If you ordered one hundred street tacos and seventy of them ended up being Lamb Gyros, would you give that restaurant an excellent Yelp review? 

If you invested in stock worth $100 per share, and it went to $30 a share, would you consider it a wise investment? 

If your school only graduated 30% of its students, would that be a point of pride for the community?

The answer, of course, is NO! 

I think we can all agree that a 70% failure rate is abysmal! Sure, if you're Jet's or Giants fan, you would take it, but any other bottom-feeding, under-achieving lackey who achieves such results should be forced to wear the "cone of shame" until they can sufficiently demonstrate a higher level of competency. Right?

Well then, we better order a bunch of cones.

Did you know that between the first day a student picks up an instrument and the day they graduate high school, approximately 70% of students will fall off the music-making wagon? 

70%! 

(Insert awkward pause and ominous music.) 

Listen, I am not throwing shade at anyone, and as the ringmaster for Be Part of the Music, I should be the first to wear the most oversized cone. I just want to talk about this and see what we can figure out.

We all want every child to experience making music. And, we know that there will be some fall off. But, I think we can do better than 70%. But, to stem the tide, we need to understand why kids are leaving music. And, I think one of the why's, is Hedonic motivation.

According to Wikipedia, Hedonic motivation is "a person's pleasure and pain tolerance, and the influence it plays on their willingness to move towards or away from a goal." 

In other words, how motivated are we to do what is difficult over that which is easy?

It should come as no surprise that humans are wired to want to do things that make us feel good and away from doing things that make us feel uncomfortable. Our brains perceive hard work as bad because it's hard, and light work as good because it's easy. We can overcome these biases by carefully considering the information and benefits, but if we "go with our gut," we will almost always choose the easier path.

So how do we do hard things when our brains constantly tell us to avoid effort? Provide it with the correct value proposition. It's called expediency bias: get your mind to do what is right by being honest, methodical and adequately considering all the variables. This will allow the brain to bypass what is easy (expedient). for what is right.

So, perhaps part of the problem is not how we teach, but how we recruit. As the primary and premier purveyor of music-related recruitment materials, I am uniquely qualified to make the following statement: WE MIGHT BE RECRUITING WRONG.

Is your recruiting program more Hedonistic or realistic? What impact do you think it has on your enrollment?

We recruit kids based on the Hedonic motivation without providing complete information. This plays right into the hands of Expediency Bias. Think about it, most of us something akin to:

Hey kids, join music; it will be FUN!

That's a lie! Well, at least in part.

Yes, they will have fun, but it will also be more demanding and take longer to learn than they might think or we lead them to believe. In other words – they joined on something of a false premise.

Perhaps we should be a little more honest with the kids and parents. Maybe we should give them the complete story, something like...

Hey kids, join music; it will be FUN! But it will also be hard! REALLY HARD! Like, simultaneously reading a foreign language, while doing Morse code with your fingers, and making raspberry sounds with your lips at the same time type of hard. And, as long as we're being totally honest, we should probably mention that you are not going to be very good for a couple of years. 

Doesn't make for a great poster, but that is the truth. 

It's hard to be completely honest while also be compelling. It's not easy to have a serious discussion about long-term ramifications with someone who does not have long-term life experience. It's hard to encourage the Hedonistic motivation while placating the Expediency Bias.

So maybe, just maybe, we try both approaches.

Hey kids, join music. It will be FUN!

(Whispering) Ppssttttt... Hey parents, have your kids join music. It will be challenging, but it will also be WORTH IT!

In the end, we as a profession need to be aware that we are recruiting the parents as much if not more so than the student, and that they require different strategies, conversations, and value propositions. Kids join, but parents allow them to quit. So maybe it's time for a conversation among the adults.

Would we start fewer kids? Likely. Would our attrition rate drop? Also likely. And keep in mind, lowering our drop rate by just 10% would mean millions more students making music every day. And that is something to seriously consider.

Also, this cone is getting really uncomfortable.

Have a great week!

-Scott 





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Scott Lang Leadership 505 South Camellia Drive Chandler, Arizona 85225 United States

MY MIDWEST DYSMORPHIA


After a two-year hiatus, The 75th annual Midwest Clinic will take place this week in Chicago. The clinic and its adjacent activities serve as a celebration of excellence and a reminder of how important music education is.

I love everything about Midwest: the booths, the clinics, the phenomenal performances, the formal dress wear. 

