I am a strong proponent of getting a mature sound out of my choirs. I don't expect my middle school choir or my high school choir to sound like mature adults, but I do want them to sound as mature as they possibly can. How do I get that mature sound? I am convinced that achieving it is a result of two things: a high soft palate as well as a nice open throat.
Did you ever pretend to sing like an opera star when you were a child? If you did, think back on how you achieved that "opera" sound. More than likely you opened your throat and raised your soft palate high. That is how I did it, anyway. When I am talking to my choirs about getting a mature sound, I have them all "pretend" to be an opera singer. I have them bend their arms and clasp their hands in front of them to get in the proper mindset, and then I have them sing. Do they sound like opera stars? Definitely not. However, have they achieved getting a mature sound? You betcha.
I am always quick to tell my singers that I am not going to make them sound like an opera singer. For most of the students, sounding like an opera singer would definitely not be something they desired. However, I am quick to point out to them how much more mature they sounded. I then tell them to act as though they are sipping through a straw or to try and yawn. Both of these are excellent ways to get their soft palate raised and their throat open. Once they experience that, I continually remind them of it as they sing their songs.
I have adjudicated at many choir competitions. I am always amazed at how many of the choirs have a very young sound, especially girls' choirs. As I am writing comments, I point out their immature sound and give the director suggestions on how to get a more mature sound from their group. I don't know if the director pays any attention to my suggestions, because I'm not sure that they recognize the immature sound or if they want to change it. However, I will continue to point it out and make those suggestions. You never know, maybe those suggestions will be the thing that changes the overall sound of many of the choirs. It's a chance I believe is worth taking.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
The Purpose of Concerts
I recently spent two months in Riga, Latvia, where I attended as many choir concerts as possible. As you may know, Latvian choirs are some of the best in the world, so the concerts I attended were done by fantastic choirs. While I certainly enjoyed them, they also made me pause and reflect on the purpose of and the reason for giving concerts.
While I believe that concerts are done to highlight the achievements and the ability of a choir, I also believe very strongly that they should be done to entertain the audience. The concerts I attended in Latvia did a great job of highlighting the hard work and the capability of the choirs. Did they entertain? I'm not sure. I think that most of the people in the audience were musically educated and had attended many such choir concerts in the past. Consequently, I believe that they were entertained by the music. However, if I tried to perform the same kind of music with my community choir, I know that the audience would be frustrated and bored. While I am sure that some of my audience is musically educated, I am pretty certain that the majority of them are not. Such "high falutin' " music would not appeal to them.
I have a Doctor of Arts degree in choral conducting, so choral music like the ones the groups in Latvia performed greatly appeal to me. Do I wish I could do music like that with my choirs? You betcha. Do I dare try it? Nope. I might be able to throw in a piece or two, but any more than that would cause the boredom level of the concert to rise off the charts. It wouldn't be long and we wouldn't have much of an audience.
We do have one concert in the spring that is considered our "classical" concert. This year we performed Rutter's Gloria. With it being such a short work -- only 20 minutes in length -- I decided to also include some of Rutter's other music. I chose five of his choir pieces, and I made sure that they would be some that the audience would enjoy. We ended that segment of the concert with his arrangement of "When the Saints Go Marching In." I made sure to get a trombone and a clarinet to play the instrumental parts to add to the Dixieland flavor of the song. Boy, did the audience love that one. They also enjoyed the Gloria. Would that same audience enjoy our performance of a Requiem Mass? While I think some of them would appreciate the hard work of the choir and would enjoy the music, I think a lot of them would not enjoy the overall concert.
In my mind, a successful concert is one in which the choir performs at their best but is also one that entertains the audience. Would all choir conductors agree? Most certainly not. However, in my part of the country -- the Midwest -- and with my typical audience -- mostly blue collar -- entertainment value is high on the priority list. This fall we performed a concert of country music. Did I find some "high falutin' " music for that one? Nope. Did I have trouble selecting the music knowing what I do about quality music? You betcha. Was it a successful concert? Definitely. They're still talking about that one.
