James Patterson and Embracing Our Middleness

With over 322 books to his credit, James Patterson is one of the most prolific living writers living today. Believe it or not, it's hard to find a current number, because he averages twelve new books a year. That's right, a new book every month!

Interestingly, while Patterson's first book was published in 1976, most of his writing happened after he retired as an advertising executive in 1997. In just the past decade, he has sold 425 million books, and has an estimated net worth of 700 million dollars.

 

And it's not just the quantity that's impressive; it's also the quality. Patterson currently holds the Guinness World Record for the highest number of New York Times Best Sellers by a single author.

Patterson writes in virtually every genre (fiction, non-fiction, young adult fiction, short stories, novellas, and children's literature) and has co-written with Bill Clinton, Dolly Parton, and a host of other celebrities and writers. (I am waiting for my call.) I wanted his recently released autobiography for the holidays but could not get it because it's sold out everywhere. Not even SANTA can get his book. 

Listen, I have typed more than my fair share of words and published more than a few things. And, as you may know, I have even written a few books. I fully understand and appreciate the effort and emotion it takes to create, write, edit, and publish a literary work, which is why I can't fathom doing it 322 times. 

How does he do it? How does he crank out such volume? How does he come up with so many ideas? 

In a recent article in GQ Magazine, he states, "I have a folder in my office here, and it's about nine inches thick, and on every page, there could be anywhere from one to 10 or 11 ideas. When I'm thinking about writing another book, I'll start looking through it, and every once in a while, there's something that's been in there for a long time - all of a sudden, I see it differently, and I know how to tell a story around it."

Honestly, he and I have a similar writing flow. I have an (electronic) folder with over 150 ideas for blogs, articles, and yes, another book. Some of these ideas date back a decade or more. Anytime I see/read/think of something, I throw it in the folder, which I re-read every Monday morning in preparation for writing Wednesday's blog.

Yes, J.P. and I are twinsies. Well, except for the fact that more people BUY what he writes. How can I be more like J.P.? 

 

Patterson states, "If you can write beginnings and ends, you can make a nice living as a writer. If you write middles, you win Pulitzers and Nobel Prizes and stuff. But with beginnings and ends, you're going to do okay." 

Write middles? Interesting. I always thought the key to success was writing pithy puns.

The more I pondered on this, the more sense it made to me. Middle's matter, not just in writing, but in life. And, as a rule, people are good at starting and ending things, but not as good at working through the middle.

Think about it with your program.

  • The start of the year has energy and excitement - the end has angst and anticipation. The middle? It's a chore and a bore.

  • Starting/sightreading/ performing new literature is fun. Rehearsing in-between? Not so much. 

  • Even in music, the beginning and ends of pieces are typically memorable, whereas the middle is where they stick the slow part.

  • Elementary school rings with energy and excitement. High school with new experiences and onsetting adulthood. Middle school? No one ever said, "Those were the best years of my life!"

As I said, the middle is hard. The middle stinks. And that's precisely where we are.

As we begin the year anew, it's anything but new. For educators, January isn't a New Year; it's an old one. We have the same students, classes, schedule, budget, etc. There's NOTHING new, fun, or exciting about January's return to school. Do you know why? Because it's the MIDDLE of the year. And as we have previously mentioned, no one likes the middle.

But, middles matter.

Because as James Patterson says, "The middle is where good separates from great and the Pulitzers and Nobels are earned."

In writing and teaching, the middle is where the bulk of the work is done, and progress is made. October is when the trophies are handed out, but September is when success is forged. April is when the festival is held, but February is when it is earned. The middle matters. It might not involve standing ovations or the excitement of starting something new. But it matters, for you and your students.

In literature and life, the middle is where the plot thickens, the character develops, and the stage is set. It's where you meet new people and learn new things. It's where you build relationships and develop feelings. It's where you choose your side, build your alliance, and forge your bonds.

Yes, people remember the first and last page, but the middle is what makes it all possible. So, let us stop, embrace, and celebrate the middle for its middleness! 

As the school year and this winter drag on, to help your students identify and own their middleness, perhaps you might take a few minutes and chat with them. You might even share this blog and have a group discussion. To make your point more memorable, you could pretend that we're not in the "middle" of winter, put a sun lamp in your room, and wear zinc oxide on your nose. Have your student leaders plan a "beach day" or Hawaiian-themed rehearsal, or any other crazy idea that pops into your head. Just do something that acknowledges and celebrates where we are: the middle. And that's a good place to be.

As my BFF/writing twin/pen-pal JP reminds us, the middle is where good is separated from great, because the middle is where books, music, and people get better.

Have a great week. 

Scott





Scoring Goals, Taking Out the Trash, and Other World Cup Rituals

As I write this article, we are about two hours from the start of the World Cup match between the United States and Iran.

(Spoiler alert - USA dominated and won 1-0)

Now, I like me some soccer, and I played all through my childhood and into high school. And I LOVE me some Ted Lasso, so it's a safe bet that I will have one eye on the T.V. during and after the match.

After you say? Why, yes.

Because the fans of the Japanese World Cup team have started a post-game celebration that is catching on. One of cleaning.

