"WHY NOT?" #5 - END THIS MUSIC EDUCATION DEGREE

This is #5 in a series that rethinks music education by asking, "Why Not?"


After almost every workshop, a student will approach me and share their desire to be a music teacher. Whether they are sharing it in hopes of affirmation or to declare their aspiration, I always share the same response:

"Other than raising two children, getting a degree in music education is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life."

It is a worthy thing indeed, but extraordinarily difficult, like opening a plastic blister pack blindfolded while folding a fitted sheet type of difficult. Likely, you are smarter than me and did not suffer the slings and arrows of music theory the way I did, but the evidence sides with me. I started with 136 music majors on day one of basic music theory and graduated four and a half years later with just three of them. Some may have made it in four years (not likely), while some may have graduated after me (maybe a couple). The rest? 

They fell by the wayside, dropped out, or just came to their senses and decided that was not the life for them.

Can you blame them? Ever wished you joined them?

I am unsure if the requirements for a degree in music education are rooted in teacher preparation or designed to weed out those who lack the fortitude, tenacity, and grit it takes to survive and thrive in this profession. Either way, it's doing its job. 

 Don't believe me? A typical bachelor's degree in the United States consists of 120 hours. My Bachelor's Degree in Music Education? One hundred and forty-six hours! And I did not change majors or take a single class that was not required for graduation.

Yep, the same degree my pals in the business school received required me to complete an extra year of college, adding time, expense, and strain they did not have to endure.

You are severely mistaken if you think the educational delta differential ends at credit hours. So for this e-zine, I dug up my transcript and discovered that as a part of my pathway to the podium, I attended:

  • Seventy-two classes (average degree is 40), averaging 2.02 credits (33% less than other classes).

  • An average of 17.5 hours a semester, plus summer school two summers.

  • Ten required classes that offered zero credits.

  • Twenty-six required classes meeting more than once a week for just a single credit.

  • Two years of marching band, meeting six days a week for one credit.

  • Five semesters of music theory, meeting five days a week for three credits.

  • Two hours of practicing a day, in addition to homework.

  • Two semesters of student teaching (a full-time job) for nine credits.

  • Ninenty-two night time or weekend performances/events.

All while working as a bartender to pay for my tuition.

I do not share this for your admiration or adoration, as I know that you endured the same things. We are kindred spirits in that way. So let me repeat, for me:

Getting a degree in music education is the second hardest thing I have done in my life.

In fact, to my way of thinking, getting a degree in music education makes you better at everything in your life. As a part of your job, you learn to:

  • Work with kids and adults. 

  • Speak publicly and write effectively.

  • Plan for the future, but think on your feet.

  • Manage millions of dollars in budgets, facilities, and equipment.

  • Hire, fire, and supervise adult and juvenile staff.

  • Analyze complex situations and adjust on the fly.

  • Receive feedback and constructive criticism from peers.

  • Create art and facilitate the steps needed to realize it.

And so much more. I genuinely believe that getting a degree in music education will make you a better person, parent, and anything else you decide to do with your life. At least it did for me.

I just don't think it should be a bachelor's - it should be a master's.

Why not eliminate the bachelor's degree and (for the exact same requirements/credits) award a master's degree? Think about it:

  • A master's degree is an additional thirty hours, twenty-six of which are completed.

  • I completed seventy-six classes, exceeding the requirements for a master's degree.

  • A undergraduate degree in music education is designed to be an extra eighteen months - similar to that a Master's.

  • I have real work experience over a year (student teaching).

  • If credits are awarded by the number of hours met, I would have over two hundred credits, equivalent to a doctorate. 

So, today, I am proposing to eliminate the Bachelor of Music Education degree and replace it with a Masters Degree.

 This would:

  • Provide an immediate pay bump for music educators.

  • Reward for increased workload and hours associated with the job.

  • Clearly and demonstrably demonstrate that this is a five+ year program.

  • Provide an immediate and permanent pay increase resulting in a lifetime benefit of over $150,000.

  • Help attract and retain more music teachers.

  • Reduce the time and financial demands of continuing education credits.

  • Elevate the status of the degree and our profession.

While we're at it - since my Masters Degree in Education Administration and Policy Studies left me just three classes and a dissertation short of my doctorate, I am also proposing that (since we already have a master's degree), when coupled with a dissertation, the current master's should be awarded as a doctorate.

The math associated with credit/classes/time adds up.

It saves students money and earns teachers more money.

It helps to attract and retain music teachers.

And, I believe is the right thing to do.

So, why not?

Have a great week, everyone.

Dr. Scott (see what I did there?)

 

p.s. The rules surrounding capitalization and the possessiveness of degrees are oddly specific and wildly inconsistent. I followed the rules as best as I understood them.

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2024 - all rights reserved

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Why Not #4 - Getting Rid of the Stink!

During the global pandemic, tens of millions of employees were sent to work from home without knowing if or when they would return.

Nearly four years later, uncertainty, variant strains, and the burden of child care meant that most of these remote employees were still working from home in some manner - and their employers would like them to return.

But the employees don't seem to be interested in returning.

Nearly four years later, uncertainty, variant strains, and the burden of child care meant that most of these remote employees were still working from home in some manner - and their employers would like them to return.

Are you looking for travel stipends? Work has got you covered. Complimentary meals and fancy coffee carts? Done! Free on-site child care and dry cleaning? Absolutely. For many employees, though, it's still not enough. One company has taken it to the next level. 

You say working in the office stinks? Well, this company aims to solve that problem as well. They are changing the way the office smells.

