Rural Schools: Post Pandemic Hope

by Judi Scharnberg, CMEA Rural Schools Representative

First, a story.

Ten years ago, I had a two-year gig at a private International School in Thailand. As I had previously hosted a Thai AFS exchange teacher from an ‘upcountry public high school,’ she invited me to visit her; (coming to Thailand was a total coincidence). I had a 1500-pound shipping allowance so asked her what she needed. She told me the 2000+ students were all learning English, and she had no books and only one dial-up computer in the school library. I brought a set of discarded Third Grade chapter books from the bus barn; exactly what she needed.

The private school elementary library had several boxes of surplus books; The upcountry school sent a van for me, two American colleagues, and three Thai aides, and the back loaded with books plus donated school supplies. The donation ceremony took place outdoors, with all the students kneeling on the wet concrete, and the books carried one by one onto a huge pile.

That afternoon we held an English language ‘boot camp’ as we sang ‘Do A Deer,’ their favorite American song. Of course, no one understood the play on language in the lyrics. Next, we had them make their own BINGO cards, copying the English words in the square of their choice. Two or three students shared pencils as the school did not provide them, yet every word was perfectly spelled, with beautiful handwriting. Shoes always left at the door.

The next day was a school holiday in honor of the current dynasty of kings. The students were required to attend anyway, so they could clean the school to prepare for the ceremony. Since we were honored guests, we sat in chairs holding our hands up in the prayer-like gesture of respect during the speeches. I noticed there was a group of students with band instruments, quietly kneeling on the concrete in the sun. At the end of the two-hour ceremony, they stood and played the King’s Anthem. It’s a slow piece, and played as well as they could, given that every instrument was out of tune, due to the heat.

The band was all boys. I was getting my exercise jumping to conclusions, but chose to just ask my Thai teacher friend why there were no girls. ‘This is a regional high school,’ she replied. Students are bused in from the area on Monday and go home on Friday. Some stay with families in town, but the band practices after school. They sleep on the floor of the band room, so it has to be all boys. It would not be proper for girls to do the same.’

In 2021, the point of my story is one of resilience and creative solutions. It is also one that requires my understanding and acceptance of the unique culture and to not impose my biased judgment.

This past year and a half, we as music teachers have had to be resilient and teach our students to be the same. We have come up with a variety of solutions to teaching music online, outdoors, in-person no-touch no-sing classes, to learn new technology and knit together concerts, student compositions, music theory and history. We have shared our stories, questions and accomplishments in forums and chat rooms. Much of this is antithetical to our desire for the ‘people power’ of ensembles so beautifully typical of music education. Sadly, some administrators have pre-emptively given up on music classes and just re-assigned music teachers to other subjects.

In preparation for this article, Chad Zulinger suggested I read a book, Rural Education in the Twenty-First Century, edited by Schaft and Jackson. The introduction was so dry I thought it would selfignite. But the rest of the book, a collection of essays about identity, the effects of distance and poverty, the challenges of transitioning to higher education, and the ways school communities have sought solutions was fascinating. In particular, the section on ‘Identity’ was a disheartening and damning indictment of how students