Japanese fans went viral for cleaning up after a World Cup victory. Fans from other countries are following their example.

In an article in the New York Times, Andrew Keh noted that, "After the final whistle blew on Sunday afternoon, the Japanese fans who had just spent hours bouncing under a blistering midday sun allowed themselves a moment to wallow in the disappointment of their team's 1-0 loss to Costa Rica."

But the moment quickly passed, and out came the blue trash bags as a group of Japanese spectators, who only moments earlier had been deliriously singing for their team, began meticulously cleaning the stands at Ahmed bin Ali Stadium, picking up trash scattered across the rows of seats around them."

It hardly mattered what it was — and they didn't just pick up their trash; they picked up refuse left by others. "It's a sign of respect for a place, said Eiji Hattori, 32, a fan from Tokyo, who had a bag of bottles, ticket stubs, and other stadium detritus. This place is not ours, so we should clean up if we use it. And, even if it is not our garbage, it's still dirty, so we should clean it up."

Videos and pictures of the Japanese cleaning sessions have gone viral on social media. But it's not just fans sharing them. Last week, FIFA posted a picture of the Japanese team's locker room after its enormous upset victory over Germany. The room was — you guessed it — spotless. 

"For Japanese people, this is just a normal thing to do," said Hajime Moriyasu, the coach of the Japanese team. "When you leave a place, you have to leave it cleaner than it was before." 

This post-game cleansing ritual has caught on with other fans, including the U.S., where sports are just as revered, but cleanliness is not.

Recently, as a part of a father/son tradition, my son and I went to see the Buffalo Bills play (we went to the game relocated to Detroit by an epic snowstorm).

At the end of the game, the place was a huge mess. I started to gather not just our trash, but as much around us as I could hold. My son asked, "Why are you grabbing other people's trash? They have people who clean the stadium." 

I responded, "We don't expect others to clean up after us." 

He began gathering as much trash as he could hold, and we climbed a gazillion steps to the nearest refuse bin, where we unloaded our bounty. 

This was not a huge decision or a moment of consciousness. This was not an empty gesture or teaching moment for my son. This was just a habit.

Where did I learn this ritual and develop this habit? Not from my parents (although I am sure that my parents reminded me to pick up after myself often), the lesson took hold as a music student and teacher.

Honestly, my earliest memory of this behavior was from a Dr. Tim seminar. Now I can't walk by a piece of trash or an unflushed toilet and not pick it up and flush it. I know I am not alone in this. regardless where you first heard it, we have ALL heard (and said) it.

Always leave the place cleaner than you found it.

This is among the many universal cries of all music teachers. After rehearsal, on the field, in a bus, and on stage, you always hear the same refrain, "Everybody grab something, and leave the place cleaner than you found it."

This is one of the many non-musical characteristics your students learn from you every day. Show up on time, be respectful, kind, and tolerant. Putting others before yourself, working hard, and striving for excellence are just a few of the many everyday life lessons taught in music rooms on a daily basis. These lessons not only make for a better musical ensemble, they also make for a better person.

I am not surprised the act of decency displayed by the Japanese team and their fans; it's classy and elegant. Nor am I surprised by the snowball effect, however small, it's having.

I am just surprised it took them this long to learn it. Music teachers have been singing that song for decades.

Have a great week everyone.

Scott 

BUGGING OUT 

When I was a kid, summer road trips were a thing. Long hours in the back of a van or station wagon, without air-conditioning (or seatbelts, for that matter), were the norm. These trips were a ritual and a rite of passage. 

While on the trip, we all had our jobs. My mom would plan and pack, and my dad would drive. My brothers and I? Our job was to fight, and we were all very good at our jobs. 

But there was one job no one wanted: cleaning the windshield when we stopped for gas. It was gross! Scraping tons of crunchy, bloody bugs off the windshield was no one's idea of a good time.

Like many of you, I am recreating these same experiences with my family. One generation later, the similarities are remarkable. Mom packs and plans, dad drives, and the kids fight. The one notable difference? No bugs.

As a child, our windshield was covered with splattered bugs, but I don't see them anymore. 

According to a recent study, from 1996 to 2017, insect splatters fell by 80 percent on shorter routes and a stunning 97 percent on longer ones.

Anders Pape Moller, a Danish biologist, was the first scientist to note the phenomenon. (I could cite the study, but would you really want to read it?)

Every summer, he and his assistants return to Denmark to drive battered budget vehicles back and forth along the same rural routes in the north of Denmark's Jutland peninsula. And with regularity, he would find fewer and fewer hitchhikers stuck to his windshield.

But why?

I honestly don't care. But, apparently, I should.

Is it the insect decline? Is it part of global warming? Have more aerodynamic designs of cars decreased the splats? Are insects commuting on side roads or catching an Uber? 

The article points out that bugs are necessary to our world and appear to be a finite and endangered resource. Their absence, for whatever reason, is a harbinger of things to come.

This got me thinking. (Don't ask me why?) Are music kids like mosquitoes? Are they an essential but undervalued part of our educational ecosystem? Are they dwindling? And, if so, is that cause for future concern?