Since 2022, Hines, a commercial real estate company with skyscrapers worldwide, has developed a particular scent that they began quietly pumping into the HVAC system in Houston headquarters. This year, it is rolling out the fragrance in more than 20 other office buildings in Chicago, New York, London, and Delhi, India.

Companies already populate offices with sensory-stimulating designs such as greenery, ample natural light, and soothing white noise. Now, the office is getting a nose job.

Hines aims for aromatherapy to enhance worker well-being, explains co-CEO Laura Hines-Pierce. "Our mindset is, 'How can we reframe how people think about the office?'" says Whitney Bossin Burns, senior vice president of global client strategy at Hines. "If we can make it a place where people can associate positive memories with it, we need to do that in every possible realm."

"Each note was thoughtfully selected," she says, "to ensure that walking into a Hines space creates a sense of belonging." 

The company's signature scent took over a year to perfect and incorporates 35 ingredients, which are said to improve happiness and confidence, alleviate anxiety, fight fatigue, and help employees learn tasks faster.

Incentives, perks, and positive environments increase morale, engagement, and attendance. Why don't we use them in (music) education?

 Don't we want those same things for kids? Aren't all schools striving for increased happiness and engagement? Don't we want to lower anxiety and increase attendance? Don't we want kids to learn faster?

It seems to pass the sniff test to me.

As someone who has renovated two high schools, I can speak to how the environment (natural light, temperature, air quality) can significantly impact academic performance. Yet, we invest very little in building schools, and even less in maintaining them.

And what about the perks? What do we offer to entice and reward engaged, motivated, and successful (music) students to stay in the public school system? Everyone knows that these melody makers are the poster children for engagement and the model of attendance and performing academically better than their non-musical peers.

What are we doing to attract and retain our best and incentivize others to perform at similar levels? Why don't we invest in those who invest in the school? What if, as a reward to those who do and an incentive to those who don't, we offered music kids:

  • Free meals before rehearsals

  • Subsidies to cover gas for after-school events

  • First shot at scheduling future classes

  • Subsidies for reeds, sticks, strings and rosin

  • Flex scheduling

  • Early graduation

  • Better campus parking

  • Bonuses for making honor groups

  • Extra release periods

  • Free online courses to free up their schedule

  • Graduated diplomas

  • Free lessons

If we're being selfish, what's in it for the music educator who often works longer hours, more weekends and nights, and for little to no extra pay? How about:

  • Bonuses for increased enrollment

  • Stipends for summer work

  • Reimbursement for tuxedos and other equipment

  • Paid professional development

  • Meal reimbursement for night rehearsals

  • Upgraded office furniture

  • Marketing and administration support

  • Better busses for trips and games

  • Technology allowances

Or a thousand other things we could do for music students and teachers to achieve the results we want to achieve.  

Remember those remote employees (who receive salaries) still have to be incentivized with free food and coffee to come to work? Well, I have a kid who hates going to school so much that I have to bribe him with Chipotle. If they served over-stuffed burritos for lunch instead of slop, he might fight me to be first in the carpool lane.

People young and old want to enjoy their surroundings and get paid well for what they do - in money, grades, opportunities, friendships and many other ways. High school athletes are paid to play through Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) deals.

If we want to make our schools the best possible version of themselves, they have to attract and retain the best students. All of which is to say...

Why not "pay" the music kids?  Any why not incentivize music teachers to stay in the profession. That would definitely pass the sniff test for me - and you too!

Have a great week.

 

Scott

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2024 - all rights reserved

 

 

Lottery Learnings and Why Not? #3

According to a recent report on NPR, one in eight Americans buy a lotto ticket every week. Additionally, statistics show that Americans spent $105.26 billion on lottery tickets last year, making it the most popular form of gambling in the U.S. 

This massive number is expected to double to $194.14 billion by 2025. That's a whole lot of scratch(ers)!

Despite the odds of winning being astronomically small (1 in 302.6 million, to be exact), every week, people across the country line up at local quick marts to purchase tickets in the hopes of scoring the Mega Millions jackpot. It defies all common logic. Under normal circumstances, no sane person would use their money with such a slight chance of return on investment. For context, before you win the Lottery, you're more likely to:

  • Be killed by a shark

  • Win an Olympic medal

  • Get struck by lightning

  • Be accepted into Harvard

  • Die from a bee sting

  • Become a movie star

Do those seem relatively plausible for an average American? Still thinking of buying a ticket? Okay, here are a few more (un)likely scenarios. You are more likely to:

  • Be fatally struck by a meteor

  • Become President

  • Survive a plane crash

  • Die by vending machine

  • Be canonized as a Saint

  • Have quadruplets

Yep, quadruplets. Heck, if you have four college tuitions to pay for, you NEED to win the Lottery - and as a parent of two boys, anyone with four infants already qualifies for Sainthood in my book. 

Death by vending machine? We may need more details on that, but back to the lotto.

As people shell out their sheckles and number their numbers, ticket holders fully understand and readily admit they know they're throwing their money away. And yet they buy. Why?

Dan Field, a therapist specializing in gambling, says, "The lottery holds such a prominent place in American culture because it gives people the opportunity to indulge in fantasies about how their lives could change if they win."

In other words, it provides hope.  

Hope for a better life and all of the promise it brings. Freedom from financial burdens. The ability to care for their families and loved ones. The ability to be unregulated and do what they want, when they want, how they want.

Yes, that is something we all dream about; however, in some places, we do more than dream. Despite being a ubiquitous hope, we participate in the Lottery at varying levels depending on where we live. The following five states spend more money on lottery tickets than anywhere else in America:

Florida        $9.08 Billion
New York    $8.59 Billion
California    $8.42 Billion
Texas           $8.10 Billion
Georgia       $5.88 Billion

Notice any similarities among the states listed above?

