OUR DILEMMA, GROWTH vs. ACHIEVEMENT

This is Part 2, of a two-part thought exercise on equity in music education for my Patron group. Part 1 imagined how a student's experience would differ if (similar to the NFL), music education were to adopt a salary cap and a revenue sharing model. Part 2 (below) talks about what we measure and who we value.

The response to these articles was so strong that I thought I would share it with all of you. If you value this (type) of content, and would like to support and receive more of it - click below.

- Scott

BECOME A PATRON

 Last week, I used the NFL's salary cap and revenue-sharing model as a parallel for music education. I was trying to draw attention to how inequities impact our programs and students.

Specifically, I highlighted how the NFL goes to great lengths to ensure that every player, coach, and organization has equal resources and access, ensuring a level playing field. With all things being equal, it is up to the coaches to coach and the players to play.

As I mentioned last week, the same systems do not exist in (music) education. The inequity doesn't end on the playing field; it continues into the coach's (director's) office.

Let me explain. 

To help me do that and make it more realistic, let's create a fictional music teacher - we'll call him Mr. Smith. Let's meet Jeff and learn a bit more about him. Jeff:

  • He is an experienced teacher with twenty-one years under his belt. 

  • He has a bachelor's and a master's degree in music education.

  • He lives and works in a semi-rural community with a high school enrollment of 750 students.

  • Mr. Smith is the only K-12 instrumental music teacher, teaching K-12 band and one orchestra class at the high school. 

  • He has a marching band and an after-school jazz ensemble that meets twice weekly.

  • Jeff has 88 students in the high school program and a marching band of 65.

  • He is also the department chair for the Fine Arts Department at the high school.

  • He goes to contest when possible and always gets "excellent & superiors" from the adjudicators.

Jeff is the perfect snapshot of an average music educator. 

Don't believe me? 

In creating Jeff's bio, I used the national average for:

  • school enrollment

  • music teacher education level

  • tenure of service

  • % of students enrolled in music

  • teacher schedule

So yes - by any metric, Jeff is average. But, he is VERY successful at being average.

Way to go Jeff!

Now, let's dive into more specifics regarding Jeff's program and school community. Based on demographics, Jeff is likely:

  • Located in a small/rural area.

  • Where many of his students have jobs/work in the family business.

  • Needing better facilities.

  • Lacking a regular budget.

  • Working with aging inadequate instruments needing repair.

  • Not close to an instrument retailer or repair shop

  • Lacking private lesson teachers in his community except for his spouse/partner, who played flute in the college - where they met. (nice touch, right?)

  • A solo marching band teacher, lacking techs or staff, and no budget to pay them if he could find them.

  • Using stock or pre-used written music, and writing the drill himself.

Combined with what we already know about Jeff, this added info shows him to be more than excellent: HE'S A ROCK STAR and doing it all on his own, He should be entitled to all the trappings that come with stardom, right? 

Jeff should be:

  • Guest conducting local honor groups.

  • Speaking at conferences and colleges.

  • Assigned student teachers and mentoring young professionals

  • Performing at MEA events.

  • Submitting recordings to national events.

  • Courted by prestigious collegiums and professional organizations.

  • Sought after by larger schools with more resources.

  • Publishing papers or writing a book.

  • Interviewed on podcasts and for trade journals.

  • Serving on boards as a thought leader.

Yes, Jeff should be doing all of this and MORE. But, likely, he is not.  

Yes, Jeff may be a model educator - but not necessarily the model we measure, because in (music) education, we typically measure performance more than growth. And not just for the students, but for the teachers as well.

So my question is, given all that Jeff is doing (with limited resources):

how do we (as a profession) honor and value him? Or perhaps more important, how does he honor and value himself?

 

For instance, how does Jeff:

  • Explain to his students that other groups have more staff and resources that impact the outcome (meaning he is the weak link)?

  • Feel sifting through articles about balance and blend when he only has one French Horn and no tubas? 

  • Ask his students for characteristic tone, when they have never heard it in person?

  • Encourage students to audition for all-state/ honor groups with little likelihood of making them (no lesson coaches)?

  • Wander the exhibit halls and browse websites filled with instruments and uniforms his students need and deserve b ut the school cannot afford?

Most important, how does Jeff feel sitting through convention concerts knowing that he and his students are just as deserving to be there, but likely never will.

If we are being honest, (like most extra-curriculars), music education skews towards larger schools in affluent suburban neighborhoods. Places where enrollment and demographics provide a significant advantage. Places where the parents are supportive and resources are aplenty.

But this is not where Jeff is.

So, how will Jeff know how effective he is? 
How will he understand the efficacy of his life's work? 
How will he be able to better understand and appreciate his value?

Be recognized for his excellence?

He won't learn that at contest - that is where we learn how the group performed, now how much they have grown. He doesn't get to explain his circumstances or obstacles to the adjudicators. They don't get to hear a recording of the group from the beginning of the year to hear the change. They don't inspect the instruments to see if they are in good working condition. Someone announces the group's name, they play, get a rating, and leave (yes, I know there may or may not be a clinic).

Performance evaluated - growth unmeasured.

Regardless of his rating, Jeff is an incredible teacher! Just one who will never play at a convention, win a prestigious award, or be invited to join an honor organization/collegium.


I know that it is incumbent upon all of us to find our own self-worth, and performance standards matter, but so does growth. And, as a rule, we are very good at measuring one, but not so great at measuring the other.  Remember, every group can achieve growth; but for some, performance excellence can behas a few more obstacles and can be a little more elusive to attain.

So, for all you "Jeff's" in the world, know that YOU are a model music educator, YOU are excelling at your life's work, and YOU are valued - by your students, your community, and the guy sitting behind this computer. 

