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Goal: Help Students Find Hope

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With this post, we welcome a new blogger to ChoralNet: middle school choral educator Bethany Perkins Hall, who teaches in a rural community. In her monthly posts (second Wednesdays), she will be sharing thoughts on building a “solutionary” program, including modifications for different types of choirs and ideas for activities and assignments, as well as insights on potential challenges and the joy that can come from this work.

By Bethany Perkins Hall

Even before the pandemic started, I noticed a troubling shift in my middle school students. Many were becoming disillusioned and jaded by the world around them. Climate doom, racism, anti-LGBTQ legislation – they were becoming aware of the issues in the news but felt powerless to fix them. More and more students were falling into depression and anxiety, which of course only increased with the pandemic.

As a chorus teacher, I knew that students found the arts to be an expressive outlet and a safe place. We all know, and have even been, those students/people who sing their hearts out as a soothing balm and a catharsis of sorts. I also knew when students came into our chorus room, many felt they could be honest about how they were feeling or what their struggles were. For these truths, I was glad. However, the hopelessness continued, and I wanted to find a way to help.

How could I help? I’m a mid-thirties music teacher in a rural community. I have no political degree, no science background, no obvious “power.”

If you find yourself nodding along, thinking something like “Yes, I see these issues in my students,” or “Gosh, I’m not some sort of activist who can fix the world for them” – never fear. We are human. We don’t have to have all the answers. But chances are, in some capacity, your students would like to see a change in the world. They would like to have a glimmer of hope. How do we get there from here?

Professor David Orr said, “Hope is a verb with its shirtsleeves rolled up.”

I came up with an idea for my chorus curriculum, which I started enacting this past year. The idea is this to empower the students to create change, using the power and platform of choral singing. In this way the students can create their own hope. Their hope is created not only by solving problems that they see, but also by realizing that they have a voice (pun intended) and the ability to continue solving problems throughout their lives. To become solutionaries. 

Solutionary, noun: a person who identifies inhumane, unsustainable, and unjust systems and then develops solutions that are healthy and equitable for people, animals, and the environment. – from the Institute for Humane Education 

I’ll provide an overview here of how our Solutionary Chorus Curriculum works, and get into more detailed in future blog posts.

My first step, of course, was to run the whole thing by my administration and make sure that I was operating within the parameters of the school rules. One facet of this project that is very important, for the students but also to protect both oneself and the school, is that it must be student-led. If I were to choose a cause for the students, rather than them choosing, the case could potentially be made that I were forcing ideas on the students. I actually wanted the curriculum to be student-led, anyway, so they would really be tackling issues close to their hearts.

After I had the green light, I asked the students for ideas. We covered our white board. Then I took those ideas and made a survey for them to vote on their cause. They chose LGBTQ+ awareness and respect.

After the vote, I shared the results with parents. Students are able to participate in chorus without doing the project part, but only 7 percent of the chorus/parents opted out. I made an assignment for the students to research and share something positive about what had already been done in the area of LGBTQ+ rights. It is important, when working towards a cause, to not feel as though you’re all alone and no one else cares, which is why I started with this assignment. We had a good-news sharing class in October.

The next assignment, in November, was to identify an area in which they would like to see change. This was a wonderful and eye-opening assignment. There was a lot of talk about education, about pronoun respect, general awareness and respect by peers and teachers, and even of legislation. I assure you, through all of this we also were preparing for our winter concert. Starting after holiday break, the students worked in groups based on what they said they wanted to change. They worked on finding a solution. Some students came up with a fully formed educational plan for their peers, which they presented to the principal. Some made awareness and acceptance posters. Some wrote to their local senator. As a result of the students’ efforts, a fellow teacher and myself will be providing teacher training around respect for gender identity and pronouns.