They all have very fine Music Education Conventions. 

That's what you noticed, right?

Okay, so we know these "go big or go home" states are like random games of chance. Let's see if they're all talk or if they really walk the lotto walk. 

What if these (and any other) states used a lottery to pick ensembles to perform at their State Conventions? 

Yep, I am talking about some person in formal wear, a machine with balls carrying school names, and a drum roll. That seems like Must-See TV to me. You know you would tune in, and so would I.

Why would we select based on chance and not performance criteria? For the same reason, the Lottery chooses winners based on chance - IT PROVIDES HOPE.

Let's go back to the things that are more likely to happen before you win the Lottery: becoming President, surviving a plane crash, death by vending machine, etc. 

That's right! They all have very fine Music Education Conventions. 

(That's what you noticed, right?)

For some music educators, the feeling of futility might be similar. They know that tomorrow will be the same as today. They expect that someone else will be selected. They understand that others are better suited or situated to be successful. They want to believe they are worthy, seen, and valued. People stand in line for lottery tickets and MEA concerts for the same reasons.

HOPE. 

They hope to be on that stage. They hope to play that level of literature. They hope to have that equipment, support, parent involvement, and lessons program. They hope to stand in front of a group that sounds like that and is honored by their colleagues.

They have HOPE.

In this way, the Lottery is better than music education because it offers equal opportunities to every person who plays, regardless of their location, age, or socio-economic status.

Music education chooses based on performance criteria that may be skewed based on school location, experience level, and amount of money. 

So, you can see where a music educator might feel better served to spend three dollars on a scratcher than three dollars mailing a recording of their group to a selection committee.

 

So I ask again, what would happen if we randomly chose performers for music education events?

Will some ensembles lack proper instrumentation? Likely.

Will the level of literature be reduced? Possibly.

Will some performances be different? Absolutely.


Let's also consider the possibility that:


Will forgotten programs will be remembered? Likely.

Will under-represented communities will be empowered? Possibly. 

Will more educators and students feel seen and heard? Absolutely.

We could choose at least some performing groups by Lottery. What would be the harm? Yes, we would see imperfect humans, led by an imperfect teacher, who give imperfect performances. Isn't that what (music) education is about?

Performing at a state or national conference is an honor and a deserving opportunity. Unlike the lotto, I don't think we are honoring or providing the same opportunities for everyone.

So, what do you say to a performance lottery? You might not win the Mega-Millions, but you might help them. 
Why not?

Have a great week, everyone. Jump on the FB group and share your thoughts.

-Scott

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2024 - all rights reserved


 

Seizonas and Why Not #1

Picture the scene: all of your friends, family, and students (current and past) have gathered together to celebrate your career. As a part of the gathering, you listen to heartfelt tributes about how much you've meant to them. 

As a part of the gathering, you listen to heartfelt tributes about how much you've meant to them. 

They speak of seminal moments, formative experiences, and memorable performances. The evening is filled with laughter and tears as everyone remembers and celebrates the craziness of their musical experiences, and the impact it and you had on their lives.  

Some use it as a chance to say the things they wish they'd said to you earlier. Some use it as a chance to remember and reflect. While others opine on how their lives have changed because of a chance encounter with you, their music teacher.

This probably sounds like a beautiful evening and a joy-filled retirement gathering - something you have already experienced or perhaps are looking forward to.

What if there was one crucial difference? What if the person on the receiving end of this outpouring of love were not actually retiring? What if we created the event on an arbitrary date to pause, reflect, and celebrate the person(s), places, and events that shape our lives?

Celebrating a well-lived life is nothing new and happens with regularity at the end of a career or life. Why do we wait until something is over to celebrate it? Why don't we create milestones designed to have us take measure of our pursuits and celebrate with the ones we love? In short, why do we wait until the end of a career to celebrate it? Why not do it sooner?

It turns out some people don't.

According to a recent article in The Guardian, living funerals (also known as pre-funerals), are becoming more commonplace as they "offer a chance for people to say goodbye to their friends and families on their own terms and to celebrate their life while they are still alive."

Living funerals, also called seizenso, are not entirely new concepts and gained traction in Japan in the 1990s. The idea is that it takes the pressure off family members and friends to organize a funeral after someone has died. In 2019, 25,000 people took part in a living funeral.

Initially designed for the terminally ill so they could hear what would be said at their funeral, the idea of a living funeral is being more broadly embraced to help those of us living to face our mortality and truly embrace being alive.

I spent fifteen years in a classroom at three different high schools. Each experience was as unique and special as the students I taught. I loved all three experiences for very different reasons.

My first job was in East Los Angeles. I left after 14 months because I was homesick and lonely. Also, my dream job opened back home, where I would spend the next decade as the band director and eventually as a building administrator on the same campus. My final four-year stint in the classroom ended with a leave of absence to start my leadership business. I left my first position mid-summer, my second position to move 100 yards away, and my third position with the belief I would one day return.

These three very different experiences had one shared trait - they ended quietly, without fanfare, and no opportunity to say goodbye.

I didn't get a chance to tell my students how much they meant to me, and for me to hear what I might have meant to them. This was not the plan or by design; I was a victim of circumstance.

I missed the opportunity to celebrate, commiserate, and bring some closure. A seizenso is something I needed and wanted but didn't know about at the time. And I regret it. 

Teaching is hard. Teaching music is really hard. Teaching music in a politicized post-pandemic world? Well, I have no words. You need something to keep you going. You need to know that your efforts make a difference and have an impact. And you don't have to wait thirty-plus years to know it.