WAY TO GO JEFF! YOU ARE A ROCKSTAR!

Have a great week!

Scott 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved

Salary Caps and Socialism in Music Education


In case I haven't made it clear in It is no secret that I am a fan of football. While my specific drug of choice is the Buffalo Bills, I enjoy all levels of football, including college and high school. I have been a flag football coach to both of my sons.

I am not alone in my love of football - most Americans consider it their favorite sport. In fact, of the top 100 television shows watched last year, 82 of them involved pigskin and colliding helmets.

My love of football is not contained just to the field; I walk the sidelines as a coach and am equally interested in the business side of the game. I am especially interested in salary cap management and revenue sharing.

 

If you were unaware, most professional sports have a salary cap (or wage cap). Simply stated, a salary cap is an agreed-upon dollar figure that limits the amount of money a team can spend on players' salaries. According to NFL.com, the purpose of the cap is to maintain a competitive balance by restricting richer clubs from entrenching dominance by signing many more top players than their rivals. Other leagues have variations on a cap, called a "luxury tax," in which you pay a penalty if you spend over the cap, but the NFL's cap is hard and immovable.

To further the parity among teams, the league also operates under a revenue-sharing model in which all 32 teams receive equal shares of this money, regardless of individual team performance or viewing audience. 

This creates a fair and level playing field in which all teams have an equal chance to win. This doesn't explain the Browns, but honestly, nothing does. ( I had to come up with a new team now that the Lions are good!)

Wage cap? Profit sharing? These are outrageous and decidedly un-American - weird for America's most beloved game.

But without these two components, small market teams like Buffalo, Cincinnati, Green Bay, etc., could not afford marquee players and would likely cease to exist altogether.

So yes, I like the salary cap and profit sharing because it levels the playing field and puts all teams on even-standing.

Where am I going with this you ask?  

We all know that money impacts all phases of music, starting with lessons, step-up instruments, quality reeds, new strings, etc. But, it really impacts marching band. For this article and thought exercise, I will focus on that.

So, for giggles, what if we followed the lead of the NFL and instituted salary caps and revenue sharing?

  • What if all music groups were afforded the same budget?

  • What if we capped how much staff people could have or how much they could pay them?

  • What if groups/schools with more resources were required to share those resources with less fortunate schools? 

Continuing on with the NFL analogy...

  • What if we limited rehearsal time to be the same for everyone? (Texas is already doing this.)

  • What if we put a window on the way, time, and place groups could rehearse?

  • I realize that this is a bit of a stretch, but what if players were "drafted" so all groups had the same talent pool to teach and the same number of staff to teach them?

Would it change the activity? 

I think we would all agree the answer would be yes. Would it be for the better? I will leave you to determine that.

My point is that music is not continually operating on a level playing field. Students' (and teachers') experiences are altered in meaningful and significant ways based on the resources at their disposal, creating an unlevel playing field (competitively speaking). This unlevel field impacts not only the students but also teachers.

Great coaches leave for better-paying jobs and ones that offer them better opportunities, resources, and changes to grow their skill sets. Are teachers any different? Look at teams with long-term success; they usually have long-term coaches, owners, and coordinators. How many music teachers leave for the same reasons, but with more devastating effects?

The issues of equity and access are significant ones, not just in music education, but in our country. While we can't solve all of them, we can be mindful of them. We can look for ways to ensure that every child has as close to EQUAL (not the same) an opportunity to find success as possible, not just on the field of competition, but in the field of life. 

I am NOT trying to take ANYTHING away or diminish the accomplishments of high-achieving groups, or the teachers who lead them. They are doing ground-breaking work and changing not just kids' lives but this entire art form. Nor am I suggesting that these directors live a charmed, problem-free existence. I am merely pointing out that all things and experiences are not created equal, and we should be mindful of that.

It seems like the right thing to do for kids and for the activity.

I have a bit more to say on this subject and will likely continue my thoughts later this week or next - but if you have feedback, I would like to hear it. Click here to send me an email.

 

Scott







COMMANDER IN CHOMP - RIGHT PLACE, WRONG DAY

In case I had not made it clear in previous e-zines, I am a dog LOVER. I love all things furry and canine-related so much that in my 56 years of existence, I have had a four-legged friend by my side for 52 of them.

This is not a slant or slap in the face to my feline-loving followers, as I love cats, too. If not for my wife and oldest son's allergy to them, I would also have cats. I love all animals - well, not snakes and spiders, they are just creepy, and as long as we are on the subject, they are called PETS because you can PET them, so in addition to snakes and spiders, fish are not really high on my list either.

My drug (dog) of choice? Golden Retrievers! Their intellect, disposition, and willingness to please make them a joy to be around. My current sweet girl, Riley, has brought more joy to our household than any previous occupant, and I am including humans.

Yes, Goldens are my jam - not because they are a better dog, but because they are better suited to me. You may feel (rightly so) differently.

And our current Commander in Chief does.

In case you have not heard, President Biden's dog Commander attacked yet another Secret Service agent Monday — marking the 11th known time the 2-year-old canine chomped down on the Executive Mansion's staff.

Yep, Commander likes to be in charge, similar to their first dog Champ, who wanted to Chomp!

In an official press release, the White House stated that they were working on additional leashing protocols and training and establishing designated areas for Commander to run and exercise. However, it's not clear how far those plans have progressed.

Ummmm...  I can tell you how they progressed. They didn't. He is still taking a bite out of crime (fighters).

As I said, I love dogs. And while I don't condone biting, I don't see this as Commander's fault. Nor do I see it as the fault of the persons he has bitten. He is simply being a dog - one who is prone to biting.