Like their flying friends, I don't know the cause(s), but I know it's happening. But, it shouldn't.

  • America's population is increasing.

  • The number of schools and enrollment are at an all-time high.

  • Access to affordable (but not necessarily good) instruments has never been easier.

  • Teachers have never been more aggressive in recruiting.

So why?

  • Is it pandemic related?

  • Is social media impacting things?

  • How much is related to increased graduation/college acceptance requirements?

  • How much of it is related to scheduling and parental pressures?

  • Every music educator is asking the same questions and wants the same answers.

Every music educator is asking the same questions and wants the same answers.

But, for a moment, let's forget the lack of splat and focus on the more pressing question: is this indicative of a more significant and looming problem?

Is there a causational or correlational relationship between music enrollment and school success? Is the health of a school music program indicative of school health?

I believe so.

In recent articles, I have shared that if we are to fix what is wrong and broken in our schools, perhaps we should start with what is right and working: MUSIC!

What do you think? Is there a relationship between the two (music and school health)? And (if applicable), is declining enrollment a signal of dark clouds on the horizon?

I have a bit more to share on this; just not quite there yet.

What Can Brown Do for You?

I am a fanboy. Both of my boys are fanboys as well. You could call us a fanfamily. Except for my wife, she's not a fangirl and is more of a fan hater. To be clear, we're not just fly-by-night fair-weather fans. WE ARE ALL IN and have been for years. We are charter members of the fan club. Or, as I like to call myself, a "FAN-O-NEERS." 

Even Riley, our Golden Retriever, is a fan. But, fan of what? 

FANS, of course!

I am not talking about a band, tv show, or movie, although we have our favorites. I am talking about a true fan. You know, the thing that oscillates and moves air. A fan!

I have been working, watching, and sleeping with a fan since childhood. Ceiling fan, personal fan, desktop fan? YES! I love them all. As I mentioned, my wife does not share my passion for all things fan-related. Shortly after we were married, I overheard my wife telling a friend that it was like living in a perpetual windstorm.

I told her it was like living in a hurricane, a hurricane of AWESOMENESS.

I need my fan. 

It's not the cool breeze I crave, although I like it. Nor is it the ability to snuggle under a blanket, even on summer nights in Arizona. It's the NOISE. I NEED the noise. It distracts me and helps me to relax and shut my brain down. Something with which I struggle.

What's ironic is that I can't sleep any other noise, and I am easily distracted by sounds. The TV, radio, leaf blowers, and car horns are all sounds that make my mind race and keep me awake. But not the fan. I don't just tolerate the fan; I require it to sleep.

It turns out that the fan is not just for sleep anymore.

I recently stumbled upon a New York Times article about Brown noise. What is Brown noise? The article described it as "something akin to wind, heavy rain, or the steady hum of an airline jet. It sounds like water rushing somewhere in the distance, like a gentle fan ruffling cool air currents. It's soothing, steady, slightly rumbly."

You had me at gentle fan.

The article also stated that people exposed to Brown noise reported that it helped them "feel calm, and freed from an internal monologue that allowed them to relax, and focus for longer periods of time."

You had me at focus.

Brown noise's name comes from Robert Brown, a Scottish botanist, who discovered "Brownian motion" — the unexpected way pollen grains "dance" under a microscope.

So, I have been trying it. It's simple, I open a browser and choose any number of YouTubevideos with eight-hour-long audio tracks, set the computer volume low, and get to work. As a testament to its efficacy, there are dozens of "Brown Noise" playlists on both Spotify and Apple iTunes.

There are other noises besides Brown, such as white (louder and lower), and pink (more fizzle, more frequencies), but Brown (all frequencies, less high, lower) is my jam.

Maybe I like Brown noise because it's the closest noise to music (Pyramid of Sound). It may be because I found it first. But, I do think it helps. I keep the tab open on my computer, hit play in the morning, and forget it's there while I work. I never really notice how loud I have it unless I am on a conference call and someone asks, "What's that noise?" 

The idea of Brown noise is that it utilizes all frequencies, which overwhelms your brain, and forces it to shut down. I like to think of it as nature's noise-canceling headphones.

The idea that sound can alter your mood or cognitive function is not a new concept and should come as a surprise to no one. For hundreds of years, sounds have been associated with altered states of mind and mood. What's new? Our understanding of the impact that specific sounds/frequencies have on cognitive function and focus.

Does it work? I'm not sure, but I like the idea of a calmer and more focused Scott. So I keep using it.

You may not be a fan person. You may even find background noises annoying and distracting. But consider this:

Your job is chaotic, and you work in a world filled with sensory overload. You are professionally trained to dissect, analyze, and create sound. And, when you think about it, sounds are likely the source of your greatest frustrations and fondest memories every day. So, sound could be a way to detach from it as well.

Whether you want to dive in, or unwind, see what Brown can do for you! After all, you deserve the break! You can start with my personal favorite here. 

Have a great week!

-Scott



Halloween and my 364 Days with Imposter Syndrome

Please read the post-scripts and watch the video until the end. I promise it will be the best part of your day, and will remind you of the impact of this incredible activity.

