Critical Mass

Most teachers are phonies.  They spend vast quantities of time uttering inane complements to their students, in hopes said students feel good about themselves.  And as we all know, students who feel good about themselves excel in reading, math, science.... Wait, what was that?  They don't?  Huh, I could have sworn that's what my ed school profs told me.

Music teachers aren't phonies.  We can't be, for we are subject to the ultimate high-stakes test: public performance.  There is no hiding the fact Timmy, Sally and Juan haven't learned how to play when they are sitting on stage hitting all the wrong notes in an attempt to play "Hot Cross Buns." Here is my response to an earnest do-gooder's defense of discovery learning, which appeared on the Core Knowledge Blog back in May 2013:

<blockquote>While what you say is a nice sounding theory, the truth is this: None of it matters in 6th grade band class. Nobody has the time or inclination to wait for you to discover which end of the trumpet you blow into, how to put the mouthpiece into the trumpet properly, how to form the correct embouchure, which combination of valves and embouchure produces an E, how to read that E on the staff, how long to hold that E in measure 17, which note comes after the E, how playing that E makes you feel, and how playing that E relates to your life. All that matters is you can in fact play the E in measure 17, otherwise the Imperial March will sound like garbage, and everyone will hate you for screwing up constantly.

If you are the first chair trumpet player in the Chicago Symphony, then yes, you have time to contemplate the philosophical implications of the E in measure 17, if you so choose. Why? Because you’ve practiced it 18, 509 times and there is no possible way you can do it wrong. In 6th grade band, the failure rate is much higher, and yet, like in most of life outside of school, your director and classmates still expect you to do it right. They do not care how long you have practiced to produce that E, they do not care about your journey of self discovery you have undertaken to understand that E, they do not care what it means to you or what connections it has to the rest of the world. Why? Because all of that other stuff is irrelevant, what matters is whether or not you can demonstrate your knowledge of that E and the correct instant in the piece.

My job, as your 6th grade band director is to show you how to do that, not only for the E in measure 17 but for the all the other notes in all the other pieces we play. I have to have the knowledge of every instrument, every embouchure, every fingering, every mark in every score, and the best way to teach all of that as quickly as possible. (In other subjects, these are called content and pedagogy.) Why? Because band class only meets for 45 minutes a day (if we’re really lucky), and the concert is 6 weeks from now. And guess what? Nobody in the audience cares about journey, they care whether the band sounds good and their child plays well.

Unless you’ve taken up residence at Walden Pond, results matter. And the best thing any teacher preparation program can give me are the specific content, properly sequenced and the necessary pedagogy to get those results. Because at the end of the concert, nobody in the band cares about how interconnected everything is. They care about whether they sounded good and nailed that E in measure 17.</blockquote>

A Rat Is a Rat Is a Rat

While writing my last post about my company's truly horrible curriculum, I discovered more kinds of errors embedded in it. 

4) Piss Poor Sequencing: You know what is a bad idea in teaching, guaranteed to fail? Scheduling 2 weeks for your second graders to learn Home on the Range, not singing the song for 7 weeks, then having them play a complicated instrumental accompaniment while singing Home on the Range in Week 10. How many students do you think will actually remember the song? Yeah, none. Even the smart, native English speaking 8 year-olds cannot retain unused information that long.

5) Giant Knowledge Gaps:  One of the most useful pieces of knowledge music classes should impart are facts about the instruments of orchestra.  Does my company's curriculum cover this incredibly important topic in a systematic fashion?  Short answer: No.  Long answer:  Hell, no.  Every third or fourth lesson there is a random listening activity which purports to be for learning the instruments.  When I say random listening, I do mean random.  Disney songs, pop songs, truly obscure classical pieces.  Peter and the Wolf and Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra are conspicuous in their absence.  Most of the kids we serve are poor.  They aren't going to the symphony's young persons concert.  Yet knowing the difference between instruments is useful common knowledge.

So other than griping at length, what am I doing about it?  Slowly, ever so quietly, changing things I teach.  This year, I put in a coherent recorder scope and sequence.  Next year I am going to implement a workable music literacy strand.  After that, units on instruments and composers.

But it means I'm swimming against the current.  How long can I keep it up before I'm caught?  What will it do to my psyche, having to lie and obfuscate so much?

Stay tuned.