In my workshops, you might have heard me say that, for the most part, people don't change. I can not explain the content or context of this blog as it would be too long; I merely mean that introverts tend to stay introverted, academics tend to stay academics, and impatient people (me) tend to stay impatient. Yes, we grow and evolve, but our essence remains with us throughout our lives because it's who we're meant to be. Good and bad.

And Commander is no different. he is being who he was meant to be, an aggressive, protective German Shepherd. When placed in an environment that favors or even requires those skills, he goes from pariah to martyr. 

So who is at fault here? 

We are who we are meant to be. And, your musical, personal, and organizational skills (or lack of) can be an asset or detriment, depending not on WHO you are, but WHERE you are.

Let me explain.

I am a (sometimes) aggressive, (often) opinionated, (frequently) fast-moving, outgoing teacher who does not enjoy, but does not shy away from uncomfortable conversations and situations.

These qualities are high-value for a high school marching band director at a Title 1 school, where I spent my entire career. They helped me (and my students) to thrive in ways we would not have if I were different. These same qualities would be of considerable concern if I were an elementary general music teacher in the suburbs.

I am who I am. And I now recognize that not only am I not likely to change, but that I don't want to. I like me - well, most days.

My point is that finding my fit requires me to accept who I am and recognize where I can do the least harm and the most good. It's not just crucial for me; it's also essential for my students.

Despite the fact that we are in the education business, music education tends to value achievement over growth and performance over the process used to achieve it. Typically, adjudicators don't consider your situation (what you and your students have overcome) before assigning a score. In other words, it's not how far you have come; it's where you ended that matters. Demonstrable speaking - it tacitly states that all teachers, students, and programs are the same, which we all know is not true.

Some teachers are more comfortable than others with:

  • The inner city

  • Elementary-age students 

  • Woodwind/brass/percussion pedagogy

  • Jazz improv 

  • Parent interaction 

  • Classroom management

  • Program management/ paperwork

The list is endless.

But remember, just because our profession or a contest doesn't reward a characteristic, it doesn't mean it isn't valuable; it means you are looking at the wrong place or person for value.

 Yes, Commander's behavior is simply unacceptable, in the White House or anywhere else for that matter, unless you are under attack.

(politics aside)

On January 5th, 2020 Commander is a BAD dog. On January 6th, 2020 there's no other dog I would want by my side. Same dog, different circumstance.

Every dog has equal value when placed in the right time, place, and with the right people. And you are no different.

Just something to think about.

Have a great week.

- Scott

 




My Midnight Missive

Scott, 

Where I am, it is early Thursday morning. I have been on the road for eight days and will be out for twelve of the next fourteen. All of this is to explain why I failed to write an e-zine yesterday, and by struggle, I mean it did not happen. First time in twenty years.

I am sure many of you didn't notice that I missed our weekly chat, but it is all I could think about as yesterday slipped away. So I sit here at a Starbucks, unable to sleep, watching the sunrise, and writing to relieve my guilt.

Although my choice of profession might indicate otherwise, I am not a narcissist. I am fully aware that your Wednesday came and went, utterly unaffected by my absence. In fact, perhaps my absence and less cluttered inbox made your day a bit easier, which is always my goal. 

But that thought doesn't help relieve my guilt.

I could tell you that my uneasiness is tied to wanting to provide value, which I do. I could probably convince you that my guilt has something to do with professional responsibilities and hitting deadlines, which it does. 

But, in the end, if I were to be honest, it is likely tied more to my own feelings of self-worth than anything else.

I believe that most professionals are personally invested in their work. I do not think music educators are unique in this way. For many working adults in America, the lines between inside and outside the office are blurred and morphed in ways they don't always see or understand. I also believe that this is magnified in our country - where your value and time need to be quantified and measured in ways that dehumanize and degrade us in very real ways.

As I said, I do not believe that this is unique to music education. But, in my experience, the personal investment and blurred lines are on another level.

Why?

I have said on many occasions - I am a band director and a man. Which means I have an ego, and it's a big one (insert laugh).

Yes, we stand on stages and receive thunderous ovations. We are ranked, rated, and reviewed in ways no other educators are. We produce a product, a show, and create art. All of which is to say, a very real part of us is invested in everything we do to an almost unhealthy level. You sacrifice your days, nights, and weekends to create an experience and make a difference. You worry about every missed note, opportunity, and child. 

It's not about ego or money. It's about value. Yes, value for our students, but perhaps just as significant, how we see ourselves as people. 

By and large, this profession is fueled not by performances and productions, but by a belief that what we do matters (and it does) and is making a difference (and it does). It drives us in ways that are hard to explain or quantify, but it is real nonetheless. It drives us, consumes us, and, for many in our profession, is how we measure our self-worth. It is our passion.

I have repeatedly said that if I have to choose between pedagogy and passion, for my boys, I choose passion. Because while pedagogy makes for a better ensemble, passion inspires us to be better people. 

Passion comes from purpose - a belief that what we do and who we are matters. That our time on this planet will not go unnoticed or unappreciated. That we will have left the world, and the children in it better than we found them.

That is our blessing. That is our burden.

That is why I sit here in the middle of the night writing to you.

At least I think it is.

- Scott

p.s. My editor is sleeping - so forgive any typos, grammer, or other nonsensicle thoughts.

 

NETFLIX & TRILL - THE STORY OF MY LIFE


In case you haven't heard, as of Friday, media behemoth Netflix is significantly changing its operating structure, possibly impacting you and the ones you love.

Dropping multi-user accounts? Nope.
Cracking down on account sharing? Not just yet?
Raising prices? They already announced that.

So, what's the big change headed your way?

