Playing with House Money - Part 1

 

PLAYING WITH HOUSE MONEY - PART 1

I am starting off with a bang! I have been stewing on this for a couple of weeks now, and I think I am ready to share.

With the (re)release of EA Sports NCAA 2025, it seems like an appropriate time to share. 

Let me warn you, this will take some unpacking (two newsletters), but I think you will find it worthwhile, interesting, and applicable.

In case you are unaware, over the past three years, significant changes have occured in college sports allowing student athletes to be paid for their performance, on and off the field. This landmark legislation called Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL). represents a seismic shift in collegiate athletes and allows athletes to profit from their athletic skills and personal brand.

Yes, college athletes are no long amateurs. They are paid professionals, sometimes making more money in college than they will during

 In the past, NCAA rules prohibited athletes from monetizing their fame while playing for their universities. These recent reforms have enabled them to earn income through endorsements, sponsorships, and social media presence. This change allows "amateur" athletes to share in the revenue they help to generate.

Recently, Grant House, a former collegiate swimmer at Arizona State University (Go Devils!), sued the NCAA (House vs. NCAA) for back "wages" he believes he is due from his four years as a competitive swimmer. He won a 2.7 billion dollar settlement (twenty million dollars per Division 1 University to be paid out over ten years), benefitting 14,000 previous NCAA athletes dating back to 2016. 

 If you want a quick primer, read this article.  Otherwise you can let me give you a quick overview.

This landmark case provided two significant legal precedents:

  1. Past athletes are due compensation for revenues they generated as athletes for the university.

  2. Universities can now compensate/revenue share directly, bypassing the NIL completely.

Are you following me so far? It's about to get interesting.

In short, a legal precedent now codifies that universities must share their revenue directly with athletes, past, present, and future, who help produce them.

The substance of the case is groundbreaking, but how we got there is even more interesting.

In a recent article on CBSSports.com quoted primary plaintiff Grant House as saying: 

"I was inspired by student musicians who could also get paid for professional work. I always thought it was interesting that … if [those musicians] can monetize this, take it to the farthest reaches, I couldn't because I was an athlete doing my own aspirations and dreams," House said. "... That just didn't sit well with me and confused me a lot."

In other words, a twenty-billion dollar landmark settlement upending college athletics, as we know, didn't come from a swimmer looking up into the grandstands but from looking at the School of Music.

 Mind blown yet? WELL-HANG ON, I'm not finished.

In a recent article in the Arizona Republic, new Arizona State University Athletic Director Graham Rossini, who has a Master's in Sports Law and Business from Sandra Day O'Connor Law School, discussed the ruling and his interpretation.

"Unless you're at the very top, you're really trying to scrape by and make sure you win out at these meets or have a job supporting you," he said. "Now, at least in college you have a brand to support your career. You focus on performing because (the window to compete) is not a long one."

So, before I drop the bomb - let's review what we know so far:

Step 1: A 2019 court ruling allows "amateur" college athletes to be paid via NIL collectives.
Step 2: Grant House sues and successfully wins the right for past athletes in non-revenue generating sports to receive compensation.
Step 3: House vs. NCAA also sets a precedent and requires that revenues received be shared (in some proportional way) directly with those (athletes) who helped to generate them.
Step 4: My school's (ASU) athletic director states that this is a way to compensate all students, not just those at the top who are "scraping by."

With me? OK, get ready...

WHERE'S MY CHECK?

Ok, I'm not a dinosaur. I don't a check, I accept Venmo! Heck, I accept all payments except for Dogecoin and NFT's.

No matter how I receive it, I want my money, and I am not kidding. They owe me, and I can prove it! I have studied the issue, read the relevant case law, and reviewed the verdict. Seriously, I did.

I AM DUE SOME CASH. I can prove it, and I have calculated the amount I am owed.

But all of that can wait until next week.

Do I have you thinking? I hope so.


Welcome back to another school year, I hope you have a great week.

- Scott

 

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FINAL "WHY NOT?" #14 - CHEESY MILESTONES 

Long ago in ancient Rome, there was a bustling little town with a peculiar problem: travelers were constantly getting lost on the long, winding roads leading to the city. Though they were marvels of engineering, these roads looked strikingly similar, causing even the most experienced travelers to wander in circles like lost chickens.

This issue particularly vexed the town's governor, known for his love of order, efficiency, and somewhat eccentric sense of humor (much like myself). Determined to solve the navigation problem once and for all, he called a meeting with his top advisors, the town's mapmaker, and, for reasons unknown, the local cheese merchant.

After much debate, discussion, and excessive cheese sampling (the mayor believed cheese stimulated the brain), the mapmaker proposed placing large stone markers along the roads at regular intervals. These stones would indicate the distance traveled from the town center, making it easier for travelers to know exactly where they were and how far they had to go.

 The first milestone was erected exactly one Roman mile from the town center. The mayor insisted on a grand unveiling ceremony, complete with a parade (so now we know who to blame for parades!), musicians, and an abundance of cheese. The stone itself was a sight to behold, carved with ornate Roman numerals and the face of the mayor, grinning proudly.

