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​Amplification and Your Voice: Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is – Part One

5/21/2021

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“Put your money where your mouth is.” isn’t just a saying. For elementary music teachers, it’s crucial. It’s is an aspect of daily life that you’ll forever be attentive to.

These two posts will be longer than usual due to the bulk of info I want to lay out.

You will end up using your voice for thousands of hours in your 7.5 hour job in the music room. If you use your singing voice on gigs in your 16.5 hour business, add a few more thousand hours.

To use your voice so that people hear it without amplification, you have to continually project  your sound to the back wall of the room, not to the students in front of you. The idea is your voice needs to go at least two feet further than the back wall. That doesn't mean it has to be loud. It means has to have weight and forward movement and sound like it is coming from everywhere.

Big Singing

Singing and teaching will take a toll on your body, especially your vocal cords and sinuses. There are five steps that I teach kids about “big” singing that also apply to teacher phonation in the classroom. Often, it is music teachers who are the ones who break these rules the most.

Here are the “Holmes’ Rules”: no hands on face, no screaming, open your mouth, move your lips, and move your tongue. If music teachers did a little bit more of each of these on a minute-to-minute basis, they would get a few more dB out of their voice with everything they said or sang. They wouldn't be pushing the cords to the point of potential pain or injury. The next time you teach, check those five things and see if you're following my five guidelines.

Teaching Space

The larger the classroom and the deader the room, the more your voice has to work.

My first teaching gig was in a small, fairly dead, carpeted room. I've been in walk-in closets that compared to the size of my first teaching room.

I was teaching at a small ultra-private day school. Enrollment at the elementary level from pre-k to grade four was approximately 180 kids. It was very easy for me to vocally cut the room, given that I could almost jump from one wall to the other. I had a bright Hamilton upright that had a brittle quality to it, and even though the guitar I used was a Yamaha classical played with a pick, it filled the room.

There was no need for application of any kind, even when the kids were in “scream” mode. The elementary gig morphed into a junior high chorus gig in a medium high ceiling, plaster walls, wooden floor room that had a beautiful but beat Steinway - again, no need for application.

Then I was fired.

More about that in another post.

My next gig was teaching at a school for children with cognitive and orthopedic disabilities.

No more big room. No more Steinway.

Their disabilities were profound. I had no classroom. I had a cart and a guitar in a case that I cared from room to room.

If you didn't know this before, let me state it here: performing, especially singing, in emotionally-charged settings, is extremely debilitating to your vocal instrument. While your eyes might well up, your voice goes dry. Any general stress or apprehension will have the same incapacitating effect.

My first few classes at my new school were stunningly bad. By this point in my career, I was singing professionally several nights a week so I knew I had a voice but the emotion of the situation robbed me of a sense of security and confidence that are paramount to vocal performance. I felt like I was back to square one – and I was. It took me a few days to get my focus together.

As I got a grip on my emotions, my vocal technique came back. The teacher who had the gig before me was desperately afraid of all these children in wheelchairs. The story goes that after her first day on the job, she rushed into the principal's office and said, “Do you know there are kids that can't even sing in the school?” Which leads to the question: how did she ever get hired?

Apparently, she would hide behind an upright Hamilton that she pushed from room to room just so she had something she could hide behind. From what paras told me, I don't think she ever got a handle on her emotions. It’s not a job for everyone.

I was extremely fortunate to have a cadre of therapists to guide me at my beginning weeks. The speech pathologists were invaluable. I had been doing a lot of reading about proximity effect and knew that I was going to need to be closer to some of the kids but also realized that I couldn't be next to everyone all the time.

I saw an ad for a portable lavalier PA system in a journal, pitched the speech pathologists and my principal on it, and they bought it for me. I was able to wear a lavalier mic around my neck, and place a speaker at the most efficient location for kids so that even when I moved away from them, my voice was still slightly amplified near the back of their head. It worked like a charm.

Flash forward sixteen years. I was told by my boss’ boss, “If you’re good enough to win a handful of awards in a school for 100 kids with disabilities, I’m going to put you in a school with 600 students where you can have more impact”. Can you say “let's throw some water in the soup”? I was now back to teaching general education music six classes a day but I was now 25 years into a career and not quite the spring chicken I was when I started my classroom teaching career.

My new room was much larger than my first classroom and I had upwards of 30 children at a time. My chorus was somewhere around 100 children on a school stage at a time. At times, choruses were combined at 200 kids. While I knew I had vocal chops and could throw my voice to the back of the rehearsal stage, I saw potential burn-out. I needed sound reinforcement.

As I've mentioned in other posts, there's the 7.5 hour job that we all have occupations as teachers and then there's the 16.5 hour business we have where we cultivate our brand and personal business. I had been accumulating sound gear from my first days as a teacher and performer during those 16.5 hours. I brought in Peavey Bandit amp with a 12in speaker, a couple of Shure SM58 mics, an unpowered Boss 16-channel line mixer, a boom mic, and assorted cables into my classes and rehearsals. Since my Bandit only had two inputs, I needed the mixer for more inputs.