While I believe that concerts are done to highlight the achievements and the ability of a choir, I also believe very strongly that they should be done to entertain the audience. The concerts I attended in Latvia did a great job of highlighting the hard work and the capability of the choirs. Did they entertain? I'm not sure. I think that most of the people in the audience were musically educated and had attended many such choir concerts in the past. Consequently, I believe that they were entertained by the music. However, if I tried to perform the same kind of music with my community choir, I know that the audience would be frustrated and bored. While I am sure that some of my audience is musically educated, I am pretty certain that the majority of them are not. Such "high falutin' " music would not appeal to them.
I have a Doctor of Arts degree in choral conducting, so choral music like the ones the groups in Latvia performed greatly appeal to me. Do I wish I could do music like that with my choirs? You betcha. Do I dare try it? Nope. I might be able to throw in a piece or two, but any more than that would cause the boredom level of the concert to rise off the charts. It wouldn't be long and we wouldn't have much of an audience.
We do have one concert in the spring that is considered our "classical" concert. This year we performed Rutter's Gloria. With it being such a short work -- only 20 minutes in length -- I decided to also include some of Rutter's other music. I chose five of his choir pieces, and I made sure that they would be some that the audience would enjoy. We ended that segment of the concert with his arrangement of "When the Saints Go Marching In." I made sure to get a trombone and a clarinet to play the instrumental parts to add to the Dixieland flavor of the song. Boy, did the audience love that one. They also enjoyed the Gloria. Would that same audience enjoy our performance of a Requiem Mass? While I think some of them would appreciate the hard work of the choir and would enjoy the music, I think a lot of them would not enjoy the overall concert.
In my mind, a successful concert is one in which the choir performs at their best but is also one that entertains the audience. Would all choir conductors agree? Most certainly not. However, in my part of the country -- the Midwest -- and with my typical audience -- mostly blue collar -- entertainment value is high on the priority list. This fall we performed a concert of country music. Did I find some "high falutin' " music for that one? Nope. Did I have trouble selecting the music knowing what I do about quality music? You betcha. Was it a successful concert? Definitely. They're still talking about that one.
My Passion
The google dictionary defines passion as an "intense desire or enthusiasm for something," or as "a thing that arouses enthusiasm." Many people have hobbies that they consider to be passions. Many other people are passionate about sports. I am passionate about choirs -- conducting choirs, to be exact.
I have loved music since I was a child first learning to sing in Sunday school. I can remember robustly singing those little choruses and praise songs. As I got older, I learned to play the flute, and it soon became my passion. In fact, I went to college as a flute major, hoping to set the world on fire with my beautiful playing. Unfortunately, my private teacher and I just didn't click, and my self esteem as a flutist took a nosedive. I got to the point where I couldn't even play in front of people. As a result, I left college to explore other paths. Fortunately, my love of music drew me back to college, and at the age of 35, I finally received my B. S. in music education -- this time with a choral emphasis.
I luckily found a job teaching MS/HS choir, and I was on top of the world. Soon, though, I realized that my "dream" job was instead a nightmare. I should have realized that something was amiss during my interview, when all the administration discussed was my classroom management skills. It also should have clicked when they told me how a former female teacher had failed miserably, but that a male teacher had come in and saved the day. After three years of torment, I decided that life was too short to hate my job, so I left the teaching world and went back into business.
I worked in the office for a year, but realizing that having a boss who probably made ten times the income I made and knowing that I was the one who helped him be successful didn't sit well. I stayed there a year but then decided to return to school for my graduate degree. I didn't have any particular goal in mind; I just knew that, along with my love of music, I loved going to school and that I was good at it. I was able to complete my Master's degree in one year, but I still didn't know what I wanted to do, so I stayed on for my doctorate. It was during graduate school that I realized how very much I enjoyed directing choirs. At that point, my passion was clear -- I had an "intense desire or enthusiasm" for helping choirs reach their highest potential and create beautiful music.
I have directed choirs of all kinds since getting my degree, and I have loved every one of them. I was recently selected as the Artistic Director of a community choir, and I absolutely love working with that group. They are a motley assortment of people from all walks of life, and, while some of them have a musical education, most of them do not. I get so much enjoyment listening to them as they first begin to learn their parts and then hearing them progress to a performance level. Knowing that they have created and performed a beautiful piece of music together gives them such joy and satisfaction, and I love knowing that I helped them find that joy and satisfaction.