Our lives and careers are filled with milestones: contests, concerts, new students, new year, graduation, etc. Each presents an opportunity for a (mini) seizenso - a time to pause, reflect, and celebrate. It can be at a banquet, after-concert gathering, end-of-the-quarter exam, or a post-contest reflection. Just take the time to have the students write or speak about their journey and the impact music (and you) have had on their lives. 

You deserve the time and opportunity to celebrate others and to have others celebrate you. You deserve the space and grace to share and receive love from others. You deserve to laugh, cry, and remember why we do this crazy profession, and you shouldn't have to wait thirty years to do it.

Learn from my mistakes, host your own seizenso, and feel love and appreciation

Why not?

Have a great week, everyone.

Scott

Why Not?

Hey friend:,

We've known each other awhile now, so I think it's time I shared something with you.

I learn by speaking.

Think about that for a minute. Seems a bit backwards from what you might expect. If were being honest, most people and our entire profession are built on the belief that you learn by listening.

In this and other ways, I am discovering that I am unlike most people.

I am not sure if I can fully explain it, but it's as if ideas are locked inside me, and the only way to release or free them is to speak the words into the light of day. Only then can I decipher if the idea is actually a good or bad one. I don't need anyone else to hear it, I just need to say it. It took me a long time to understand this about myself, but everything made much more sense as soon as I did. 

I am sure that somewhere in a book about speaking, there are rules reminding me that as a "subject matter expert," I should parse my words and not share anything unless I have a reasonable level of certainty or assuredness that what I am saying is, in fact, true.

As someone who speaks for a living, the idea of speaking first and thinking second is, at best, counterintuitive; at worst, dangerous.

But that is how MY mind (and mouth) works.

I vet information in real-time. When thinking through ideas, I hear words coming out of my mouth, and process them as if I were hearing them from someone else for the first time. In fact, if you see me walking through an airport, you will likely see me having a full-on, out-loud conversation with myself, gesticulations included - all of which leaves others disturbed, and my family embarrassed.

This is not to say that I walk on stage or in front of a group and just "wing it." I definitely don't.

But, most of the long-form content in my presentations, books, and this blog started as a question or thought that (accidentally) eeked its way out on stage as a "What if?" Or, "Why not?" 

It turns out that I am not alone in thinking this way, as acclaimed New York Times best-selling author Daniel Pink (Drive, A Whole New Mind, The Power of Regret, etc.) has a new project called Why Not?

In collaboration with The Washington Post, Pink is authoring a year-long series designed to give America's imagination an adrenaline shot where he challenges us all to "Spend less time opining about who's right and who's wrong and more time imagining what's possible?"

 

So, for the next year, each week, he will offer a single idea — bold, surprising, maybe a bit jarring — for improving our country, our organizations, or our lives.

As an example, he lists some of his introductory questions, such as why not: 

  • Pay public school teachers a minimum salary of $100,000? 

  • Relocate the U.S. House and Senate to a different city every few years? 

  • Create a new job category for people over 65 to mentor young employees? 

  • Give presents on our birthdays rather than receive them?

As a fellow mental meanderer, I like the concept of why not. So, I joined Mr. Pink in this thought exercise, albeit with a music education bent.

Why not:

  • Require every student to have a music class every day?

  • Have all students teach private lessons?

  • Sight-read at every concert?

  • Have students learn multiple instruments before settling on one?

  • Have an SES multiplier/bonus at contest?

  • Have a contest on September 1st, and again on November 1st, and the group with the greatest point differential is the State Champion.

  • Pick ensembles randomly for MEA conventions?

  • Eliminate a Bachelor of Music Education in favor of a Masters Degree.

  • Make beginner instrumental rental a three-year minimum?

  • Ensure that the marching band gets a PE credit?

  • Have teachers regularly rotate between ELEM/MS/HS?

  • Require that every pop star advocate for music education?

  • Have a "music tax" that generates funds for advocacy?

I could go on. 

Like my friend Mr. Pink (we're not really friends), I have always enjoyed reimagining things in different ways and discussing it with colleagues. It is afterall, the purpose of this blog, and why I started writing it twenty years ago.

So...

For the remainder of this school year, taking a page from Daniel's playbook, (and perhaps a few of the bullet points above), I will ask/explore/and expound upon a new question weekly via this ezine. We can discuss via our Facebook group. It should be interesting.

Remember, the goal is not for you to agree or disagree with the premise, but to free your mind from "what is," to "why not? 

You likely have much bigger and better questions than me. So, how about you use the button below to shoot your questions my way so I too can join in the fun. The only person I have to talk to is Riley, my Golden Retriever. And all she cares about are tennis balls.

So use the buttons below to shoot me an idea, or continue the conversation next week.

SEND A "WHY NOT?"

BECOME A PATRON

Did you use one of the two buttons above? 

Why Not?

Have a great week!

 

Scott

p.s. Thanks to all my MEA friends in California and Colorado for their hospitality this past week. Ohio - wheels-down is 4:30 pm today. Texas, I am headed your way next week. If you see me at these or any other events, please make it a point to stop me and say hi!

The Last Repair Shop

Tucked away in a nondescript neighborhood in East Los Angeles, surrounded by 10-foot fences and razor-encased barbed wire, sits the Los Angeles Unified School District's central distribution hub. Among the encamped buildings is one of our country's most extensive and final remaining facilities of its type, the Instrument Repair Facility. The operation has been in continuous service since 1959 and is home to - and the healing place for the district's 80,000 plus musical instruments.

This obscure building and even more obscure profession recently came to the attention of veteran filmmakers Kris Bowers and Ben Proudfoot, who decided to tell their story after meeting the people and seeing their work. The Last Repair Shop is a moving tribute that shows how mending broken instruments can also mend broken souls.