​I used my little PA system religiously.

Here are the advantages for you if you go in this direction:

You never have to raise your voice, just turn up.

Your emotional level remains static, there is no need to shout or push your vocal cords.

Most kids have never encountered a teacher that uses a microphone, so there is a novelty to it that keeps their eyes on you.

It allows you to also amplify an electric piano or an electric acoustic guitar.

For a modest investment that I used on gigs, this worked exceptionally well, especially during chorus rehearsals.

In “Amplification and Your Voice: Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is – Part Two”, I’ll cover topics including mic techniques and what sound equipment you need for vocal sound reinforcement in the elementary classroom and chorus rehearsal space. See you there!
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​We Interrupt This Program . . . .

5/20/2021

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​Before I publish another post here, I want to dispel any myths that I might have subtly created here.  It hasn't been all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows.

Part of hitting home runs is striking out a lot and I have gone down swinging in some colossal ways.


I have screwed up and screwed up monumentally at different stages of my life.

Like graduating from high school at the bottom of my class.  Maybe not rock bottom but close enough that I could have jumped from where I was to the bottom and not hurt my ankles.

At my very first college band camp, I told one of my professors that the music department chairman was an asshole not realizing he was standing a foot behind me. That mistake took four years to remedy.

I agreed to a full-time teaching position, my first job, at poverty wages, so low that I qualified for food stamps. I'd like to have that mistake back.

I was fired.

I was divorced.

I was court date away from bankruptcy.

After being hit by a car at work, I was so in shock and denial that I pretended it didn't happen despite the fact that the rest of the day, I kept looking at my shredded suit pant leg and swollen bandaged knee. I paid the price physically and mentally for years.

So as you see, full disclaimer: I've made some mistakes.

Hopefully, you haven’t hit some of the low points that I did. If your life has been blissfully free of disappointment, scars, and regret, feel free to stop reading. But if you have ever felt like quitting or that it will never get better or maybe you are in the throes of self-doubt, keep reading.

I’ve got authentic news for you.

I'm here to tell you that you are going to make it.

Just like I did.

Well, maybe not exactly just how I did, but you're going to make it your way.

Because you're going to design a plan, build upon your skills, figure out exactly who you are and who you want to be. Along the way, you’ll discover a “new you”. Your “old you” will have a dream-like quality to it, just like my "old me" felt  as I chronicled my past failures a few paragraphs ago.

Just as it was for me, it's not going to be an overnight process for you. It won’t easy.

But I'm here as a living proof for you that it can get better.
​

Let’s me be frank while you be earnest: It can get worse . . . . so let’s stay positive, OK? Let’s not worry too much about what might happen. No need to worry twice about something.

If things are good for you, take a moment to make them better for someone else. Write a check. Open a door. Pay for the coffee for that guy who’s standing behind you at Panera’s. If you are low on cash, pay a compliment. I guarantee that you, too, will find a “new you”. 


These posts are a trail of bread crumbs that will always be here. They will always be a reminder of something you can do in both your 7.5 hour job and your 16.5 hour business day to gain more control over the elements and destiny of your professional and person life. And there is a lot we can control.

My proposal is that these suggestions might not be what you need but will trigger an approach that’s been germinating quietly in the back of your head or heart that you DO need.
When Life gets better, we celebrate. So, let's make a deal, you and I.

Somewhere down the road let's cue the sunshine, lollipops and rainbows  - as well as a few good toasts with Macallan Sherry Oak 18 – and celebrate your “new you” as well as mine.
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​Find Your Superpower

5/19/2021

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As a music teacher, I had several superpowers that I regularly demonstrated to my students.

One of them was getting them quiet without saying a word. That was something they rarely experienced and, on a subliminal level, they knew it was special. Another superpower I possessed was that I could play guitar without even thinking about it, as if the guitar was playing itself. I did it with a smile on my face and not a trace of effort.

They marveled at my superpowers at the piano, playing while not looking at my fingers and changing songs so quickly in so many ways that they thought it was a recording. The one superpower that always had their eyes glued on me was when I took my guitar out of its case, threw it into the air, caught it by the neck, and exclaimed, “It's time for music now!”


One of my most amazing superpowers was my ability to make them laugh. As in “fall-out-of-their-chairs” laugh. And often times, it was super-sized self-deprecating humor.

The greatest superpower was a magnetism that made kids want to participate, behave, try their best, and not give up. It was the strongest of all and synergized with all the other superpowers to maximum influence and effect.

Now, I know what you might be thinking. Sure, Holmes, you're working with little kids. They're amazed at anything. My counter to that argument is that the music teachers they encountered before me rarely had such a diversified and potent arsenal of superpowers. In many cases, their awe was well justified.

As with most superpowers, there is a back story, an “origin story”.