A Rose by Any Other Name

 When I interviewed with my current employer, one of my pitches was I would like to use curriculum that have been written by Orff and Kodaly certified teachers and that is proven to be successful. (Up until then, I had been writing my own.) Don't know if that line played any part of being hired, but I was and soon had in hand the company's in-house lesson plans. It took me almost no time to come to the following conclusion:

They're crap. There are so many errors and so little cohesion that it seems more like a patch work of activities that work in the past couple with a few “Gee, we should teach that,” ideas. Mostly, like all else that is rubbish in education, it is not thought through. (Oh, and I should add, this curriculum was revised this past summer. I'm not talking about something decades old and behind the times.)

The errors fall into three categories:

1) Typographical: Sure the plans have countless misspellings, and I don't begrudge the writer on this point. One person literally wrote 120 lessons. And she didn't have an editor. The typos I cannot abide are the egregious ones: Today's 3^rd grade lesson says to “Repeat the above body percussion pattern. Apply it to instruments. Patsch = drum, clap = metal, snap = wood.” Guess what? There is no body percussion pattern in the lesson, either above or below.

A subset of this category is songs that are in the lessons, but not included in the materials. These missing songs are never ones that are in the common knowledge.  No, they are the poorly composed songs specifically for classroom teaching, and thusly the ones I don't know and can't fake.

2) Inappropriate for Age: Activities are required of students who are in no way capable or prepared to perform them. Second graders are asked to sing “The More We Get Together” as a round in Lesson 4. (Lessons are held once a week.) These student have NEVER sung a round before (in second grade, or first, or kinder), and they are expected to sing a complicated triple meter song they have know for 4 weeks as a round.  If there's ever been a recipe for instantaneous failure, this is it.

Also in this category are developmentally inappropriate songs. First graders are asked to sing a song with a range of over an octave with a high G (top of the treble staff). Never mind that most adult altos (author included) cannot hit a high G, it is dangerous for first graders to even try. Vocal experts say six or seven year-olds should be singing songs that have less than an octave range and do not go lower than middle C or high than third space treble C.  I don't care how cute the song is, if the range is too wide, it cannot be included.

On the flip side, older students are forced to sing songs that are beneath them. Now I think "Yankee Doodle" is a great folk song – for first graders. But for fifth graders? I don't think so. It's insulting to the students to force them to sing a kiddie song (complete with kiddie movements to go with it).  No wonder so many of my fellow teachers were complaining about obstinate 5th graders at this week's staff meeting.

3) Dead End/Pointless: In second grade and part of third grade, the lessons tell me I must be teaching the students solfege. Okay fine. But there is no reason for it. Solfege is dropped unceremoniously after the kids start learning recorder and letter names for the notes. Solfege is not taught well enough to establish the connection between it and note letter names. If solfege is important enough to teach, then do it right. Use it in every lesson, in every grade. That way, those graduating fifth graders understand it and are prepared for choir.

There is also insane repetition. Third graders spend 12 week on recorder learning the notes B, A, and G. You would expect that in 4^th grade there would be a short review, and then they would move on to C, D, E, F#, etc. Nope. Fourth grade spends 15 weeks reviewing B, A, and G. Seriously. Then in 4^th grade, the students spend 9 weeks learning C & D. Guess what 5^th grade spends the ENTIRE YEAR reviewing? Yup, B, A, G, C, and D. They learn one new note (low E) and use it for a grand total of one week! What an utter waste of time.

Stupidity on Parade

What separates the sheep from the goats?

One phrase:  Attention to detail.

As a contractor, not an independent employee, I am required to follow the company's curriculum.  Last spring, the company hired a curriculum writer to rewrite their program.  To follow the letter of federal and state labor law, the company posted a job vacancy.  But it was a total inside job.  I inquired about the position and was flatly rejected (despite having created curricula from scratch for two different schools) because they promised the job to one of the senior teachers.

Now I like this senior teacher, she is a very nice lady.  But she is not now and never will be the brightest bulb in the chandelier of humanity.  She is not a credentialed teacher. (Although, I don't know, that may be a plus.)  It is obvious she has never spent a minute reading about how kids learn music.  Or how to design an effective curriculum.

What she wrote for the company, and what all us teachers is forced to use, is a complete and utter mess.  On every level.  (Which will be expounded upon in later posts.)

I hate it.  I hate using it.  But worse, I hate what it is doing to me.  It is slowly, inexorably turning me into a liar and a dissident.  I certainly cannot reveal to anyone that I have abandoned the lesson plans.  Constantly I have to pretend that I am using them, and I earnestly care about the training the company provides.  I loathe drop-in visits by my boss, because the minute she walks in the door, I have to switch from the productive lesson I was teaching to the company-approved drivel.  It must confuse the students horribly.

How can regular teachers stand it?  Having to teach dreck they know doesn't work and is riddled with errors.  And why can't curriculum be written by actual experts - not failed classroom teachers?