THE WALK DOWN YOUR HALF-PIPE

Beginning in Turin 16 years ago, through Vancouver, Sochi, and Pyeongchang, Sean White has dominated the sport of snowboarding in a way unfamiliar to the Winter Olympics. In the youth-centric sport of snowboarding, at the age of 35, White has already won Gold in three previous Olympics and had his eyes set on a fourth.

It did not happen. White took a tumble on his final run to finish 4th, just outside of medal contention. 

Immediately after falling, Sean stood up, paused for a brief moment as if to acknowledge what was happening, and slowly walked down the half-pipe and into the next phase of his life. 

During a long slog of interviews in which he swung from laughter to tears and back again, White said, "I'm proud of this life I've led, and what I've done in this sport, and what I've left behind."

Sean’s career provides the perfect reminder that there is so much goodness to celebrate in our past, but his decision to not finish the run and "walk the walk" reminds us of the greatness in our future.

Lately, I have been looking at my career as an act of personal growth. I've been looking back at what I've experienced and done over the past three-plus decades. But, more importantly, I have been looking forward to what has yet to come and the pathway I want to follow. I am far from done, but closer to the finish line than I am the starter's gun, and that experience provides me with the perspective and experience to do different things.

My journey has been ever-evolving: teacher, department chair, construction coordinator, Assistant Principal, Scott Lang Leadership, and Be Part of the Music. My role seems to change about every seven years, but my home of music education has remained constant. 

I suspect Sean will never leave the sport of snowboarding. It is a passion that is all-consuming and will be a part of his life story, much the way music education is for you.

Still, his journey will take him through different phases: enthusiast, rabid fan, young professional, world & Olympic champion, sport ambassador, and businessman. I don't know if even he knows what's next, just that next is here NOW!

I don't know where you are in your journey, but I suspect if you look back, you will see the different stages clearer than you can see the destination looking forward. Perhaps this blog/group is a place to brainstorm and think. A place to look for counsel and seek advice. A trusted place to dream and plan for your "next."

For the past couple of years, I knew a change was on the horizon; I just didn't know when or what it would be. The pandemic for me was what the Olympics were to Sean, a clear sign that a change was imminent if not pre-ordained. 

When asked what it all meant, his eyes were as red as his hair as he explained, "You're watching it — these younger riders. They've been on my heels every step of the way, and to see them finally surpass me is, I think deep down, what I always wanted."

It was about leaving the sport in a better place than he found it and finding joy in seeing the success of others. He realized that as his physical skills declined, his mental skills increased. He seems to understand that the scope and size of his impact are evolving to a whole new level.

Some of you are in new phases of your careers and embracing new challenges, while others are in the throws of chasing the elusive art of the perfect lessons. Either way, like Sean, you are leaving the profession and your students in a better place. Tackling new challenges, training your replacements, and celebrating their successes. When you get to that change moment (new position, job, role, responsibility) be sure to rise, pause, and walk down your half-pipe.

Have a great week.

-Scott

p.s. Interested in sharing a regret and how it has changed you. Share it in our Facebook group. If you have not joined yet, click here.

A SLICE OF ME AND THE POWER OF REGRET

Today marks the first week of the Patron version of the newsletter, and I want to take a brief minute and sincerely thank you for your support. It means the world to me. Today's newsletter is an example of how things are different. I would not likely share this with the full list as it is not relevant to music education, but I will share it in a smaller setting with people who asked for more/different content.

As I write this, I am sitting in a dermatologist's office. I am in-between procedures, which is a polite way of saying that my doctor just sawed off a chunk of skin and am waiting on the biopsy to see if they got it all.

Skin cancer.

First off, I am fine. Just going to experience some unpleasantness for the next couple of months as I work through the subsequent six procedures. Yep, six! Ugh. 

If you see someone who looks like a petite version of Frankenstein, don't be scared, it's just me.

It turns out that fifteen years of rehearsing marching band in the Arizona sun without sunscreen has consequences. And this is one of them. Who knew an Irish/German redhead with fair skin would burn in the desert? It turns out that it is everyone but me.

Nearly thirty years later, I have regrets. I regret not being more protective of my skin. I regret not encouraging my students to do the same. I regret not having the foresight and wisdom that could have prevented all of this unnecessary unpleasantness. I could have stopped this from happening, but I made the wrong choice. I regret that.