The Last Repair Shop received a nomination for an Academy Award for Best Documentary just yesterday. It is a deserving nomination, to be sure.

"Some (kids) come from a place of love; some come from a place of dysfunction - you can fix the broken instrument, but you can't always fix the child. They can't be glued back together. We're doing it all for them, and I'm proud to be a part of it." 

Steve Bagmanyan. Shop Supervisor

My first teaching job was in East Los Angeles, just a few miles from this shop. Watching this documentary took me back there and reminded me that while ALL kids need music, some need it more than others.

I hope you can find time to watch it. You'll be glad you did.

 

Scott

 

A Chat with GPT.

Dear AI, or is it Mr. GPT?

It's me, Scott. Yeah, the one who asked you last week to make a picture of a Golden Retriever playing a trombone in a tutu.

You remember me? Ohhh. Yeah, I know that was a bit below your skill set and a bit degrading. Um, sorry about that. But, you should know that my son and I got a real kick out of it.

But, if your gonna throw attitude my way, you should know that your embouchure and hand positions were all wrong, and it was more bugle than trombone.

But, that's on me. I can't expect you to know and do everything. Which is why I'm writing to you today. I am coming to you with a request. A problem if you will. One that involves you, and I am hoping you can help me resolve.

I, and most of my human-like friends, well, we heard the chatter about you taking our jobs, but listen, I need my job.

And, as long as we are being honest, I am better than you at it. Sure, you can help me with marketing, automation, and everything interwebs, but speaking? That's all me. And as long as we're being honest - I am better than you at it. When it comes to speaking, you are a bit of a, well, er, a robotic speaker.
There I said it. So you take care of your stuff and steer clear of my stuff. Sound good?

No, you say? 

There needs to be boundaries. I got music and speaking. YOU GOT IT? 

Sorry for yelling. Wait, do you have feelings? Do you care if I yell?

So, how about we both agree to stay in our own lanes?

I'm not saying I don't want you in my life, I do. Just not in my professional life.

 Hey, I can admit my weaknesses. I know you got skills. I've seen you at the grocery checkout stand, and you are amazing. And, either my son is experiencing an astonishing advance in his writing skills, or you are heavily involved in helping to write his papers. Something for which I, and his teachers, are eternally grateful.

As long as we're making a list of stuff you do well and I don't care about, how bout we put you in charge of my taxes? Also, I just got a jury summons, can you tell me in advance if they're guilty or not? It would save us all a ton of time. Finally, can you please fold my fitted sheets? Even you, in all of your brilliance,  would find that challenging.

Yes, you can have all of this and more, but if I haven't been clear enough, I handle all things music (education).
As a gesture of thanks, I promise. no more silly requests about Golden Retrievers. 
Capiche?

Besides, speaking is how I make money. And money is how I pay for the interwebs, and you need the interwebs to hang out with me, right? So, we good?

Last night's webinar you ask? That was different.

THAT was a team effort, and I couldn't have done it without you. To be honest, my background wasn't great, but other than that, you nailed it. Team Lang/AI on three... 1, 2,3! LANG/AI! 

But, that's not enough for you is it?

You still want to make music? 

Nope - that's mine. All mine. Step off and stay in your lane. This is a non-starter and a deal breaker. You're not ready for music. Heck, spell check confounds you from time to time, and now you want to make harmonies.

You think you can make music? No way!

Give me one example of music you have made! And remember, you are responsible for the "Keytar" and Milli Vanilli, so you aren't exactly starting from a place of credibility.

The latest Beatles tune? Uh huh. Excellent work bringing John Lennon back to life my friend, but you didn't CREATE that music. The Beatles did.

Midi? Nope, replicating sounds is not the same thing as creating it.

The Watson Beat Project? We fed you some Beethoven, and you just rearranged it. That's like me giving you a TV  dinner, you heating it up, and calling yourself a chef. You didn't create anything, you reheated it.

Yes, I know John Williams has made a career of rearranging Beethoven. But, if we are being honest, as much as he has written, and as long as he's been around, I'm sure he isn't one of you. A machine that is.

Listen, when it comes to music, we need to break up. It's not me, it's you.

You're just not ready to make music yet. Let me explain.

  • You don't feel joy or pain.

  • You don't understand stress and pressure.

  • You don't need to be unique or creative.

  • You don't feel the need to dance, jump, and sing. 

You don't need ANY of that. Because...

  • You don't need others.

  • You are happy in isolation and silence.

  • You don't need shared experiences

  • you don need to connect you to others in meaningful ways.

  • You measure memory in RAM and gigabytes and not smiles and tears.

  • Your drive is not personal or unique and is as ubiquitous as it is interchangeable.

  • You can read code, but not a child's face.

  • You understand playing in tune, but can't explain to a 12-year-old how to do it.

You might (soon) understand HOW to make music, I get that. But you will never understand WHY we make music. And the WHY is makes music so important and so uniquely human. You make music in a vacuum with zeros and ones; we make them in a classroom with boys and girls. Music requires emotions, and emotions are uniquely human.

So, until you replace your hard drive with a heart, You stick to your lane, and I will stick to mine. I make music, you help me with clip art and the spelling of "capiche"?

If you REALLY want to make an impact, can you remind me of my Hulu password? I need to finish Welcome to Wrexham and find out if they get promoted.

Thanks buddy.  Glad we could be honest with one another.

Your pal and human friend, 

Scott

 

p.s. Thanks for sending out this email.

p.p.s. I am a better drummer than you. Here's the proof.

