by Hannah Mell, Music Teacher
We live in a music-saturated society. Sometimes you choose your soundtrack while jogging with your iPod or dialing up your favorite radio station. Other times, you’re at the mercy of whatever some marketing expert has decided will motivate you to shop. Either way, the music you’re listening to is sleek and polished, the result of countless hours of preparation and production.
When he invented the phonograph, Edison is said to have foretold “the end of civilization as we know it.” Where mothers used to sing their babies to sleep, some parents now pop Baby Einstein into the CD player. Where families used to gather around the piano to sing, some now watch the next pop sensation being groomed on American Idol.
Don’t get me wrong; I love recorded music. I always turn up a favorite song when I’ve got housework to do. I’m awed by the luxury of listening to great musicians any time I feel like it. But at the same time, I feel deeply grateful to belong to a community where music isn’t a spectator sport: it’s something we make together every day.
In November, I was struck by this privilege over and over again. Early in the month, I attended a conference sponsored by the Association for the Contemplative Mind in Higher Education. I helped lead a workshop on contemplative practices for the music classroom which included games I use to teach improvisation, fine-tune focus, and develop deep listening skills. Over the course of this music-making workshop, I watched the faces of the attendees (mostly serious academics) brighten and relax. As we sang together, the energy in the room changed.
The following week I went with Middle School students to the Herrick House, an assisted living facility, for our monthly sing-along. The students have amazed me with their poise and enthusiasm about these trips. They love watching the way the residents respond to their singing. Cristina said, “Their faces open up.” Ian remarked (rather poetically, I think), “When you sing for them, a ray of hope shines down on you.” This time when we visited, we had the opportunity to sing “Happy Birthday” to a 95-year-old woman. She beamed and told us, “When you turn 95, remember how you did this for me.” Suddenly we were all envisioning our lives at 95. Sure puts math homework in perspective, doesn’t it?
There are so many examples--I could go on and on. If you arrive early for Musical Mondays, you know how live music can weave a spell that lifts the spirit. If you attended the Coffee House, you know the magic we create. As we usher in the holiday season with all its joys and challenges, I’m glad our community makes its own music. It might not always sound polished, but to my ears, there’s nothing sweeter.