As I write this, my youngest son is excitedly preparing for Halloween. I don't really know what his costume is; but I think it related to a knight. What I do know is that he has wrangled Riley, our two-year-old Golden Retriever into being an accomplice and dressing up as a dragon. We tried the costume on her the night before, and it was evident that she was NOT happy about the situation.

Me? I like dressing up. Always have.

My wife is in charge of costuming, and she is good at it. This year we are partnering with our friends and neighbors to be the characters from the iconic 80's film The Breakfast Club. She even made student IDs for us (to the right). As you can imagine, I am Brian Johnson, (the geeky character played by Anthony Michael Hall). When she asked what character I wanted to be, I told her that I see myself as more of a John Bender (a moody, broody anti-authority figure played by Judd Nelson). She just laughed. But, she's wrong!

I can totally see myself in the iconic closing scene, slowly walking off the football field as the sun sets with my fist pumped in the air! You see it too, right?

My wife says it is a bit of a stretch. I tell her that's what Halloween is—being something you're not, but are secretly (or not so secretly) wanting to be. Today, it's called Halloween. The other 364 days it's called Imposter Syndrome. According to Web MD:

Impostor Syndrome is, "someone who feels they aren't as capable as others think and fears they'll be exposed as a fraud." 

It is more common than you think, especially in the world of work. Honestly, I have felt like an imposter most of my adult / work life. Let me explain.

  • As a teacher, I was terrified that my students would discover that I was faking it and didn't know as much as I pretended to.

  • As the program grew and found (considerable) success, I was scared my colleagues would see that it was all luck.

  • As an administrator, I was sure the teachers knew I was making it up every day and flying by the seat of my pants.

  • As a leadership speaker, I run from plane to plane, city to city, where people's opinions never catch up to me.

  • As the founder of Be Part of the Music, I sat across from C-Suite execs asking for their support, praying they wouldn't see me as the business neophyte I was.

  • As a write this (and every other e-zine), I worry that you are on the other end, rolling your eyes, laughing a sardonic laugh, and thinking, "This guy's a joke!"

I could go on, but you get the idea.

So yeah, you could say I have a bit of a condition. Heck, I am the model for Imposters Syndrome.

I have always felt like a bit of a fraud.
Am I the only one who suffers from this?

Do you ever feel that way? Do you ever worry that your seemingly unnoticed ineptitude will be exposed? Are you waiting for the world to discover what you already know to be true - that you are a fraud?

I genuinely hope so.

In an article in Active Beat, author Jay Hayward explains the phenomenon in a little more detail: "Those who have achieved some level of success are the most vulnerable to this phenomenon. They believe they have somehow cheated their way onto the podium, and at any minute, the floor will open up below them. Basically, they don't feel like they deserve their success."

As I said, I HOPE you feel that way. Why? Re-read the last sentence. It ends with "their success."

You can only have imposter syndrome with success; they go hand in hand, and one is required for the other to exist. Think about it: you would not suffer from imposter syndrome if you lived in your parents' basement, ate cold Spaghettios, and binge-watched Moonshiners. (That was oddly specific and definitely NOT true of me. Ok, but only parts).

If you feel like an imposter, it means you did your job and did it well. You chased success and caught it. You interviewed and beat everyone else out for the role. You taught your students at a high level and developed the program in a noteworthy way. You were reviewed, adjudicated, and determined to have done outstanding work that somehow exceeds expectations. You are a GREAT teacher!

Even if you don't feel like one. 

This job is hard. You are an island unto yourself and are likely doing it alone. You are on display and judged and graded (literally) in front of your students, parents, and administration. The compliments are few and far between, and parents can be just as much a friends as they are a foes. You are a teacher, writer, public speaker, accountant, bus driver, creative designer, and custodian. You are many things and, in some cases, YOU ARE EVERYTHING. 

Well, everything BUT an imposter! You're too good for that. And you realize that feeling bad just means you are doing good.

Have a great week. 

Scott







p.s. THIS GUY! On Saturday night, I received a text and a video clip from a client. They had no idea that I know, respect, and adore this man, they just wanted to send me something that inspired them, and despite being seven states away, thought I might feel the same way. They were correct.

Adam Mewhorter is the Director of Bands at South Moore High School, just outside Oklahoma City. You may remember him from our efforts to raise money for him after a devastating category-five tornado tore through his community. You may also have seen the school yearbook picture he took in a band uniform. But, THIS is next level - and it makes me proud to call him a Patron, colleague, and, most importantly, a friend. Way to go, Adam! Click on the video and watch until the end.

SEE ADAM'S PHOTO

SEND ADAM A NOTE

p.p.s. This is the free edition of the e-zine for November. November is a content-filled month for Patrons. In addition to the weekly blogs, I am doing a live webinar on rethinking your career, weekly Student Leader Newsletters, and an upcoming gratitude activity for Thanksgiving. 

I sincerely hope you like this content and will consider becoming a Patron - even if I feel like an imposter when I write it. :) 






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Are we teaching music right?

