Thoughts from the Downside

By John Neal

Over my forty-plus years of teaching high school music in Maine, I was privileged to know a number of truly outstanding people in the profession, one of whom was unquestionably Norm Richardson. When I arrived at Edward Little HS in Auburn, fresh out of graduate school and in my late twenties, Norm was well-established as the band director at South Portland HS; he ultimately retired from teaching at Cape Elizabeth HS after a long career of leading winning concert, marching and jazz bands.

It is no exaggeration to note that Norm could walk into any high school study hall at any time, select seventeen random kids, and two years later take them to Boston and win the Berklee Jazz Festival with them. A supremely gifted musician and jazz educator, he was kind enough to “take me under his wing” as a young teacher, and I will forever be grateful for his wisdom and direction.

But it always struck me as hilarious that, as accomplished as Norm was, if he had a point to make at a meeting of music educators (District, MBDA, Allstate

All-Member meeting, etc.), he would often preface his remarks by saying, “Now that I’m on the downside of a mediocre career…” and then he would make his point!

I never forgot that, and now that I am on the downside of my own mediocre career (having retired last June), I thought it might be helpful to pass along to you some insights I have accumulated over the years in the hope that it might be beneficial to those of you still

“in the trenches.” And so there follows a collection of personal and professional ideas for your consideration that I wish someone had told me back in the day. I hope it helps!

Work And Life

The first thing I wish I had known is that you can either work to live or live to work— in music education, it is extremely easy to do the latter. I confess that there was a time in my life when, if you had asked me who I truly was, down in my deepest soul of souls, I would have told you that I was—at the very core of my being—the band director at ELHS. I now view that as being sick. I only started to come around when my eldest daughter, then just a toddler, put her first sentence together: “Daddy works.”

Your job is just that, your job— one of many “hats” you wear, all of which combine to define who you are as a person. The problem for music educators is two-fold. 1) We tend to define ourselves by our accomplishments as a teacher. 2) We come to care so much for “our kids” that we lose our boundaries in our quest to be of service to them (more on boundaries later!).

Reflections

Price Check

I remember being astonished when the new band director arrived to helm the program at my graduate school and discovering that he was the only person in recent memory to win a national high school band championship and remain married to the same person. Apparently, to win a national championship, you must be married to your job rather than your spouse? I don’t accept that!

If you look at this rationally, you will readily concede that to define yourself by the actions and accomplishments of children or super-hormonal teenagers is foolish. But that’s precisely what we do! And if our last concert is, to our ears, sub-par, we own that! It doesn’t matter if there were six snow days in the month before the event, doesn’t matter that your best players/singers got mono last week, doesn’t matter that the administration scheduled a rally or fire drill during your last rehearsal, doesn’t matter that your group only meets at lunch or recess—we will blame ourselves if the kids come up short against our (probably inflated) expectations! And I’m not saying that we should aim low or stop challenging the kids to get better. I’m just saying that if you did your best and earned your pay every day within the constraints in which you have to work, then learn from the concert result (whatever it is) and then let it go!

It is also foolish for us (although I did it myself for many years) to look at the best programs in the state and feel bad that our students can’t do that. Those topshelf programs do us all a service by demonstrating what is possible when all the stars align, a capable teacher meets a sufficient budget, a supportive schedule, enthusiastic parents, and an administration that embraces a vision of musical excellence K-12. But remember, all those pieces need to be in place, or else it’s just not going to happen! Certainly, we want to build that kind of structure wher- ever we are working, but if the money (or the budget, the schedule, or the support) isn’t there, then there’s only so much we can do. So don’t own that which is not within your control!

keeping Counsel

Furthermore, Maine music educators comprise the most wonderful human beings on the planet, going out of their way daily (both in the school and the community) to try to ease the pain inherent in the human condition whenever and however they can. I am confident that you are no different. And so when you see a kid in trouble, whatever that trouble looks like, your immediate instinct is to try and help. And this is, of course, noble, but let’s think about that for a minute!

One of the best teachers I know is a science teacher, a guy routinely asked to travel to America and present workshops on science pedagogy to colleagues nationwide. His teaching credentials are impeccable—yet if a kid were to come to him and share a personal problem or issue, his response would always be, “Do you want me to call the guidance office for you?” He NEVER counsels a student, feeling like that’s not his job—HIS job is to teach science. Moreover, he correctly acknowledges that he does not have the training to provide professional counseling. This means he is not spending a few hours or more after school daily, away from his spouse and family, talking with kids. And I certainly see his point.

What We Know

I have always struggled with this question: what is the most important word in the phrase “music education”? Is it the music? Or is it the education? I have done it for four decades and still don’t know the answer. What I do know is that kid would not have asked me for help with a personal problem if s/he didn’t feel a connection with me and think I might have a solution. And so I feel I need to honor that connection and engage with that student to the degree I can. And there is my point: make such students feel heard, offer what insight is possible given your background (or lack thereof), help that kid get from wherever they are to graduation, and always make your family your priority.

what you’re worth

I also find it easier to do this when I remember that if it’s not worth paying for, it’s not worth doing. Your school year is filled with opportunities to do more without compensation. And often, this is something we do to ourselves, even though ours is already the most underpaid profession in America! So I would first say that if you’re not receiving a stipend to do concerts in the evening, to bring your group to basketball games or exchange concerts, to take your kids to festivals on Saturdays (etc.), then you need to address this with your administrator and union, and if the stipend is not forthcoming, stop doing it! I know, “it’s for the kids,” but nobody will ever pay you for something you’re willing to do for free, and while you’re doing it, your significant others are doing it without you. But if your students go without, and their parents complain that kids in the next town are getting opportunities in music that their kids are not, then the stipend will be forthcoming. If they’re not willing to pay you for doing it, it must not be worth doing, so don’t do it! n