I love directing my choirs. It truly is my passion.
I have loved music since I was a child first learning to sing in Sunday school. I can remember robustly singing those little choruses and praise songs. As I got older, I learned to play the flute, and it soon became my passion. In fact, I went to college as a flute major, hoping to set the world on fire with my beautiful playing. Unfortunately, my private teacher and I just didn't click, and my self esteem as a flutist took a nosedive. I got to the point where I couldn't even play in front of people. As a result, I left college to explore other paths. Fortunately, my love of music drew me back to college, and at the age of 35, I finally received my B. S. in music education -- this time with a choral emphasis.
I luckily found a job teaching MS/HS choir, and I was on top of the world. Soon, though, I realized that my "dream" job was instead a nightmare. I should have realized that something was amiss during my interview, when all the administration discussed was my classroom management skills. It also should have clicked when they told me how a former female teacher had failed miserably, but that a male teacher had come in and saved the day. After three years of torment, I decided that life was too short to hate my job, so I left the teaching world and went back into business.
I worked in the office for a year, but realizing that having a boss who probably made ten times the income I made and knowing that I was the one who helped him be successful didn't sit well. I stayed there a year but then decided to return to school for my graduate degree. I didn't have any particular goal in mind; I just knew that, along with my love of music, I loved going to school and that I was good at it. I was able to complete my Master's degree in one year, but I still didn't know what I wanted to do, so I stayed on for my doctorate. It was during graduate school that I realized how very much I enjoyed directing choirs. At that point, my passion was clear -- I had an "intense desire or enthusiasm" for helping choirs reach their highest potential and create beautiful music.
I have directed choirs of all kinds since getting my degree, and I have loved every one of them. I was recently selected as the Artistic Director of a community choir, and I absolutely love working with that group. They are a motley assortment of people from all walks of life, and, while some of them have a musical education, most of them do not. I get so much enjoyment listening to them as they first begin to learn their parts and then hearing them progress to a performance level. Knowing that they have created and performed a beautiful piece of music together gives them such joy and satisfaction, and I love knowing that I helped them find that joy and satisfaction.
I love directing my choirs. It truly is my passion.
Practice Makes Perfect
“Prince, what you are you are by accident of birth; what I am, I am through my own efforts. There have been thousands of princes and will be thousands more, but there is only one Beethoven!”
I really like this quote from Beethoven, because it states what I have believed all along -- you are responsible for your own success. How do you achieve it? As Beethoven says, through your own efforts.
When I first went to college, I was a flute major. I began playing the flute in the 5th grade, and I was absolutely entranced by it. I can remember practicing it for hours each day. When I entered the 6th grade, I can remember my instructor giving me a high school march booklet -- the kind that was played at school ballgames -- and I took it home and learned how to play them all. I would play them until I learned them, and then I didn't want to play them anymore. The challenge of learning them was no longer there, so they no longer held my interest. As I grew older, my interest in the flute continued, although my intense practice schedule did not. While I took private lessons and still continued to practice, my teenage life tended to get in the way, preventing me from practicing for hours each day.
I have shared this in an earlier post, but I will mention it here, as well. When I went off to college, I was one of two lucky freshman students who got to study with the primary flute instructor. While you may think that was a real honor -- I certainly did -- it ended up being the worst thing that could happen to me. Somehow he was able to destroy my self-esteem as a flutist. My hours of practice each day were clearly not helping. My confidence in my ability was destroyed. During my sophomore year, when my degree required that I perform in front of my peers, I couldn't do it. I knew that if I couldn't play in front of people, I couldn't continue with my study. Consequently, I dropped out of college.
That's not the end of my story, because I went back to college years later and opted to study voice. When I auditioned, I was assigned to study with one of the adjunct voice instructors. While I thought I was a pretty good singer, my audition evidently proved otherwise. I was not given major status; I was given double minor status. This was not a good situation, as I was now at a late sophomore/early junior level in my college studies, and I needed to be at a major status. My instructor shared with me early in my study with her that she was the only teacher who was willing to work with me; no one else thought I would be successful. That statement made me determined to succeed. What did I do? I practiced, and I practiced, and I practiced some more. At the end of the first semester, I was required to do a voice jury. I went into it with confidence, and my practice paid off. I was given major status in voice.