Travelers found the milestones incredibly helpful. No longer did they wander aimlessly, for they could now count the miles and navigate with ease. The clever invention spread throughout the Roman Empire, and other towns, cities, and countries began to adopt the practice, though they opted for less flamboyant designs.

As a Colonial Postmaster, Benjamin Franklin introduced the concept of milestones. He believed such a tool would keep postal riders on schedule and expedite mail delivery. As with all things Benjamin Franklin, the idea soon spread far and wide.

With our founding father's help, the concept and the term spread far and wide and eventually became synonymous as a significant marker along a literal and metaphorical journey. 

As you read this newsletter, I am at such a point - a cheeseless but significant milestone.

 Twenty years ago today, at 4:35 p.m., I stepped out of the classroom for the final time as a high school band director. Not knowing what the future would hold and fully embracing the possibility of failure (and return to a classroom), I left without any fanfare, celebration, or acknowledgment of my sixteen-plus years as a teacher and administrator. I turned in my keys, gathered my belongings, and walked out the band room door—something I regret to this day—not the leaving, but not celebrating the close of one journey and the starting of the next.

Twenty years later, I am pausing to acknowledge this milestone, knowing that many came before and will come after it. Today is one marker in a lifetime journey. A marker that validates my path, shows my progress, and points to the future. As with all milestones, today is not a destination but a journey.

Reflecting on these past two decades, I have always known that while I may have left the classroom, the classroom has never left me. The classroom has changed, but the mission remains the same: more music for more kids.

On this new pathway, the milestones are harder to find. There is no obvious beginning or end; students come and go, not every year but every day. It's also harder to measure progress, unless we are talking about nights in a hotel or frequent flier miles. The milestones are there. Nonetheless, I just stopped looking.

 As you read this, some of you are marking significant milestones: new schools, new careers, new degrees, or being newly retired. While others will celebrate smaller ones: another year complete, a high score at contest, a growing program, or a million smiles made. 

Regardless of what milestone you are marking, it's important to acknowledge and celebrate the milestones, memories, and lasting legacy you have created—not just the final one but each one along the way, big and small. Remember, the very purpose of a milestone is not to celebrate the end of the journey but to validate the pathway, demonstrate your progress, and show you there is more road to be traveled.

If you are celebrating a milestone, I want to know about it. It can be as small (I turned in attendance three straight days) or as large (I am retiring tomorrow) as you like. I want to celebrate you and the progress you made in your journey. Please don't be shy; tell me about your milestone and what makes it special to you. I want to not just celebrate you, but celebrate WITH you!

I have been thinking, and I don't know how I am going to celebrate my milestone, Maybe you don't know how you are going to celebrate yours either. So, if you have an idea for me, I might have an idea for you. If not, we can just connect and celebrate and figure it out together.

To foster that, you can use the button below to email me, call me at (480) 577-5264, or check my Zoom room. I am traveling but will sign on when possible - more so in the mid-afternoon and early evening.

I will respond to every email (but be patient). I don't want you to make the same mistake I made twenty years ago, not acknowledging each milestone.

Perhaps we can even share some cheese.

Why not?

Have a great week. As always, thank you for all that you do to fill our world and young people's lives with music.

Scott

p.s.  I hope you have enjoyed the three months series "Why Not"  With this being the end of the year, this will be my last email for a bit - I will return when you do! In the meantime, I hope to see you in person as I run around the country.

WHY NOT? #13 - HOLDING (FOOD) COURT

In the heartland of American consumerism, a silent revolution is underway. Once filled with the scent of freshly baked pretzels and sounds of gleeful shoppers, the American shopping mall is dying. 

This once epicenter of retail therapy and teenage angst faces its most formidable adversary yet: the relentless march of time, technology, and demand for consumer convenience. 

Once considered an essential sign of status, "the mall" has been competing against high operational costs, lower costs associated with online shopping, the convenience of one-day delivery, and a global pandemic.

Macy's, JCPenney, Nordstrom, and others are closing hundreds of their mall stores as online shopping has grown to around 16% of US retail sales. Real estate research firm Green Street estimates that about 150 enclosed malls have closed since 2008, leaving about 900 today."

According to recent statistics, the number of shopping malls in the United States has plummeted faster than a Black Friday bargain. In fact, experts predict that by the year 2030, the only place you'll find a shopping mall is in a museum next to the relics of Blockbuster and the Blackberry 8100.

And the shopping isn't the only thing that's dying.

What about the infamous food court - once a culinary melting pot of gastronomic fast-food delights? It now resembles a ghost town populated by lone one-off survivors serving oversized sodas and stale nachos. The once-revered Orange Julius is gone, and the beloved Sbarro is a distant memory.

 An article on CNN states, "Food was long an afterthought at malls, and department stores were the primary reason shoppers visited. But that is changing." As US malls race to reinvent themselves, they aren't replacing lost tenants with Pottery Barn and The Gap; they're replacing them with sushi conveyor belts, craft beer membership clubs, and Korean barbecue.

And that's where the renaissance begins.

At one time, the mall's primary purpose was to shop, with food being a minor afterthought to keep shoppers shopping longer. Now, their place on the impact ladder has them flip-flopping, with food being the reason customers flock to the mall, hoping they will shop afterward.

