Chapter 1: In Pursuit of Musical Enrichment
Through the Keyhole
Eight year-old Sam is at Music House for his weekly private music lesson. His teacher stands by, silently waiting to see what he will do. Sam dims the lights. He takes an assortment of percussion instruments off the shelf – a tambourine, claves, maracas, finger cymbals and a triangle – and methodically lays them out in a row on the couch. He is engrossed; something is cooking. He chooses a CD, “Selections from the Nutcracker,” puts it in the CD player and presses Play. Sam takes his place on a little box in front of the long mirror and, as the music fills the room, he conducts his invisible orchestra, swaying, cueing, rapture on his face. Occasionally he will lunge for a triangle or tambourine and hit it at just the right moment, then fly back to the “podium” where the New York Philharmonic awaits his next cue.
Picture a music lesson. What comes to mind? A teacher tapping out a beat, correcting hand position, drilling note names? A student seated at the piano or holding a violin, waiting for the teacher to tell him what to do next? At Music House there will be little, if anything, to remind you of what we typically think of as musical instruction.
Peek through the keyhole: a child, an adult and instruments all around. But here, the child may be exploring one or more of these instruments, with or without the teacher’s help. Or you might find him singing, dancing, listening to a CD, conducting. Maybe the child and adult are doing something together: partnering in a jam session, creating a soundscape, discussing a composer. At another time the teacher may be a silent presence, seeming even aloof. There doesn’t appear to be any teaching going on, at least not in the way we usually think of it, nor does the adult seem to be taking the lead in any way. You might be reminded of a playground, where the equipment – musical, in this case – is used at the child’s discretion.
What to make of this, you may well wonder. Why isn’t the teacher teaching? What is she doing if she’s not teaching? How is the child learning anything? Moreover, what is the point? If there is a musically experienced adult in a room with a far less experienced child, shouldn’t this adult share her knowledge and skill, plan the lesson, tell the child what to do and how to do it? Isn’t that what a music lesson is for: to learn from an expert how to do something-or-other? For as long as they have been around, this has been the concept behind formal music lessons, and the expectation of anyone considering musical study.
Imagine
If you are someone who has never played a musical instrument, try to imagine it. A difficult image to conjure? Just let yourself take a wild, child-like leap over time and obstacles and … there you are! What is your instrument? Are you strumming, blowing, beating, plunking, soaring like a bird on the violin, gliding over the piano keys in a Chopin waltz, groovin’ on the sax? What would it feel like, for your fingers, to know just where to go and what to do? There are people who can do that; could you ever be one of them?
Whether amateur or professional, dabbler or virtuoso, people who are musically capable and comfortable find musical involvement to be a life enriching experience. Those who have not found a way to participate in some type of musical activity typically express regret; if only they’d had the time, opportunity, talent … It is generally agreed that developing one’s musical side is a worthy pursuit. To be actively involved in music making is to transcend the daily grind and connect with the spiritual side of human existence. Just considering the possibility seems to elevate us to a higher plane. Perhaps this is why, among the activities that form the tapestry of childhood, music lessons tend to figure prominently.
Childhood is seen as the time for exposure, of windows opening, of experiences that will perhaps light a spark and inspire a lifelong passion. Though people do pursue learning opportunities later in life, it is during these early years that we consider the human to be most malleable and receptive. The earlier music is introduced, the more likely it will become part of the child’s culture and identity. What if the child – our child – could become one of those music makers? What if …?
Between the state of imagining musical competence and actually acquiring it lies the unknown. It is here, through some mysterious process, over an unspecified period of time, that the transformation will happen. And so to music lessons. Whatever combination of science and hocus pocus this metamorphosis will require, we assume it is the music teacher who will know what to do: how to navigate the aspiring pianist, violinist, guitarist, through the jungles of etudes, ascending and descending mountains of scales and onward, to the musical Garden Of Eden.
When lessons are a good match for a particular individual, the actual process of achieving proficiency on an instrument can be life changing. In this case, not only is the goal realized, but the lessons themselves become part of life’s scaffolding, both a discipline and a haven, reshaping one’s identity and becoming embedded in his ethos. There is every reason for the anticipation of such a learning adventure to be thrilling, and it is with high hopes that the student embarks on the journey to musical self-actualization.
In Pursuit Of Musical Enrichment
Suppose you are a parent wanting to provide a musical experience for your child, and are beginning to look for some type of private lessons. How do you choose the right kind of lesson? Which teacher, method, instrument? On what do you base your choices? What sort of musical experience will be most valuable for your child? What do you hope your child will gain from it?
Regardless of how conscientious parents may be or how methodical their research, they often make choices that turn out to be inappropriate. It is not their fault; the sources of information, such as they are, tend to confuse rather than clarify. To whom does one turn for advice: other parents? Relatives? There is a great deal of information on the Internet, but again, how to interpret what you read? Descriptions of the various approaches may sound just right, but how do they translate from print to action? Calling around to area music schools and private teachers seems like a good idea, but I have heard parents express frustration after many such conversations. They just can’t get a feel for how the experience will work for their child.
Therefore, choice of an instrument, method and teacher becomes something of a wild guess, often based on considerations of dubious relevance: Aunt Molly always hoped that our little Adam would take up the piano; My friend’s son studies violin with Mrs. Schwartz and seems to be having a good experience; Sarah is addicted to music videos and says she wants to be a rock guitarist. In the hope and excitement of beginning this adventure, the need to base the decision on something – anything – precludes reflection: Maybe Aunt Molly’s wish will be a burden on Adam. What is good for my friend’s child may not work for mine. How informed is Sarah’s choice?
There is another problem. For a great many parents, music lessons evoke not so pleasurable memories of their own childhood experiences. They find themselves torn between wanting their children to develop their musical side, and not wanting to subject them to what they went through. And we do take it for granted that whatever they “went through” is the one and only way to study music privately. With parents placed in this impossible situation, is it a wonder when the best intentions go awry?