As of Friday, Nextflix will no longer be shipping physical DVDs. Furthermore, as an act of generosity, they have announced you can keep all DVDs currently in your possession. 

 Okay,  it's more likely to impact your grandparents than you.  But, think about it. You know that Season 2 copy of Friends you lost? Well, when and if you find it, IT'S YOURS! Now you can watch Ross and Rachel kiss for the first time whenever you want, GUILT FREE! Well, perhaps a little guilty that you are living your life through Ross and Rachel.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to write a sad eulogy for the DVD. I don't care. Threw mine out years ago as a part of a household purge. In fact, I haven't rented a DVD since my emergency Redbox hunt in Blythe, California. Hint: don't ever embark on an eight-hour car trip with two young and bored boys without at LEAST six Pixar movies.

No, I do not  lament the loss of the DVD, I lament the loss of my DVD viewing history. Digital downloads are awesome, but they only keep 10 months of history.  Now, all I am left with is my recent streaming history, which may or may not include reruns of Glee and a serious binging addition to SUITS.

I am nothing if not eclectic and unpredictable. But, I am sad to lose all of those memories.

Why?

 Because my viewing history is a akin to my life history.

My wife got me into Friends.

I turned her on to West Wing.

My best pal and neighbor Cristy introduced me to Welcome to Wrexham,

And I sold her on Suits.

My buddy showed me Better Call Saul.

I introduced him to Moonshiners.

These shows  do more than entertain us, they connect us.  Well, that and all things Ted Lasso.  BE LIKE A GOLDFISH!

But even more than a connection, it serves as a memory bank for things I did with our boys: Karate Kid, Minions, Paddington, and Loud House, to name a few. Okay, maybe Loud House was a mistake because loud is in the title.

But still, these shows gave us Summer movie nights, sick days. Pandemic outdoor movie marathons and a common language (My name is Inugo Montoya, you killed my father, PREPARE TO DIE!) .

These are more than film clips, they are special memories, and life markers (remember what I said last week about life markers?). All provided by Netflix.

Keep in mind, I do not wish to actually relive these moments (or shows). But, I do not wish to forget them either. Because my streaming catalog helps to define, where I have come from, and who I am.

These shows remind me of happy days and sad, giggles and tears, and little ones snuggled up and falling asleep in my arms.

This got me to thinking. If that is true about my personal life, what about my professional life? And by consume, I mean the content I programmed and the music my students consumed. What would that history look like? 

So, lacking digital copies - I dug out my old paper concert programs and reminisced about days I had long since forgotten, and perhaps missed.

These programs contained a treasure trove of memories. My first (holiday) concert in 1991 included Bach's Little Fugue in G, Stille Nacht, and Sleigh Ride. A lesson in over-programming I would not repeat again. My last concert in 2004 featured Holst's Suite in F, Whitacre's October, and McBeth's Of Sailors and Whales.  An epic way to end a classroom career.

In a decade and a half in between, there were lots of works Reed, Holsinger, Persichetti, and Ticheli. Truth be told, I consumed as much Grainger as I could. I even named my dog after him.  

But where was the pattern?

We all program for student success. But, many if not most pieces accomplish that. And to be clear, there is no ONE work that fits every ensemble. So, we search for the right blend of student success and personal ambition, and passion. Let's be honest, we might as well program for students' success and something we love. Because if we love it, chances are the kids will love it. And if we hate it, well, that's just a recipe for disaster.

We program for our students first, ourselves second, and most other things are a distant third.

So, more than anything, my programming reflected wh where my students where, and who and where I was in my career. This isn't just true in WHAT I  programmed, but what I DIDN'T as well.

So, as long as we're being honest, here's what I didn't program, and why.

I didn't program much Sousa, because as much as I tried, I could never get that "march" sound. So, I hid my shortcomings  with lots of "alternative" marches;March to the Scaffold, Childrens March, and Belgian Paratroopers to name a few.

I didn't program ANY transcriptions. After all, getting a band to sound like a band was hard enough - getting them to sound like an orchestra - well, that just seems unnecessarily hard. My experience with Fugue in G Minor taught me that.

I didn't have the woodwind pedagogy skills to perform Molly on the Shore, the musical maturity for Maslanka, or the stick technique required for the third movement of Lincolnshire Posy.  I was as much a programmer of my weaknesses as I was my strengths.  My students had incredible musical experiences because of my strengths, but missed on ones because of my weaknesses.


How about you?

Beyond being a victim of my weaknesses, I was a victim of time itself.

Actual Final Concert program cover for 1994

I left the classroom before Whitacre, Balmages, Markowski, and Sheldon hit their zieneth. Knowing Michael and Bob as true friends makes me regret that even more.

If I had the chance, Chambers, Giroux, and Bryant will be must haves on my next concert. But, there will likely never be one.

And after last week, I would want to find a way to celebrate the life and work of Robert W. Smith in some meaningful way.

Yes, my programming was not just based on WHAT I knew, but  WHO I knew. Who were the composers and teachers that I admired? What would make my students want to come to class every day. What was a work I knew I could teach, the students would master, and the judges would appreciate? These were the things that went through my mind as I looked at work after work.

If you saw my programs, you might see names your recognize. What I see is a lack of hubris, humility, and ego. I see daring reaches and spectacular shortfalls. I see rhythmic skills above musical ones, amazing performances and spectacular crashes and standing ovations and empty houses.

More than anything, I see growth and understanding, musically and personally, for me and my students.

My programming served as a window into the teacher I was and the time I taught. I represents the good, bad, and everything in between - my strengths, weaknesses, wants, and warts all rolled into one glorious set of documents.

I see and remember my life's work in these faded and worn out pages.