There are some lessons for music educators and our buildings to learn here.

Since its inception, the primary purpose of a music room has been to make music, but it is not the room's SOLE purpose, nor is it the SOUL of the room. 

Music may be the reason our buildings were conceived, designed, and built thirty years ago, but that doesn't mean our buildings, curricula, and purpose haven't evolved into something more than musical overtones and soaring melodies. 

Think about it.

Set aside the fact that our room is a place where we hold meetings, practice marching basics, and rehearse the color guard—all of which are non-musical activities—this space serves as a gathering space for friends, a place of refuge from the onslaught of academics, and a safe place away from the myriad of unhealthy choices teenagers make every day.

 In our rehearsal spaces, students learn to create soaring melodies and complex harmonies. These rooms are also a place where students learn to take risks, push themselves, and be accountable to others. It is where they not only create but collaborate. This is where our young people grow to become young adults, musical and otherwise.

If you were to ask any of my former students, they would tell you that I was a high-energy, high-standards, and high-results teacher. Effort was placed at a premium, and I pushed my students to be their best. As a music educator, I took pride in the accomplishments of my students and ensembles.

However, a fundamental change occurred as my own children approached high school. I became far less concerned with the quality of the music and more concerned with the quality of the experience.

Can we have both? Absolutely! But we only measure one: music.

I have always said, "You can't change the life of a child who isn't there—and our greatest enemy is an empty chair." What if we took a step back and looked at what it took to bring in and keep more kids making music?What if we could measure the things ancillary to music that attract children to this activity and keep them there, including food, social interaction, personal growth, and safety? We have ratings for everything else, so why not this? 

Shopping keeps the mall doors open, but what brings the shoppers to the mall is anything but. Landlords don't care what brings shoppers to the mall, just that they come. What keeps the doors open in a music building is making music, but what brings the music makers to the room is anything but. Perhaps we could be less concerned with what brings someone to our building and just be happy they came.

Why not?

Otherwise, we might go the way of Orange Julius.

Something to think about.

Have a great week, 

 

Scott

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2024 - all rights reserved

 

WHY NOT? #12 - MR. IRRELEVANT & BEING PURDY GOOD

Last week, the NFL conducted its 2024 Draft. A record 750,000 people attended the three-day event in person, and more than 12 million people worldwide watched it on TV. It truly has become quite a spectacle.

The NFL draft is where hope springs eternal; every player believes they are a future hall of famer, and every fan believes this is "their year."

Amidst the excitement and anticipation, there's one player who stands out in a very unexpected way. "Mr. Irrelevant" is the moniker bestowed on the player chosen with the draft's final selection.

Fifty years ago, after a brief stint in the NFL, Paul Salata came up with an interesting idea: What if the NFL celebrated the last pick of the draft the same way it did the first guy off the board? The idea was to celebrate the mere selection of being asked to play in the NFL, but in a fun way, coining the phrase, Mr. Irrelevant.

In an article on ESPN.com Salata stated, "We established Mr. Irrevelent to drive home an important message—that it's not a negative to be picked last in the NFL Draft; rather, it's an honor to be drafted at all. The last draft pick demonstrates perseverance, a lesson that resonates with people everywhere."

One of the latest and greatest examples of this lesson is Brock Purdy, quarterback of the San Francisco 49ers, and Mr. Irrelevant 2022. During his rookie season, after injuries to the starting and backup quarterback, Purdy left the practice squad to lead his team to eight consecutive victories and the NFC Championship game. Were it not for a severe injury he sustained at the start of the game, many believed the 49ers, led by Purdy, would have gone on to win the Super Bowl.

Brock Purdy proves that despite dozens of coaches and scouts, thousands of hours of film study, and dozens of pre-draft workouts, the best of the best still get it wrong. Determining who someone will become is more of an art and less of a science. It's more about will than it is skill.

"He's never had a backup plan," Brock's mom, Carrie Purdy, says. "He wasn't going to be a pharmaceutical sales rep or real estate agent. He was going to be a football player."

Like many of you, I identify with Mr. Irrelevant because early on in my career, I was never seen as or felt like I was 'draft-worthy' as a music educator. 

After auditioning to be a music major, I was not awarded a scholarship and wasn't accepted into the studio. After I got in, I struggled with theory, history, and piano, and I rarely placed in the top ensembles. In short, I had to work and study twice as hard to keep up with my more talented counterparts.

But I didn't give up. I persevered and put in the work. Over time, I watched more qualified candidates and better musicians fade away into other majors while I stayed the course. Like Brock Purdy, for me, there was no backup plan. I would be a music teacher, and a good one—period.

Music Educator is our title. We are musicians and educators—requiring two equally essential but divergent skill sets. Are we musicians first or educators first? What good are music skills if you can't communicate them in an environment conducive to learning? Conversely, what good are classroom control skills if you have no music pedagogy to share when the room is quiet?

We've all seen fine musicians struggle on the podium, and many stellar teachers struggle with an instrument in their hand. Truth be told, most of us are somewhere in between - proficient at both and perfect at neither.