The foundation of all these superpowers was that I didn't want anything in return from my students except for them to succeed after they left our room. Yes, I had priorities about students singing in tune, playing instruments properly, and composing evermore complex, self-expressive music, but intrinsically, they knew which ideals were at the very top of my list. Paradoxically, they knew that those skills held no value for me but were priceless to them.

S.T.A.R.

From our first class in August till our last in June, I reinforced S.T.A.R. – otherwise known as STAR, on a daily basis.

S stands for “sit like you're smart” and “know when to start and stop”. T stands for “track the talker”. A stands for “ask and answer questions”. And the most important of all, R – “do respectable things and people will respect you”.

I know. My job title is “music teacher” and usually that means my job description comes with songs to teach, concerts to rehearsal, mallets that have to be held properly, piano hand positions to be reinforced, reading music notation, and performing competently in observations to inform my principal that I knew what I was doing.

These are all noble endeavors and I did all those and more – but S.T.A.R. was the source of a powerful magnet that drew kids to participate in music.

It’s part of my origin story as a teacher.

Let me take this opportunity to state for one and all that I am not the “best” or “greatest” at anything. I know many musicians far more talented than me. I’ve often joked that if I did a guitar master class with Christopher Parkening, the first question he would ask after I played would be, “So when did you suffer the traumatic brain injury?”

​I know oodles of guitarists, bassists, pianists, composers, and vocalists who are better than me. But STAR has given me an edge, a superpower if you will, at times when I needed to be better than I was, to create a needed magnetism at key moments.

Take a minute. Think about STAR as it applies to musicians, teachers, and directors from your past.

Which musicians have you encountered in your career who epitomized those qualities? What were they like to make music with? What were they like as teachers, leaders, acquaintances, or friends?

Now look at the other side of the coin.

I know many musicians far more talented than me who never sat, stood, or paid attention like they were smart. It was more like they sat like they were brilliant, beyond smart, assuming a self-bestowed “rock star slouch”.

We’ve all known musicians and directors who couldn’t be bothered to give you any eye contact – they expect all the eyes to be on them. They are perpetually ready for their close-up – and you better not forget it.

While some teachers are great at asking questions, there are the ones whose questions perpetually have trace amounts of music assessment and privilege.  Their inquisitions reek of “I know more than you”. They never ask, “What do you think?” Or “How did that sound to you?” Or “What’s shakin’?”

We have all endured musicians, music teachers, and directors who didn't have an ounce of humility, empathy, or patience in them and because of that lack of character, we didn't respect them. No matter what the gig paid, as we were packing up our equipment, we realized that their lack of respect meant the gig didn’t pay enough.

I wanted my students to grow into musicians – or anything else they wanted to be – that embraced these time-tested character traits.

We worked on some aspect of STAR in every class. I would occasionally ask my classes if they ever used STAR outside of our classroom and what happened when they used it. They were many stories. I even think some of them might have been true.

The stories worked. Kids tend to relate to the experiences of other kids more so than to what adults tell them. The result was that kids believed that STAR could create a power for them outside of the music room.

What I was teaching during my 7.5 hour day wasn't for my benefit or to make me richer or happier. It was to make the lives of my students happier and easier to navigate.

By emphasizing skills and archetypes that would bring nothing back to me, I created a selfless magnet that drew kids to what I taught. That magnetism is what we all want when dealing with large groups of people, whether you’re a music teacher, conductor, corporate executive, or coach.

We want our people to focus their energies on life skills that will grow with them and support whichever discipline they pursue in their lives.

Take Away Point: Find a way to be about service to your students and not about your ego.

The story goes that when Cicero spoke to soldiers in ancient Rome, men stood. When Demosthenes spoke, soldiers marched. Big difference.  

If we emulate Cicero and teach from a place of ego, our brand will never increase and we will develop no magnetic response with our students. If we teach in a manner similar to Demosthenes that sublimates our ego and recognizes that we are in that music room to provide a service to young people, to make their lives better, to give them the skill set of superpowers to grow, then we will have empowered a magnetism that will positively influence thousands of students.
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And that’s a superpower worthy of any student’s origin story.
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​To Thine Own Self . . . .

5/18/2021

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If you notice, I don't push a lot of different methodologies on this blog. It’s not about right or wrong.  Or if “this” way is the best way to do “that”.  Sure, I have my ways of doing things. But I leave most of that stuff to more highfalutin edju-ma-cators.   I’m too old and have been in a music room too many decades to believe that methods are anything more than swinging pendulums.

If it’s not about rights or wrongs then what are these posts about?

They’re about the choices we all have to make as educators of music.

What our college teachers taught us isn't always the best fit with how we understand and ultimately teach music. Especially at the beginning of your 7.5 hour career, finding a variety of approaches is more informative than one specific methodology being sold as an “all you need” answer.

​As you travel through your first years away from college, it’s more crucial that you find a system that is authentic to the way you process music and as well as to the way your children get results. With a few non-negotiable exceptions, everything that I have espoused in these posts is fair game for your introspection, manipulation, or rejection.