In writing this blog, on Tuesday, Sept 26th, 2023, I can honestly say that after thirty-two years in the profession, I would (likely) program very differently now than I did in 1991. But, I can say with even greater confidence, that if I could go back, I wouldn't change a thing. It made me and my students the people we are today.

But that doesn't mean I don't wonder. What if I could program one final concert? What would I perform? I think I will tray to represent a bit of it all.

The work that started it all - Children's March. The piece that got away - Candide. And and with music I will commission for my brother. So, Bob and Mike - keep your phones on. There's a commission coming your way.

There it is, perfectly programmed; my past, future, and current self all rolled up into one glorious concert.  What would your perfect program be and what does it say about you?  Feel free to let me know.

Have a great week friends. I will be back during the first week in November.

- Scott

p.s. For those of you who are unaware, Robert W. Smith tragically and unexpectedly passed away last Thursday evening - leaving behind a wife, two daughters, and a grieving music education community.

You can read more about his passing and extraordinary life by clicking below. You are already missed Robert.

In honor of Robert W. Smith

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved



 

SAYING I DO - PART DEUX

On Wednesday, I compared the post-pandemic rebound in personal relationships to our students' relationship with their instruments - but I left out one crucial fact. 

Something so important, so interesting, so intriguing that I decided it needed a separate same-week post. I know this is hardly earth-shattering for you, but I have never done this in twenty years of writing.

What was so important? Check this out.

When the CEO of Signet Jewelers (owners of Kay Jewelers, Zales, Jared, and more), Virginia Drosos, was asked why she believed the company was so bullish on 2024, she stated, "Our confidence is based on 45 proprietary milestones we track to measure a couple's journey toward engagement. Not every couple experiences all of the 45 milestones we track, but we know that once they reach 25 to 30 of these milestones, they become, statistically, significantly more likely to move on to engagement."

She continued by saying that one data point that has improved by 7% year over year is "early relationship triggers," citing "going to a sporting event or a concert together."

As its second quarter ended July 29, Drosos said Signet saw the pool of couples approaching 25 to 30 milestones increase by 700 basis points.

 "We are seeing states like Texas and Florida, which reopened earlier in the pandemic, 10 points closer to pre-pandemic engagement levels compared to California and New York, which reopened later in the pandemic," she said.

Virginia Drosos, Signet CEO

 MIND BLOWN! OMG!

Where do I start? I honestly don't know how to unpack all of this. There are relationship milestones? They are being tracked? How did they get to 45? What are the other 43 after concerts and sporting events? And while we're at it, how do they know I went to a Hootie and the Blowfish concert with my wife this Summer? Do they know I sang out of tune on "Only Wanna Be With You?"

This is both amazing and alarming.

We could start by comparing relationship rebound rates and music rebound rates by geography (early open vs. not early re-open), but that would be putting the story before the lead.

The idea that experiencing things together helps to form bonds and cement relationships is not exactly an earth-shattering revelation. I suspect it is as causational (helps create the bond) as it is informational (going to the event indicates there was prior interest). Either way, that is not really what I am interested in.

The two (seemingly leading) events cited by the CEO were sports and music.

Wait for it...

MARCHING BAND!

(Whew, it felt good to get that out. I have been holding it in for a couple of days now.) It combines the top two relationship forming activities into one glorious place!

This is not meant to say there aren't other indicators or creators of bonds in other musical activities - remember, music was number one, and we all make music, band, choir, and orchestra. What I think is interesting is the idea of "milestones" and how we track the development of a relationship 

For years, I have believed that as a profession, we do a horrible job of explaining that music is a long-term relationship. It will take years for you to see the depth and importance of it. There are few victories after the first musical sounds in a Tik-Tok/Twitter (now X) world. What lies ahead are days, weeks, months, and years of slow and prodding growth that is almost imperceptible and invisible to most people, including the student.

Where's the excitement and passion? Where are the big moments on the grand stage? Where are the seminal events that help cement this budding (bro)mance with a boy and his clarinet?

For the most part, they don't happen for years. Yes, there are concerts and performances, but they occur a couple of times a year, and may or may not be seminal in the students' eyes. Sports gets two to three games a week. Martial arts get a fight every night, and receiving a new belt is seminal for sure. Classes give grades and tests on a daily or weekly basis. Almost everywhere you look, activities have logical progressions that mark seminal events.  Now, don't get me wrong, once you hit high school, there are lots of these, but too many kids are falling by the wayside before they get to high school. And, I can't help but to wonder if it's do in part to the fact the kids do see the progress and we do a poor job of helping them find and celebrate it.

The point is that we (music education) need more milestones and mile markers along the way - a place and time to pause, reflect, and CELEBRATE - not just the WHAT we have done, but WHO we did it with. For many (if not most) of our students, the who is just as (or more) important than the what. I can't remember my music or drill from high school, but I remember the people I did it with.

Last week - as a part of a Music FUNdations email, I sent out a progress tracker for this very purpose. I didn't know I would write about this when I did it, but it seems fortuitous now. Perhaps you could revisit it, alter it, and (re)use it. Or, create your own. Help your students see the journey's highs and lows, and most importantly, celebrate this special relationship's seminal moments.

After all, seeing, experiencing, and celebrating these moments cement our personal and musical relationships.

Something to think about.  What do you think.  Hit the Facebook group and join in the chat.

- Scott  

p.s. I unsuccessfully tried to find out what the other 43 milestones were. However, I suspect that wearing a feather duster on your head is not one of them.

p.p.s  I started to compile a list of musical seminal events but decided it would be too much. It could be something so small as crossing the break, or learning to shift on a violin. It can be their 1st/50th day, or first playing exam. It is as big/small as few/many as you want it to be. But we do know that 25-30 move them towards a life-long commitment.