Being a musician is hard. Being an educator is hard. Combined, the job description morphs into something completely different. It's almost impossible to describe and even harder to assess. These qualities are subjective, and the skills required vary based on the levels, content, and area in which you teach.

Despite my desire, I didn't know if I would be a good music educator. And neither did anyone else. Others thought they knew, but they didn't. 

The same holds true for our students. I like to think I know if they will be successful, but I don't know for sure. Just as I would like to believe I surprised some of my professors, I can tell you that there are students who have amazed me.

Remember, after over a decade in the sport, countless coaches, two dozen college games, thousands of game-time reps, hundreds of scouts, general managers, and coaches failed to see Brock Purdy's potential. They saw the mobility, speed, and arm strength but could not see the magic. 

All of you have outpaced, outperformed, and outlived someone else's expectations. Someone placed limitations on you that you did not embrace. At some point and in some way, through your efforts, expectations were exceeded, challenges were overcome, and barriers were broken. This is your super power. 

And it's what makes you Mr. Irrelevant. 

And that's something the NFL thinks is worth celebrating.

Why not?

Have a great week, everyone!

 

Scott

 

WHY NOT? #11 - DEALING WITH VICARIOUSITY

Many of you may know I coached my boys in football for the past fifteen years. I love it, and I'm pretty good at it. In fact, I have an undefeated record of 17-0 in the last two seasons. 

What makes me prouder than my record is that once a boy joins my team, he stays with me for the long haul. 

Over the years, I have kept the same core group of boys for ten-plus years, both for my older and younger sons. I have boys playing D1 college football who still call me "Coach Scott" and ask if we can get the gang back together.

I love every minute of it. It's the closest thing I have that resembles teaching music. I see the same kids, share the same jokes, and build relationships I will remember for the rest of my life, even if they don't.

As a coach, I have witnessed my fair share of sideline antics from parents. And being in a highly competitive league, I have seen more than one former NFL player trying to shape his son into who he was, or even worse, who he failed to be. I have even been physically threatened by one after my amateur team, coached by a former band director, beat his son's club team, coached by former pro players. 

Yes, much like when I taught, being around adults and their children can be as inspiring as it is appalling. 

We've all met at least one parent who lives vicariously through their kids. Maybe you know a dad whose NFL dreams were crushed because of an injury or other career-ending setback. So now, he pushes his son to be the star quarterback so he can once again live the glory of the gridiron through his pre-teen progeny.

Maybe you know a mother who was an Ivy League college reject, and is now writing the wrong dealt to her by hiring expensive tutors and pressuring her kids to become straight-A students to lord over her neighbors, friends, and frankly, anyone and everyone else who will listen. 

From sports dads to stage moms, many of today's parents are pushing their kids to succeed. They often try to get their kids to fulfill their dreams and finish their unfinished business. This goes beyond being a helicopter parent and crosses into dangerously unhealthy territory.

It's called Vicariousity - living one's dream through their child. And it's wrong.

But, I might be guilty of it.

As I type this blog, I am sitting in a coffee shop exactly one mile from where my youngest son is auditioning for his high school's drumline —and I am terrified—truly terrified.

Don't get me wrong—my son will find a place somewhere. His teachers are fantastic and will find a place for every child no matter what. They are intelligent, knowledgeable, and, more importantly, kind. They are everything you would want and hope for your child, and we chose this school largely because of them.

So why am I scared?  

My oldest son did band and enjoyed it. However, the pandemic and a director change derailed his band experience, and he only partially got to experience the transformative experience that is music. His senior year, the choir director snatched him out of a hallway and saved him, but he wandered through high school largely without a home.

I can't have this happen with my youngest son. He NEEDS band.

After my eldest son graduated high school, my wife, who knows nothing about music, said, "I feel bad for you. You waited your whole life to watch your son be in band, and it was stolen from you."

From me? Or, from him?

Perhaps both.

All I know is that I don't care what instrument he plays or what their show is. I don't care what ratings they get or how they finish at competition. I just want him to have what I had: memories, friends, laughter, tears, triumph, heartbreak, and everything else that goes with this incredible activity. I want him to have a group of friends to rely on and a safe space on campus to call his home. 

Or, maybe it's me who needs him to need it. I don't know.

I don't want him to finish what I started; I want him to start what I finished.

If that's Vicariousity, I'll take it.

Why not?

 

Have a great week!

 

Scott

 

WHY NOT? #11 - THE LONG MILE

I am a runner. I always have been. 

I find solace and challenge in the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement. It's just me, my playlist, and time to think. 

Admittedly, I have fallen off the wagon in recent months, but rest assured, I will be back running the streets again soon. 

To be clear, there are sprinters, and there are runners. I am most certainly the latter and not the former.

If you were to race me in a sprint, you would undoubtedly win, as my short legs and slow-twitch muscles almost always leave me in last place, even when racing a parked car. 

However, if we were to run anything more than a mile, you would be hard-pressed to keep up. I have a small frame and an unending motor that can run for hours without much drop-off. I have completed five half marathons and countless 10Ks, but I have yet to attempt the Holy Grail of long-distance running—a full marathon.