We gave our spring concert, and now we are preparing for our LGBTQ+ themed fundraiser for The Trevor Project. All the songs are either on the theme or by LGBTQ artists. In addition to choral pieces, there will be small groups doing pop numbers they chose. The Trevor Project, again, chosen by students, provides counseling support to LGBTQ youth. I encourage you to check them out. We’ll be promoting the fundraiser through the local news and of course with posters throughout the school.

Did I solve all of my students’ problems? YES! Just kidding. No, but these students have hope. They have a cause to work for, they’re making a difference in their world, and they’re proud of themselves. LGBTQ students feel validated and encouraged.

What will we do next year? Save the walruses? Anti-racism? The options are endless, but whatever it is, it will be what the students want and what gives them the most hope.

Bethany Perkins Hall teaches middle school chorus in Cumberland, Maine. She performs regularly as a soprano with the St. Mary Schola early music ensemble, and is in the Masters of Education program at Antioch University/Institute for Humane Education. In her free time, Bethany enjoys yoga, taking her dog to the beach, conversing with her cats, and getting her husband hooked on Bridgerton.

Songs of (re)Imagining: B.E. Boykin

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Dr. Brittney E. Boykin is a native of Alexandria, VA. She began studying piano at 7-years-old with Mrs. Alma Sanford, who taught her through multiple competitions. Dr. Boykin studied piano at Spelman College with Dr. Rachel Chung, and after graduation, attended Westminster Choir College, where she was awarded the R and R Young Composition Prize. Dr. Boykin obtained her PhD in Music Education from Georgia State University, and currently teaches at the Georgia Institute of Technology. 

 

Dr. Boykin has written choral music (SATB, SA, TB, and 2-part voicings), art songs, and instrumental works. You can find many of her pieces here, plus one piece on MusicSpoke (Castelloza’s Song– which was commissioned in conjunction with a research presentation at the 2021 National ACDA Conference. The text is by Na Castelloza, a 13th century trobairitz who scholars think was a woman of color. The text and music are both fantastic, and I’ve programmed the unison version for my treble choir in May. Such a good educational piece on so many levels). Dr. Boykin’s “We Sing as One” was commissioned by Spelman for the 133rd Anniversary of it’s founding– for the 2014 Founders Day Convocation. You can read more about “We Sing as One” from Dr. Shelbie Wahl-Fouts’ blog post in December 2020.

 

At a Midwestern ACDA reading session, one of my students sent me a picture of the cover of “Stardust,” and said “THIS, Dr. Gravelle!” I already had it in a program-next-year pile, and was working on this blog. Stardust is found on Graphite Publishing. It was commissioned by the Pershing Middle School Treble Chorale in Houston (director Marcus J Jauregui) for the 2021 Texas Music Educators Association Convention. The text, which you can find on Graphite Publishing, was written by poet and librettist Brittny Ray Crowell. The commissioner, Marchus J. Jauregui, wrote a succinct preface, saying: “When we sing, we pray twice, and it is my prayer that this piece stirs all who hear it to call for justice for the people of color taken from this world before their time and without concern for their humanity.”

 

For SSA, piano, and djembe, “Stardust” has many teachable concepts, including rhythmic and unison work. The piece begins in unison, which I’m always drawn to– partly I love the unison-to-parts sound, but primarily I love how honest it keeps the choir ( regarding both rhythm and intonation). After the unison, “Stardust” breaks into a duet call-and-response, then splits into homophonic, triadic movement. The highest note for sopranos is an F5, and no voice sings in extended ranges. “Stardust” is perfect for middle school or older. I hope to program it for my collegiate Treble Choir. “Stardust” would work well on a concert touching on ADEIB, but would also work well on a concert with themes about perseverance, justice, strength, or even a theme of space (“Stardust” is the title, after all. And it’s okay to program a piece with ADEIB themes on a non-ADEIB-themed concert). 

 

Music of Life was premiered at the 2017 Women Composers Festival of Hartford. The music is available in both SAB and SSA, but labeled as Voice 1, Voice 2, and Voice 3, allowing flexibility with who is assigned which part. The text (found below) is by poet, novelist, and newspaper editor George Parsons Lathrop (1851–1898).