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved

 

Happy Banniversary & Saying "I Do," to I Do

 I am REALLY excited about this content. To keep it digestible and give you time to ponder, I am breaking this into two separate posts - the second one will arrive on Friday. Another way of saying thank you for being a Patron.

Is your event calendar filling up? Do you hear the champagne corks popping aplenty? If so, you're not the only one - because engagements are on the rise, and weddings are coming back - and in a big way!

According to a report on CNN.com, the downturn in weddings (and relationships) caused by the pandemic has the marital frown turning upside down. The report cites sales data from Signet Jewelers, the largest jewelry company in the United States, as evidence that the relationship doom of the pandemic has evolved into a relationship boom.

"The pandemic created a temporary disruption in dating. Accordingly, several years ago we predicted a future lull in engagements caused by the global shutdown,"

Virginia Drosos, Signet CEO

But the return of many pre-pandemic lifestyles, including dating, has the lull in proposals bottoming out this year and rebounding in early 2024.

According to Signet's proprietary data, the typical time between when couples meet and get engaged, called the "engagement gap," is, on average, about 3.25 years.

Um, I short cut that one. How about you?

It turns out that about 2.8 million couples, on average, get engaged every year in the United States, said Drosos. Last year, the number slipped to 2.5 million. She said it will continue to head lower to level out at 2.1 to 2.2 million in 2023 before climbing back up and fully rebounding over the next three years. In 2024, Signet expects engagements will reach 2.4 to 2.5 million as it works its way back to pre-pandemic numbers.

"We have 14 million people in the dating funnel right now that we can identify in our database," Signet states.

The dating funnel? And they say romance is dead.

What's in this dating funnel?  And how do they know who is in it?  More on that Friday, for now, I want to look at our music funnel.

While the circumstances are VERY different, the numbers and outcomes associated with the pandemic are eerily similar for relationships and music education.

Like its dating counterpart, our public schools currently have about 14 million children in elementary school receiving some soft of general music.  This is our funnel.

Also similar  to 2.8 million engagements, we have around three million students involved in music in junior and high school. They have chosen a class,, rented an instrument, and are in a committed relationship with their clarinet.

Like all relationships, all seventeen million people are somewhere between courtship (beginning music), and seriously committed relationship (high school marching band/show choir/symphony orchestra).

They start and end on an almost annual basis, and travel the same path - just a different speeds and with different outcomes. Like all relationships, there are trying times and difficult moments. But regardless of how and when it ends, this journey is a transformative one.

But the pandemic altered that.

This global event brought the seemingly normal music-making activity to a grinding halt and quickly eroded our students' skill sets and your program enrollment. It took away their musical making partner and created a physical, cognitive, and emotional distance that was too hard for some to overcome. They lost it all, their relationships (with their instruments), the activity, and the people they used to make music with. 

Those were dark days - and like the diamond industry, it was easy to see not just the immediate impact of distant/remote learning, but its long-term associative effects.

For high school teachers, you are likely seeing the storm before the sun. You are the epicenter of that impact zone. Nearly three years after the pandemic, every student in your program experienced an altered or truncated beginning experience, which affects them (musically and otherwise) to this day. Yes, this is the start of the climb out, and your sunrise comes soon.

If you start beginners, you have already been through the storm - and you are likely seeing more sun than your secondary counterparts. You endured the worst and are now better and brighter days.

Either way, the days before us should be sunnier than those behind us. As in all relationships, your students' musical relationships will not always be smooth and uncomplicated - but the tough days are when the love is solidified and the commitment personified.

More than anything it needs to be celebrated and honored on a regular basis. We celebrate to show progress. We celebrate for the solidarity of it We do this to deepen the connections and honor the commitment.

It won't just grow the bond, it could grow your enrollment. Music is like any other relationship, if not one is paying attention, progress and growth are hard to see. And without those two things, we lose interest.

In light of this, might I suggest you take a minute in rehearsal this week to acknowledge and celebrate your students' musical anniversary. There Banniversary that is (sorry couldn't come up with one for orchestra and choir). Bring a cupcake, light a candle, and make a wish.

I am approaching my 47th banniversary, (seven years in school, four in college, sixteen as a teacher, and I am approaching my twentieth year with Scott Lang Leadership). 

No gift needed - for me, it's about celebrating some milestones.

I will explain why all of this matters so much on Friday. It's gonna blow your mind. Well, it did mine - but I am a drummer so...

Have a great day - talk to you in a couple of days.

 


Scott

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved

 

Unsurprising Disbelief and Your Bond

I still remember the night like it was yesterday, even though thirty years have passed. The single-bar helmet revealing the face and fear of 32-year-old Scott Norwood. In Super Bowl XXV. 

with time expiring, he attempted a game-winning, life-changing field goal that appeared good, but would suddenly veer and miss by a few feet. 

The term "wide right" would define not just the life and legend of Scott Norwood, but the entire City of Buffalo and its Bills community. 

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. After the game, I was inconsolable. The Bills had been the better team; even a non-fan could see that. We'd out-gained the Giants, out-converted them, out-played them, but we'd lost anyway in dramatic, dream-shattering fashion. It was too much for my 22-year-old emotions to process. 

So, I sat there in utter disbelief. 

My friends knew how much that game meant to me. After forty years of futility, we had arrived. It was our time. We were a team of destiny. It seemed that nothing could stop us.

I was wrong.

"It's just a game," my buddy would say as he removed his Bills' inflatable helmet. "You'll be back next year." And he was right. 