Hey ~Contact.FirstName~,

You probably already noticed that this is different from your regular newsletter. No clever title (I am clever, right?) or pretty graphics. This is not a blog or an opinion piece, it is more of a conversation, so I am treating it like one.

I have been contemplating this for a while now, and forthcoming data from The State of Music Education Survey has only confirmed my suspicions. Let me start with a few questions.

Is there a correct way to start kids in music?

Specifically, is there a correct age, class frequency, number of instructional minutes, or order of operations?

I am not talking about scope and sequence, for which some commonly accepted norms exist; I am talking about the structure of music education.

Let me backpedal a bit and tell you where and how this started.

My boys attend schools in the second-largest district in Arizona. While situated in a state that notoriously underfunds schools, these schools are well-funded, have resources, and are successful in every endeavor: athletic, academic, and activities. That is, except for music.

We moved to our current house partly because of the schools and district. I was even more overjoyed when I learned that the district required music (band/orchestra/choir) for EVERY fifth and sixth grader. HOW AWESOME IS THAT? I was elated.

Years later, my son started the band as a fifth grader, and his teacher was fantastic. We had two wonderful years, but as he moved into junior high school, virtually all of his friends and classmates chose not to continue. Despite having 1300 students, only about 85 kids enrolled in the 7th and 8th grade bands. The program had only enough classes/students to be a part-time teaching position. To make things worse, the junior high had block scheduling for the electives. Music classes met every other day, losing approximately 50% of the instructional minutes students should have received.

As my son moved to high school, he moved from trombone to front ensemble. My wife protested vigorously, but I consented. When she asked why? I told her, "Because he is bad at the trombone."   

She was miffed, but I was right.

It got me thinking. How can a kid who has played classical piano since kindergarten, with a band director father, and be in the band for four years be so bad at the trombone? Additionally, how does a school district that requires music for every child have such small participation in secondary music at every school? (My son's high school band currently has 40 plus in the band in a school of over 4,000 students.)

My conclusion? They're teaching music wrong.

It's not the teacher's fault. My kids have some fantastic teachers who are trapped in a flawed system.

Let me explain.

  • The district is rare because it uses a junior high model, K-6, 7-8, 9-12.

  • Music is required for 5th and 6th graders (for a grade-level prep).

  • This model means they receive about 50% fewer instructional minutes than if they were to start in middle school (6th grade) and meet five days a week.

  • Over the two years, they will have missed 180 days of music instruction that they would have received had the district been on a middle school model.

  • Now add teacher sick days, student sick days, and the retention skills of a 5th grader, and you can see where instructional consistency is problematic.

So, when it came time to choose a junior high school elective, most of his friends and parents said, "He tried it, didn't feel that he was any good, so he is going to try something else."

I tried to explain that no one is good at an instrument after just two years and that, according to minutes in a class, they had received only one semester of instruction in those two years due to the schedule. But they had made their decision. Those kids were lost to music forever because of a flawed system.

My school district teaches music wrong. The data is all there, anecdotal and empirical. I can count instructional minutes, measure attrition rates, track contest scores, and compare them with surrounding districts. The data points lead to the same inescapable conclusion: they are teaching music wrong. I wonder, do they know they are wrong? And if they do, do they care?

If they were teaching math wrong, I bet people would care. If we only taught English every 2.5 days, I am pretty sure administrator phones would be ringing. If science was used as a placeholder so that grade-level teachers could have a common prep, I am pretty sure the Superintendent would hear about it, and there would be packed Board meetings.

Teach music wrong. "Oh well."

So, I attend my boys' concerts (band and choir), marvel at the job their teachers are doing, and wonder what these music programs could and would be if they taught music right. 

Looking at it from another angle. If I were to move to a suburb in Texas, both of my boys would likely transition with little adversity or impact. They would be at or above grade level in most curricula, except for music, where they would be two or more grades behind. Because of where I live, my boys received 50% less instructional time, with no access to in-class lessons, from a teacher who does not specialize on their instrument, and has no assistant to help them. 

In music, we talk about instructional strategies and best practices. We have learning objectives and agreed-upon national standards. But we might be teaching music incorrectly for almost 40% of this country. 

Again, my son's music teachers are outstanding in every way. As good as anywhere in the country. This is not a criticism of them, but more a question of... 

Is there a right way to teach music? And if so, why don't we talk about it more? 

Have a great week.

Scott

Jump to the FB group to discuss

Recurring Dreams and the Job I Never Asked For


I have a recurring dream, several, actually. One happened just the other night.

It was my final semester before graduating college, and I needed just a few more credits to graduate, one of them being in math. The final exam was mere hours away, and I suddenly remembered that I had not been to class in months. Nor had I done any of the homework required to pass. I awoke panicked, believing my future career and life were in jeopardy. How could be so stupid and reckless? How could I have placed myself in such jeopardy? How did I let this happen? 

Then I slowly came about, realizing that none of this was real, and that I had successfully graduated college some thirty years ago. Ironically, I never even took math in college, choosing to double up on science instead. So, I was having nightmares about a class I never took and did not need to graduate.