Many people attribute their musical success to genetics. Neither of my parents were musically talented, nor did my two older sisters show any interest in music. I was not exposed to music as a child; the only music I ever heard was at church. The children of the church would sing choruses together at the beginning of the Sunday school hour, and I loved that time. It was my chance to learn some songs, and I loved them all. My choice to play the flute was the beginning of my real exposure to music. My teacher at school wanted my parents to send me to Interlochen to study during the summer, but, with my mother and father being blue-collar employees and having five children to feed, the expense made it impossible. I wonder to this day how my life would be different if I could have gone there.
While singing continued to be my major course of study, I soon discovered that conducting choirs was my true passion -- so much so that I ended up going back to school and getting my Master's degree and a Doctor of Arts degree in choral conducting. To this day, stepping in front of a choir and helping them to reach their greatest potential through song is what I love most. While I cannot attribute my success with choral conducting to genetics, I can say that I have a lot of natural ability. Where it came from, I don't know.
As a music teacher, I believe that one of the greatest habits we can instill in our students is the desire to practice as well as understand the need for it. As a voice teacher, I find that getting my voice students to practice is more difficult than it would be if I were an instrumental teacher. Singing tends to come too easily to us, whereas learning to play all the right notes on an instrument can take some time and effort. Also, if the students aren't musically educated, can't read music and don't know the piano (or don't have access to one), they have no idea on which pitch to start. I have found that making a recording of the song on the piano helps them to practice more effectively.
I am now on the verge of 60 years of age. If I could live my life over again, the one thing that I would do differently is approach music much more seriously. I would practice even more than I did, and I would do everything I could to not let my teacher ruin my self-esteem as a flute player. I often find myself wanting to pick up my flute and play. While I can certainly still play, I know that my ability now is nowhere near where it used to be, and it makes me sad. However, I also know that if I would practice more, I would become much better at it. Unfortunately, as an adult, my work life interferes with my time to practice. I also know, though, that we find time to do the things we really want to do, so why am I sitting here blogging when I should be practicing my flute?
Later...
I really like this quote from Beethoven, because it states what I have believed all along -- you are responsible for your own success. How do you achieve it? As Beethoven says, through your own efforts.
When I first went to college, I was a flute major. I began playing the flute in the 5th grade, and I was absolutely entranced by it. I can remember practicing it for hours each day. When I entered the 6th grade, I can remember my instructor giving me a high school march booklet -- the kind that was played at school ballgames -- and I took it home and learned how to play them all. I would play them until I learned them, and then I didn't want to play them anymore. The challenge of learning them was no longer there, so they no longer held my interest. As I grew older, my interest in the flute continued, although my intense practice schedule did not. While I took private lessons and still continued to practice, my teenage life tended to get in the way, preventing me from practicing for hours each day.
I have shared this in an earlier post, but I will mention it here, as well. When I went off to college, I was one of two lucky freshman students who got to study with the primary flute instructor. While you may think that was a real honor -- I certainly did -- it ended up being the worst thing that could happen to me. Somehow he was able to destroy my self-esteem as a flutist. My hours of practice each day were clearly not helping. My confidence in my ability was destroyed. During my sophomore year, when my degree required that I perform in front of my peers, I couldn't do it. I knew that if I couldn't play in front of people, I couldn't continue with my study. Consequently, I dropped out of college.
That's not the end of my story, because I went back to college years later and opted to study voice. When I auditioned, I was assigned to study with one of the adjunct voice instructors. While I thought I was a pretty good singer, my audition evidently proved otherwise. I was not given major status; I was given double minor status. This was not a good situation, as I was now at a late sophomore/early junior level in my college studies, and I needed to be at a major status. My instructor shared with me early in my study with her that she was the only teacher who was willing to work with me; no one else thought I would be successful. That statement made me determined to succeed. What did I do? I practiced, and I practiced, and I practiced some more. At the end of the first semester, I was required to do a voice jury. I went into it with confidence, and my practice paid off. I was given major status in voice.