 At some point in my life, I was in good enough shape and could knock out 15 miles or more, but I never went the final distance and attempted a marathon, which still haunts me.

There's still hope.

Dubbed "everyman's Everest," long-distance running, once a niche and grueling sport, has exploded in popularity over the past few decades. The most interesting thing is not how many people are running, but who is running. 

According to a New York Times article, "Many of those who run marathons today are middle-aged or older, and some are less fit and less experienced. As a result, the average finish time in American marathons has slowed considerably, even as the top runners keep getting faster. It's a sign of how popular marathons have become."

This article states that the average finish time in the Boston Marathon 1924 was just under three hours. However, in the recent race held on Monday, the average finish time was nearly four hours, representing almost a 33% drop off. Interestingly, despite this trend, speed course records are set yearly. 

The article suggests that many races are becoming less strict about entrants' credentials to attract more participants. This was the case for Andy Sloan, 36, who registered for his first marathon in Honolulu last year. Although he finished last, completing the course in 16 hours 59 minutes 39 seconds, Sloan found more meaning in the support from the cheering crowds than in hitting a specific goal time during his training.


"To feel supported the whole way, even though I was the last person on the course, felt really, really good," he told me. "Knowing that I took the time to set a goal, and worked really hard to achieve it, it did mean a lot to me."

Running is a unique activity that brings professional athletes and amateurs together on the same course and day. It's an opportunity for enthusiasts to stand alongside the pros and push toward the finish line, even if their times differ significantly.

Music and marathons share this quality in many ways. Although we may all play the same instruments and music, our performances are vastly different. Whether gifted or not, professional or amateur, we all have reasons for playing.

However, too often, we celebrate only the most accomplished musicians, forgetting about the rest of the ensemble. It's similar to how we only remember famous runners like Jim Fixx while overlooking other participants. We must remember that, as with marathons, the goal of music-making is not always to finish first but to persevere until the end.

As music educators, we often prioritize those who successfully cross the finish line of a program or graduation ceremony. While we take pride in those who have persevered and achieved, we should remember that over half of those who start do not reach the end. Moreover, we mistakenly treat graduation as the ultimate goal, when in reality, it is more comparable to a 10K race - a notable milestone but not the end of the journey towards a lifetime of musical creativity.

During an open forum with renowned marathon runner Jim Fixx, an amateur runner approached the microphone and marveled, "I can't comprehend how you can run so fast for three hours." Mr. Fixx responded with his own question, "I have no idea; how can you run for six hours?" 

 

In athletics, as in life, there is a tendency to remember the professional who answers the question rather than the amateur who asked it.

 Instead of solely celebrating the top ensembles, players, and performances, we should also focus on the youngest ensembles, weakest players, and worst performances. By doing so, we can equally recognize an ensemble's musicality and longevity.

As music educators, we excel at celebrating the best. However, we should also strive to remember to celebrate the worst and to encourage them never to stop trying to reach the same finish line.

Why not?

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead.

 

Scott

WHY NOT? #10 - MY 401K AND SHORT-TERM PAIN


Since this upcoming Monday is Tax Day, let's continue on that theme for this week.  

My taxes are complicated, like solving a 10 sided Rubix Cube while blindfolded complicated.
 
Let me explain, or at least try to.

Scott Lang Leadership is an LLC (Limited Liability Company) that files quarterly as an S-Corp with returns due on March 15th. 

Scott Lang, the S-Corp, pays Scott Lang, the employee, a W2 wage - it is my salary (and I deserve a raise).

 These earnings pass on to my personal taxes via a K-1 flow-through using a W2 and are combined with Be Part of the Music and Music FUNdations using Schedule C for my personal returns. This part of my returns are due on April 15th.

Last week, while preparing my taxes, my accountant and financial planner struggled to agree on how to interpret my 401K. It turns out that our tax code is more like a musical score than a textbook. Every conductor and financial person interprets it differently. 

One such area that is open to interpretation is retirement accounts. As a solopreneur, I have an independent 401K, which allows me to contribute both as an employee and an employer. The difference? Taxes. 

For those unaware, there are two types of taxes when dealing with retirement accounts: short-term and long-term, and the difference is significant.

 Musically speaking, short-term capital gains taxes resemble a Rick Astley tune. Its life span and time on the charts are less than one year, so the taxman, hoping to deter Rick from repeating it, takes a more significant chunk of the profits. Now you understand the muse for Never Gonna Give You Up.

Long-term capital gains taxes are more like a Copland Symphony—classics that have withstood the test of time (longer than a year). So the taxman, wanting more of this type of thinking, takes a smaller chunk of the earnings, making Aaron want to Hoe Down.

The difference lies in the duration of ownership—short-term gains (under one year) are subject to higher tax rates than long-term gains.

Last week, I proffered that tax codes are as much about behavior modification as revenue generation. I stand by that. By taxing long-term capital gains at a much lower rate, the government is incentivizing you to save your money, and rely less on them. Win-win. 

The lesson learned? Short-term matters, but long-term matters more for you and our country.

