If you’re like me, you’ve been following the drama unfolding at the Cleveland Institute of Music surrounding their current orchestra director, Carlos Kalmar. If you haven’t, here’s an article from last week that sums things up: https://van-magazine.com/mag/cleveland-institute-of-music-carlos-kalmar-discrimination-bullying/
It occurred to me that a few ideas about the direction we all ought to take as ensemble leaders might be in order.
We live in a time and place where educators are expected to pay close attention to the emotional needs of their students. Gone are the days when sarcasm, vitriol, and personal attack were accepted as marks of sincerity or even genius in a conductor. We have all been musicians in this type of situation: I myself played for several years in a community group led by a man whose podium talk resulted in an almost continuous turnover in the membership of the group.
I stayed because we played well, and I had a group of friends in the band, but we could have been better if that director’s nastiness hadn’t driven away many good musicians. I never felt personally attacked, but I saw good people and good musicians bullied out of the group by a director who relied on intimidation and verbal abuse.
As a twenty-something trombonist in that group, I felt challenged and pushed to be the best musician I could be, and I felt that I was learning from people who were vastly more experienced than I was (I learned how to tear apart a Sousa march and make it really hum along in that band).
As a forty-something father, I wouldn’t want my children to come in for that kind of abuse, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t stick around for it, either. (Even though I never felt like a target, that director eventually declined to write a recommendation supporting my application to graduate school, so that’s about where I stood with him).
Today, it is incumbent on us as musicians, leaders, and music educators to find a balance between rigor (and the honesty that goes with it) and kindness.
So: some friendly suggestions, take them or leave them:
- Be aware of the variety of ability levels, ages, and backgrounds in our community groups. Some of your musicians have multiple music degrees, while others have only part of a high school experience. Some are retired and have plenty of free time, while others might be full-time college students with full-time jobs.
- Remember that your two-hour rehearsal should include a break. This is built into the class schedule as the 15 minutes past two hours, but many of us just wrap 15 minutes early… it may be time to revisit this policy. At one time, the Civic Orchestra used this as a coffee break, and there was socialization (the coffee pot is still in the locker!).
- Balance teaching music and making music. There should be some of both in your rehearsal; I tend to lean more on teaching early in the rehearsal cycle and making music later.
- Strongly consider playing or singing every note at every rehearsal. This isn’t always what we would do in a daily rehearsal, but remember that someone who misses a weekly rehearsal could very well go two weeks without looking at their music.
- On a related note: tell musicians what they should practice, but in the back of your mind, don’t depend on outside practice. They all have busy lives.
- Similarly, consider giving a week’s warning to a section before you jump into that one difficult passage.
- Consider holding sectional rehearsals: we all have musicians in the group who could run their section if you split the group up. This eliminates the trombonist’s dilemma of waiting through long stretches while others practice their parts.
- Have a plan: going into rehearsal with a detailed plan keeps you focused and gives energy to the proceedings. My plan usually consists of a set amount of time for each piece along with a list of “spots” and possible solutions.
- That said, be flexible: the military adage is that “no plan survives first contact with the enemy,” and it’s true in rehearsal, too.
- Consider recording your rehearsal.
- Don’t forget to practice yourself: mixed meter is the bane of my existence, but I love modern music, so what’s a guy to do? I wave my arms around like a crazy person with a baton at home until I’ve got it.
- Everyone in the group is doing the best they can that day. It will never be perfect, and any imperfections are not personally directed at you.
- Say “please” and “thank you” a lot. All of our arm-flapping would be pointless without the people in front of the podium.
- Don’t be afraid to acknowledge your own shortcomings—and then work on them!
- Before you say something, use the THINK acronym: is what I’m about to say True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, and Kind? Above all, be kind.
I became aware of Bible verse that has a lot to do with how we perceive ourselves on the podium and as teachers, and when it was in the sermon a few weeks ago, it really stuck with me:
“…Jesus said [to the Pharisees], “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice’.“
Matthew 9:12-13 (New International Version)
There’s a whole context here, but the question we should be asking is whether we are demanding sacrifice from or offering mercy to our students and musicians.
For many years, I didn’t offer mercy to students, and demanded only sacrifice, and it made all of us miserable. I hope that you can learn from my mistake in this! Students have trouble learning and musicians can’t make music when they are constantly asked to sacrifice for our vision of their art but not granted mercy in return when life keeps them from achieving that vision.
I’m happy to discuss any of this with anyone, and certainly, I would love to benefit from everyone else’s experience, so don’t hesitate to reach out.