We would be back the following year, and the two years after that - only to experience the same crushing defeat. The Bills would go on to be the only team in history to make four consecutive Super Bowls - where they would lose and break my heart each and every time.

For the following two decades, futility, humiliation, and frustration would continue, including the "Music City Miracle,"  and the unforgettable collapse of safety Damar Hamlin in last year's nationally televised season finally.

My sons and I make an annual pilgrimage to Buffalo to see the Bills - along the way, meeting the likes of Brian Urlacher, Marcus Allen, Dave Wannestadt, and team owner Terry Pegula. We've endured canceled flights, torrential rain, and last year's "snow-mageddon," forcing the game to relocate to Detroit, where Stefon Diggs handed my son his game gloves. 

Our shared love of the Bills is sometimes challenging, but our loyalty is tried and true.  

Would I like them to win it all? Of course! I also know that it would change things in a very real and meaningful way.

Part of the reason the Bills are the favorite sons of Buffalo is because they are a reflection of their city. In a city that can't catch a break, people rally around the team that best reflects their own story - one of hard work, small-town values, and willingness to persevere. It is a part of their identity and reflects their community. Winning a Super Bowl would change that.

There is solidarity and honor in the struggle.

It's as true in music as it is in football.

Doing what you do, the easy days are few and far between. A seemingly good day is unexpectedly turned upside down by an angry parent, an unpredictable student, or an unexpected problem—beyond the unknown are the constant struggles for funding, staffing, facilities, support, and resources. 

These victories and defeats are played out on the stage and in public, where the critics, pundits, and skeptics are plentiful. Good is never good enough, and the list of things to fix or do better is never-ending.

But, there is solidarity and honor in the struggle. 

For most of us, being a music teacher is more than a job; it is a part of our identity. For better or worse, we are deeply invested in what we do and are committed to our programs and community. 

The very nature of our profession means we celebrate the victories and mourn the losses in public, where we are exposed and vulnerable. This is part of what makes the job so hard and what bonds us and our students together.

In my experience, the community of music education is unlike other curricula. Our shared experiences and struggles bond us in unique and powerful ways. We take pride in doing difficult and meaningful work. It's hard. The defeats are more frequent than victories, and the pain of losing exceeds the glory of winning. 

Would I like to win a championship or experience the thrill of performing on a grand stage? Of course! But, I also know it would change things.

The struggle is a vital part of what we do. It teaches us all (adults and kids) lessons and forges bonds that would not and could not be created in an idyllic vacuum. 

I like the fight. I embrace the struggle. And I appreciate the opportunity to be in this game working with kids. Win or lose, good day or bad, being a music teacher is more than what I do; it's a significant part of who I am. 

I wouldn't want it any other way, and I wouldn't want to experience it with anyone else.

As the Jets returned the punt for their overtime victory this past Monday night, my son and I watched in disbelief and yet were unsurprised. Yet again, our beloved Bills broke our hearts.

"They're killing me, but they're still our team, Dad!"

The struggle continues as the bond grows stronger.

"It's just one game," I said, feigning a smile. His response?

Have a great week everyone.

 

Scott

 

1-17,000, Life As A Washington General

Check this out...

On January 5, 1971, Louis Herman Klotz did something no basketballer dared to repeat.

In the small town of Martin, Tennessee, in front of a packed house, the man known as Red broke one of the most sacred unwritten rules in sports. As the team captain for the Washington Generals, Klotz shot the winning basket to beat the Harlem Globetrotters. A feat never attained before or repeated after.

In an interview later, Red Klotz said, "They looked at us like we'd just killed Santa - boos and jeers rang from the rafters." 

It has been over 50 years since that event, and ever since, on an almost nightly basis, the Globetrotters have ruthlessly taken their revenge. 

But I don't want to talk about the Globetrotters. I want to talk about the Washington Generals.

What would make someone trained as a professional athlete want to be a General? Intentionally losing night after night goes against the very ethos of sports.  

The Generals are the rarest of sporting commodities: the underdogs you're not supposed to root for and the team that will NEVER win. 

Although, as a General, winning isn't defined by the score. It is characterized by smiling children, happy parents, and memories that last a lifetime.

 Former General Antoine Maddox shares, "It was the best experience you can ever have coming out of college. I ended up hitting 26 different countries in my three years."

 

David Birch, who spent five years with the Generals, remembers high-security trips to Army bases in Japan, Germany, Lebanon, and even Afghanistan, where he stated, "If you stepped outside your base, you had to wear a helmet and vest."

As a music educator, it feels a bit like being a General. You and I are classically trained musicians with decades of experience. We know excellence and have the knowledge and skills to produce it. We enter into each practice, class, and contest with high hopes of grand achievement and accomplishment, often leaving feeling dispirited and defeated. And like the Generals, we play events in packed houses, oblivious to the trials and tribulations of our jobs and performance. And yet, they cheer wildly at our mediocrity.

In a way, music teachers and the Generals, have a lot in common.

Like our athletic counterparts, winning is characterized by smiling children, happy parents, and memories that last a lifetime. Cur me up some Sweet Georgia Brown.

Yes, it would be nice to leave the rehearsal room or stage feeling like we won or achieved something extraordinary. It would be great be the GOAT instead of the goat? I crave a rehearsal filled with right notes, perfect intonation, and precise rhythms. And yes -  just once, wouldn't it be nice to hit the game-winning shot ii front of 20,000 people? 

But that's not our job.

Our job is rooted in humility and service. We play a game that rarely keeps score, and when it does, it makes winning almost unattainable. Your team is imperfect, undersized, and outmatched. The game is stacked against you, and victory, while in reach, will rarely be yours.

