When I first heard of John Cage's 4'33" I thought it was a joke. A performer walks on stage, sits down at the piano, and...

(?)


for four minutes.


.


and thirty three seconds. 


...then stands up, takes a bow, and walks off.

The audience is left to make what they will out of the experience. Some laugh, some grow angry, some pray or meditate, and some spend the time rationalizing it into something profound.

I had always been in the first category, but I had never really given the piece its full four minutes and thirty three seconds. Having only heard the punch line, I had never bothered to experience the full journey of this piece until I performed it for a handful of students at the end of the day, as they were waiting for the busses to be called.

It happened very spontaneously. One child was at the piano, experimenting with dampening the strings and creating some very cool effects. I started talking to him about John Cage, and his works for prepared piano. Then I asked him if he had heard of 4'33". When I realized this was a learning opportunity, I called everyone over to listen, and without explanation or introduction I began the piece. They started smiling, then they started frowning. Some seemed to be praying, others thinking. Several times someone tried to say something like, "wait, has it started?" or "did he already play it?" but each question was answered by a gentle hushing gesture from a different child.

When it was over I didn't stand up and bow, I just told them that was the end. One student said it made her feel empty, another said it made him feel peaceful. They all agreed it was really cool. And so did I.

As a performer, I felt extremely vulnerable. There is only one way to perform this piece, but there are infinite ways to hear it. For the first time I could clearly see the illusion behind the whole idea of performance--the idea that the performer is in control of what the listener hears. In fact it is always a contract between the two; and the listener holds the last card every time.

If you have never performed this piece, I encourage you to try it. Gather some friends and sit down in front of an instrument. I would love to know what happens!

I have the coolest job ever. On Tuesday, I went to the House of the Blues with a class of fourth graders and watched them sing their hearts out in front of 250 strangers. They were singing songs they had written themselves, playing improvised solos, and backing each other up with chord changes. The best part was, they did it for history class.

The fourth graders have been studying The Great Migration, that period in American History when 5 million people moved north to find economic opportunity and escape persecution. As is the custom at Conservatory Lab, they were asked to assemble for themselves an explanation of this period in history by examining primary source documents, including letters, poetry, art work, and music that came out of this era. This meant an in-depth study of the blues: where it came from, what it is, who sang it, and why.

Then, as is the custom at Conservatory Lab, they had to present their learning in many different ways by creating useful products. They wrote letters from the perspective of migrant workers, composed poetry in the style of Langsten Hughes, and they wrote their own blues songs, about things in their own lives that gave them the blues.

That's where we came in. Chris Schroeder (trumpet) and I team-taught a series of classes on improvisation and the blues, then we broke into small groups with help from Mike Moore (percussion) and Josue Gonzalez in which the students composed their own blues songs, using poems they had written with their classroom teacher.

Here are the end results:

The culture of music at our school has grown deeper this year. Where last year students approached their shiny new instruments with voracious appetites for new notes and faster tempos, this year their are beginning to hone their palates for the savory sounds of beautiful tone and matching intonation. The progress is gradual but unmistakable. 

As the viola specialist, I have the opportunity to travel among the three levels of orchestra, helping to lead rehearsals, sectionals, and lessons with students in each group. Here are some highlights from the different groups I get to work with:


Abreu
These are the beginner students in grades 1-2 who last year completed paper orchestra and performed open string pizzicato in the spring. I team-teach this orchestra with Rebecca Levi, who is one of our program directors and a specialist in early childhood music. Our cello teacher Josue Gonzalez and our violin teacher Jaya Varma also teach sectionals and private lessons in each of the groups, and often they participate in the rehearsals, playing side-by-side, demonstrating skills, and giving individual assistance. Erin Bollacker teaches them as a choir.

Bernstein
This is the intermediate ensemble of students in grades 2-5. The orchestra is led by Joshua Garver, and the choir is led by Erin Bollacker

Dudamel Orchestra
These are the advanced students in grades 3-6, conducted by David Malek, one of our program directors. They also perform as a choir, conducted by Erin Bollacker.

I had my first official jazz viola lesson on Saturday. I have always been interested in improvisation, from the time I learned my first fiddle tune from my bluegrass-enthusiast mother, through the many late hours I spent with college orchestra friends jamming in echoing stairwells until the custodians kicked us out. But aside from a few brief introductions at ASTA workshops, I have never had a chance to study jazz formally. Analyzing improvisation and looking critically at the process is a mind-expanding exercise. It challenges the performer to think moment to moment, while keeping a big picture in mind. It requires simultaneously thinking and feeling in the language of music. To be articulate in this language, as in any language requires holding yourself in a paradox: 

One of my jobs at Conservatory Lab is to supplement the orchestra program at Conservatory Lab with private lessons. Unlike the weekly scheduled half hour lessons of my studio, these lessons are not a self-contained teaching structure. They are too short and too irregular for me to develop any significant repertoire or concepts that are not being reinforced during the other twelve-plus hours of their weekly music instruction. Instead, these lessons are an opportunity to give individual attention to the skills and music a child is learning in orchestra.