Whatever you teach or model, have it originate from authentic core.  Don’t worry if your old teachers or I wouldn’t agree with your approach. Keep your eye on the kids. Are your ideas connecting and building upon each other? Do your lessons dovetail and reinforce what YOU think you should be presenting in your class?

What is important to you as a teacher? If it all stopped today, what would you regret that you hadn’t covered in your classes?

When the synergy of what you value starts clicking on a daily basis, your students will positively respond like a ball rolling down a hill.

Your kids don’t care about your schedule, your budget, your student debt, or any of your regrets. They want to make music with you.  

It’s that simple.

Making music. That’s what’s going to matter to your young musicians.

Teaching from an unauthentic place is the stasis that stymies any music teacher from achieving momentum, from connecting with large groups of kids, and from reacting self-actualization as a musician who shepherds young musicians. If you aren’t having fun teaching, there is a strong chance that your kids aren’t having that much fun either. It’s time for a check-up from the neck up.

It never hurts to take a self-survey of how authentic your approach has been over the years. Start by talking to old students. Ask them to be frank about what they remember of their classes with you. Tell them they can’t hurt your feelings, that you want their help to be a better teacher today by learning what you did in the past.  Do they remember the stuff you were trying to communicate as important?

Most of all, know that you create your own history. You hold the pen. Or as one of my teachers said to me, “You picked the ax. Cut the wood”. You’re not there teaching as a testament to your college teachers and their choices. Their time with you has come and gone. You are creating your own legacy.

Take away point: Everyone creates their own legacy. Not just music teachers.
​
Respect what you’ve been taught but come up with your own ideas, explore, create, bring an old idea around to something new.

Lead with you authentic self. Find your truth. Remember what Polonius said to his son in “Hamlet”: “This above all: to thine own self be true.”

Take a chance. Every time your kids make music, you are asking them to take a chance, go out on a musical limb. A chance of playing the “wrong note”, of enduring ridicule from other kids, of exposing themselves to “suffering the slings and arrows of daily living and living life on life's terms” as an artist. How can we expect our students to take musical chances if we are playing it safe.

Take musical chances.

Who knows what you might find if you start tinkering around with an idea?

Maybe a new you.
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Four Questions That Required an Immediate Correct Response from My Students.

5/15/2021

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​These four pithy questions were techniques that ensured student understanding as well as engagement using classic “call/response” behavior. They communicated and reinforced music room cornerstones for success.  The expectation was that kids responded quickly and vociferously to these prompts.

Question One

“When someone comes into our room,
​           we stand as a sign of . . . ?”

“Respect!”
​
I had a policy in my room that if the children’s score was cruising at a 10 on our blackboard and a visitor walked into our room, if everyone rose and smiled silently and then sat down on my signal, after our visitor left, I would grant them an 11 which was a rare event. That 11 entitled them to a freeze pop party and bragging rights with other classes.
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​As I told the children, when I was their age and my grandmother came in the room, I stood up as a sign of . . . respect. I helped her with her chair, and I carried her grocery bags without ever being asked or told to do so.

Believe it or not, I actually had a principal who was disdainful of the idea of children standing when he walked into the room. “And knock off that standing up stuff”, he said. He got some pushback from me. I explained to him how I was raised and how it lets the person walking in, no matter their station in life, know that they are appreciated and respected.

I know it looks very old school. But sometimes old school is good school. And, of course, I had to ask him, “You mean you didn't stand up when your grandmother came in the room?” And there I go again, Boyd Holmes scoring points left and right!

Question Two

“The good ones pay for the bad ones
​                  because nothing is . . . .”?

“Free!”

We had a running count of pluses and minuses on my blackboard. Anytime I saw students do a small positive thing, like proactive behavior, respectful actions with instruments, or synergizing with peers, I would not say anything but would rather put a check under the plus column. Conversely, if I saw a little things that I didn't like, a check was made under the minus column. 
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​The expectation was that they were to have more pluses than minuses by the end of class. I could ceremoniously tell their teacher when they were picked up how many pluses if they earned that day.

For example, suppose they had ten pluses and five minuses.
Before lining them up to leave, I would always ask, “Would you like me to erase the bad ones?”

“Yes!”

“But you know what I have to do, right?” They were glumly nod their heads.

“For every bad one in the minus column that I erase, I have to erase a good one from the plus column because the good ones pay for the bad ones. Just like in life, when you make mistakes, you pay for those mistakes with good choices you've made on other days, days when you saved a little bit of extra money, worked a little longer, tried a little bit harder, thought a little bit smarter.”

I would erase a “bad one” followed by a “good one”, back and forth, until all the bad ones were gone. I would proudly say, “You have five pluses and no minuses.”, a little more reserved, “I know it’s not yen pluses and only five.But now you have NO bad ones! And you’ll do better next time!” I would then whisper, “It's like those bad ones were never there. We don't have to tell your teacher about the bad ones. That'll just for you to know”

When visiting grandparents on Grandparents’ Day heard their grandkids exclaim that “nothing was free” at the end of my class, their straight-faced comment was “I’m glad someone’s teaching them this because nobody ever taught it to their parents”.