 

Music is in all growing things; 

And underneath the silky sings

Of smallest insects there is stirred

A pulse of air that must be heard.

Earth’s silence lives, and throbs, and sings.

 

If poet from the vibrant strings

Of his poor heart a measure flings,

Laugh not, that he no trumpet blows:

It may be that Heaven hears and knows

His language of low listenings.

 

“Music of Life” is written in compound meter and includes a rhythmically active piano part. In D minor, the highest note is the picardy third F#5 on the final chord in the top voice.  Like “Stardust,” this starts in unison, divides into parts (either 2 or 3 parts, depending on the passage) and finishes in an inverted chord. The piece includes a section of partner melodies (the primary melody, a counter melody, and a descant). There are lots of concepts to draw from this piece, from vocal development to the compound meter to building part independence.

 

 

The piano writing makes it evident that Dr. Boykin is a pianist, as the piano part falls into the hands nicely for both “Stardust” and “Music of Life.” Similar to the first piece, “Music of Life” could be sung by middle school students or older. The substantive text chosen by Dr. Boykin makes both of these pieces suitable for a wide age range, depending on the educational aims. Both of these works would be easy to program for a variety of themes.

 

Stories of Newness: Healing and Reimagining with Stephanie Gravelle

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This was such a fun conversation with me. Stephanie is a fantastic musician and passionate music educator. She’s also my sister-in-law, and I love learning from her. I wasn’t able to include everything from our conversation. Stephanie is an incredibly engaging and thoughtful programmer, and I highly recommend just reaching out to her and asking her what she has planned. It’s inspiring.

Stephanie Gravelle, Middle and High School Music Teacher at The International School of Beijing, was on break when her school moved to virtual instruction due to COVID-19. They first used an asynchronous model, which was helpful, especially as teachers navigated some unique obstacles (ex: In China, Google and all of its products are blocked). Also, many teachers and students had been vacationing and didn’t have laptops, instruments, or other materials. Stephanie did one (optional) virtual choir, but was on the fence about the value. It was good for the community– one person commented “it’s so good to hear kids singing again.” But students were living with an unknown number of people. Imagine, Stephanie said, being a 12-year-old and going through a voice change… of course you wouldn’t want to practice in your own house.

When they returned mid-September, many students were in-person, but many teachers weren’t back; in addition to visa issues, teachers were trying to navigate their return in a global pandemic. There were teacher assistants for teachers who were away. For students at home, it wasn’t choral singing. Eventually students who were virtual went to an online school, without a music option.

In January 2021, high school students worked on solo recording projects: chose a song, analyzed text, prepared music, while Stephanie gave periodic lessons to students. She kept middle school students engaged with vocal exercises, stretches, sight-reading, canons, etc. She sang with students, and had to trust they were participating. She made tracks for rehearsals. Students completed practice journals– even if they didn’t practice. She wanted them to think about the music. She offered a virtual choir, but many students opted out. In class, students participated in listening discussions. Students who never said a word in class had great discussions through chat. In-person, she hasn’t figured out a way to replicate that. Still, it was inspiring to see students fully engaged.

Parents weren’t allowed on campus, so the performing arts department held a festival in April and invited the whole PK-high school. For three days, every hour, there was a concert, drama performance, or other performance art event, including their choir concert. Elementary kids were able to watch high school students. It was great for the school community.

After the performing arts festival, Stephanie wasn’t sure students missed evening concerts. She reflected: Do we need after school concerts? Can these concerts interact with the community in a different way? During COVID, there were no concerts or rehearsals on weekends or late nights. She went home and spent more time with family. And that was nice. Is there a way to hold this up as standard, instead of normalizing late nights and long rehearsals? She thought about Brené Brown– “It shouldn’t be normal.” How can she, and how can our profession, pursue doing things during the day? And “How can we do things that give us more time for family, friends, or even ourselves?” 