 In education, we favor the short-term over the long-term by focusing on:

  • daily/weekly attendance

  • Individual class grades

  • GPAs

  • Single-game wins and losses

  • SAT/ACT scores

  • College acceptance rates

  • Graduation rates

In music, we aren't much better as we focus on:

  • Our next rehearsal

  • Our next concert

  • Our next contest

  • Individual chair placement

  • Next year's incoming class/enrollment

  • Number of all-region/all-state kids

Yes, all of these matter, but they are short-term (under a year) and do not favor a long-term look at the value proposition of (music) education.

As an advocate who understands the value of participation in music, I know the numbers, but they are mostly short-term. What if we studied and understood the long-term impacts of participating in school music programs. For instance, what if we knew the effect of music in the following areas:

  • Lifetime marriage & divorce rates

  • Career types and duration

  • Lifetime income differential

  • Number of college degrees

  • Volunteer hours

  • Voting rates

  • Days spent incarcerated

  • Days spent unemployed

  • And so much more

I would also be interested to know more about the quality of that life, such as:

  • Mental health

  • Happiness

  • Unhealthy behaviors

  • Drug and alcohol dependency

  • Vacation/travel

  • Number of languages spoken

We want all young people to lead happy, prosperous, and productive lives. However, to fully understand music's impact on a child's life, our tax code shows us the right way to think about it. Short-term matters, but long-term matters more.

We need to study the entire life of someone who has participated in a school music program and value the long-term gains more than the short-term ones. 

Why not?

 

WHY NOT? #9 - THE NERDS AND THE BEES

After almost two decades of colony collapse and years of inexplicably clean windshields, our eco-friendly flying friend is making a comeback. And that has people buzzing. 

Last week, the new numbers from the latest Census of Agriculture (when the government counts everything animal and agricultural two-by-two) showed that America's honeybee population has flown to an all-time high.

According to the report, since an inexplicable and precipitous decline in 2007, the United States has added almost a million bee colonies in the past five years, hitting a new high of 3.8 million hives. Bees are now the fastest-growing livestock segment in the country.

Simply stated, honeybees are BACK, and that is some sweet news!

Why are they back, and where did these swarms come from? The answers are as informative as they are interesting. Let's start with the latter, as it will explain the former.

In studying the data, much of the resurgence came in just one state: Texas. Since 2012, the Lone Star State has gone from having the sixth-most hives in the country to being so far ahead of anyone else that it out-bees the bottom 21 states combined. Further data analysis shows that the most significant increases came in north Texas, a region not traditionally considered a honeybee hotbed. We can thank one man for this.

When you meet Dennis Herbert, it is clear that he is not a political mover and shaker. Herbert, a retired wildlife biologist, boasts no fancy connections and drops no names. Despite lacking training or experience, he headed to the Texas State House dressed in blue jeans, a button-down shirt, and a sweat-stained ball cap and laid out a simple hypothetical.

In an article in the New York Times, Mr. Herbert describes the situation in the following way:
"You own 200 acres on the other side of the fence from me, and you raise cotton for a living. You get your ag valuation and cheaper taxes on your property. I have 10 acres on the other side of the fence and raise bees, and I don't receive my ag valuation. And yet my bees are flying across the fence and pollinating your crops and making a living for you, and I just never thought that quite fair."

In 2012, the Herbert hypothetical gave rise to a new law: if you keep five or more hives for five years on a five-acre (or larger) plot of land, you qualify for agricultural tax breaks. Over the next few years, all 254 Texas counties adopted similar bee rules.

 The key to reviving this eco-saving insect wasn't changing environmental codes but tax codes.

In under two weeks, Americans will participate in the annual rite of wealth transfer, known as filing their taxes. They say death and taxes are the only certainties in life, and you can only put off one.

At its most elemental level, taxes are about revenue generation. Just as important, taxes are about mass behavioral change. Think about it. Do you want more people to:

  • Stop smoking?

  • Drive less?

  • Drink less?

  • Save more?

  • Donate to charities?

Additionally, do you want businesses to:

  • Bring jobs to your city?

  • Invest in research and development?

  • Hire more people?

  • Give back to the community?

The answer to all of this and more lies in our tax code. It's simple: we incentivize behaviors we like and de-incentivize those we don't.

It seems pretty straightforward. 

So, following the lead of Mr. Herbert, I have a simple hypothetical of my own for you to ponder upon. 

(Imagine me in cowboy attire and with a Texas drawl.)

"You got 2000 kids on the other side of the fence from me, and you raise students for a living. You get a STEM valuation at cheaper costs on your side. I have 200 kids on the other side of the fence and raise good kids, and I don't receive my valuation. And yet my students are flying across the fence and helping create a good school and making a living for you, and I just never thought that quite fair."

So, I suggest we make income gained from teaching (salaries) non-taxable. Tax-free like the honeybee.

 Think about it. Do you want to:

  • Reverse the decline of people becoming teachers?

  • Increase the number of applicants?

  • Increase the depth and experience of applicants?

  • Fill classrooms with only the best educators?

If you answered yes, let's follow the flight of our furry little friends. Change the tax code.