Many people attribute their musical success to genetics. Neither of my parents were musically talented, nor did my two older sisters show any interest in music. I was not exposed to music as a child; the only music I ever heard was at church. The children of the church would sing choruses together at the beginning of the Sunday school hour, and I loved that time. It was my chance to learn some songs, and I loved them all. My choice to play the flute was the beginning of my real exposure to music. My teacher at school wanted my parents to send me to Interlochen to study during the summer, but, with my mother and father being blue-collar employees and having five children to feed, the expense made it impossible. I wonder to this day how my life would be different if I could have gone there.
While singing continued to be my major course of study, I soon discovered that conducting choirs was my true passion -- so much so that I ended up going back to school and getting my Master's degree and a Doctor of Arts degree in choral conducting. To this day, stepping in front of a choir and helping them to reach their greatest potential through song is what I love most. While I cannot attribute my success with choral conducting to genetics, I can say that I have a lot of natural ability. Where it came from, I don't know.
As a music teacher, I believe that one of the greatest habits we can instill in our students is the desire to practice as well as understand the need for it. As a voice teacher, I find that getting my voice students to practice is more difficult than it would be if I were an instrumental teacher. Singing tends to come too easily to us, whereas learning to play all the right notes on an instrument can take some time and effort. Also, if the students aren't musically educated, can't read music and don't know the piano (or don't have access to one), they have no idea on which pitch to start. I have found that making a recording of the song on the piano helps them to practice more effectively.
I am now on the verge of 60 years of age. If I could live my life over again, the one thing that I would do differently is approach music much more seriously. I would practice even more than I did, and I would do everything I could to not let my teacher ruin my self-esteem as a flute player. I often find myself wanting to pick up my flute and play. While I can certainly still play, I know that my ability now is nowhere near where it used to be, and it makes me sad. However, I also know that if I would practice more, I would become much better at it. Unfortunately, as an adult, my work life interferes with my time to practice. I also know, though, that we find time to do the things we really want to do, so why am I sitting here blogging when I should be practicing my flute?
Later...
Friday, June 6, 2014
The "Eyes" Have It
I recently won a $10,000 grant to travel to Latvia and study the country's great choral music. I have been here for almost three weeks, and I have had the opportunity to hear some wonderful ensembles. This small country -- about the size of West Virginia -- has a phenomenal number of excellent choirs. I am impressed every time I hear one of them.
While listening to and watching one of these wonderful auditioned choirs at a concert this evening, I noticed something that was very distracting. There were at least two singers who did not keep their eyes on the conductor while singing. I was shocked when I noticed it. Here was a talented, experienced ensemble who has won many awards, and their conductor deals with some of the same problems I do!
I am constantly having to remind my school groups that they are not to look at the audience while they are singing; they are to keep their eyes on me at all times. They look at me with puzzlement on their faces and say, "Why? Aren't we supposed to relate to the audience?" Yes, but there are right ways to relate to the audience, and there are wrong ways.
If you are in a choir, and a conductor is standing in front of you, you need to be looking only at that conductor and nothing else. Why? There are several reasons.
1) Your conductor is basically recreating the music in the air with his or her gestures. It is up to you to watch those gestures so that you will know what the conductor wants from you. While he has rehearsed the music with you enough that you should know it, there is always the chance that the conductor may want something different the night of the performance.
2) Being in a choir is about being a part of a group. As the audience looks at the singers, they expect to see a uniform group. Being uniform means that everyone looks at the same thing -- the conductor. If the audience sees a singer or two not looking at the conductor, that person detracts or takes away from the uniformity of the ensemble.
3) Not only does it take away from the uniformity of the choir, it is also a distraction. When the audience is looking at the choir and they see you looking around while everyone else is watching the director, you become a distraction for them. You are not doing what you are "supposed" to be doing, and they notice it.
4) Singers are supposed to relate to the audience through the conductor. All emotions and "messages" should go through the conductor and then funnel out to the audience. It creates a flow, and when one person looks away, the flow is broken.