I even like the cold! In fact, no matter what the weather, I always take one night and walk down Michigan Avenue and back to admire the sights, sounds, and beauty of this magnificent time of year.

As I said, I love everything about the experience. Well, almost everything.

It may seem weird. And indulge me if you have not experienced this, but I am confident that I am not alone.

Sometimes it makes me feel "small" (insert short joke here). Not small like Ant-Man. Small, like insignificant. Unaccomplished. Underachieving.

Maybe it's the anonymity associated with large crowds. Perhaps it's the travel and new surroundings. It might even be being far away from my family so close to the holidays. Regardless of the reason, the feeling is still there.

But, I think it might be more to do with me than my surroundings.

Sitting through phenomenal performances led by brilliant teachers, I wonder if I could have been a better teacher myself. Listening to brilliant clinicians giving insightful clinics, I can't help but think of how much I still don't know. Listening to great compositions and seeing advances in products reminds me of skills that I do not have. 

In short, it reminds me not of what I have, but what I haven't.

This feeling isn't reserved just for Midwest, and I have felt like this at other large-scale gatherings, where the best and brightest are on display.

It isn't necessarily a bad thing, though. It can be motivating and provoke creative thinking regarding myself and this profession. I think it's ironic that I sometimes feel my worst in times and places designed to inspire me to be my best. 

Don't get me wrong. I believe I was a good teacher. And, by all accounts, awards, and accolades (not that it is a good barometer), I had a long and successful career. But, sometimes, when I look at it from afar, I see it differently. I forget all the good and sometimes see the bad. I forget the students I helped, but remember the students I lost.

Have you ever experienced this? Do you ever forget success, only to remember when you failed? Do you ever find yourself focusing on where you came up short instead of where you overachieved? In large crowds and packed concert halls, do you find yourself remembering your last bad rehearsal or performance?

If so, you are not alone, and there is a name for this. It's called dysmorphia, a condition where one sees themselves differently than others.

You may be familiar with the medical term, often associated with teens (primarily females) who focus on their perceived physical shortcomings invisible to others. They see themselves as ugly, overweight, or inadequate, whereas others see them as beautiful. It is estimated that up to 16% of teens experience it and 2% of adults.

Now, I am not comparing my last bad rehearsal to a medical condition. But I think the parallels are worth examining.

Let's call it Music Dysmorphia.

As music teachers – we are pre-dispositioned to experience this. We work to hear the wrong notes more than the right. We spend our days ignoring what's correct instead of what's incorrect. We say no more than we say yes, and we quickly forget the concerts that went well in favor of those that were less than stellar.

The parents, students, and administrators? They don't see what we see, nor do they hear what we hear. They certainly don't know what we know. They don't hear the wrong notes or rhythms. They don't hear the flat and sharp instruments or see the crooked lines. All they see is their smiling & happy child making music. And to be clear, we see these things as well, but we also see and hear the warts, imperfections, and shortcomings.

So how do we fix this?

Unlike its medical counterpart, our solution to dysmorphia is a bit less complex. We simply have to BELIEVE.

Believe the kids when they say thank you. 
Believe the alumnus when they say you impacted their lives. 
Believe the parents when they say how great the group sounded. 
Believe your administrator when she says she's proud of you.
Believe in the power of music.
AND BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF YOU!

A skeptical ear and critical eye are essential to being an effective educator, but you might not be the best judge when it comes to your impact and the difference you are making. Just because your eyes and ears are the most trained in the room does not mean they are the best tools for the job. You need objectivity and space. You need someone who has your skills and experience but not your perspective.

So believe me when I say: I BELIEVE in YOU!

Have a great week, and look for one more message from me soon.

– Scott

p.s. You need not worry about me at Midwest this year. After a slight medical mishap, my doctor has grounded me from flying, and unfortunately, I will not be attending the conference. This is causing an equally severe and crippling condition: FOMO! Perhaps you could help me by entertaining me? Send me a note about something you do that you are especially proud of. I would LOVE to hear from you.

I'm Not Ant-Man & You're Not Wonder Woman

For most of my life, I lived in blissful obscurity. Throughout my work in music education (where my 12-year-old son calls me "King of the Band Nerds"), until June 29th, 2015, I was able to meander from place to place in the same obscurity that 99.9% of the planet enjoys.

What happened on that day that so transformed my life? I'll tell you.

The movie Ant-Man was released.