The Changing Faces of Our Football Fields

Note from Scott: Lately, I have written a lot about equity and access (in music education), not just for kids but also for teachers. This is another such thought piece. 

 I understand complex issues require complex solutions, and this (or any other) newsletter will not solve anything. But, it might give you something to noodle on for the rest of the day.

This is the January free edition for my e-zine

Last night, nearly 10% of our nation's population set aside everything else to focus on one thing - college football. An estimated 35 million people tuned in to watch Michigan Wolverines defeat the Washington Huskies - a record, doubling last year's audience of 17.2 million. 

For decades, few things unite Americans as consistently and completely as football — the autumnal obsession of Friday nights, the ritualistic centerpiece of college-town Saturdays, the communal Sunday religion of a staggering percentage of the populace. In American culture, the game stands virtually alone in how its appeal cuts across demographic lines.

However, when it comes to actually playing tackle football — and risking the physical toll of a sport linked to brain damage — there are broad divisions marked by politics, economics, and race.

In a recent expose in the Washington Post, authors Dave Sheinin and Emily Giambalvo examined the state of our nation's sport and how it is changing. The Post analyzed decades of high school and college sports participation data and state-by-state demographic trends, interviewed hundreds of coaches, students, and parents, and conducted a nationwide survey about attitudes toward kids' participation in the sport.

What did they find?

"While participation is falling almost everywhere," the Post found, "boys in the poorest states continue to play high school tackle football at higher rates than those in wealthier areas. And while precise data about football's racial makeup is hard to come by, the demographics appear to be gradually shifting faster than national demographic changes."

In short, people from underserved (SES: socio-economic status) and underrepresented (DEI: diversity, equity, & inclusivity) communities participate at higher rates than their counterparts.

The question many organizations are asking is, "How many kids are playing?" This study begs us to ask the next and perhaps more important question, "Who is playing? And why?"

 And, in case you didn't get it - I'm no longer talking about football.

"Who is playing? And why?"

In the past decade, rightfully so, we have seen a growing spotlight on SES and DEI issues for music teachers and their students. In my experience, we tend to look at the overall school, not program demographics.

Let me elaborate.

Many of you know I was a high school band director for sixteen years - all in Title 1 schools. I am FAR from being an expert, but I am also not short on experience. I started my classroom career watching the riots in East Los Angeles and ended my career in the infancy of school-based shootings.

One day, to ask for a bigger budget, I broke down my band in every conceivable way (instrument, class size, year, gender, ethnicity, etc.) When I reviewed the numbers, I was shocked to see that while my school was roughly 34% Hispanic, 33% African-American, and 33% white. In contrast, my ensembles were 45% Hispanic, 47% white, and only 7% African-American.  

My program did not represent my school community. I was operating under the false flag of inclusivity. 

 Like football, I focused on how many students were playing (24% of my high school was in the band) rather than on who they were. 

Yes, I taught in a very balanced (culturally and economically) school community, but my ensembles were under-serving the African-American community. And, if I were being honest, despite having no numbers to prove it, I suspected that the median household income for my band members exceeded that of the school average. Looking at my upper SES school colleagues, I wondered if they had the same imbalances, but in reverse. Did they have students they were not seeing?

Hang with me for a second, and let me explain.

When looking for barriers (and opportunities) to access and inclusivity, perhaps we should be "school-blind" and "student-centered." In other words, we as a profession can't solely focus on specific schools, zip codes, or communities. My experience tells me that regardless of where and what you teach, all schools have lower SES students and under-represented communities. The numbers and percentages may differ from school to school, but issues related to poverty, equality, and other barriers to participation in music exist in every school.

Don't believe me? Answer the following questions. In your school community, do you have:

  • Apartments in your attendance zone?

  • Single-parent households?

  • Parents who lost a job recently?

  • Households that struggle with inflation?

  • First-generation Americans?

  • Mono-lingual parents?

  • Households without a college degree?

  • Families that make payments incrementally?

  • Students who have to wait to buy accessories?

  • Students who can't afford lessons?

  • Students who require jobs?

  • Students who take public transit to school?

  • Students who get free or reduced lunch?

  • Students who don't dress warm enough in the winter?

What about other barriers? Do you have:

  • Students who need a scholarship to go to college?

  • Students who need an AP class that conflicts with music?

  • An AVID or IB program that consumes their schedule?

  • Families that pressure their students to take "real" classes?

  • Counselors who push career pathways?

  • A district that requires a foreign language but does not see music as one?

I could go on, but you get my point.

Those are barriers and obstacles to inclusivity as well. Those problems are just as real to those students and their families.

Diversity, inclusivity, and access are not just Title 1 problems; they are all our problems. They exist in every community and every music program. They may even fool you. The impoverished might not be as poor as you think, the wealthy might not be as rich as you think, and (as I found out), your program might not be as diverse as you think.

 

The Washington Post article points out that for most high school football players, the sport is an opportunity to push themselves, grow, and be a part of a team or family. For those in need, football can be seen as that and more - a way out and up - a chance to change their lot and build a brighter future. And every team has both types of athletes.

That is where I believe music and football are the same.

 On Friday nights, players of sport and players of sound share more than the same field - they share the same dreams, obstacles, and opportunities.

Something to think about. As I said, I don't have all the answers, but I do have some experience.

Have a great week!

Scott

 

p.s. Be Part of the Music just launched Grants, Growth & Gratitude 2024 - $10,000 in offerings designed to impact you and your students. Be sure check it out using the button below.

 

APPLY NOW

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved

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My Holiday Gift for You!

 Hey friends:

Every year, to thank you, the incredible teachers who make up this community, I create pre-written gratitude emails for you to use.

