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Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics: Autism Awareness Month

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“Autism is part of who I am.” Temple Grandin

This was written and scheduled before COVID-19 changed our world. Please enjoy and hope we all are soon back to normal soon!

“Mrs. Amenta, we have to be kind to those poor parents. They have children with autism and have no hope.” For some reason, Dr. Marguerite’s* comment just ticked me off. This was about 18 years ago and I was the president of a local chapter of the Autism Society of America. Dr. Marguerite was a speaker at one of our monthly meetings and I was trying to get things organized before everyone got there. She spoke patronizingly about our members as we got her materials set up. She never realized that I too was one of “those poor parents” and she was actually offending me.

My eldest son has autism and if you think I’m sensitive about it, you would be wrong. I accept it and him for who he is. I love him because he is my son and because, despite his disability, his sweet, loving personality comes through. I am realistic but I also am able to see his potential. It is so much better to focus on what he can do rather than what he can’t. Russell is a person, not a disability, and is worthy of respect.

Our family has tried to put a face on autism by being advocates in our autism journey. My husband, a physician, wrote the first children’s book about autism, which was updated with a new look and title in 2011. I have worked with parents groups, siblings groups and have been a music inclusion consultant. And have been a mentor for choirs of adults with developmental disabilities of all sorts. We are active in advocacy. No one should feel sorry for us; this is our life and we live it as well as we can.

Of course, I fought for him when he was in school. I fought for him to be a music inclusion student when he began high school. At our first IEP meeting, I suggested he be in orchestra as an inclusion student. Our Staffing Team was dumbfounded that I had the nerve to suggest it! What they didn’t realize was the orchestra director was the spouse of my other sons’ piano teacher and I had already spoken with him. He agreed and was excited since he knew Russ came from a family of musicians. The Team finally agreed (I wouldn’t sign the IEP unless they at least tried it) to only the first ten minutes of class. I figured getting his foot in the door was better than nothing.

A week or so later, I got a message from the school, asking me to sign off on an amendment to his IEP. When I returned the call, I was flabbergasted to learn they wanted to extend the time he was in orchestra. The professionals thought since he was doing so well, it would be in his best interest to stay for the whole class. Who was I to argue with the professionals???!!!??? If they wanted to think it was their idea in the first place, far be it from me to rock the boat when I was getting what I wanted. He did extremely well and ended up conducting the orchestra for their Alma Mater at a concert toward the end of high school years. He made many, many friends and enriched his classmates’ lives as well; a win/win as far as I’m concerned.

Dr. Marguerite’s presentation itself was okay all those years ago. The one thing that I remember from her speech was she was talking down to us. She seemed to think she had all the answers and if we were more intelligent or educated or…something…we wouldn’t have a child with autism. What she didn’t acknowledge was EVERYONE will be affected by disability, through no fault of their own, at some point in their lives. You might have a cousin with Downs Syndrome or a grandparent with dementia. Your mother might have macular degeneration and go blind or your neighbor might have a child with autism. Someone you love will be disabled.

When you are asked to have a music inclusion student in your choir, think how you would feel if it were your child. Don’t feel sympathy for them, feel compassion for them. Instead of focusing on how good it feels for you; focus on how good you are making them feel. It will make you feel good. But whatever opportunities you will be creating for them will far outlast your thrill. And that’s a good thing.

*Name Withheld

Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics:”…….and the tongue of the dumb shall sing.”

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I love “Messiah”. Truth be told, it is probably my favorite large choral work.  There’s a little something for everyone–from show piece arias to choruses that are both difficult and poignant to recitatives that move the story along while being musically interesting. The story that is told, using scriptures from both the Old and New Testaments, can be appreciated by all.

Traditionally, it is performed during the Advent and Christmas seasons but it is really a Lenten work, first performed and commissioned for Lent.  We as choral musicians often chop it up to fit our needs.  And, masterwork that it is, it adapts, no matter if we sing only the Christmas portions—plus “Hallelujah”—or the Lenten portions or anything in between.  Whatever we do is probably fine, since George F. Handel had different versions, depending on the soloist available.

