Tamales

It's Thanksgiving.

I've been practicing gratitude intentionally for the past week.  Some of it has been on social media as a type of outward exercise, but much of it has been privately.  Because sometimes something rotten happens, and it takes a few hours away from that event to feel remotely grateful for anything.  After a few hours, I can honestly and with a glad heart make a more public declaration.  Those are the easy, social media posts.  What has been difficult is the in-the-moment, child-is-being-stubborn or computer-isn't-cooperating or oh-my-lord-I'm-incredibly-overwhelmed-and-I-don't-get-paid-enough-for-this-stress... those moments.

But then I'm touched by other things.  A friend sends a care package in the mail (yes-- there were tears when I opened it).  A sick toddler who has just been a punk suddenly wants to cuddle and I know these moments will be rarer as he grows, so I take that moment and don't do work (work will still be there, babies grow).  An exhausted spouse sits next to me after the kids go to bed without a computer, and we are able to put away distractions to focus on connecting (it's amazing how we let devices get in the way of communicating sometimes).

Or... tamales.  I have a student who asked to meet with me tomorrow (day after Thanksgiving) to give me fresh tamales her and her family were making.  I made tamales once.  It was time consuming and a lot of work.  Making tamales and then sharing them with your professor?  That's thoughtfulness.  She told me her mother said not to wait to give them to me until Monday because they are always BEST fresh.  Making tamales and then sharing them with your daughter's professor AND demanding your daughter share them while they are still fresh?  The incredible thoughtfulness from this unknown woman is humbling.  I'll write a thank you card, but that doesn't do enough...

I suppose that her response to sharing tamales is a lot like my response to sharing music.  Let's give the best we can, but more importantly, let's be the most authentic we can.  Let's be human.  Let's be vulnerable.  Let's not sing this music as if it's old to us, but rather commit 110% to feeling it anew every time.  That's a tough task.  It's an exhausting (and rewarding) task.

And this is education.  Education is about humans.  Education is music.  Education is tamales.

Scatter Post

So here's what I am actively working on: Balance.  Mindfulness.

It's hard.

That's it.

But wait, I'm also working on being healthy.  And understanding what it's like to take a break from my work.

Here's the problem: When you do a job the incorporates things you love, it's difficult to separate.  That's my life.

On another topic, all of my ensembles are starting to really SING with each other.  You know when an ensemble first starts singing with each other, and they haven't found their groove yet?  All of them are starting to find it.  It's fantastic.

And that's all for today's edition of "scattered brained post."

Less than a Week

I have less than a week of maternity leave left.

I want to pull out music and study it.  But I have less than a week of maternity leave left.  

I want to go to meetings for work and making important decisions.  But I have less than a week of maternity leave left.

Work will be there.  My baby will soon not be a baby.  

So, I am working on relieving my guilt of not "working" this week, because I can do that next week.

Positivity and Education, Part I

Let's talk about positivity and education.

I realized something recently.  I believe, without a doubt, that students should be treated with understanding and respect.  What does this mean?  It my mind, it means not jumping to conclusions.  It means that it should not automatically be assumed that a student is lazy, unmotivated, thoughtless, mean, irresponsible, disorganized, or a variety of other potentially negative descriptors.

Here is what it does mean: I have to take the time to understand that student as a person.  Why were they late to class AGAIN?  Maybe the teacher from their previous class lets them out late, and they worry they will get in trouble if they just leave.  Why would I be upset with them for that?  That is something they can learn to address.  There is not an automatic jump between elementary and middle school, between middle school and high school, between high school and college... they are still learning and still retain certain behaviors from previous experiences.

In what type of situation does it do "good" to yell or reprimand a young adult?  I'm not sure I have found one.  Sure, I have been in situations where I have been stern and have talked about the implications about a behavior, action, word, etc.  But the point is to help the students grow.  Why did they leave that other student out?  Why do they not want to support a student?  Why do they think a warm-up is stupid? (I'm always up for hearing that type of feedback-- because it tells me I haven't explained to them what they are learning from it).

And in the end, if nothing else, I remind myself that my students will remember BOTH what they learned and how they felt.  If I put them in a situation where they feel bad about themselves or angry or defensive, they will remember that.  I would rather have them remember the growth, the learning, the music, the positive support.

Ego Expansion

Yesterday's post was simply a reminder not to let ego get in the way.

I did more reflecting on that today.  "Ego" is more than just conceit.  Ego, by definition, is a person's sense of self-esteem or self-importance.  And "ego" can also mean letting ourselves get in the way... perhaps our own ego gets in the way of music, of teaching, or relationships, etc. because we allow ourselves to perceive (or believe) judgements about ourselves that cause us to doubt, to become defensive, to have too much hubris, etc.

This is one reason why I believe it is important to try to be balanced, to understand ourselves.  How can I teach music if I'm not balanced? How can I create music with others if I doubt my own ability or allow myself to twist a well-meaning comment into something negatively monumental?  (I believe some refer to this as "catastrophizing."). The short answer is: it's hard to teach or make music or be a reasonable human being if we allow ourselves to believe that what we have to give is less than what others have to give.

I have downloaded two of Brené Brown's books.  I started reading one, excited about the lessons I'd learn and be able to apply to the psychology of my students.  But as I get into the book, I realize how valuable these books will be for me as their teacher.  Not only because I will use these lessons to better teach my students (which I will do), but also because it will make me a better colleague, a better musician, and a better person to be in relationship with.

I apologize for ending a sentence with a preposition.  I also apologize for any errors in grammar or tenses or plurality.  It's 8:45 PM and I'm so tired, it might as well be 2 in the morning.