I know that you are all capable of writing better than me, but I do this to save you time and effort and provide a gentle reminder to show gratitude for the people that enrich your work life.

As we approach the 2024 Holiday Season, I thought I would once again share this simple offering as a gesture of thanks and a reminder that I know how hard you work.

As always, these are templates. You can copy and paste as is, or modify to suit your individual needs or writing style. 

READ TILL THE END TO OPEN THE MOST IMPORTANT EMAIL OF ALL!

Happy Holidays, friends.

Scott

p.s.  I tried to be as inclusive as possible in my writing to celebrate all people in all ways. If your school community reflects certain traditions or celebrations, feel free to ad and include.

p.p.s.  I provided "hint's and highlights for you to consider and change.

 EMAIL #1: To site administrators:

<< HINT: Make sure your building colleagues are not sending the same note. Or, add their names to this email.>>

Subject line: A long overdue not of thanks.

Dear Admin Team:  

As we approach the end of the semester and the Holiday break, I just wanted to drop you a quick note to tell you how much I appreciate you and your daily efforts on our behalf. 

Every day, you're not just leading from above; you are there in the trenches with us, working hard to ensure that WE and OUR STUDENTS are experiencing success. You do it without fanfare, accolades, or much gratitude. 

In recent years, schools and education have become more politicized. The toxicity, disrespect, and intolerance shown towards administrators are sometimes unbelievable. Through it all, you keep your cool (as far as I can see), and show yourself and our school to be the shining example that it is.

I will never fully see or understand WHAT you do every day, but I do see HOWyou do it, with intelligence, grace, compassion, and integrity. You fight for us and serve as an example of the professional we all strive to be.

As an employee, colleague, member of this faculty, and fellow human being, I just wanted to say "Thanks."

Have a restful and relaxing Holiday break. You deserve it.

Sincerely, 

(insert name) 
(title)

EMAIL #2 - Email to Parents/Guardians

<< HINT: "Family" can be anyone who contributes to the child's success.>>

Subject line: Happy Holidays from a grateful music teacher.

Dear parents, guardians, friends, and families (insert other):

I hope this email finds you happy, healthy, and SANE! 

Teaching young people is tricky at best and a nightmare at worst. So, I can only imagine what raising them must be like.

Your kids are wonderful... to me.  I doubt that at home, they are as delightful as they are for me here at school.

They are wonderful to be because:

You taught them to be that way.

You gave them an example to follow.

You set the standard and held them accountable.

You reminded them to be their best selves whenever possible.

You loved, cared for, and supported them in everything they do.

Even when it was hard, YOU were the parents!

As we approach this season of joy, I wanted you to know how much I appreciate your continued support - the instruments, the lessons, carpool, reeds, sticks, etc. You do so much for your children, in and out of music, and I am confident that while it may seem underappreciated, I assure you it is not. 

I usually am able to acknowledge and thank you (the parents) at meetings, concerts, and events. But, I wanted to make sure that I connected with each one of you and shared the following... 

I appreciate you. For the things I see you do and the things I don't. I appreciate your support, patience, and understanding. I appreciate your willingness to allow, encourage, and insist that music be a part of your child's life. It will be worth it in the end, for you and your children.

So let this email serve as my personal "Thank you" for all you do as a parent of a child in music.

Sincerely,

 

(insert name)
(title)

 

Email #3 - Email to Your Board/Superintendent

<< HINT: Make sure your district music colleagues are not sending the same note. Or, add all their names to this email.>>

Subject line:  A sincere note of thanks.


Dear Board Member/Superintendent (Insert names and titles):

I would not want your job. The toxicity and politicization of our schools leave you in an unenviable, if not impossible position. As I said, I would not want your job, but I am glad you do!

As we approach the end of the semester, I want to let you know that I appreciate you and your efforts to ensure that every child has access to a good (music) education.

I believe that music is more important than ever for every child. Music and the arts are not just creative outlets; they are safe spaces and facilitators of excellence that will guide children long after they leave our halls. 

As you continue making the hard decisions regarding our schools, please know that your support of our arts and music programs has played a vital role in helping students grow as academics and as young humans. You had an important role in making this happen. And for that, I thank you.

As we approach the Holiday break, it seems appropriate to end this email with a simple, but well deserved, "Thank you!"

With great sincerity,

(insert name)

(school)
(title)

  

Email # 4 - to a special friend/parent/colleague

<< HINT: If you are sending this to another music teacher - make sure that they are not receiving this note as well. >>

 

Subject line: You make this job easier...

Hey (insert name):

Today, I sat down to write some notes of thanks to the people who have helped me along the way. I do it to thank those who typically don't receive it, and remind myself that there are those who have helped me along the way.


And then I got to you...

I want you to know that you make this incredibly difficult job just a little bit easier and the difficult days just a little bit less hard.
I could list the dozens of times you came to my aid. But, that wouldn't reflect the dozens of other times you weren't there, but just knowing I had some support made me feel better. 

You are amazing - and during this season of giving, just know that I give thanks to YOU for being YOU!

Have a great break my friend. You deserve it!

(insert name)

 

Email #5 - to YOU...YES, YOU!

<< HINT: This is the most important email of all - I wrote it just for you.>> 

Subject line:  You make the world a better place!


Dear Scott, 

Yes, now it's your turn. No copy and paste, just sit, read, and smile.

As things return to "normal, " it's easy to forget what you did (and are still doing) to return to normal. Because of your tireless efforts and boundless energy, kids feel as if things ARE back to normal, when you and I both know that we are not quite there yet.

Whatever it took, you never stop TEACHING. You meet kids where they are at, assess what they need, and adjust on the fly. You make abnormal seem NORMAL - which, for many of your students is the best Holiday gift of all.