These reasons apply only if a conductor is standing in front of the ensemble. The minute that conductor steps away, then it is necessary for you to communicate directly to the audience. The audience expects it at that point and will be disappointed if you don't.
Being a member of a choir means that you are a member of an ensemble, a group of singers. It is not about "you," but about the group, and everything you do should be for the betterment of the group. Don't let your individuality be a detriment to the group's success.
While listening to and watching one of these wonderful auditioned choirs at a concert this evening, I noticed something that was very distracting. There were at least two singers who did not keep their eyes on the conductor while singing. I was shocked when I noticed it. Here was a talented, experienced ensemble who has won many awards, and their conductor deals with some of the same problems I do!
I am constantly having to remind my school groups that they are not to look at the audience while they are singing; they are to keep their eyes on me at all times. They look at me with puzzlement on their faces and say, "Why? Aren't we supposed to relate to the audience?" Yes, but there are right ways to relate to the audience, and there are wrong ways.
If you are in a choir, and a conductor is standing in front of you, you need to be looking only at that conductor and nothing else. Why? There are several reasons.
1) Your conductor is basically recreating the music in the air with his or her gestures. It is up to you to watch those gestures so that you will know what the conductor wants from you. While he has rehearsed the music with you enough that you should know it, there is always the chance that the conductor may want something different the night of the performance.
2) Being in a choir is about being a part of a group. As the audience looks at the singers, they expect to see a uniform group. Being uniform means that everyone looks at the same thing -- the conductor. If the audience sees a singer or two not looking at the conductor, that person detracts or takes away from the uniformity of the ensemble.
3) Not only does it take away from the uniformity of the choir, it is also a distraction. When the audience is looking at the choir and they see you looking around while everyone else is watching the director, you become a distraction for them. You are not doing what you are "supposed" to be doing, and they notice it.
4) Singers are supposed to relate to the audience through the conductor. All emotions and "messages" should go through the conductor and then funnel out to the audience. It creates a flow, and when one person looks away, the flow is broken.
These reasons apply only if a conductor is standing in front of the ensemble. The minute that conductor steps away, then it is necessary for you to communicate directly to the audience. The audience expects it at that point and will be disappointed if you don't.
Being a member of a choir means that you are a member of an ensemble, a group of singers. It is not about "you," but about the group, and everything you do should be for the betterment of the group. Don't let your individuality be a detriment to the group's success.
The Power of a Conductor
I recently read a post about the power that a conductor has over his or her ensemble. The article stated that no other position has similar authority. The president has to consult with his cabinet before making a decision, a baseball manager has to report to his general manager, and a CEO has to report to his shareholders. However, a conductor has been entrusted with the authority to make decisions for his ensemble on his/her own, without consulting with anyone.
As a choral conductor, I agree that I have power over my ensemble. In fact, I am constantly amazed at how much power I have. There are times that it is downright scary. If the singers are too loud, I ask them to sing softer, and they do -- no questions asked. If I want crisper diction, I ask for it, and they deliver. If I want a more flowing, legato sound, I show them with my gestures, and they produce it. All of this is done without argument.
While wielding all of that power is great, it can also be disastrous. During a performance, if I give the choir a cutoff, they cut off -- even if it's in the wrong place. If my gestures indicate that the basses are supposed to come in, they will come in, even if it's in the wrong spot. Once a mistake like that is made, the choir looks to me, their leader, to fix it. If I can't fix it, then the performance is ruined.
My singers have entrusted me with their success. They are willing to follow me because they believe that I will help them be the best that they can be. I am the expert -- that's why I am their leader. While some conductors may take advantage of that role and use it for their own success and glory, I find it to be very humbling. The fact that my choir has chosen me to lead them is the greatest honor they can give me. It is an honor that I accept with the deepest gratitude and humility.
As a choral conductor, I agree that I have power over my ensemble. In fact, I am constantly amazed at how much power I have. There are times that it is downright scary. If the singers are too loud, I ask them to sing softer, and they do -- no questions asked. If I want crisper diction, I ask for it, and they deliver. If I want a more flowing, legato sound, I show them with my gestures, and they produce it. All of this is done without argument.
