Kids in Big Shoes?
by Debbie Rohwer
I loved being a middle school band director. It was so fun to watch the kids develop, little by little, as people and as musicians. On day one, the kids would come into the band hall, definitely wanting to make great music, still, at times, wanting to please their teachers, and most importantly, wanting to fit in with their peer group. I still remember my first day in the little middle school where I taught, saying to myself, "Wow, it is even difficult to tell the boys from the girls; they are all wearing t-shirts, jeans, and the same brand of tennis shoes." So much alike, and that's how they wanted it. When they made music, blending was often an easy concept to teach, because socially they wanted to blend into the crowd. Expression was sometimes harder to teach, since their 12-, 13-, and 14-year-old concepts of emotions were black-and-white versions of love, hate, anger, and the like. The subtleties of life were yet to be discovered by these youngsters. Often, the gray areas wouldn't fill in until high school or beyond.
Now as a director of a senior citizen band (or a band for the chronologically gifted, as my friend calls it) I see a different type of learner. These 50- to 88-year-old folks know who they are and know who they want to be. They are content with themselves and aren't afraid to show the true person that they have become so far.
Instead of teaching to a homogenous group, like the middle schoolers, teaching senior citizens is about outliers in many ways. In our band we have folks who have played for over 60 years and in their youth performed with famous big bands. At the other extreme we have the folks who just began six months ago and are struggling to solidify their sound and remember the rules of notation. And yet, it all works. The experienced people have an amazing level of patience and compassion for the new people. Some of these experienced people could still be gigging in professional bands, but they choose instead to play each week in a group that doesn't always end the piece together in a rehearsal, but does know how to enjoy each other and laugh.
As a middle school director I don't ever recall blushing at the dirty joke hollered out by a tenor saxophonist in the middle of rehearsal. I also do not remember playfully jabbing at the players' mistakes as they playfully jabbed at mine. Adult instruction is a new world, and probably not for the faint of heart. I don't think I could have handled this openness, this humor, this love and compassion when I was a first-year teacher. The distance, the clear roles, the homogeneity was comforting as an inexperienced middle school teacher. I have had to grow into my role as a teacher of adults.
In addition to the instructional mindset, it may be that the goals and purposes of music participation are also different with adults. All of the adult members of my band are there because they want to be; there is no parent making them. In fact, some of them have started on an instrument that they wanted to play 40 years ago, when their parents wouldn't let them play that particular instrument. These people are all in the band for the love of learning -- the love of learning music, specifically -- and doing that learning in a collegial environment. When I was teaching middle school, I remember thinking that my job success was shown through documentable music progress, through high contest scores and high level performances; that was all. Now, with adults, sometimes we may play a piece of music that is a little beyond us because we like the piece. When we make mistakes, we laugh about it. It is a different mentality with a different goal.
This different structure leads the band members and me to wear many different hats in a band rehearsal. Sometimes we are friends, sometimes musicians, and sometimes debaters. Sometimes they are teacher and I the learner; sometimes vice versa. I don't recall this diversity of task assignments with the middle school band students. In hindsight, maybe it isn't the hats that are so varied with senior citizen musicians; maybe it is the shoes. I still remember the evening when one of our musicians, Fred, came in for our holiday senior band concert. Concert dress was formal black and white for this concert. As a display of identity, 82-year-old Fred had added red shoes to his outfit. That seemed just right.
Debbie Rohwer, PhD, conducts the Denton New Horizons Senior Band and is an Associate Professor and the Chair of Music Education at the University of North Texas.