As most of you know, I spent 16 years in the classroom and another 20 traveling from music room to music room, which is what makes me appreciate you even more. I see how hard you work, and know how much you sacrifice. And, if we're being honest, I don't think I could do what you do. At least not as well as you are doing it. YOU are the better teacher. YOU are the harder worker. And YOU are making a more significant difference than I am.

So...

No coal for you! Your stocking will be full this year. Being an Elf (insert short joke), I checked Santa's list, and YOU ARE AT THE VERY TOP OF IT!

As we heard towards the Holiday break, I can't think of anyone who is worthy of my gratitude more than you. You are a role model, sherpa, and shining beacon of light for young people . YOU ARE A MUSIC TEACHER!

And that is the greatest gift you can give to a child.

 

Your biggest fan, and Elf on the Shelf, 

 

- Scott

 

 

Through the Holiday season, I match and donate all Patron memberships to the Patricia Allen Pediatric Recovery Wing at Children's Oshei Hospital. This is my way of giving something back to people who gave something to my family.

Please consider becoming a Patron, or giving it as a gift.

 

BECOME A PATRON

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved

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Do You Hear What I Hear & the Wicked Truth

Do You Hear What I Hear? is a worldwide holiday classic penned in 1962. Originally released by the great crooner Bing Crosby, this Holiday staple has been covered more than 200 different artists since its inception. 

Written by the husband and wife team of Noel Regeny and Gloria Shayne, this iconic work was conceived and composed as a plea for global peace during the Cuban Missile Crisis. 

This Holiday staple asks three simple and yet profound questions:

Do you hear what I hear?
Do you see what I see?
Do you know what I know?

Recently, my wife and I attended the hit Broadway musical Wicked. We have seen the production multiple times since its release and are well-acquainted with both the music and lyrics. However, this experience was profoundly different.

To get my son (who is in band) more interested in music, before the start of the show I took him to see the pit orchestra.

OMG!

The underground and mostly covered space contained four partitioned plexiglass spaces with thirteen musicians playing 36 different instruments into 46 microphones. It was ridiculous!

Geeking out on the enormity of it all, I asked the lead flutists about her instruments - she showed me her array of flutes, head joints, foot attachments, and explained the reason and rationale for each element.

I was entranced - my son? Not so much.

As I returned to my seat for the show's start, I decided to "tune out" on the production and "tune in" on the orchestration. I wanted to hear the alto flute, and understand this choice every other musical one that had been made.

I had an intensely different experience than previous shows. It was like I was hearing the musical for the first time. Not only did I hear things I had never heard before, but I found myself wanting to ask the arranger (William David Brohn) so many questions.

  • Why the alto flute in the ballad? What did it bring that new traditional flute could not provide?

  • Why use the suspended, diminished chord with the Eb clarinet on top as the opening overture statement?

  • Why 5/8 time during the dance sequence?

  • Why bassoon and not bari-sax at the close of the first act?

  • How did he factor instrument doublings and the logistics of instrument switching in the arrangement?

And so much more.

I was giddy with questions and thoughts. Even though it was my fourth time seeing the musical, it was my first time hearing it. 

I was on fire and wanted to share the experience and my curiosities with someone - but I had no one. I wanted to ask my wife and son:

Do you hear what I hear?
Do you see what I see?
Do you know what I know?

My wife is a true sport. Despite having little interest in how music is composed/orchestrated, and even less knowledge, she has accepted that she lives with a music teacher and is a willing and eager participant in all that comes with it. But,  as much as she enjoys music, she does not UNDERSTAND it. That is completely different.

How could she?

She did not sit in a practice room for hours in college. She is not a music theory "survivor." She did not analyze four part figured bass writing until three in the morning. She was never chastised by a professor for not working hard enough (even thought you had been at school for twelve hours seven days in a row). She doesn't know the difference when resolving a German 2nd chord versus an Italian 2nd chord. But, if we're being honest, neither do I. 

In the end, despite her deep love of music, our experience with music will be deeper, richer, and more complex because:

We know what she doesn't. 
We see what she can't. 
We hear what she misses.

She knew the story; I knew the music elements used to tell it effectively. She could see the costumes and props; I could see the complexity of the instruments, chambers and equipment required to bring them to life. She could hear the melody; but I could hear the harmonies and orchestrations that gave it depth, complexity, and a sense of irony.

We saw the same production, but had two VERY different experiences.

Remember what Noel and Gloria asked us?

Do you hear what I hear?
Do you see what I see?
Do you know what I know?

Being immersed in the musical world means that you and I are surrounded by musicians. People who see what we see, hear what we hear, and know what we know.

Because I am surrounded by this, it seems normal to me, when in fact, itis not. I forget to stop and appreciate the fantastical, magical world I get to live in. A place where I am fluent in a language that few people are. I need to remember the time and effort that went in to training my ears, mind, and hands my brain to process information and produce these experiences.

This gift of understanding we have is special. It is born of hard work and sacrifice. It took time, effort, and work done in solitude that few outside of this calling will ever understand. It can't be replicated in the Metaverse, explained  by Chat GPT, or recreated by Apple Glass. It is ours. we earned it, and so we must appreciate and treasure it for the gift that it is.

Yes, I can take my wife to Wicked again. I can introduce her to the conductor who can show her the score and explain the orchestration. I can even try to explain the nuance and irony of all of the musical choices that the musical team made. But, even after all of that, she will never...

See what we see.
Know what we know.
Hear what we hear.

And that's just Wicked!

Have a great week everyone.

Scott

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2023 - all rights reserved