This past year, she also did an audit on herself. She created a spreadsheet and listed the repertoire she gave students– everything they listened to and all the materials she used. The spreadsheet included time period, religious background, gender perspective, etc. She wanted to see what she used and then ask “do I want to change anything? If so, how?” She set up weekly themes where she highlighted different genres of music and a variety of performers. This work will continue as she asks “How am I amplifying various voices, and how can I diversify that amplification?” In addition to finding culture bearers of musics, she plans to teach these musics like they might be taught in their origin environment.  

Each international school has a different instructional set-up, but there are some shared silver linings. For example, students recorded their solos for a virtual solo and ensemble. Participation levels increased dramatically due to the online format. With so many things being held virtually, Stephanie was able to attend more professional development, such as a Village Harmony course and yes, she went to the national ACDA conference for the first time.

As far as the fall, repertoire is selected and goals are set. She knows things can change quickly, but it makes her feel better to be prepared. She also recognizes that students are navigating a lot– not just their own changes, but also the stresses that many of their parents have. Some students are struggling with how to have a discussion or work collaboratively. Technique is very important, but right now they need to come into a room that makes them feel happy, safe, and wanted. Her focus will be what it always is: find the heart of her singers and have their hearts connected. This has always been where they get the best sound, and it’s even more true now.

CJ Replay: Teaching Adolescents with a Holistic Perspective

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The October 2016 issue of Choral Journal features an article titled “Keeping the Glass Half Full: Teaching Adolescents with a Holistic Perspective” by Bridget Sweet. You can read it in its entirety online at acda.org/choraljournal. Click “Search Archives” and choose October 2016 from the dropdown menu.

Below is an excerpt from the article.
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“When describing the young adolescent, floods of words come to mind. Unpredictable. 

Emotional.

Hilarious.

Moody. 

Angsty.

Perhaps, however, the word “individual” is the most appropriate, because each adolescent is unique and progresses through adolescence in his or her own way. It is for all of these reasons–and many more–that educators enjoy working with adolescents so much. This paper comprises two main sections. The first addresses emotion and physical development, which are two key adolescent characteristics commonly encountered in the choral classroom; the second concerns puberty and adolescent voice change.”

Emotion
In my work with adolescent singers, I have found them to be smart, clever, hardworking, and extremely loyal once you get them on your side. Because these students truly straddle both child and adult worlds, however, identity navigation and decision-making are not always accomplished in the most sophisticated ways. As a result, general public perspective of adolescents is one of deficit, anguish, unpredictability, and irrational behavior. Fueling the stereotype are adolescent emotions, which have a tendency to run high and fluctuate often.

Many of our choral students will experience difficulties during adolescence, but we can choose to focus on this population with a “glass half full” attitude and remain resolute that “‘Storm and stress’ is not a universal experience of early adolescence. Some individuals are (or seem to be) well adjusted.”1

Attempts to control or direct adolescent emotion in the choral classroom are as pointless as trying to prevent the ocean from crashing against the shore. However, through acknowledgment of adolescents’ emotional fluctuation—embracing it, even—our work as choral music educators can be less burdened. When students seem emotional or angry, there are only benefits in honoring what students are experiencing, even if we (as adults) find the reason for their despair to seem a bit trite. A simple, nonjudgmental comment such as, “I am so sorry that you are feeling this way,” can go a long way with adolescent students who crave validation and belonging.2

  1. Thomas A. Regelski, Teaching General Music in Grades 4–8 (New York: Oxford University, 2004).
  2. Ian McMahan, Adolescence (New Jersey: Pearson, 2008), 185.

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Read the rest of this article (and more!) in the October 2016 issue of Choral Journal, available online at acda.org.