When it comes to music, I have always said, "I haven't found a problem yet that can't be made better with more kids." The same is true for teachers. More teachers lead to better teachers. Better teachers lead to better kids. So ask yourself, do you want:

  • More engaged students and parents?

  • Higher G.P.A.'s?

  • Less drugs and alcohol?

  • Fewer discipline issues?

  • More kids getting scholarships?

Don't develop a moral code; develop a tax code.

If we know music makes better kids, and better kids make for better schools, shouldn't we incentivize participation in music? Why not:

  • Make buying an instrument deductible?

  • Remove sales tax on music-related products?

  • Make lessons a write-off?

  • Credit time spent in after-school rehearsals?

Remember, taxes are about revenue generation and behavior modification. Yes, my proposal would reduce the government's income, which gets sticky, but look at what we would save. What would the cost-benefit be of needing fewer:

  • Administrators

  • Security guards

  • Discipline deans

  • Summer school teachers

  • Drop-out prevention coordinators

Additionally, what would the cost-benefit be of having more:

  • Engaged students

  • Efficient passing periods

  • Involved parents

  • High school graduates

  • College applicants

In short, the savings achieved by having better educators and more students involved in music FAR outpaces the revenue lost by incentivizing music teachers and students to participate.

If you are a tree-hugging liberal, you are filling the world with music. If you are a fiscal conservative, you are saving money and making better schools. WIN-WIN!

So, I say we follow the lead of our little friend, the bee, and make music teaching and music-making completely tax-free. 

 And, I'm not pollen your leg.

Why not?

Have a great week.

 

-Scott







© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2024 - all rights reserved







 

WHY NOT? #8 - LESSONS FROM THE TOOTH FAIRY

Delta Dental has been tracking tooth fairy trends for 26 years and is sounding the alarm regarding their (not sure which pronoun to use) fiscal viability.  

According to their annual survey, for the first time since 2019, our little friend is paying out less than in previous years. 

Specifically, the tooth fairy's average gift value for a single lost tooth dropped 6% to $5.84 from $6.23 last year. Want to know more? According to the latest study:

  • The survey found that the average value of a first tooth is $7.09, down from $7.29 in 2023.

  • The Northeast average was $6.87, up 12%, and surpassed the national average by more than $1.

  • The South dropped from $6.59 to $5.51 this year, under the national average.

  • The Midwest has the lowest value of a lost tooth at $3.63, a $2 and 36% drop from 2023.

  • Lost teeth in the West had the highest value at $8.54, a 37% increase from last year, according to the survey of 1,000 parents of children ages 6 to 12.

 How could the value of a tooth be so disparate depending on where you live? Are teeth in the Midwest somehow less valuable? Is there a glut of tooth inventory driving down the market? Are teeth in the West a more prized commodity?  Are overhead and personnel costs in fairy unionized states that much higher?

Given that the commodity is known, predictable, and can be depreciated over its seven-year lifespan, how do we not have a formal plan and budget for replacement?

I am not talking about teeth anymore. I am talking about instruments.

According to the State of Music Education Survey (SoME):

  • 55% of music teachers reported no budget support for instrument replacement.

  • 63% reported no budget support for repairs.

  • 77% reported no standard depreciation/replacement schedule for instruments.

  • 55% reported no standard depreciation/replacement schedule for uniforms.

  • 53% reported needing parent support, with 53% of their operating budget coming from parents.

  • Those with budgets reported per-pupil averages of just $21.00 for instrument repair and $46.00 for replacement.

To be clear, that means you will need eight or more years of a child in music to afford a typical uniform and two hundred students to be able to purchase one sousaphone.

How is this possible? Are we not a core curriculum? Do we not meet during the school day for credit? Don't schools have a responsibility to provide an appropriate learning environment? 

After all, we have standard replacement schedules for textbooks, buses, and football uniforms. And as long as we are talking about equity, I don't remember the science department ever having to hold a car wash to buy microscopes or Petri dishes or the math department asking parents to help pay for textbooks.

Similar to teeth, we have a good idea of the life cycle of a tuba, timpani, and trumpet. These costs are not unexpected. Like buses, we have a good idea of a proper maintenance schedule for a bassoon, bass drum, and bass clarinet.

Why is there no standardized budget for music?
Why is it so different in different places?
Why is music being treated differently than other curricula?
Why is it not annualized so we can plan long-term?

I am not being unreasonable or asking for an excessive amount. I am simply saying that providing an appropriate and equitable learning experience for every child requires an appropriate and equitable set of resources.

Instead, we plan short-term, hoping to avoid necessary and routine expenses, with no long-term plan or financial stability.

So we run car washes, sell cookie dough, and start GoFundMe pages. Despite our best care and diligent maintenance, you will incur these costs if you have young people who use their instruments. As responsible adults, we should have a consistent, standardized, and equitable plan so all children have the same joyful experience.

Why not?

Oh, I am talking about the tooth fairy now.

Have a great week everyone.

Scott

WHY NOT? #6 - AI 4 PD!

I write a lot. And I mean a lot.

In addition to this article, I need to finish and proofread ten forward-facing pieces of content, a marketing campaign, and a press release. I also need to write the text for the four videos I need to shoot tomorrow.