I understand that I am not alone in this dream or any other of my recurring ones (someone chasing me relentlessly, or being naked in a public place). But having angst and anxiety about something that has never happened, nor ever will, is odd, right? Shouldn't I be having nightmares about real things, like a financial depression, a natural disaster, or an oboe apocalypse?

Why school? Why now? 

In an article in The Atlantic, Deirdre Barrett, a dream researcher at Harvard University and the author of Pandemic Dreams and The Committee of Sleep, explained school dreams in this way: "It's a common theme, not only for people who are still in school, but for people who are far into adulthood, and who have been out of school forever."

Barrett further explained, "These dreams tend to pop up when the dreamer is anxious in waking life, particularly about being evaluated by an authority figure, which makes sense based on my current life experiences and situation."

This is even true in music.

She found, "People who play music at an early age tend to experience anxiety dreams, not about school, but about auditions— where they dealt with authority figures who could most easily crush them. In each of these dream scenarios, we revisit the space where we first experienced success or failure based on our performance."

Wait. Say what?! You mean, not only am I having recurring dreams, I am a part of someone else's recurring dreams? After all, I auditioned students and assigned playing tests. I passed judgments every hour of every day. Is there a teacher on campus who judges more frequently than a music teacher? Pitch, articulation, balance, blend, timing, space, technique... We pass more judgments every day than Judge Judy did in 42 years on the bench.

Now I am to understand that my job is the source of someone else's midnight angst. Someone should have mentioned this in my practicum class.

Ok, back to my dream.

In the same article, Jane Teresa Anderson, author of The Dream Handbook states, "What might be behind that dream scenario (being back at school and having to take this final) is feeling tested in life, feeling that you have to respond to other people's expectations, and feeling that you're not meeting them."

She goes on to state that dream researchers believe that these dreams recur when they do to provide us with another lesson from a past experience. In the case of my dream of being judged, the lesson from thirty years ago is still the same one I need to learn today, which is not to be affected by what other people think (of me).

So recurring dreams are rooted in lessons I still need to learn from people that influenced me. Hmmm.

Does that mean that all of my students who don't have recurring nightmares mastered the lesson of self-analysis and evaluation, or was I simply not an influence on them?

Let's go with the former.

We all know the lessons of learning and making music extend far beyond our classroom walls, but to know that it extends beyond our waking hours is simply unreal. As a teacher seventeen years ago, it turns out that I wasn't just filling their days; I am currently still haunting their dreams. That is simultaneously super cool and super creepy.

I have a night job! But, I don't want a night job. How do I get out of this? How do I stop haunting my former students?

Jane Anderson states that you can attempt to resolve these issues by processing through the dream, but producing a favorable resolution. So to all of my former students, imagine yourself completing that playing exam or scale test, then turning to me and saying, "I appreciate you listening, but I choose to grade myself."

Perhaps the reason I don't haunt their dreams is the fact I did have my students grade themselves on every test. In fact, their grade was worth 50%, or as much as mine. In 16 years, on only two occasions were my students' grades higher than mine. My experience is kids are always tougher on themselves than I will ever be.

So I guess their dreams are safe from me after all.

Me? I will imagine myself in that state of panic, walking into the lecture hall, but envision the professor saying, "This test doesn't matter; you don't need it to graduate. But, would you please put some clothes on?!"

That will solve two problems at once.

Have a great week! 

Scott

p.s. I don't have any recurring nightmares about teaching. I wonder why? Do you?

Bach, Van Gogh, and My Life As Art.

Prologue: Thanks for your patience as I wander abroad with my family. A special shout out to Ashley, who specifically asked me not to write, and enjoy the time with my family. Your note was lovely (see what Europe is doing to me?). But for me, writing and speaking are how I think. I throw everything out there to assess, digest, and process. This particular communique is an attempt to do just that. It's a bit different - but, I like that I can be different with this special group. 

I hope you enjoy.

- Scott

Bach, Van Gogh, and My Life As Art.

As my family and I wandered the streets of Paris, we found our way into a centuries-old bookstore in the Latin Quarter called Shakespeare & Company. I was fascinated as I worked my way through the small, disjunct store where Hemingway, Vonnegut, and Salinger had all spent time. 

After spending time browsing the unknown and unfamiliar, I sought assistance from the owner and operator to find my go-to book, Illusions, Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, by Richard Bach. It is a book I buy, collect, and give away to friends regularly.

Written in 1974 by author Richard Bach (Jonathan Livingston Seagull), the book is equal parts fantasy and philosophy, and tells the tale of two wayfaring strangers as they travel, talk, and learn about life. Even after reading it more than a dozen times, I still find it hard to fully understand whether Bach is writing a fantasy/fiction piece, or if he is spinning a narrative of a historical documentary that is played out only in his head.

The book begins with grease-stained pages and a handwritten text... 

"There once was a Master, born unto the Holy Land of Indiana, raised in the mystical hills of Fort Wayne. The Master learned of the land in the public schools of Indiana, and as he grew as a mechanic, he grew as a student of life..."

At first, it is hard to tell where Bach is coming from. But, don't worry, his perspective of reality only gets more distorted (and interesting) from there. By the end, you will find yourself, sitting fireside with the two main characters, thinking about life, and the meaning of it all.