Was Anybody Listening? A Teacher Looks Back

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By Debbie Aurelius-Muir

This particular day began as every day had. It was Thursday. Not that that made a difference. Every day started the same. The bell rang at 8:22 a.m. and by 8:25 a.m. my special education class arrived. There were 14 students and one aide. I often struggled with it. I never intended to be a special education teacher. These middle school children had varied emotional, physical, and intellectual challenges. Every time I thought I understood their limitations, they would surprise me. Conversely, there were many times when I was sure I had the perfect amount of challenge to the lesson plan, only to discover that I had missed the mark completely.

I started class signing and singing “Do Re Mi” from The Sound of Music. The students were always very excited to show that they had mastered the Curwen hand signs for the major scale. (I should mention that because of age requirements, I had most of these special education students every day for five years. They entered sixth grade at 11 years of age, but were not promoted to high school until they were16 years of age).

One of my most enigmatic students had a disability called “Dandy Walker Syndrome.” Dandy Walker Syndrome manifested itself in this student with limited speech, limited intellectual development, limited physical strength, and limited mobility. We will call him “Robert.” I watched Robert grow from a skinny little eleven year old barely four feet tall to a strong-willed adolescent approaching six feet in stature. He didn’t have great control of his limbs. He walked to music class by using a walker that let its owner pull down a shelf that allowed a quick sitting break in the middle of the trip. He had difficulties keeping his eyes focused in one direction. His eyes often darted left and right as if he was frantically trying to record everything for the future. His speech was very hard to understand. It appeared as if his tongue muscles didn’t cooperate any better than his leg muscles. He had lots of volume but he couldn’t articulate words. He had a very small vocabulary, as well. I don’t recall ever hearing him singing with the class.  He sat and looked around.

Robert never made eye contact with me. I greeted him every day, as I greeted all of the students, but I usually never got a response. As Robert matured, he became angry. Maybe he felt some resentment at his limitations. I don’t know. He really couldn’t communicate very well, so there was no way of knowing. Now that he was getting older, he would shout out expletives and disrupt the class. He would throw himself on the floor. He would spit at other students. He would hit other students. If he was handed an instrument, he might throw it down. I used to question if he should even be in there. I didn’t think he was benefiting from the class and he was making it difficult for the other students to learn. Was he even listening? Was I even an effective teacher for special needs students? I wasn’t the special education teacher in the family, my sister was. I didn’t want to teach in the special education field, I really didn’t have any training. And to top it all off, I have to confess that on certain days, in that class, I did not display my finest teaching.

But as we all know, in teaching and in life, every day is a new day. You get up and you tell yourself that you have a chance to make this a great day. I would pray for strength, courage, and love for my students.

As I said, this day began like any other day. Robert, his aide, and the other students filed in. We sang and signed “Do Re Mi” and our other songs and enjoyed our activities. At the end of class, the students began to leave. Robert and his aide started to leave. But Robert wouldn’t leave. He slid his walker right up to me. He stopped his six-foot skinny frame right in front of me. He reached out to touch my dangly earrings. I felt like the girl in the gorilla cage being told, ”Don’t make any sudden moves; it frightens them!” My mind began to race with fear: What was he going to do? Is he going to yank out my earring? Is he going to hit me? Is he going to pull my hair? Is he going to spit on me? He got about two inches from my face and looked right into my eyes. While keeping one hand on the walker, and gently touching my dangly earring, he sang perfectly in tune and perfectly pronounced the solfege syllables “sol-mi-do.”

The aide and I looked at each other as our jaws dropped and our eyes welled up with tears. We were speechless! I didn’t know he could sing. I certainly didn’t think he had been paying attention. Of all the phrases he could sing to me, he sings a perfectly phonated, perfectly articulated, and perfectly in tune descending major triad? I didn’t know what to say. As I was wiping the tears from my cheeks, I realized that he had been listening!

I taught Robert for another two years. I never saw that kind of engagement again. But I knew he was listening.

So it is with all of our students. Whether they’re “special needs” students or “typical” students, you never know what they hear. You never know what they will remember, you never know what they will learn from you. You are charged with being their representative for music and for good. It is the greatest job on earth and an important responsibility. Rise to the challenge. Don’t squander a moment. And don’t worry, they are listening!