Question Three

“You touch . . . .?”

“You take!”
​
I had strategies in place so that when children had instruments in front of them, they weren't constantly making sounds with them.

The first instrument any child received in my class were a pair of rhythm sticks. After I handed them out on go time and they had a chance to play a couple of beats, I would put the magnet on stop time and immediately say, “Put your sticks on the floor like an L!”, at which point they would make an uppercase L with their sticks on the floor.

The next immediate direction was “Don't tell don't touch those sticks until I tell you to pick them up again because if you touch . . . ?”

“You take!”
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The sticks were now uniformly positioned on the floor as well as uniformly quiet and I would smile and say, “Listen to that silence! And then give them a plus.

They learned that they liked the silence, too.

They would also learn that if they touched their sticks or adjusted that L, I would take the sticks for about 5 minutes.
I would cycle through all the letters and numbers that only require two lines to make. We made Ls, Vs, 11s, and so on.

“Make a five!”

“How do you make a five, Mr. Holmes, we only have two sticks?”, at which point I would torque them a little bit, draw a “V” on the board and say, “That's a five in Roman numerals”. Then we reviewed Roman numerals.

When the students were sitting in dyads as pilots and co-pilots, I would sometimes say, “Work together and make a box – now a triangle – now an uppercase E!”

For fun, at the end of our stick work, I'd say, “Okay, get together with your friends and make a rocket ship or make a diamond or make an umbrella with your sticks.” In a sign of true largesse, I'd ask, “Do you want more sticks, because I have extras? If there's something special you're trying to make with your sticks and you need more, I'd be glad to give some to you.”

Question Four

“If you can’t say it . . . .?”

“You can’t play it!”
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Starting in kindergarten, kids learned quarter, half, dotted half, and whole notes and could sight read or “say” rhythms as well as play them on percussion instruments. We introduced eighth notes in first grade.
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​When kids started recorder in third grade, before they were even allowed to pick up their instrument, they needed to “say” the song several different ways before they attempted to play it. It was a way for us to break down and tackle the little skills that tend to log jam their efforts if approached all at once.
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Here’s a little song, “Dropping Fingers”.
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​This is how the kids would “say” the rhythms.
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​And this is how you would say the pitch names.
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Here is one of several “Recorder Hero” videos I made where we emphasized “If you can’t say it, you can’t play it”.
** Bonus Question!  **

“What’s shakin’ . . . . ?”

“Nothin’ but the bacon, and that’s already taken!”
​
That’s a fact, Jack!

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Happy Hour Confidential.

5/14/2021

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If you’re still in college and getting your first teaching gig, consider this an introductory guide. If you’ve been teaching for a while, look at this like a refresher workshop – if only I could give you certification or snow hours!

Whichever way you look at it, these are only “tips”. When I say “tip”, think tip as in “tip of the iceberg”. Happy hours at your local grogshop can be just as catastrophic as happy hour on the Titanic. Be mindful, know your surroundings, and plan how you are going to get out quickly if there is a fire. Come to the understanding that how you handle your next happy hour may have a significant impact on ever enjoying another one.

Now, in no specific order . . . . . 


Don't get drunk. It seems obvious but that's the first one right there. When they tell you on Monday how funny you were, you don’t want to have to ask “Ha-ha funny or I-need-to-call-a-lawyer funny?”.

Buy your boss a drink. Say, “Hey, boss, what are you drinking today?”, order it, and buy them a bottle of it for a holiday gift down the road.

Buy your school secretary as many drinks as she wants. Throw in a fillet. Every secretary I ever worked with NEVER earned their true worth and value to the school. They were always making my life better, greasing the wheels when I needed them greased, and always giving me a heads-up on things crucial to my success in the school.

You can’t do enough for your school secretary.

Get separate checks. Trust me, I'm going to get a fillet whether you're on my tab or not. Some old geezers pull this fast one over young employees: “Let’s put it all on one tab and then just divi it up. I’m only getting a bottle of water and some Ritz crackers.” You agree and then notice that he has ordered lobster thermidor and a bottle of Grey Goose. You don't want any portion of that guy’s meal coming out of your wallet. Separate checks.

Tip liberally. Chances are, you're going to be going back to this watering hole with your crew on another Friday. Make friends with the bartenders and table service.

Tip directly. Don't leave it on the table or on a high top. Put it in their hands. And smile. And say thanks.

Run a tab. Don't be that person who is paying each drink individually and making your server constantly break a ten or a twenty. That's like buying chicken nuggets one at a time. Don't be that guy. Give the server your credit card with your first order, let them run it, and then run a tab. Don't worry. They'll give the card back to you, primarily because they want you to come back next Friday and you’ll need it to spend more money.

Don't ask how much the drinks cost. Happy hour is like taking your family on a two-week Disney cruise: you don’t do it to save money.   If you have to ask how much a beer or a gin and tonic costs, you don't belong at a bar. You belong at the McDonald's drive-through where the prices are prominently displayed. For that matter, anyone who has to ask how much a bottle of Macallan 18 costs doesn't need to be drinking that either.