As I said, I write a lot. And despite all of my years of practice, apparently, I am bad at it.

Don't believe me? Read below.
I know what you are thinking - "Scott, I find your prose effortless, witty, insightful, and a joy to read!" 

Well, someone would beg to differ! And their name is Grammarly.

As I said, I write a lot. When coupled with a lack of time and personal shortcomings, the volume and demand can sometimes mean that my writings require... 

Let's call it refinement.

So, before sending anything out, I run it through my editor and a writing software called Grammarly. Over the years, the two of them have saved you from reading far too many guffaws,  and me countless hours of work.

At least, I thought they were countless. Apparently, Grammarly does some counting in addition to editing.

Yesterday, I received an update from Grammarly - a report card of sorts, and my grades were not good. I did not ask for their review, but they sent it anyway. It was a bit jarring and insulting to read.  The header graphic is above.

Accurate? Well, yes, but I was still crushed.

Seriously? They have the never to tell me every mistake I have ever made? That's my children's job! And keeping score is for spouses. Since you are neither, and I didn't ask for your opinion, how about you suck on a power surge!

To its credit, Grammarly tried to be nice. The subject line of the email read, "Prepare to be impressed." However, Grammarly was clearly not (impressed). The first line of the analysis was, "Well done! You were more productive than 77% of Grammarly users." Seriously, 23% write more than me? Is James Patterson on here? James Jordan?

And it quickly went down hill after that.  

According to this AI interloper, in the past week alone I have received over 1,000 suggestions for corrections—some of which I ignored. It also noted that my accuracy rate was in the lower half of Grammarly users, and I used more "unique" ( I think they mean "made-up") words than 88% of my more author-minded peers.

So I'm dumb, talk to much, and make stuff up.

 

Ouch, that hurt. True? Yes! But, did you have to use numbers and everything? Numbers are why I don't step on scales, do my taxes, or take IQ tests.

 

But, G-man (I assigned Grammarly a gender, since it's an arrogant jerk, we can all agree it's likely a man, and plays the trumpet) didn't take his foot off the gas there. He pressed the pedal to the medal.

 

Want to know my top five mistakes? I DIDN'T - but you guessed it, they shared them with me them anyway. According to jerkface, they are (in order):

 

1.    Missing periods
2.    Incorrect use of quotation marks 
3.    Missing commas in compound sentences
4.    Missing closing punctuation 
5.    Unnecessary ellipsis 

 

Ok, #3 is fair. And if were being honest, how "misuse of semi-colon" didn't make the list is beyond me, because I have NO idea when to use that sucker.

 

But ellipse? Who doesn't love an ellipse? It's such a valuable and playful punctuation mark.

 

After the initial shock faded, I began to see a parallel between my new nemesis and myself—the parallel between Grammarly's job and ours. We both make suggestions to help others fix things that are wrong.

 

Think about your last rehearsal. We're most of your comments negative? Were you coming from a place where your knowledge exceeded others? Did you offer an opinion that wasn't asked for? Did you make lots of corrective suggestions? 

In my household, we call that Tuesday, or any other day.


What if we counted them all the way Grammarly did? What would we discover? For instance, yesterday, how many:

 

Wrong notes did you fix?

Wrong rhythms did you correct?

Articulations did you change?

Behaviors did you modify?

Adjustments did you make?



And if we're brutally honest, how many:



Intonation problems did you miss?

Bad postures did you ignore?

Minutes did you waste?

Words did you needlessly use?

Negative comments did you say?

Similar to my experience with Grammarly, the results would likely be jarring, but it does bring up an interesting idea.

Why not let AI assess our instruction?

We're not far from it. For all I know, we may already be there. If we were not, at the pace AI is developing, we're not far from it. So let me ask it again: Why not have AI assess us, not just at the end of the day or class period, but in real time?

As I write this, Grammarly is giving me feedback in real time. What if, as we taught, we received instantaneous feedback on our performance as teachers?

We're closer than you think. After all, we already use tuners, metronomes, and midi-files. We have tone generators, electronic drill, and music assessment software.

"But Scott, a computer can't assess the  tone of a teacher's voice and understand feelings."

Wrong! 

According to Grammarly, my writing is admirable, curious, personal, informal friendly, and not at all assertive!

Those qualities are EXACTLY what I am going for in the Why Not series and my writing in general.

NAILED IT!

If AI can comprehensively assess our students and our performance, shouldn't we consider using this? Don't we want that information? Aren't we trying to improve our ensembles and refine our teaching skills? As painful as it is, shouldn't we get ongoing feedback that helps us to hone our craft?

What would yesterday's report say?

How would you use it?

What grade would you get?

How would it make you feel?

Would it be helpful or hurtful?

What would it say about who we are and how we teach?

I don't know your answers, but I do know that it would be more informative than any of my other evaluations.

 Should AI be doing our PD?

Why not?

Scott 

p.s. I was going to include a snarky comment about Grammarly spell-checking its name, but I was misspelling it. UGH! That's not going to help my accuracy score.

 

© SCOTT LANG LEADERSHIP 2024 - all rights reserved