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Singing In Schools:
A Web Of Benefit
by Bonnie Lockhart
Why sing in school? For those of us who daily witness the
light of intelligence streaming through singing classrooms, the
question is, surely, why not? And yet, when Peter and I began to
plan our keynote presentation at the Singing for Peace &
Justice in our Schools event, we knew we had to address that
first question. We knew that today's double whammy—budgets gone
bust and standards-driven test anxiety—bears down heavily on
teachers to abandon singing in schools.
As teacher educators with a passion for music and justice,
the last thing Peter and I wanted was to join the ranks of
outside experts scolding teachers about their lack of attention
to some particular priority! We felt it was important to link
our passion to the developmental and academic goals that
children need to achieve and teachers need to support.
Not only my reading of child development and learning theory,
but also my years of observation convince me that there are
strong and evident links between participatory music, fair and
inclusive classrooms, and enhanced development of individual
students. Understanding those links helps all teachers,
first-years as well as lifers, to resist standards-driven mania.
As articulate advocates, we can support each other as we educate
whole individuals who can contribute to whole communities. And
we can win allies among those sincerely concerned about academic
achievement, as we demonstrate that good music education
enhances rather than competes with high academic
standards.
Wanting to help teachers construct their understanding of the
many links between song, child development, and academic
achievement, I've found myself sketching out diagrams
like the one included here. In its center is the minute or
two of a song we've just shared. Radiating from that little
moment are all the areas of child development, interconnected in
a web of skills and dispositions nurtured in singing together.
Evolving from the areas of child development are the academic
disciplines. Supported by the strong mesh of developmental tasks
mastered and continually reinforced, an array of proficiencies
in these academic disciplines weaves together while students
sing and make music.
We included the creation of this web in our keynote, inviting
participants to call out all the habits, abilities, and skills
that make the web dense and complex. Of course, there are more
possible elements in this web than time or patience would allow
us to include. But more than a long list, I hope this web makes
graphic the interconnectedness of learning and of learners that
music nurtures.
Some time later in the presentation, Peter referred to an
insight from progressive educator Christine Sleeter, noting that
while we will have to be "standards conscious," we
need not be "standards driven." This helps me
understand what has compelled me, as I've made these sketches
with teachers over the years, to end the exercise on a different
note. The importance of this distinction between being conscious
of standards and being driven by them inspires the visualization
that I traditionally ask teacher-students, including those at
our Singing for Peace and Justice event, and even you,
dear reader, to engage in as we conclude the web making.
Imagine, if you will, the perfect day care center or primary
grade classroom. Staff it with the wisest, most skilled, and
generously compensated teachers and caregivers you can conjure.
Equip it with bountiful blocks and building toys, a library
bursting with the best books, and some pets. Festoon the art
center with little baskets of seeds and pods, recycled ribbons
and brilliantly organized supplies: paper, pens, paint, glue,
and tape. Add musical instruments, dress-ups, plentiful outdoor
play and garden space, and a kid-friendly kitchen area.
No matter how perfectly you imagine this fabulously funded
phenomenon, I'll argue that to keep it real, you must also
include a few little fellows in a corner with Legos or
Lummi Sticks held as guns, bang-banging away at one another. And
regardless of how you respond to this seemingly inevitable scene
of war and violence play, I would guess that you find it
perplexing. I would guess that you have asked yourself,
"Why?" Why, given the amazing potential of human
creativity, intelligence, and compassion, do children choose to
play at violence?
I've found my answers to the provocation of pretend gun play
in the nature of power. I suspect I'm drawn to the world of
young children because I love to be around people who marvel at
the power of life, and who feel no shame at asserting and
cherishing their connection to this awesome power. To be alive,
to be human, that's powerful stuff!
But what images of power do our children see? What does it
mean to be and feel powerful? What does it look like? Images of
domination, threats, and force—images of control through
violence are everywhere. Sadly, children may even witness real
violence. Children act out the images of power they see every
day. And yet, we know that power has another meaning: the power
of the tree to bear fruit, of life to regenerate, of the
imagination to transform. The power that is realized not in
force or domination, but in creativity and connection. Not power
over, but power from within and power in relation with—the power
of peace. Music allows us to experience that power profoundly.
Music makes us know we belong to that fruitful, regenerative,
imaginative life force.
I'm glad that music supports this web, teeming with
developmental and academic goals. I care about those goals and
gladly collaborate with educators concerned with them. But it's
that fundamental power of music that grounds me and urges me on.
It's in the classroom creation of those musical microcosms of
life in harmony that I really answer the question "Why sing
in school?"
Bonnie Lockhart is a longtime CMN board member and
avid PIO! reader. Based in the San Francisco Bay area, she is a
songwriter, performer, educator, and activist. Back
to e-PIO 2004
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