I have sung, conducted, studied and listened to “Messiah” since I was a little girl.  My Mom was a coloratura soprano and her preparations for “Rejoice” are part of my Christmas memories as much as decorating the house and baking cookies are.  I first sang “For Unto Us a Child is Born” when I was about 12 or 13, being allowed to sing with the adult choir because they needed more altos and I was singing alto at that point in my life.  I learned “He Shall Feed His Flocks” as my first aria of any sort, but not the recitative for some reason.

I was about 18 or 19 when I received my own “Messiah” score—G. Schirmer of course—as a Christmas gift from my mother. Mom told me to learn the arias and recitatives because they were money-making for any good soloist. And I did.  When I officially ‘became’ a soprano in college, I began to learn each aria and recitative from beginning to end, starting with “There Were Shepherds” and ending with “If God Be for Us” as well as everything in between. I conducted and prepared “Hallelujah” in an undergrad conducting class, using my own score, and have marks and comments in the margins from my dear Dr. Larson, which I treasure.

Conducting “Messiah” is always challenging, no matter who the singers are.  I have markings and notes and comments in my score from long ago performances as well as more recent gigs that remind me anything can happen and often does. I have had to sing as well as conduct a few times, because sopranos have gotten sick at the last moment and there wasn’t time to get anyone else.  I have had singers and instrumentalist faint. Conducting choral portions for a “Do-It-Yourself Messiah” has brought the craziest moments, with a youth symphony playing and soloists from the community. I have had to teach a conductor—who normally works with junior high string players—how to conduct recitatives because the “powers-that-be” wanted an instrumental conductor and not ‘just’ a choral person, with interesting results.

Still, the text moves me.  The choruses move me.  The music moves me.  I can be reserved and professional most of the time but some turn of phrase, some musical line will strike me and tears come to my eyes briefly as I conduct. Some moment in the performance will reach me, jaded old musician that I am, and it is like I am hearing it for the first time.

One of the recitatives always gets me, no matter who is singing, who is playing or if I am performing or conducting.  It is sung by the alto, thank goodness, and it is the recitative I didn’t learn as a teenager.  The text, taken from the Prophecy of Isaiah, tells what will happen when the Messiah comes:

                        “Then shall the eyes of the blind be open’d,

                        And the ears of the deaf unstopped.

                        Then shall the lame man leap as an hart,

                        And the tongue of the dumb shall sing.”

It so moves me, I think because it reminds me of my son, Russell, who has autism and who cannot speak.  I like to think that recitative is meant for him and all people like him. I am comforted to know, even in this great work, someone thought enough to include this text. And I love it even more.

Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics: Autism Awareness Month

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“Autism is part of who I am.” Temple Grandin

“Mrs. Amenta, we have to be kind to those poor parents. They have children with autism and have no hope.” For some reason, Dr. Marguerite’s* comment just ticked me off. This was about 18 years ago and I was the president of a local chapter of the Autism Society of America. Dr. Marguerite was a speaker at one of our monthly meetings and I was trying to get things organized before everyone got there. She spoke patronizingly about our members as we got her materials set up. She never realized that I too was one of “those poor parents” and she was actually offending me.

My eldest son has autism and if you think I’m sensitive about it, you would be wrong. I accept it and him for who he is. I love him because he is my son and because, despite his disability, his sweet, loving personality comes through. I am realistic but I also am able to see his potential. It is so much better to focus on what he can do rather than what he can’t. Russell is a person, not a disability, and is worthy of respect.

Our family has tried to put a face on autism by being advocates in our autism journey. My husband, a physician, wrote the first children’s book about autism, which was updated with a new look and title in 2011. I have worked with parents groups, siblings groups and have been a music inclusion consultant. And have been a mentor for choirs of adults with developmental disabilities of all sorts. We are active in advocacy. No one should feel sorry for us; this is our life and we live it as well as we can.