Careful who you go home with. As the drummer in our band, Bob Brown, used to say straight-faced after troubleshooting a problem with our PA, “It always comes down to a bad screw”. Marty and I would look at each other and just shake our heads. The man's wisdom puts Kahlil Gibran to shame.

Don't shut the place down. Leave after an hour or two. Don't turn happy hour into a second career.

Buy a round for your friends. Squares don’t buy rounds.

If you don't have enough money to buy a round for your friends, you don't belong in a bar. Go home.

Do karaoke at your own peril. Remember: YouTube in the wrong hands can mean “Forever”.


Act your age. Yeah, I know your inner child has a fake I.D. Nobody is buying your act.
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Offer your stool with someone who’s been standing for a while. It's comical to see teachers hurl themselves onto bar stools and stay there for hours, assuming the pose of Jabba the Hutt. Get up, walk around, schmooze, and share your chair with someone who's been standing.

Keep your voice down. Read the room. Who's loud and who isn't. Make sure your voice isn't the loudest.

Don’t talk about students. If you must talk about students, do it at a PLC meeting, not at a public bar. When happy hours started getting noisy, too animated, and people were talking about kids, it became a total buzzkill for me because I knew I couldn't stay and risk possible guilt by association.

You'll have some grizzled veterans who will say “If you only use their first name it's okay”.

No it isn't.

You don't talk trash about kids in public. There are specific legal liabilities in the event that you talk about a student, especially out of school, and it's reported.

There was a rather infamous case in our state of a school Christmas party held at the house of a teacher. People were getting their yule drink on and the punch was running faster than Santa’s nose.

A paraprofessional was telling a story about a student in another school district. She used no names thinking no one would have any idea who she was talking about.

Wrong. There was a spouse of a faculty member who overheard the story who was able to figure out the student she was talking about and it was a child of personal friend.
 That spouse told the parents. Long story short: they settled out of court with the school district for six figures.

If people insist on talking about kids at happy hour, just look at your watch and say you need to be somewhere and head out. And think about it this way. Would you want a bunch of drinking teachers talking about your kid in public? Probably not.

Hope that helps.

And if you see me show up at your next happy hour, you can order me that Macallan 18.
​
Neat.
 
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The Answered Question

5/14/2021

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Al Price, one of the preeminent electric bassists in the Delaware valley, always had a self-deprecating tag line after the last note of a gig: “Well, we fooled ‘em again.”  Anyone familiar with Al’s exemplary playing understands the humor. He’s secure enough with his ability and the previous four hours of playing that making light of his “expertise” rolls off his tongue.

Sadly, there are teachers who exhibit the same sentiment, especially after an observation by an administrator – but they aren’t joking. They feel they were hired and kept their teaching job more out of “fooling them again” than from actual skill and technique. Taken to the extreme, there is a debilitating psychosis (not recognized in the DSM-V) known as Perceived Fraudulence or 'Imposter Syndrome’. 

Insecure teachers instruct from a defensive posture, much like a football team that is ahead in the final minutes of a game and choose to simply protect their lead rather than score again.

People of a certain age have this wary mindset drilled into them. I was raised by someone who had a more defensive stance when it came to these hiring issues. I remember when I was headed out the door to my first job interview in the spring of my senior year.  My mother said, “They’re going to ask you why you want this job. What are you going to say?” Before I could give my answer, she shot back, “Because you need the money!”

I was asked that question. I didn’t give that answer. I did get the job.

Even with the saving graces of union contracts and tenure, teachers can be subject to a nagging sense of inadequacy that calcifies them where they stand. They are more than pacified if the doorknob of their career is cool to the touch. They will even settle for warm for short periods of time – but have a distinct predilection for cold knobs.

The knob that is hot to the touch signals career danger. While many of these teachers will try to frame their intransience as moral asset year after year, they are staying in the same room, same grade, same school because they have a nagging fear of what’s out there beyond the transom. They can't turn the knob to get out.

I modeled my sub-contextual posture in schools on mentors who moved through their careers not worried by the whims and observations of their supervisors or students.  They never wanted to be friends with those that they taught. For these role models, it wasn’t so much of a question of unconditional love for their students but rather an attitude of relentless educating.

Students as well as administrators will attempt to mold our behaviors, responses, emotions, to their will. Once we agree on the terms of employment, there will be an incessant challenge to wring just a little bit more out of our 7.5 day: an extra duty here, an extra committee meeting there – unchallenged behavior here, the thought of endless referrals there.

Without a firm understanding of who you are as a teacher, employee, and 16.5 hour business owner, you run the risk of succumbing to the endless tidal currents of students and administrators. You’ll begin to believe, think, and act like someone who is dependent on this 7.5 hour job for their survival. And that is a deplorable trait to pass onto children.