Since that day, I cannot rent a car, reserve a hotel room, buy a lightbulb, or pay for a pizza without someone saying, "Oh my goodness, YOU'RE ANT-MAN." Just this week, I called a local restaurant to order a pizza, and instead of being greeted by, "Thank you for calling Venezia's, how can I help you?" he screamed, "OMG! IS THIS ANT-MAN? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. I'VE WAITED MY WHOLE LIFE TO TALK TO YOU!"

When this happens, and it happens a lot, I always respond with a smile, and I can usually fake enough laughter to make them believe they are the first person ever to call me that. But if I were to be honest, it kind of irritates me.

When this happens, and it happens a lot, I always respond with a smile, and I can usually fake enough laughter to make them believe they are the first person ever to call me that. But if I were to be honest, it kind of irritates me.

Maybe my frustration is because it seems like a small man joke. Perhaps it's exacerbated by the fact that I went from #1 in the Google rankings for Scott Lang to 357,000,000 (that is an actual number, by the way). It's also plausible that it's because I spent my entire childhood hearing "Beam me up Scotty," which left me loathing all things science fiction. Or maybe, just maybe, it's something else. 

Maybe, it gets under my skin because I'm NOT Ant-Man.

I wish I had superpowers. I wish I was a genius who could save the day. It would be awesome if I could go toe to toe with bad guys, rescuing people from death, destruction, and mayhem. As I said, I wish I WAS Ant-Man. 

Perhaps, I'm jealous he has superhuman strength, and can change sizes. Maybe I am envious because he is uber fast and has an extremely high intellect. It's also conceivable that I am just a wee bit bitter because he (Paul Rudd) was just named People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive," while the same said publication refers to me as "owner occupant." 

Yes, I am mad. Mad at Scott Lang. Because, well, I'm not THAT Scott Lang. I'm not Ant-Man.

And, to be fair, neither are you. Do you know who else you aren't? You're not Batman, Superwoman, or the Hulk. As long as we're making a list, you're not Iron Man, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, or Aquaman. You don't talk to fish, do you? 

Do you know how I know you're not one of those people? (Other than the fact that they aren't real?) Because they have superpowers, and you don't! You may THINK you are a superhero, but YOU'RE NOT.

I think it's fantastic that you want to change the world through your classroom. It's admirable that you want every child to experience the joy of making music. It's incredible that you want to infuse social-emotional lessons into your twelve-minute, taught during your lunch hour, heterogenous, dual language, hybrid ensemble, that meets in the janitor's closet. It's laudable and applaudable. But, there's just one small problem...

YOU'RE NOT A SUPERHERO. Wait, double-check. Are you wearing a cape? No? That proves it. Yes? Well, that proves something very different.

Now that we know what you aren't, would you like to know what you are? You are HUMAN. 

(exhale)

Humans, yourself included, require rest, sustenance, and oxygen. We need safe shelter, warmth, and protection from things that want to hurt us. But, we need more than those basic requirements required for primal survival.

Humans need to experience pain, love, and loss. They need to cry & laugh, sometimes at the same time. We mere mortals need hope, a sense of purpose, and a belief that they are making a difference in someone's life. They need to know that their life means something and that they matter.

Yes, you are human.

So, for today, what do you say you take the cape off your back and pat yourself in that same place. Shut down your newsfeed, skip the news sites, and ignore the texts. Pass on Tik-Tok, and don't spend an insta on Insta! Breaking news? The only thing breaking is YOU, cracking under the pressure of unreal expectations, a brutal workload, and not enough time and rest.

Let me repeat. You are not a superhero. 

But, I promise you, just like a caped crusader, people are grateful that you SHOWED UP during this time of need. You are fighting the good fight, using your powers, and saving the day. You may not be a superhero, but you are super, and a hero to a lot of people.

But let's leave the cape off for the rest of today.

Have a great week!

Scott

All Hail the Newsletter

From cave paintings to smoke signals. Carrier pigeons to telegraphs. Pony Express to Facebook. Humans have always been looking for new and better ways to communicate.

Through it all, one ancient form of communication has remained steadfast and true, the newsletter.

The Romans started the very first newsletter at the cradle of civilization to educate its citizenry. Since then, it has been used by every country, organization, and ideological group for almost a thousand years. Believe it or not, The oft-mocked and maligned newsletter is the precursor to newspapers, television, and even modern-day social media. 

In an article for The Atlantic, blogging expert and internet guru, Dave Pell explained, "People don't understand the expanse of the platform. In 2020, 14 million customers of a single email platform called Mailchimp sent out 333 trillion newsletters driving $64 Billion in revenue."