Of course, I fought for him when he was in school. I fought for him to be a music inclusion student when he began high school. At our first IEP meeting, I suggested he be in orchestra as an inclusion student. Our Staffing Team was dumbfounded that I had the nerve to suggest it! What they didn’t realize was the orchestra director was the spouse of my other sons’ piano teacher and I had already spoken with him. He agreed and was excited since he knew Russ came from a family of musicians. The Team finally agreed (I wouldn’t sign the IEP unless they at least tried it) to only the first ten minutes of class. I figured getting his foot in the door was better than nothing.

A week or so later, I got a message from the school, asking me to sign off on an amendment to his IEP. When I returned the call, I was flabbergasted to learn they wanted to extend the time he was in orchestra. The professionals thought since he was doing so well, it would be in his best interest to stay for the whole class. Who was I to argue with the professionals???!!!??? If they wanted to think it was their idea in the first place, far be it from me to rock the boat when I was getting what I wanted. He did extremely well and ended up conducting the orchestra for their Alma Mater at a concert toward the end of high school years. He made many, many friends and enriched his classmates’ lives as well; a win/win as far as I’m concerned.

Dr. Marguerite’s presentation itself was okay all those years ago. The one thing that I remember from her speech was she was talking down to us. She seemed to think she had all the answers and if we were more intelligent or educated or…something…we wouldn’t have a child with autism. What she didn’t acknowledge was EVERYONE will be affected by disability, through no fault of their own, at some point in their lives. You might have a cousin with Downs Syndrome or a grandparent with dementia. Your mother might have macular degeneration and go blind or your neighbor might have a child with autism. Someone you love will be disabled.

When you are asked to have a music inclusion student in your choir, think how you would feel if it were your child. Don’t feel sympathy for them, feel compassion for them. Instead of focusing on how good it feels for you; focus on how good you are making them feel. It will make you feel good. But whatever opportunities you will be creating for them will far outlast your thrill. And that’s a good thing.

*Name Withheld

Choral Potpourri:”…..and the tongue of the dumb shall sing.”

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I love Messiah.  Truth be told, it is probably my favorite large choral work.  There’s a little something for everyone–from show piece arias to choruses that are both difficult and poignant to recitatives that move the story along while being musically interesting. The story that is told, using scriptures from both the Old and New Testaments, can be appreciated by all.

Traditionally, it is performed during the Advent and Christmas seasons but it is really a Lenten work, first performed and commissioned for Lent.  We as choral musicians often chop it up to fit our needs.  And, masterwork that it is, it adapts, no matter if we sing only the Christmas portions—plus “Hallelujah”—or the Lenten portions or anything in between.  Whatever we do is probably fine, since George F. Handel had different versions, depending on the soloist available.

I have sung, conducted, studied and listened to Messiah since I was a little girl.  My Mom was a coloratura soprano and her preparations for “Rejoice” are part of my Christmas memories as much as decorating the house and baking cookies are.  I first sang “For Unto Us a Child is Born” when I was about 12 or 13, being allowed to sing with the adult choir because they needed more altos and I was singing alto at that point in my life.  I learned “He Shall Feed His Flocks” as my first aria of any sort, but not the recitative for some reason.

I was about 18 or 19 when I received my own Messiah score—G. Schirmer of course—as a Christmas gift from my mother. Mom told me to learn the arias and recitatives because they were money-making for any good soloist. And I did.  When I officially ‘became’ a soprano in college, I began to learn each aria and recitative from beginning to end, starting with “There Were Shepherds” and ending with “If God Be for Us” as well as everything in between. I conducted and prepared “Hallelujah” in an undergrad conducting class, using my own score, and have marks and comments in the margins from dear Dr. Larson, which I treasure.