While wielding all of that power is great, it can also be disastrous. During a performance, if I give the choir a cutoff, they cut off -- even if it's in the wrong place. If my gestures indicate that the basses are supposed to come in, they will come in, even if it's in the wrong spot. Once a mistake like that is made, the choir looks to me, their leader, to fix it. If I can't fix it, then the performance is ruined.
My singers have entrusted me with their success. They are willing to follow me because they believe that I will help them be the best that they can be. I am the expert -- that's why I am their leader. While some conductors may take advantage of that role and use it for their own success and glory, I find it to be very humbling. The fact that my choir has chosen me to lead them is the greatest honor they can give me. It is an honor that I accept with the deepest gratitude and humility.
Monday, March 10, 2014
I Never Wanted to be a Cheerleader
There are times when my high school choir sucks, and this is one of them. In fact, this whole month has been like that. I don't know if it's the weather (we're all really tired of winter here in Indiana) or what, but my choir looks and sounds like dead fish. Their singing lacks energy, and the sound coming out of them projects about a foot and then falls to the floor. The problem is that I don't know if they even realize it or not, and no matter what I say or do, I can't get them to perk up or even act like they're enjoying themselves.
On days like today, I don't feel like a choir director -- I feel like a cheerleader or a team captain. My players are sluggish, we're losing the game big time, and I have to say something that will turn things around. The trouble is, I don't know what to say or do. I cajole them; it does no good. I encourage them; it does no good. I jump around and act silly in front of them; it makes no difference. They just sit there and look at me like I'm some weirdo. I am forever looking for new ways to say what I want them to do, thinking that if I just say it the right way, it will "click." So far, nothing has worked.
I was not a cheerleader in school. I never had the desire to be one. Unfortunately, I am being forced to be one with my high school choir. I am usually a very positive person, and I go out of my way to praise the choir when they do something well. It has been very difficult to stay positive this time. In fact, when we were discussing the situation in class one day, one of my students said something about approaching things more positively. I thanked her for her suggestion, apologized to the entire group for not being positive, and went in the next day determined to keep a positive mindset, be upbeat, and put on my "cheerleader" face. Did it help any? I don't think it helped the music get any better, but I do think the kids had more fun that day. I guess fun is good, isn't it?
My choir will never be as good as I would like them to be. After all, the group has everything in it from students who have never sung in a choir before to those who have several years experience. Unfortunately, it is in my "genes" to try and make them as good as they can be. I want to push them to higher heights. I want to raise the bar. I just have to find a way to get them to go with me.
We have a concert in a week. Before each concert, I tell the students that, while I want them to sing their best, what I want more than anything is for them to have fun and enjoy themselves. I sincerely believe that, if a choir is enjoying itself when performing, an audience will enjoy listening to them. This time, I may have to rely on that to carry the performance. We have another week, and we'll keep working. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Go, choir! Sis-boom-bah!
I was not a cheerleader in school. I never had the desire to be one. Unfortunately, I am being forced to be one with my high school choir. I am usually a very positive person, and I go out of my way to praise the choir when they do something well. It has been very difficult to stay positive this time. In fact, when we were discussing the situation in class one day, one of my students said something about approaching things more positively. I thanked her for her suggestion, apologized to the entire group for not being positive, and went in the next day determined to keep a positive mindset, be upbeat, and put on my "cheerleader" face. Did it help any? I don't think it helped the music get any better, but I do think the kids had more fun that day. I guess fun is good, isn't it?
My choir will never be as good as I would like them to be. After all, the group has everything in it from students who have never sung in a choir before to those who have several years experience. Unfortunately, it is in my "genes" to try and make them as good as they can be. I want to push them to higher heights. I want to raise the bar. I just have to find a way to get them to go with me.
We have a concert in a week. Before each concert, I tell the students that, while I want them to sing their best, what I want more than anything is for them to have fun and enjoy themselves. I sincerely believe that, if a choir is enjoying itself when performing, an audience will enjoy listening to them. This time, I may have to rely on that to carry the performance. We have another week, and we'll keep working. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Go, choir! Sis-boom-bah!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)