As a General, You're not allowed to stay on the court and get pictures. You're not allowed to do autographs. You're not allowed to do any press," says Birch, a Washington General. "In the beginning, that's an ego check, because part of you wants that stuff. I came in as a basketball player and left as an actor."

Does that resonate at all with you?

In his final interview, Red Klotz said, "People that would ask: 'Hey, why don't you just go win one time?' But that is not our job."

Sound familiar again.

It's why that infamous win in Tennessee likely occurred from a combination of timekeeper error, rare wasteful shooting from the Globetrotters, and a legendary General who could get away with it.

After all, Red Klotz's franchise may have lost more than 17,000 games, but he maintained until the day he died in 2014 that his team always tried to win. And to my way of thinking, they did. They kept score by the number of smiling faces, giggles, and lifetime memories they created.

What if we did the same?

As for winning the actual game -will it ever happen again? You never know, but we can all agree, that the Generals are certainly due. 

And so are you!

Have a great week everyone.

 

-Scott

Taylornomics and Your Swift and Serious Impact

Last week, we looked at the logistics of Taylor Swift's Eras tour. Today, we are going to SHOW YOU THE MONEY!

It's hard to overstate the impact of Taylor Swift's Eras Tour on the cultural landscape, musically or economically. Believed to be the largest and most lucrative concert tour ever, some estimates have it bringing in $1.4 billion by the tour's end. The Swift demand (see what I did there) for her first post-pandemic tour crashed the Ticketmaster website, a debacle that eventually led to a congressional hearing. 

The impact continues beyond the concert venue gates.

Her fans have been filling hotels, packing restaurants, and crowding bars during Swift's 20-city Eras Tour in the U.S. Cities say the tour has helped them recover from the economic toll of the pandemic by bringing back tourists and their wallets. 

The Eras Tour, which started in March and ended in the U.S. on Aug. 9, is on track to become the most extensive tour in concert history, potentially grossing $1 billion. It's filling football stadiums with more than s people, and Swifties often stays in town for several days, giving local businesses time to soak up the Swiftie money.

To get fans in their stores, they sell doughnuts with Swift's face on them or concoct cocktails named after her songs. Cities went all out trying to welcome Swifties. Glendale, AZ, temporarily renamed itself Swift City, Swift was named an honorary mayor of Santa Clara, CA, and the Willis Tower in Chicago was lit purple and gold one night and green and teal another in homage to some of Swift's albums. 

Why?

Because one estimate places the economic impact of her tour above 50 million dollars per city! The impact isn't just local; the Federal Reserve credits Taylor Swift's Eras Tour for affecting the entire United States economy.

It's simple Taylornomics; Swifties go on a spending spree when Taylor Swift comes to town.

 The impact is incredible, but so is the responsibility. A single person, Taylor Swift, is impacting local and national economies in ways Fortune 500 companies can't. ONE PERSON.

If you remember last week's e-zine, you know where I am going with this.

Few individuals on a school campus have the fiscal responsibility and exposure to liability that you do. The equipment, uniforms, furniture, fixtures, and electronics can exceed one million dollars in value. Add to this the immense physical footprint of a music/performance facility, and you can easily understand that running a music program can be as much about money as it is about music. Your program has an economic impact.

And, like the Eras Tour, the impact doesn't end at the rehearsal hall doors.

A simple recommendation to your students regarding where to rent/buy an instrument can mean tens of thousands of dollars to a local music retailer. Selecting a uniform provider or travel company can exceed that figure by double or even triple. You not only have a job as a music teacher, you help create jobs. The combination of such an immense fiscal responsibility, and its impact on a community, makes you a businessperson as much as a music educator. 

Don't believe me?

Years ago, I compared my program to a small business as a thought exercise. 

  • I "paid" my students minimum wage for every hour they were with me.  

  • I "gave" my leaders a $5.00 pay bump as managers.

  • I listed actual wages for myself and my staff.

  • I factored the parents in as unpaid employees.

I was shocked when my calculations had my employee payroll exceeding two million dollars for a sixteen-week season. TWO MILLION DOLLARS! This did not factor in facilities, instruments/equipment, operating costs, or payroll taxes.

Being the curious person I am, I called my city Chamber of Commerce, explained what I was doing, and was told I would be considered the third largest employer in my city. My band program was larger, more complex, and would have a more significant financial impact than 95% of other businesses in my city.

I don't have a degree in business. Heck, I struggle to create pivot tables in Excel. I don't have a human resources department or a crack social media and marketing team. I have yet to gain experience in depreciation schedules or long-term financial planning. 

And yet, all of this is a part of the job of a program director.

You see, in ADDITION to running your music program, you are running a small business on top of it. You do this without any training, resources, experience, or help. If we're honest, your job's business side presents the most significant exposure to peril.

Some of you embrace and excel at the non-musical portions of the job, while others struggle. Some of you excel or even enjoy these parts of your job. I did.

Regardless of which side of the equation you are on, it is an ever-growing part of your job that requires more and more of your most precious resource: TIME. The added burden, without added resources, could push many over the top and out of business. That is something we can't afford.

“My ultimate goal is to end up being happy.  Most of the time.”

– Taylor Swift

In the end, we are as much a business as we are an educational institution. It's important to remember that taking care of business means taking care of yourself. Taking care of yourself means you ARE taking care of business.

Have a great week everyone.

 

-Scott

p.s. Next week I will share some thoughts, tips, and ideas that have shaped my business and program throughout the years.

 

p.p.s  In total, we have over 2500 registrants for my free webinar. Round one, this past Monday was incredible and I can't wait for the 29th.

Again...

 

This should be the last free edition. But, I want to finish what I started. So, I feel another free one coming on next week.

However, the cost of sending these emails is considerable.
Would you please consider... 

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