In a typical private studio lesson, I will begin with a warmup exercise that applies to the repertoire of the day, review one or more pieces that uses a skill we are targeting in our new piece, then work on the newest piece the student is learning. I always end the lesson by asking the student to summarize what we worked on and helping them to create a practice plan for the week.

The “orchestra pull-out lesson” is a different creature. There is no repertoire outside of their orchestra parts, and while I often listen to them play these excerpts, I find that they are by and large able to learn the notes and rhythms with great efficiency in orchestra class. Instead, my focus in these lessons is on mechanics—how to make the instrument do what you are hearing in your head.

Nearly every lesson is focused on three things: setup, sound, and tuning. One of the hazards of ensemble-based music learning is that most of the time that a child is practicing, they are not hearing their own sound except in the context of a group. Without these lessons, students are less likely to refine skills like smooth bow changes, evenness of sound, and precision of tuning.

As I have come to understand and embrace this unique idiom, I have developed a number of strategies for improving the transfer of skills and knowledge between the individual lesson and the group rehearsal.

-Catchphrases

I try to narrow my focus to a 3-5 word learning target that is easy for the student to self-assess, such as “keep the instrument level” or “straight bow at the tip.” For more complicated concepts, I will condense them into a story or image, such as “thumb spy,” referring to the placement of the left thumb as a spy peaking over the side of the fingerboard. I use consistent language from lesson to lesson and share these ideas with the ensemble teachers so that they are able to reinforce the concepts in class.  

-Pantomime cues

In addition to a catch phrase, I will often work out a “secret signal” with a student as a reminder of their learning target. Students take pride in conquering these learning targets, and as I move throughout their rehearsals, I often trade winks with a child about an improved bow hold or a curved pinky.

-Stand-partner lessons

Students often learn best from one another. I like to take stand partner pairs to lessons together and ask them to play parts of their repertoire, matching one another’s sound, intonation, and rhythm. In class, they begin to listen more closely to one another, to blend as a section, and to give each other constructive feedback. 

-Unpacking class warm-ups

I work with the ensemble leaders to develop warm-ups that will target skills we all want students to work on. In lessons, I will do the same warm-ups they do in class, looking more closely at what they should be getting out of the exercise. Every so often, I will lead the whole class in the warm-up to reinforce what I have been working on with them individually.

As in studio lessons, the most important part of the lesson is setting students up for a week of productive practice. Given their age (6-12) and time constraints (many of them don’t get home before 6:15 due to our long school day), I expect the bulk of their practice time to take place during orchestra. The key to a successful orchestra pullout lesson is preparing them to get more out of rehearsal when they go back in.

The new school year has brought so many new opportunities! I am getting to work with a range of different age groups (1st-6th grade) this year in large group, small group, and one-on-one settings.  One of the most exciting parts has been the opportunity to continue team-teaching beginner orchestra with Rebecca Levi, one of our El Sistema program directors and our early childhood music expert. Last year, we brought them through paper orchestra and onto real instruments, and this year they are off to a terrific start.

I am learning a lot from working with Rebecca about the minds of young learners and how to keep them focused in a large group.  This post is about a visual aid we are using to communicate learning targets and giving students ownership over their technical development.

If you are not a string player, you may not be aware of how many steps there are to learning to play “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” By some counts, I suppose there are only three: squeeze the string here, scratch it with the hair part of the bow, and close the door so no one can hear you. By other counts there are as many as 104 tiny details, which must be meticulously practiced in order to produce a pleasing sound and an understanding of how the instrument works, which will make it easier to learn many more songs. We have split the difference somewhat, but it continues to be a complex process.

In a private lesson, many steps can be introduced at once, just by physically manipulating the student’s fingers and bow. In some cases, setting them up properly and repeatedly can circumvent ever having to say a word about how to place the thumb or rock the elbow to the appropriate height. In a large group, every thing you want students to do together must be a learning target, and it must be practiced. While some of the chants and drills can be catchy, it can take weeks before they can play anything that sounds like a “song.”

In order to help the students remember all of these steps and keep them motivated throughout, we have created a visual aid: we are building a wall. This wall, the foundation of our technique, is built up of small bricks like “tapping each finger,” “rocking to the D string,” and mini-songs that represent these small but important skills. They also represent behaviors that have become habits, like safely unpacking our instruments, and coming quietly into the room.

In a week we may earn two to four bricks, and we may identify new bricks that we are not yet ready to “pass off” on. Bit by bit, we can see that wall filling up, and day by day we look back at the bricks we have earned and we make sure that they have not come loose.  When this wall fills up, we will start a new project. Another brick in the wall.