Even if you have not read the work in its entirety, you likely have read its excerpts, as it is among the most quoted books of the modern era. Bach's first quote in the book is among my favorites and set's the tone of what is to come in a masterful yet unrevealing way. 

From the very first page, the author challenges every pre-conceived notion associated with a conventional life, and challenges us to abandon all boundaries and set a path based on what we want to achieve, versus what we believe is possible.


"We are each given a block of marble when we begin a lifetime, and the tools to shape it into an artistic sculpture."

Our life is a work of art. Hmmm... 

What medium would I be? What colors or sounds would I use? What is the final piece meant to represent and achieve? I am not sure I can answer that just yet. But, let me try.

As a part of my family's travels, we visited the Van Gogh Museum. I was overwhelmed not just by Van Gogh's genius, but the sheer voluminous of his work. Talk about non-stop, he created thousands of works, large and small, in just ten short years. I was both inspired by his all-consuming passion & work ethic, and simultaneously embarrassed at how my body of work over a similar time frame might compare. This feeling was only magnified when I fully understood the depth, complexity, and nature of his work.

Let me explain. 

As a part of the exhibit, the museum displayed his famous work Sunflowers in various states of completion. First as a symmetrical layout, then a charcoal sketch, followed by a complete pencil drawing, and then the final step of color, texture, and paint. In other words, each work, was really four different works building on each other. I wasn't looking at two thousand words, I was really looking at eight thousand works. All completed in ten years. INSANE!

Let's get back to the work of Richard Bach. Life is a work of art. Now let's look at it through the lens of Van Gogh. Life is art + art is a four step process.

How do you view your (professional) life? What is your medium, and where are you in your artistic timeline? Are you just starting to sketch the symmetrical outline? Are you adding the final touches of color and nuance? Or, like most of us, are you somewhere in the charcoal sketch and pencil phase? Wherever you are, are you living a life of purpose? And, is it a life of your choice?

As music educators, we are blessed beyond most other professions. This (work) life is one of sacrifice and solitude, but also one filled with purpose and passion, which gives our days and nights meaning that others might not have. As Donald Shimoda (Bach's sherpa like main character) reminds us:

"An easy life doesn't teach us anything. In the end it's learning that matters, what we've learned, and how we've grown."

As music educators, our lives are anything but easy, and growing, musical and otherwise, is an unavoidable professional hazard.

So back to life is art...

For multiple reasons, I've been thinking a lot about this journey as of late. Where am I? What am I trying to say? Where do I want to be? And, how can I get from here to there?

These are not simple questions or answers.

Like many of you, I struggle between choosing the fanciful and fantastical, over the practical and applicable. I want to lead a life filled with purpose and passion, but have to be mindful of my riole a parent and provider. Where is the balance between living in bold strokes and strong colors? How do I be vibrant while still having subtle hues and soft corners?

I don't have the answers just yet, but I am working on it. After thirty-two years, the geometry is laid out. My hands are filled with charcoal and my fingernails with lead. But, I have yet to apply a single color or brush stroke. What stands before me is a black-and-white palate, mocking me to make my first move and complete the work. But, what it will be is yet to be determined. Picasso painted everything from the Abstract to the Impressionist. Whimsical to historical. Landscapes to people. What separated these works? Not the first three steps (symmetry, charcoal, and pencil), but the final step, color.

As Richard Bach reminds us, 

"Here is the test to find whether your mission on earth is finished. If you're alive, it isn't." 

I guess my work and life are still far from a masterpiece, but I am not even close to being finished. How about you?

Have a great week.

Scott

p.s. If you enjoyed this blog, consider picking up a copy of Illusions. If the interest is there, but the finances are not, email me your home address and I will send you a copy, my treat.

p.p.s. Spoiler alert - As a part of the book, you will experience a "What the HECK!" moment. You will know it when you get to it. Upon arriving there, if you are so inclined, reach out to me and let's compare notes.

p.p.s. I do feel better now Alicia. What did you think?

America First = School Music Last

This is not a political post - just a thought piece on why America does not support something so uniquely American.

American exceptionalism is a populist idea based on the belief that America (and Americans) are inherently different (and better) than other nations and people. As we approach the mid-term elections, you will hear this phrase often! 

The term's genesis dates back to the revolutionary war, in which a "new and different" nation emerged that was different from what the world had previously seen. However, recent events (and people) have brought about a resurgence of the phrase and the populist agenda accompanying it. Nothing exemplifies this value system more succinctly than the phrase "America First."

Listen, I'm as patriotic as the next person. I listen to country music, love me some apple pie, and even root for the Cowboys (not)! I love my country and the people who serve it.

But, I'm calling bunk on the term, and question 
if we REALLY put America first.

After all, if we are so star-spangled proud of our red, white, and blue awesomeness, shouldn't we make a bigger deal about band? Shouldn't we show more pride of ownership and support it at a commensurate level? In fact, in-school music programs are relatively unique to America as well. Where is the Music First agenda?

America First should = School Music First!


In the late 1800s, Lowell Mason helped to establish public school music programs across America. These programs emphasized singing as well as the teaching of fundamentals in music.