"Moreover, Intuit recently acquired Mailchimp for $12 billion. Substack (a subscription newsletter service) raised another $65 million in its most recent round of funding, all while Twitter was acquiring a newsletter company called Revue. Even tech behemoth Google sees the trend and is testing a new newsletter service called Museletter."

ALL HAIL THE NEWSLETTER!

In an era filled with countless ways to reach out and touch someone, how has the simple newsletter not only survived but thrived? 

You could say it is small and quickly digestible. You could say that it is patient and will wait as long as it takes to be read. You could even say that it is curated content that is meaningful and helpful to you. And you would most certainly be right. But that's not the real reason.

Newsletters connect us with a community of like-minded people who share our interests, values, and dreams.

In an ever-connected world, it seems as if we are growing more disconnected. The newsletter serves as a reminder that there are others like you and that you are not alone. 

Now more than ever, the newsletter is needed and relevant.

My daily conversations with music teachers often speak of fatigue, frustration, and a sense of failure. I repeatedly hear that they are teaching harder than ever and are struggling to keep up. They survived the pandemic but are struggling with the recovery. Where appropriate, I offer my thoughts and a sympathetic ear. But, I know that is not what they want. 

They want to know that they are not alone. They are not the only ones feeling frustrated and helpless. They don't read about it in the newspaper – or get calls from equally angst-filled colleagues. There aren't podcasts to placate, and everyone's social media feed gushes with joyous proclamations of success-filled concerts, events, and seasons. We as a people and as a profession, celebrate in public and struggle in silence. Yes, we all have some GREAT days. But, we also all have had BAD days. And in both, we all want to know that we are not alone.

The purpose of a newsletter is to foster a sense of community in good times and in bad. So for today, let this newsletter do just that. Let it remind you that you are not alone. 

-Scott

BUS DRIVERS AND OUR SHRINKING VILLAGE


For years, a bus has been parked at the corner of my son's school with a banner attached saying, "BUS DRIVERS NEEDED." 

I have no idea why anyone would apply for or want to do that job. Bad/irregular hours, poor pay, no benefits, rush hour traffic, and ill-behaved children do not sound like the makings of a solid professional pathway to me. 

Heck, driving my son's carpool is enough experience to know that this is a career pathway I am not willing to explore. It is about kids' safety, more than just personal preference, as I have been known to forget a child in carpool once or twice (or three times).

I understand the constant need for bus drivers. It is an overwhelming and under-valued job that has little upside. But, the pandemic and its economic impact have magnified the problem to unimaginable levels.

And the problem doesn't end at the folding yellow doors either. According to a survey conducted by the EdWeek Research Center, there have been reports of shortages of cafeteria workers, custodians, substitute teachers, and paraprofessionals nationwide. The study stated that "40 percent of district leaders and principals said they were experiencing "severe" or "very severe" staffing shortages." The shortage of bus drivers is part of a more significant, more extended problem in schools — one that extends beyond the school building. 

The bus driver shortage isn't just a bus driver shortage — it's an endemic problem resulting from the pandemic. These jobs are about service and care, at pay scales that simply aren't competitive with jobs that use similar skills. 

Add to this that amid the pandemic, individual workers make choices for themselves and their families that affect other people's families and jobs in ways nobody quite expected.

Schools are filled with essential workers whose difficult jobs were made more challenging and their ranks even thinner by the pandemic.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, and our village is contracting at an alarming rate.

As music teachers, there is little we can do to fix this. But, for one day, we make sure that everyone is seen, heard, and valued.

Years ago, I created an activity that allowed my students to thank those who had helped make my program and students successful. This gratitude note helps foster a sense of gratitude among your students and establishes goodwill among your school colleagues. 

The document is attached to this email. All you have to do is print, hand out, and deliver. Keep in mind the following:

  • Encourage your students to write as many notes as possible. Handwritten is preferred.

  • I typically would give 20-30 minutes of class time to complete the letters.

  • Give yourself a day or two to sort and deliver the notes (write this Friday, deliver next Tuesday)

  • Restrict recipients to people on your physical campus.

  • Encourage your students to think outside of the box (grounds person/admin/assistants/tech)

  • Eliminate yourself from receiving notes. It will make it feel more genuine for the kids.

  • Write some letters yourself.

Trust me, you will be glad you did this activity, and so will your school community!