Conducting Messiah is always challenging, no matter who the singers are.  I have markings and notes and comments in my score from long ago performances as well as more recent gigs that remind me anything can happen and often does. I have had to sing as well as conduct a few times, because sopranos have gotten sick at the last moment and there wasn’t time to get anyone else.  I have had singers and instrumentalist faint. Conducting choral portions for a “Do-It-Yourself Messiah” has brought the craziest moments, with a youth symphony playing and soloists from the community. I have had to teach a conductor—who normally works with junior high string players—how to conduct recitatives because the “powers-that-be” wanted an instrumental conductor and not ‘just’ a choral person, with interesting results.

Still, the text moves me.  The choruses move me.  The music moves me.  I can be reserved and professional most of the time but some turn of phrase, some musical line will strike me and tears come to my eyes briefly as I conduct. Some moment in the performance will reach me, jaded old musician that I am, and it is like I am hearing it for the first time.

One of the recitatives always gets me, no matter who is singing, who is playing or if I am performing or conducting.  It is sung by the alto, thank goodness, and it is the recitative I didn’t learn as a teenager.  The text, taken from the Prophecy of Isaiah, tells what will happen when Messiah comes:

                        “Then shall the eyes of the blind be open’d,

                        And the ears of the deaf unstopped.

                        Then shall the lame man leap as an hart,

                        And the tongue of the dumb shall sing.”

It so moves me, I think because it reminds me of my son, Russell, who has autism and who cannot speak.  I like to think that recitative is meant for him and all people like him. I am comforted to know, even in this great work,someone had thought enough to include this text. And I love it even more.

I’ve written program notes for a complete performance of Messiah over the weekend, on December 8, given by the Illinois Philharmonic Orchestra. Come hear if you are able!

Enhancing the Success of Students with Disabilities within the Choral Structure

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The May 2017 issue of Choral Journal contains an article from Emily Guthe on the topic of choral students with disabilities. An excerpt of the article follows. You can read the rest in the May 2017 issue of Choral Journal here!

Note: This article originally appeared in Sounding Board, the publication of Iowa Choral Directors Association.

It’s Monday morning and the principal is at your classroom door with a student with a disability. The principal says she feels that your choir would be a perfect opportunity for this student to be in an inclusive environment. As you smile and nod, inside you might be saying to yourself, “I wonder if this really is a ‘perfect opportunity.’ Does my principal even know what it takes to function in a choir?”

* * *

As a music therapist who has completed graduate studies in choral conducting, I have particular interest in the needs and abilities of students with disabilities within the choral ensemble. That interest motivated me to conduct a systematic study of the experiences of choral educators in middle and high school to better understand the challenges and practical strategies that they have used when including students with disabilities in their choirs.

Modeling. In music therapy settings, therapists often attempt to model appropriate social behavior and other responses for clients. This modeling exists in a choral setting as well. Music educators model the sound they want the choir to produce, the vowel shape they want the choir to have, the pronunciation of text, or appropriate social behaviors. Some types of disabilities result in more diffi culty attending to or realizing the most salient points of instruction. If that seems to be the case in your situation, you may want to use extra verbal or gestural cues or commands to help students with disabilities make maximum use of modeling.

Consistency in Rehearsal. The choral rehearsal process tends to be consistent on a daily basis. Some educators may display a rehearsal plan. This consistency in rehearsal provides a predictable environment for students. That predictable structure is especially important for students with autism and can help reduce potential anxiety. Educators interviewed stated that students with disabilities were often more successful in their classroom because of this structured and predictable environment. The structure can also help students without disabilities to know what to expect when they come into a choral classroom.

While the majority of choral directors who participated in my study focused on how nicely a good choral process can aid all students, they also shared with me some practical strategies they have used when accommodations were needed. Their input, along with my own experiences as a music therapist and choral director, are summarized in the following list of practical strategies. (Note: this is only an excerpt from the full list in the printed article.)

  1. Have patience with students. It is helpful to remember that difficulties in following instructions may be a function of the disabilities rather than a lack of desire to comply.
  2. Location! Location! Location! The placement of students in the ensemble will make or break their success. If they have behavioral issues, do not place them next to a student who will elicit those responses. If they have trouble following the musical score, place them next to a student who is a strong singer.
  3. Know that adaptations and accommodations you provide for one or two students can often benefit the entire classroom. Clear instruction tends to be helpful to all students.
  4. Utilize recording technology to assist students in learning their part. For example, one of your best choral students might record the relevant part (SATB) onto a tablet or smart phone for the student with learning difficulties to listen to between rehearsals.