It was important for me to teach my students and administrators to never believe that I needed my 7.5 hour teaching job. Or that I needed them to be happy or sad. Or that their behaviors and choices could change the weather forecast of my day.

​While I had great relationships with almost everyone I worked with during my 7.5 hour day job, they knew that I did not rely on them liking me. There was there was an unwritten understanding that I could leave, not come back, and do something else that I might even like a bit better. Even when I when I was fired or when I found myself over $40,000 in debt due to some bad choices I made, I never allowed myself to appear vulnerable in a professional setting.

My professional posture communicated “I don’t need you but there might be reason for you to need me. I show up once in a lifetime and then I'm going so if you enjoying this, you might want to do things to encourage me to stay. If you don't, no offense is taken. It’s just that there's no guarantee that professionally I won’t walk out of this building and keep walking.”

With adults, I did this with a foundation of a strong work ethic that was framed with a firm but real smile on my face.

Right about now, it might be a good time to address the question, “So, Holmes, can I be friends with my boss?” In a word: yes. Just realize that there are decisions that your principal will make during their 7.5 hour day that won’t reflect your best interests and intentions. As long as you are mindful of that, sure, be friends.

An important line for all music teachers to remember is that people hear what they see. The variation to that theme is that people believe what they see, too. My peers, supervisors, and students were greeted everyday with the same visual countenance: black suit, white shirt, colored tie. All business. As black-suited Miles Davis said to a sideman who asked on break, “Where’s the food?”: “I came to play, not eat.”

What about your workplace?

When children arrive at your door, don’t gush “happiness”. Lead with a look of mildly quizzical observation – as in “What are you going to show me today?" My physiognomy at the beginning of class was as bland as my suit. Each of those 45 minute sets/classes/increments started with tabula rasa and almost always ended with a huge smile. Children learned that sustained engagement, proactivity, self-discipline, intellectual curiosity, and a desire to be better than they were yesterday were sure-fire ways to change my flat continence into a grin. 

On day, you’ll realize that your mini-me is sitting in your class? Now what?

Students who shared my ideals always caught my attention. These were the ones who were not tethered to the rules all the time, the ones with not-so-perfect behavior records. They were quick with a snarky comment, the not-so-subtle eye-roll.

​While I might have shared the same mindset at that age, what I came to learn in the many humbling moments up ahead in my life was that I was being educated by some selfless adults who did not deserve my insolence. When I came to grips with how gifted they were and how much more there was for me to learn, I began to reevaluate, take stock, and check my bravado at the door.

When I saw a kid who resembled BRH 1.0, I tried to teach with a lighter approach. Think: six-foot Jiminy Cricket making subtle suggestions to young Pinocchios still in the process of figuring things out.

If there is a mantra that I'd like you to try on for size as a music teacher in an elementary school, it's this: “They only give me the good kids to teach.” At first, you'll say it in a joking manner in your mind a thousand times or so. The second thousand times you say it, you'll find yourself getting mindfully quiet. And the third thousand times you say it, you will realize the truth in the statement and how humbly grateful you are for the opportunity to work with these pint-sized individuals. It requires, though, that you have taken the time and exerted the effort to learn exactly who you are.

​As your career develops, who you are changes and morphs into people you never thought you were, possessing skills and talents you always saw in others and not yourself.

Take away point: American philosopher of science Thomas Kuhn said, “The answers you get depend on the questions you ask.”  Answer the question, “Who am I?”

Have a liquid understanding of who you are – not who others say you are. Know who you are today – with a positive glance to tomorrow.

The fact is that it is only after you can answer the question “who am I?” that you can even approach the topic with your students and help them learn who they are.

Charles Ives composed “The Unanswered Question”.
​
May your life be the question that is answered.
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Why I Developed the Habit of Wearing Sunglasses at Night

5/14/2021

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I wanted to be prepared.

Because I can assure you, the sun’ll come out tomorrow.

Bet your bottom dollar.
​
And I’ll be ready.
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The Gift Your Principal Wants You To Give Them – Part Three

5/13/2021

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Every time a principal’s phone rings, there is a small part of them that wonders how bad the phone call might be. Anything we can do as music teachers to stem the tide of those calls will always be appreciated by our bosses.

Every year, there will be times when large sections of the school, if not the entire student body, will be called together for an event. Fifty percent of the time, there will be an issue with getting the event started and kids will be faced to wait, often sitting uncomfortably cross legged on the floor. School buses break down forcing kids to wait for a replacement bus. The Internet feed goes down. The cafeteria workers are behind schedule and there is a room full of hungry, impatient kids waiting for food. Bad weather is holding up buses arriving in time for dismissal. These are the moments where six string magic comes in handy.

If I saw one of these situations materializing, I would often turn to a fifth grader, send them to run back to my classroom, and have them bring me my guitar case. As soon as kids saw that guitar coming, they knew that they would be some songs we could all sing while we waited. I would immediately get my guitar out, throw it up in the air and catch it, and start singing folk songs familiar to all the kids from kindergarten to fifth grade.