NOW MORE THAN EVER, MEMBERS OF OUR SCHOOL COMMUNITIES NEED TO KNOW THAT THEY ARE MAKING A DIFFERENCE!

PLAYING PIANO AND EMBRACING REGRET

My two boys and I have an almost daily battle. What is our daily battle about? Food, hygiene, chores, manners, time spent on electronics? Nope. Well, yes, but that is not what I am talking about right now.

Piano.

As many of you know, the rule in my house is, "As long as you live under my roof, you will play the piano." 

After more than a decade, my older son has acquiesced. He understands that this is just a part of his bill for food and rent. I dare say he has even come to enjoy playing. My younger son? Not so much. He would rather spend forty-five minutes arguing over fifteen minutes of practice. During one such sparring session, I told the younger one that he and his brother would fight over who gets the piano when I am gone. My younger one, Evan, said: "NO, I WON'T!" 

He shouted upstairs to his brother, "Hey Brayden, the piano is all yours!" As he walked away, he mumbled under his breath, "See – no fight!" 

That kid... 

The piano rule is not an absolute one. There is a single golden key to earn your release from my musical handcuffs. You have to find someone who has quit playing and does NOT regret it. They have yet to find someone.

And regret is what I am trying to avoid.

In his upcoming book The Power of Regret, best-selling author Daniel Pink states, "Regret is a universal and healthy part of being human. And understanding how regret works can help us make smarter decisions, perform better at work and school, and bring greater meaning to our lives."

Through research in social psychology, neuroscience, and biology, Pink's World Regret Survey—which has gathered regrets from more than 15,000 people in 105 countries— defines for us the power of regret and the impact it can have on our lives.

In an interview with the Atlassian, Pink further states that, "Regret is an emotion. It's an emotion that has a lot of cognition behind it, and it's that kinda stomach-churning feeling when you realize that the decision you made, the choices that you took, the path you decided to pursue resulted in a suboptimal outcome." 

What I find most interesting is that Pink states, "The research tells us that people tend to regret inactions more than actions, especially over the long term. Sometimes in the short term, people will regret actions more than inactions. But over the long term, it's pretty clear that we regret what we didn't do more than what we did."

The notion of living a regret-free life is non-sense. Regrets are necessary and are reminders that we took risks and made tough decisions. They show that we care and are involved in meaningful activities.

We have all heard it a million times. You tell people what you do, and it is immediately and universally followed by, "I used to play ____________, and I quit. I regret that!" Pink (I believe) would say that this statement/feeling of regret validates what we do as music educators and proves that music is important and matters. That feeling of regret is an understanding that the decision to quit music has negatively impacted lives.

Yes, our job as teachers and mentors is more than teaching music. It's more than filling the world with music and developing a child's creative abilities. It's about killing regret and showing students and their parents that the past mistakes don't need to be future regrets and that standing steadfast now will yield benefits in the future. This is why when my boys say they want to quit, I simply say no.

My son, Evan? Well, he's still looking for someone who doesn't regret quitting. Just the other day, I heard him say to his older brother, "I'll give you $50 to tell Dad you regret learning piano. Then I can quit!"

That kid...

Have a great week. 

- Scott 

p.s. If you have not taken the State of Music Education Survey, please let your voice be heard. After just two emails, we have had over 1,000 responses. But we need to hear from everyone. Click the button below to share your thoughts.



Twitter Trolling and My Solution to a National Problem

In a surprising but not altogether shocking move, on Monday, billionaire businessman, entrepreneur, and space junkie Elon Musk announced he would donate six billion dollars of his money to the United Nations Food Bank.

There was one catch. The UN had to prove their plan would work.

The announcement came as part of a war of words after the UN Director for the Food Programme challenged the ultra-wealthy, particularly the world's two richest men Jeff Bezos and Musk, to "step up now, on a one-time basis" to help solve world hunger. 

The Tesla chief executive said in his Twitter post on Sunday, "If WFP can describe on this Twitter thread exactly how $6 billion will solve world hunger, I will sell Tesla stock right now and do it."

I found the exchange odd. Not because of the staggering sum of money. Not because it was all happening on Twitter. Not because they were talking world hunger at the exact time we discovered Space X Astronauts would have to use diapers because of a leaky toilet. 

I found it odd because Elon Musk doesn't ask people how to solve problems; he simply solves them. 

He didn't ask NASA how to build a better rocket, or Ford how to make a better car. He didn't reach out to Comcast or Cox to get their thoughts on creating a better internet (he probably did, but gave up after 4 hours on hold). He just built it. Musk didn't ask any of those groups because he didn't need to. He already knew the answer! 