That's not the only thing I regret from my teaching days. I regret venting my frustrations on a student worker at a competition in 1994; she was just a volunteer. I regret responding to a student with anger when he approached me with anger in 1991. I should have known he was in pain and just venting. I could have, and should have, been the better person. I regret leaving the classroom in 1999 for a desk in the admin office. I ducked the initial offer call because I knew I didn't want the job deep down inside, but I took it anyway. I regret that.

I have lots of regrets. But, apparently, I'm supposed to.

According to Daniel Pink's new book, The Power of Regret, regret is a good thing: "Regret can help us become better people by revealing what we want most out of life." To help inform his argument, Pink developed a regret framework after collecting regrets from 16,000 people worldwide in the World Regret Survey.

NO REGRETS, YOLO! Pink says it's an all too common and even dangerous mantra. "Everybody has regrets, and they're a fundamental part of our lives. And if we reckon with them in fresh and imaginative ways, we can enlist our regrets to make smarter decisions, perform better at work and school, and deepen our sense of meaning and purpose," says Pink.

His theory is that past regrets inform future decisions and that wisdom is derived from our mistakes. Lack of regret implies a lack of understanding and knowledge.

According to Daniel, regrets are categorized in four distinctly different areas: stability, boldness, morality and, connection.

What regrets do you have? And, how have they changed the person you are today?

We all likely have regrets in all four areas. I know I do. But I also know that I can't change them, and they have helped shape the person, husband, father and teacher I am today.

Pink says, "It's tempting never to look back, but we're hard-wired to focus on our mistakes. Rather than deny them, we can lift ourselves up by seeing them in a new light."

My regrettable experience with the sun has informed how I teach my son. My regrettable experience with a student in 1991 changed how I treat students in 2022. And, regrettable experience in administration changed how I see music education.

We are all a summation of our experiences, and to change the regrets of our past is to change the path to our future.

I do not regret my past decisions, nor do I celebrate them. I accept them (and myself) for what they are, a small slice of who I am.

Speaking of slice, the doc just walked in, got more cutting to do, so I have to go.

Have a great week.

-Scott

p.s. Interested in sharing a regret and how it has changed you. Share it in our Facebook group.

ALBERT, INTEREST, AND YOUR LIFE YIELD, PART 2

Yesterday, I explained the math of compounding interest. Yes, it was a cursory explanation, but it demonstrates the need to consider investing from a TIME IN versus TIMING perspective.

As you get older, you look forward to retirement and reflect on the impact of your career. And while I have young-ish children that will keep me working for a while, the pandemic and its effects (personal/professional/financial) have me thinking about these things and more.

I know that now, I look very different at how I invest my resources than I did three decades ago. Not just my money, but my time and energy. It's easy in hindsight to see where I invested and how I got it wrong and right. But, generally speaking, the law of compounding interest has held true.

Start early, start small, stay long. 

This is as true for money as it is for people.

Most of us know the immediate impact we have on our students. Unlike other curricula, we see evidence of it almost daily for multiple years. We experience it in rehearsals, on the stage, and in their lives. Even after graduation, the occasional Facebook post, drop-by, chance encounter in groceries stores, and the like are opportunities for parents and students to share gratitude and thoughts on the impact you had on them.

But what about after that?

Over the past week, I have been thinking about how that impact has grown, diminished, or changed with passage of time. What would former students say about their experiences with me now, and how would it differ when compared to what they said to me on graduation night.

Think about it, the students who were seniors during my first year of teaching would now be 50 years old. They are now community leaders, business owners, spouses, and possibly grandparents. They will have experienced success and loss, some joy and sorrow as they will have half-century of life behind them and possibly another half in front of them. 

Perhaps they are seeing the benefits of music through their very own children and reliving their experiences through the younger version of themselves. What would they say about the impact of music and my teaching now? And, how would it be different from what they told me on three-plus decades ago? What would the 50-year-old know about how music shaped them and prepared them for life that the eighteen-year-old didn't?

Compounding interest compels us to start early, start small, and stay long. 

Sure, I may have convinced a student to audition for a leadership role or not to quit band, but would I see the impact of that thirty-three years later? Could I know that leadership training inspired them to push harder, resulting in better grades? And that better grades would propel them to a better college, where they would train for a successful future and meet their spouse? Would I be able to know that they would push their children in music and the impact that it would have on their children and their family?

Today, three decades later, that small investment I made in my 401K as a first-year teacher is worth 10X what I originally invested. Could the same thing be said of some small investment I made in a child thirty-two years ago? Have my investment in mutual funds out-performed my investment in students? I will likely never know. But, I wonder.