Read the rest of this article in the May 2017 issue of Choral Journal here! (Go to “Search Archives” and choose May 2017 from the dropdown menu)
Note: you must be an ACDA member to read the Choral Journal. If you are not already a member of ACDA, join today! Associate members can join for only $45 a year and receive access to the Choral Journal online and other ACDA benefits.

Choral Potpourri: Choral Ethics; April is Autism Awareness Month

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“Autism is part of who I am.” Temple Grandin

It’s time for my annual Autism Awareness Month blog post. For those of you who are not aware of the reason why I write one every year; my eldest son has autism. April is just another month for our family since EVERY month is autism awareness month at our house.

Music is very important to Russell; he thrives when he listens. He loves all sorts of music, from Baroque (some Renaissance but not all) to 21st century, from Disney to musicals and Italian Pop. He loves The Swingles and piano music and orchestral works and chamber music and most choral pieces. He is not a fan of some modern church music—the happy/clappy stuff—and will make faces when he is forced to listen or will put his fingers in his ears. He has taste, which is not surprising since he has been surrounded by music of all sorts beginning in the womb. What is surprising is this; he’s non-verbal and by all accounts, intellectually challenged. Did I mention he has perfect pitch?

When he was first diagnosed, I was very young, with two other small sons. I didn’t know much about music therapy at that time but was furious my own profession would not include my darling boy. As the years went on, I learned music could be used to control his behavior or to reward him for behaving well or give him enjoyment and a leisure skill (before I was a special ed mom, I didn’t know many kids with challenges need to be taught to use their down time) which was acceptable to society. Our musical household was doing just what we do, never realizing we were also helping Russell. Of course, I took him to all sorts of therapies, just as I took his brothers to their ‘cello and percussion and piano lessons. Russ took swimming with our Special Rec District and his brothers were in Little League.

I had to fight for Russell to be a music inclusion student in high school. At first, they told me he could try but, well, I was only a Mother so how could I possibly understand how challenging it would be? A few weeks after school started; I received a voice mail asking me to call his inclusion facilitator because they wanted to change his IEP. Returning the call, I was told he was doing so well in orchestra, they wanted him to stay for the whole class (instead of the first ten minutes I had settled for) and they needed my permission to amend the IEP. I wanted to tell them “see, I told you so” but resisted the urge; I got what I wanted so why rub it in I knew more about music than they?

We discovered his perfect pitch quite by accident. Both of his brothers played in a youth symphony; the older, played timpani and percussion and the younger played ‘cello. One year, when Russ was about 15 or so, the high school group was about to play and kept tuning and tuning and TUNING. Out of the blue, Russ started humming and his youngest brother (who has perfect pitch himself and was sitting with us for the second part of the program) told us Russ was humming the pitch they should be playing. Russ was trying to give them the right pitch by humming it for them! One piano tuner told me he hates people with perfect pitch because Russ would occasionally hum the next correct pitch for him as he was tuning our piano. I told him he shouldn’t hate Russ because it’s the only thing he can do.

There are plenty of people like Russell out there; folks with challenges who have families much like ours. And yours. When you are asked to accept an inclusion student, think how you would feel if that student was your child or your niece or nephew or cousin or brother-in-law. Then do what you would want to be done for them. It will be more work for you, for sure. It will be worth it and not just for them; FOR YOU. You will show your other students what compassion and tolerance is and how to accept someone who needs more help than they do. You will discover different ways to look at things, different way to teach things and ways to overcome challenges along with an enhanced set of values. You will feel better about yourself and others will feel better about you too.

It might be too great of a challenge; for you and for them, through no fault of yours. If you honestly try to make it work and it doesn’t, you can still feel good you made an effort. Next time, it will.

 

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