I knew that by proactively getting my guitar and keeping the kids occupied that I was keeping a good dozen kids from getting in trouble. I was alleviating the need for the principal to have to make future problematic phone calls. It always worked.

It was magic.

It wasn't me. It was the music. It was the power of those timeless songs and the power of all us together.
​
Making music.
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The Gift Your Principal Wants You To Give Them – Part Two

5/12/2021

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Principals dread getting irate phone calls from parents about their child’s teacher. This is the story of the day I was the cause for that phone call and how I handled the resolution of the conflict.

Fifth grade general music was in the middle of a break and on go time one day when I playing random hooks from pop songs at the piano, waiting for the end of our break. I stumbled into “How Long?” by Charlie Puth and suddenly there were at least 15 kids singing it, complete with dance moves and imaginary microphones in their hands. I stopped them in the middle of the tune and asked if they would you like to sing this song someday in class.

Yes! Can we sing it in chorus, too?

Yes and yes, I responded without thinking twice.

I did my typical formatting of a lyric sheet. I went to AtoZlyrics.com, copied and pasted the song lyrics into a word doc, put it in Tahoma font, made the text as large as possible, and printed off a few copies. It was nothing I was ever going to do in a concert. It was just something for fun that I knew they wanted to sing.

The next day, I got a call from my principal who had received a call from a parent incensed that I had her daughter singing a song with vial, offensive language. And even worse, I was going to have her daughter sing it in chorus – which would mean she would be withdrawing her daughter from our singing ensemble.

“There’s an offending line?”, I asked the principal.

My problem was I didn't know what the line was. And then it hit me. 

“I was drunk, I was wrong.”  It had totally slipped past me.

First things first. I apologized to my principal, Beth Howell, for the careless mistake I made.

My principal was proactive as well as understanding. She was talking a mile a minute.

“Yes, the parent was very upset about her daughter singing a song about drinking alcohol but I’ve found another two other “Kid Pop” versions of the song that changes that line so that when you do it –“

I stopped my principal cold and calmly said, “We're not going to do the song anymore.”

“Wait. You're just not going to do it again?”, the principal asked.

“There's no need. Give me the parent’s number and I'll apologize.”

“But don't you want to do this song, maybe in concert? It’s a good song and the kids really like it!”

“Absolutely not. If there's one line in the song that offended someone, no matter if I change that word, they will continue to hear the offending word in their mind and that it's just not worth the trouble. Trust me, I know thousands of songs. I think I can find one to replace this one.”

“But are you sure?” My principal now seemed like she was inconveniencing me and was amazed that I was not pushing back. She was expecting for the stereotypical music teacher response of “this is my artistic choice, this is what I want to do!” I was having none of it.

My principal was so relieved that she said she would call the mother and explain how I hadn’t realized the word was in the song. Which was true.

I’ll cover the topic of learning songs in another post. For now, let’s just say that I crank these tunes out faster than you can imagine and while speed is a reason why it slipped past me, it was not an excuse. I was always sensitive to lyric’s editorial content but that one word skated by me. Before I left the principal's office, I assured her I would collect all copies of the song, throw them away, and write a ‘thank you/apology’ to the mother for bringing this to my attention.

Classroom discipline

Principals hate getting classroom disciple phone calls from teachers.

We had a professional development session my last year at Castle Hills Elementary School, where the principal reported crunched data concerning discipline and behavior write-ups within our school. The bar graph showed in descending order where discipline problems occurred in the hundreds to places where there were no reported problems.

There was only one spot in the school were there had been no behavior referrals or calls to the office. That was my classroom. The principal pointed to the zero next to music room and asked the assembled staff was that number is a zero?

I'm not saying that over my career in public school teaching that I did send a few kids to the office. What I am saying is that if you’ve read any of my “Golden Hour” posts, you know that establishing student self-discipline habits started on day one. My goal was to solve behavior problems before they could start – but if they did occur, I wanted to correct them within my own four walls.

There were times when I wanted my response to bad behavior to be a visual reminder for them to carry forward. Often when I directed a kid go to the office, I moved in front of the door and premeditatedly “changed my mind”. “No, it’s better for you to just stay here with me. I think I can be your special helper for the next 45 minutes. Why should I share your ridiculous behavior with the secretaries in the office. I'll simply write you up later.”

Take Away Point: Only send kids out of your room if they are presenting a danger to other kids. Otherwise, it is better to create your own safe productive environment for your class.

The dirty truth about sending kids to the office and entering them into the on-line referral system is that ultimately it creates paperwork and phone calls for principals, assistant principals, and student advisors. They already have more paperwork than they know what to do with these days. Anytime a teacher can help them diminish their paper workload, it is always greatly appreciated.
​
An elementary music teacher has a secret weapon that has the power to stop a slew of bad phone calls to the principal before they ever happen. I’ll cover that in “The Gift Your Principal Wants You To Give Them – Part Three”. 
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    Boyd Holmes, the Writer
    musician, composer, educator, and consultant


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