Archive | February, 2011

Equalizing the playing field one note at a time (Part 1)

6 Feb

All children are born equal. Unfortunately, even within Canada, equality stops there. Immediately after birth, children are divided on the basis of gender, race and socio-economic status with these divisions setting the stage for their place within our stratified society. While we, as Canadians, like to pretend that this stratification does not exist, it is still the case that in this country the postal code of one’s parents is one of the strongest predictors of a young person’s future socio-economic status. This is not because the children of working-class parentage have less potential than the children of the wealthiest, but because from the earliest of ages they are presented with radically different opportunities.

Even within a public education system designed to fit an image of Canada as a compassionate meritocracy, there is a significant amount of inequality. A school in a wealthier neighborhood has the school council dollars to raise funds for new science equipment, field trips and extracurricular activities while schools in poorer neighborhoods make do with 40 year-old textbooks. Outside of the school walls, this inequality grows exponentially. While one set of children are shuttled between hockey practice, private violin or piano lessons and dance class, their less well-to-do counterparts mind their siblings while their parents work double shifts or take to the streets looking for something to do (and statistics indicate that this “something to do” usually isn’t positive).

In this environment the importance of music education delivered in schools can not be underestimated. Music, even more than sport, is one of the very last spaces in which children have the opportunity to exist as equals. While school bands can cost more than even the most elaborate of sports programs, a basic music program such as a choir or a dance team can be run at next to no cost aside from the time of teacher and/or community volunteers.

From feel-good news stories about Staten Island’s P.S. 22′s choir program to BBC’s popular television series that bring popular choirmaster Gareth Malone into contact with a range of youth, the global transformational power of music, of something as simple as singing together, can not be denied. Even the unlikeliest groups of youngsters – the most apathetic, alienated and untalented – not only willingly commit to these programs, but together perform pieces of music in places that only months before had existed beyond the realm of possibility.

Music education is not about turning every child into a professional musician. What it is about is showing young people that they are capable of accomplishing something great. It is about giving these children the opportunity to prove all those who had believed them incapable of amounting to anything wrong. Music education shows young people that if they are willing to put the work in, that they can do anything. For children who may not have a supportive home life, a successful performance might be first time they know that someone is proud of them or that anyone believes in them. Music education programs allow young people to prove to their families and their communities that not only are they good at something, but they are also good for something. This leads to a train of self-reinforcing positive stereotypes – “If I am good at singing and didn’t think I could be, maybe I can be good at mathematics too (or reading, or science, or running a business – anything really)”.

What is remarkable about these music programs is the way in which they boost the morale of all participants, not only the stars. However those who excel do receive an extra boost from knowing that they are great at something, exceptional even, a boost that can give them a direction and a focus for their future because, despite the latest sales figures, there are still careers to be made in this industry.

It is unfortunate that it is this last bastion of relative equality that is one of the first things to go when budgets are tightened, despite potentially low costs incurred to run them. There are a number of excuses made for not keeping or trying to build music programs – the inability to afford existing “artist in the classroom programs” (even where those are run as non-profits), teachers already being stretched too thin trying to teach multiplication tables to fourth graders who come to school having not eaten breakfast (or lunch) or the concern that bringing in music would distract children from the fundamentals.

For those of us who are musicians or who centre our lives around music in other ways, we know how flawed these arguments are. We know that music reinforces the fundamentals – reading sheet music requires literacy and numeracy. We understand the power of music to keep us focused and to help us push past all of the negative distractions that threaten to envelop us – fear, insecurity and even hunger. We know that music speaks to something within all of us that we cannot ignore, with payoffs more than worth all of the time and effort put in. We know these things and still we are not up in arms about the lack of support for music education? I can’t help but wonder why we are not doing everything we can to ensure that today’s children are able feel the same sense of pride and self-worth that we receive when playing music, dancing or otherwise putting on a show.

Is it because we expect the government to fix it? Especially for today’s independent musicians who have been bred with the D-I-Y (do-it-yourself) ethic, we should know better than to expect the government to fight any of our battles. If we want to save music education, to a certain extent we have to save it ourselves.

To be continued…

Videos to hold you until the next installment

From the BBC series The Choir with Gareth Malone.

From Gene Simmons’ Rock School.

From P.S. 22′s blog.

The Red Envelope

4 Feb

Something really cool happened to me yesterday so I wanted to share it with you. If it’s a little bit too “Chicken Soup for the Soul” for you, I apologize in advance and promise to get back to writing about music, movies and education quickly.

Anyways, I was on the bus on the way home from the office yesterday afternoon, about 4:30pm. I have to sit near the front because of the whole snowstorm + walker thing that me and Ottawa have had going on this week which is always usually an exciting experience on the route that my local bus takes (it goes past what seems to be every bar in town). At a very popular stop, an elderly gentleman with the biggest walker I have ever seen gets on aggravating the packed bus who tries to shuffle out of the way to give him a seat. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but just beaming – the first true ear to ear grin I’ve seen in a long time.

He strikes up a conversation with me – he’s a bit jealous that I have a walker that can be folded up and he doesn’t  (though, as I pointed out to him, I’m not allowed to have wheels) and I half listen. My headphones are on. It’s a bit tricky to turn off my iPod in my pocket so I resist. But he keeps talking and something inside tells me I should listen, so I turn down the music, push my left headphone (the side of me he was sitting on) behind my ear and listen to him a bit more carefully.

He tells me about how his son would be so angry if he knew that his father has sneaked out in this weather, but he just had to be where the excitement was – he had to be in Chinatown to celebrate the Chinese New Year. The headphones slipped around my neck entirely as he began to tell me about how wonderful the colours are, how important it is for the Chinese to spend the day with their families and how the Chinese years coincide with animals which are supposedly connected to your personality.

This intriguing stranger, a francophone Canadian talking me (an Anglophone) through Chinese customs, was mesmerizing. While I had at first seen having a conversation as an unwelcome interruption, I was dreading the thought of him having to leave at his stop, which he explained was coming up. But before he left he told me one last story.

He told me about the Chinese tradition of putting cents in a red envelope and giving them to family and friends at the New Year as a sign of friendship and luck. He then reached deep into his bag and pulled out a red envelope with a Chinese character and handed it to me, saying “It looks like you’re the one who needs the little bit of extra luck this year.” Then he left, on his way, a stranger into the night never to be seen again.

I don’t know how he could have known it but I really needed the luck yesterday. I had been having an epically unlucky week. As my friends like to remind me constantly I am the incarnate of Murphy’s Law – If something can go wrong, it will go wrong and it will undoubtedly do so at the worst imaginable time. My tradition of bad luck is pretty legendary, and though this week wasn’t the worst, it was getting pretty close.

One of the things on my plate that had been causing a fair amount of anxiety was the task of trying to find a new roommate again and out of all my bad luck, it is my luck with roommates that is usually highlighted as so ridiculously terrible it can be nothing but hilarious. But last night I found a great new roommate – I knew even as she walked through the door that she was the right fit for me and for my home.

Given my track record the only thing that had changed between my lack of success before and my success last night was that red envelope – that luck transferred from a stranger on a bus. I’m not a superstitious person by any means. I’m definitely in the sceptics camp but even I have to give in once and a while. I’ll never know his name, but I do know that I’m exceptionally grateful and that I will hold that envelope dear as my luck, hopefully, begins to change. I also know that next new year, there is someone out there in the universe, maybe another stranger on a bus, that’s going to get a bit luckier.

Happy new year everyone.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.