Ego

Ego.

Never let it get in the way.

Extensions and MuseScore

When I wrote my dissertation, I also began the creation of multiple editions of Taneyev's choral music.

Then my computer hard drive went wonky.

But never fear-- because I back up my stuff!

So I bought a new computer, transferred all my documents, and cleared off my old computer.

Today I'm attempting to finish two editions so they can be performed in a month and a half.  I am not too worried about time because they are almost done, so I had planned on doing that today.

Except-- the documents are gone.  I can't find them on my computer or my back-up.  Oh wait, I have them on my Google Drive, and they have the correct music score extension, but when I download them to my computer and try to open them in MuseScore, it doesn't work.

This will be okay, but I'm definitely not excited about this.

Update: Through the help of a dear friend, I was able to get the files to open!  The magic of uninstalling and reinstalling MuseScore.

Start at the Sanctus...

Today I sat in a coffee shop for two hours and rehearsed fifteen minutes of music in my head.

2 hours.  15 minutes.

Sometimes I gestured.  Sometimes I made notes in my score.  Sometimes I sang a line (quietly).  Sometimes I did nothing outwardly but was listening to the different lines in my head, hearing the music, shaping how I wanted it to sound.

And I barely got through the 15 minutes of music in those 2 hours.  I may have rushed the "Agnus Dei" of Haydn's Little Organ Mass so I could hear the entire piece in my head.  I'll start at the "Sanctus" next time.

Score Markings-- The Wrong Way

Score markings.

I did something that goes against every fiber of my musical being.  Instead of making score markings in my full scores (of pieces I am conducting at an honors choir festival in March), I made score markings in the vocal scores first.  I ordered the full scores, but they took about a month to come in.  In the meantime, I made some markings the vocal scores (that were going to be handed out to the singers).  --

I'm going to stop here, because I don't need to explain.  But needless to say, I transferred all my score markings into my full scores from the vocal scores.  I have the music in my brain, but I haven't put the all the markings in my full score.  And, I haven't went through the orchestral parts as thoroughly as I would like.  Needless to say, I feel behind.  It's a good thing I'm on maternity leave.  I have all this extra time... (I'm rolling my eyes.  You just can't see it).

So, this next week, my goal is to finish my score markings for Schubert's Mass in G, Haydn's Little Organ Mass, and two more pieces for the April concert.  The two choral pieces are straight forward.  The Schubert and Haydn will be exciting to finish marking.

Also, I downloaded two new books to my Kindle.  They aren't exactly music related, but I think they will be useful for me as a musician.  Both are Brene Brown books.

Rehearsal Always and Nevers

It's been awhile since I have posted, and I do plan on keeping this blog going.  But being tired and pregnant, and now having a toddler and a newborn, makes it so that some things fall by the wayside for a bit.

For today, let me talk about some things I am intentional about in rehearsals (both what I do and what I don't do):
- I still put the order of pieces rehearsed on the board (exception: if I'm running late from a meeting or something, and putting the pieces on the board would cut into rehearsal time, I don't do it.  I may start asking my section leaders to help do this).
- Every choir does some form of sight-reading.  And ear independence training.  And theory/history discussions.  Sometimes I ask the singers to lead the discussions.  Sometimes I flip the rehearsal.
- I never snap my fingers/clap/count to keep the tempo while my students are singing.  Never.  Sometimes I turn on a metronome and have them sing a section and we discuss where they first start noticing tempo fluctuations (which always leads to a conversation about subdivisional pulse... which I love).
- I don't mouth the words.
- I don't sing with them.
- Addendum to above: Sometimes I'll conduct a phrase to show a tempo change and have my singers watch and listen.  Often I phonate the subdivisional pulse.  I don't do this often, but I find it useful for them to know what I'm thinking re: subdivisional pulse.  Also, the music education majors love seeing this kind of stuff.
- I do what I can to involve the singers in the music making and music decision process, but I also have a clear vision of the music.  Sometimes it's as simple as having them sing something two different ways and decide what they like more (for example: Let's crescendo to beat 3 of measure 34, and the second time, we'll crescendo to the "and" of beat 4 of measure 34, and then you'll vote on which one you think is more musical/like better/gives more energy to the phrase/etc).
- I never have my cell phone sound on or vibrate on (unless it's the case of an emergency, at which point I let the singers know I may receive a phone call.  This is aligned with the cell phone policy I set forth in my syllabi).
- I always leave rehearsal and evaluate: What went well?  What could I have done to make the process more efficient?  Does efficient mean faster?  What took longer than I expected and was it worth the time?  Did I do too much talking?
- I always ask myself: Did I do too much talking?  The answer is almost always yes.
- I always apologize if I give an instruction while they are singing.  I know better than to talk over them.
- I always plan different types of rehearsals, but also am ready for things not to follow my rehearsal plan.
- Yes, I always plan rehearsal.  I write down objectives/goals for each piece and how much time I will allot myself.  I jot down some strategies (if it's a passage that we've already worked on and have to come back to).
- I read the room, and if there is something unusual, I make a mental note and often address it.  Sometimes, their focus and intensity is incredible (these type of rehearsals are happening more and more frequently), and I let them know that their hard work is paying off (I don't say that phrase.  It sounds lame).  Sometimes they are unfocused or consistently out-of-tune or a variety of other things, and then I tell them what I hear and ask them if they agree (and normally they give some solutions for how to refocus).
- I always feel gratitude for every rehearsal.  They learn, I learn, music is made, community is built.