The evolution from music to band would have to wait nearly 100 years until the 1920's, when musicians trained in the service returned home from World War I. Aided by the nation's love of another uniquely American art form, Jazz, school music programs began a slow and steady ascent into our nation's cultural identity. Music groups taught by returning war veterans? Yankee Doodle YES! 

Can it get more patriotic than that? Nowadays, it is hard to attend any public or political event where some variation of live music isn't present.

Yes, there are public school programs in many other countries, but to be clear, they copied it from us! They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery; all music educators should be flattered.

We can't take credit for the symphony orchestra or chamber music. Choirs and symphonies existed long before Betsy Ross and the Declaration of Independence. But, school music is something uniquely ours. America First should = School Music First.

So why don't we take more pride in it? Why do programs need to fundraise to buy instruments? Why are parents forced to buy music and help pay staff costs when no other curricula require that of their parents? Why are we needed to perform at football games but not given the operating budget to do it well? Why are kids playing on broken instruments and rehearsing in dilapidated rooms? Why do we set graduation requirements and build master schedules that make band all but impossible to participate in without summer school?

In short, why do we say America First and put school music last? Are we all talk and no walk? Is it all just hot air? Are we really America First, or do we just like the slogan?

As I write this blog, I am sitting in Terminal 4 at Phoenix's Sky Harbor Airport. I am traveling across the pond for a family trip delayed two years by the global pandemic. The whole experience has me pondering the political, economic, and artistic differences between the countries and continents. Every country is unique and believes in its exceptionalism. And in most cases, rightly so.

I just want to ensure that we put our money and resources where our mouths are. America First SHOULD means school music first, and that's a platform I get behind.

Should we make some hats and tee shirts? 

Have a great week! 

- Scott


p.s. I am going to try and have a newsletter next week, but travel may make it tough.

Martyrs, Masochists, and Music Education's Quiet Quit

Quiet quitting is a term burning up the internet and spreading across every social media platform. Commonly understood as "not going above and beyond, or working outside the work day," the subject has become a lightning rod for supporters and skeptics alike. 

The once feared post-pandemic "great resignation" never fully materialized, and workers instead seemed to be opting towards keeping their familiar roles but approaching them in a different way. Vilified by some as creating a culture of laziness while hailed by others as a return to a better sense of work/life balance, the quiet quit is real and impacting the way America and the world operate.

A recent study showed that the trend that started during the latter stages of the pandemic has only grown. Currently, 32% of workers are actively engaged in their jobs, 18% are disengaged, and the remaining 50%? Well, they are just... MEH! 

FIFTY PERCENT.

Perhaps even more alarming, but not surprising, is the fact that the trend of disengagement grows as the workers get younger.

Specifically, when polling workers under the age of 35, analysts discovered that:

  • The percentage of engaged employees dropped by six points.

  • From 2019 to 2022, the rate of actively disengaged employees increased by six points.

  • The rate of younger workers who believe their bosses care has dropped by 10 points.

  • Fully remote and hybrid young workers dropped 12 points in engagement.

  • Less than four in 10 young employees know what is expected of them at work.

  • Education is experiencing a similar issue, not just with struggling teachers considering leaving the profession, but with struggling students leaving school. K-12 education in America is compulsory, but post-secondary schools are experiencing an alarming increase in withdrawals and a significant decline in admission applications.

Is music education experiencing its own quiet quit? And, who is it impacting more, the teachers or the students?

Anecdotally speaking, I am hearing from many teachers that while many kids are functioning at pre-pandemic levels, a note-worthy portion of students are doing the bare minimum and not willing to go the extra mile.

Is it just the kids?

I am curious how many educators are working the same amount of hours as they did pre-pandemic? How many have the same rehearsal schedule and are driving just as hard? How many spent as much time this summer in the building as before?In short, how many teachers are teaching the exact same way, and putting in the same hours as they did pre-pandemic? And more importantly, should they be?

If we are different? How and why? And, are we and our students better off because of it? Is this adjustment a thinly veiled pass towards laziness, or is it a return to a better work-life balance and personal health?

Can it be both? 

Is it possible that in all of the craziness of the pandemic, we were able to strip away the unnecessary and unimportant so we can do (work) less, but achieve the same or more?

Is it possible we learned that:

  • We don't need 107 pages of drill, 97 will achieve the same result.

  • Less time in the building during breaks makes for a better teacher for the students.

  • Notes and rhythms are the same in a grade 4.5 composition as they are in a grade 5, but the intensity of teaching it is different.

  • Kids can achieve the same results in nine hours a week that they did in 10.

  • Regardless of the level of demand, or difficulty of the source material, kids still smile, and laugh the same.

Most importantly, did we discover that we can be just as good, if not a better teacher, working 50 hours a week instead of 60? (And to be clear, 50 is still too much.)

Yes, the world is full of quiet quitters, and music education is no different. Similar to the workplace study, 32% of music teachers may have returned to full engagement and are embracing the grind.

Are they a martyr or masochist? You can decide for yourself.

Me? I don't want to be either.

Have a great week!

- Scott