Debbie Aurelius-Muir is a retired general music, choral music, and music methods teacher in who taught in both Champaign-Urbana and Bloomington-Normal, Illinois. She spent thirty years teaching music to students from kindergarten through college and currently supervises music student teachers through Illinois State University.

Reflections from a First-Year Educator, by Christina Nelson

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At the time of writing this, I have not yet completed my first full year of teaching. However, I have already learned a lot in the first semester. I arrived at my school mid-year and was both nervous and excited. My day consisted of five classes; 7th and 8th grade beginning tenor/bass choir; two 7th grade beginning soprano/alto classes (that would combine during performances); 8th grade intermediate soprano/alto choir; and 9th grade concert choir (SATB). I wanted to make beautiful music, teach students about vocal technique, and develop a strong and positive culture in each class. Little did I realize the impact that the previous sentence would have on my teaching when I stated and thought about my goals in that order.

Christina Nelson

While at the ACDA national conference in Kansas City I participated in a session entitled Developing Community Through the Choral Rehearsal, led by Randall Bradley of Baylor University. He said something that made me change the way I had been teaching: “Use music to make people instead of people to make music” [emphasis mine]. I realized at that moment that I had been so busy thinking about the technical aspects of choral music and education, I had forgotten why I fell in love with this beautiful and intimate art in the first place, and the real reason I wanted to become a choir director. I realized that I was trying to teach my junior high kids as advanced high school or collegiate students and that was obviously not working. When I returned home after conference, I began consciously treating music more as a tool and stepping out of my “college student mode.” I was reminded that while music is certainly important, so are my kids as human beings. I started doing “Circle Time” with my classes and spent a few moments with my classes asking my students to “Tell Me Something Good” about their day or weekend.

One day, when my 7th grade girls came in upset with each other for something, I asked each student to compliment someone else in the class. We went around the circle and students raised their hands to compliment others. Afterward, the girls were getting along and rehearsal ran more smoothly. A few days later, a student shared some rough things that had been happening at home and started crying. Before I could say anything, another girl raised her hand saying, “Ms. Nelson, can we compliment each other today?” The other girls voiced their agreement and of course I said yes. As they complimented this girl and told her how amazing she was and why (when we compliment, we go beyond appearances), I realized that my 7th graders loved complimenting each other and that brought tears to my eyes. Over the next few days, I realized that each class was coming to thoroughly enjoy complimenting each other when their initial reactions had not been quite as enthusiastic.

Not only do our students need to see that we are human, we need to remember that they are also humans who have a lot going on their lives as well. By taking the time to build relationships during rehearsals, my students and I grew closer as a team and they became excited to be with each other. Our rehearsals became more productive and we ended up performing some tough repertoire at our final concert in June. Sure, there were rough days, but what educator doesn’t have rough days? And how often is it a rough day versus a rough few minutes or a rough class period? The trick is to focus on the positive moments. Allow those moments to propel you forward: To see their eyes light up when they conquer a difficult passage, when a student who walked into class upset leaves with a smile on their face, or when the entire class leaves the room singing and doesn’t stop till they are almost to their next class. These are just a few of the positive moments that I have experienced. Of the many things I have learned in six months of teaching, using music as a tool to build relationships is at the top of the list.

“Use music to make people instead of people to make music.”

Christina Ruth Nelson graduated from Pacific Lutheran University (PLU) in December 2018 with a bachelor of music education degree, with a concentration in secondary choral education. She completed her studies under the direction of Dr. Richard Nance and Dr. Brian Galante and also served as assistant conductor of PLU’s advanced soprano/alto ensemble, University Singers, during her senior year. She completed her student teaching at Graham-Kapowsin High School with Mr. Jason Saunders and has recently finished her first semester of teaching at Stahl Junior High School in Puyallup, WA.

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