And that better grades would propel them to a better college, where they would train for a successful future and meet their spouse? Would I be able to know that they would push their children in music and the impact that it would have on their children and their family?

Conversely, what would I see if I witnessed the potential impact had I not convinced them to stay in music (I'm thinking Scrooge and Christmas past)? In short, how can I know the totality of the effects, good or bad, throughout their life?

I have seen this effect with my children. How one small act of kindness at band camp calmed a frightened thirteen-year-old and helped him make it through a couple of rough days. And how that small act got him through the week, and led to a successful season and wanting to sign up for band again.

The interest shown early, over something small, over a long period of time, compounds into something infinitely more valuable and can be life-changing.

Einstein knew WHAT he was talking about when he said, "compounding interest is the eighth wonder of the world." I just don't think he knew WHO he was talking about.

Today, start with someone new, do something small, and dream of the impact over the long haul because we know that your interest will only compound over time.

And it doesn't take a genius to figure that out!

-Scott

ALBERT, INTEREST, AND YOUR LIFE YIELD, PART 1

My first principal was a sage man who, after hiring me, encouraged me to max out my 401k from the start. He said, if I never had the money to begin with, I would never miss it and I would retire a rich man. 

Being an educated and relatively financially savvy person, I immediately followed his advice. Being a drummer, I only followed part of it. I did not max out the contribution, and I regret it to this day.

Dumb move!

What's the difference between worry-free retirement and pinching pennies? The answer is simple, compounding interest.

Thought to have originated in 17th-century Italy, compound interest can be thought of as "interest on interest." It will make a sum grow faster than simple interest, which is calculated only on the principal amount.

Albert Einstein is credited as stating that compound interest is the world's eighth wonder, and while the recent volatility of the market has me nervous, Albert assures me that if I stay the course, in the long run, I will be 401 OK!

Compounding interest teaches us that the key to amassing wealth is not TIMING the market (buy-low, sell-high), but TIME IN the market. In other words, start early, start small, and stay long. 

I have always understood what compounding interest was, but it wasn't until I was in my forties did I fully realize the immenseness of it and impact it could have in my life and retirement.

To help you see the power of compounding interest in action, here's the story of Jack and Blake —two guys who got serious about investing for retirement. They picked good, growth stock mutual funds that average an annual return of about 11.6%—just under the long-term growth rate of the S&P 500.

graphic and example courtesy of Ramsey Publications

Jack

  • Starts investing at age 21

  • Invests $2,400 every year

  • Stops contributing money at age 30

  • Total amount contributed: $21,600

Blake

  • Starts investing at age 30

  • Invests $2,400 every year

  • Contributes money until age 67 (a total of 37 years!)

  • Total amount contributed: $91,200

At age 67, Jack’s investment has grown to $2,547,150, and Blake’s has grown to $1,483,033! Nine years made a difference of over one million dollars.

How does a $21,000 investment become worth $2.6 million while an investment of five times more yields 44% less money? COMPOUNDING INTEREST!

Properly invested, money traditionally doubles every seven years. By waiting an additional seven years, Arthur misses one and a half cycles of his money doubling, which is trivial at age 36, but is significant at retirement age.

The true yield from investing doesn't come from the amount you invest, but the length of time you allow it to grow. Again, start early, invest small, and stay long.

See your earning potential between now and your retirement. It's both fun and scary.

PROJECT YOUR RETIREMENT

I did not know this when I was 21. I could have spared $2,000 a year (and enjoyed the tax benefit) from my first decade of teaching. I had no kids, no wife, and not much of a social life. Let's be real, I was working all the time, didn't buy expensive things and had a roommate to share rent and expenses with. 

I could have been Jack. Heck, I could have been more than Jack. But, back then I didn't know jack about being like Jack!

Dumb!

I wish I had been more forward-thinking. I wish I had planned better. I wish I understood that my actions at twenty-three would have would have a significant impact not just in my life, but in my wife and children's as well.

DUMB!

Einstein was right when he said compounding interest is the world's eighth wonder. And, it's as true for you as it is for your students, but not in the way you might think. Curious about how? I will explain tomorrow. Why?

Because I want to let your interest compound overnight (see what I did there).

Until then, have a great Wednesday!

-Scott


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 





p.s. Just a friendly reminder. If you would like to continue to receive the weekly edition of this e-zine, you can click here to become a Patron. I hope you understand the need and want to be a part of the community.





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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