Musk's offering six billion dollars if the UN can show how it will end world hunger demonstrates that Musk doesn't know how to end it either. History has shown that if he did, he would have done it already.

Trolling Elon Musk is apparently an effective strategy to get his attention, so I thought I would try it.

So what do you say, Elon? You in? I have a plan and can prove my results.

Do you want to:

Raise academic achievement?
Raise graduation rates?
Lower drop-out rates?
Raise test scores?
Lower drug and alcohol abuse?
Increase school and community involvement?
Create engaged and creative learners?
Increase teacher satisfaction and longevity?

If you got the coin, then I'm the guy to join! GO ALL-IN ON MUSIC!

Listen, it doesn't HAVE to be you. Warren, Jeff, and Bill are welcome to join in. We don't care who is included, just that you are involved. We got the plan, and you are the man! Tweet me back, and I will get you my digits!

In all seriousness... We know that music does all of those things and more. We see the impact it can have and the way it can change a life. We know that we have verifiable and incontrovertible evidence that music will make young people more successful even if they do not continue in music.

So why isn't anybody listening? And why do we even have to ask? The problem and solutions are undoubtedly prevalent enough and solvable. You don't need to be Elon Musk to see and solve this problem, although it would help.

More importantly, how have we not created our own version of Elon Musk? How is it possible that none of these people were either involved in music or are willing to support it in a meaningful way? For all we say that music does, shouldn't we have cultivated this person or developed this relationship?

We see athletes give back to sports programs and people in business give back to the schools. That's how athletic fields get names and buildings get built. But what about affluent musicians and pop stars? It doesn't have to be money. It can be using the position and place of prominence to say, "THIS IS HOW WE MAKE OUR CHILDREN AND OUR COUNTRY BETTER!"

For years I have wondered (often aloud): how is it possible that something that does so much good is so under-appreciated? Where is our Elon Musk?

So if you are listening, Elon, you have the money, and I have the plan. We should talk.

Have a great week!

- Scott

South of France and Our Familects!

I have a coffee mug (and hydro flask) that have the words "South of France" emboldened on them. The mug and tumbler were Father's Day gifts from my wife and children and serve as tacet but tangible reminders of the people I love.

Why South of France?

One night at dinner a couple of years ago, Leah and the boys were mocking me about some small and meaningless thing when I suddenly shouted, "SOUTH OF FRANCE, PEOPLE... SOUTH OF FRANCE!"

When asked what that meant, I retorted, "That's where I would be right now if it weren't for you knuckleheads."

Since that day, "South of France" has come to mean, "I am frustrated." My wife. She doesn't have a saying. She has a look!

It's like our own secret language, and it turns out that Langs aren't the only ones who have this secret code.

Many of us have secret languages; it is a part of the daily fabric of your life. You have it with your partner, parents, children, and yes, even your pets. Perhaps you have a unique nickname or shared reference that means something only to you and your loved ones (mine is Skittle). A memory or meme that evokes laughter from only those who have seen or experienced it. These words/moments are sometimes known as familects, and are familiar to only those with whom we spend large amounts of time in close quarters. 

And no one spends more time in close quarters than music groups. During rehearsal, on a stage, in a bus, during the week, on the weekends, during winter, summer, spring, and most especially fall. It would be impossible to spend as much time together as we do and NOT have our own jokes, memories, and yes, language. 

Familects help us feel like family. This "dialect" helps to foster friendships, establish an identity, and foster a sense of love and belonging. There's even a study that states that "When people use familect terms, they reinforce the stories, rituals, and memories that hold them together as a group. These words reaffirm their 'familyness' in a way. It re-creates their relationship." 

Some words are musical while others are not. Some are new this year, while others are from years past. Some were created by you, while others were created by your students. It is different for every group, but for every group, it is the same. You can not have "familect" without family.

Every October, I become nostalgic about teaching. This month is no different. Maybe it's the cooling of the weather or the turning of the leaves (or cactus needles). I miss the memories, the performances, and the competitions. But more than anything, I think I miss the "familect." The shared jokes, love, and laughter, based on shared experiences.

(sigh)

South of France, people... South of France.

Scott 

p.s. Thanks to everyone last week who shared thoughts and suggestions about teaching beginners. I ended up subbing the rest of the week and learned a lot. There is a blog article coming about it soon...