Earlier in the week, Lizzy had the sixth graders make playing cards with rhythmic notes and rests on them. Yesterday and today, she had them get into groups and play "Measure!" which is similar to "Uno!" in that you go around in a circle and the object is to get rid of all your cards. However, the main learning goal is to create a measure in a particular meter using your cards.
Person 1 puts down a quarter note, person two could put down a half note, person three would then either have to put down a card with 2 eighth notes, a quarter note, or a quarter rest to complete a measure in 4/4 time. Otherwise, he picks up a card and continues. If he puts down an incorrect card OR doesn't call "Measure!" when he's completed the measure, another player may call him on his mistake or call "Measure!" and player 3 must then pick up not only the entire discard pile, but take a random card from the hand of the person who called him out.
It's a lot more fun than it sounds, particularly when played by eleven-year-olds at 8 AM.
During planning hour, I worked with Lizzy on an improvisation/composition lesson plan for the sixth graders for Tuesday. We had some really great discussion, and while I know it will be good experience no matter what, I think it could turn out really beneficial for everyone!
Spoiler: Part of it involves moving to the beat like they do in class with pop songs, and I think I'm going to use "You & Me" by Tally Hall. As discovered by Monica and myself, any time you can use a Tally Hall song in a lesson is a win-win situation.
Third and fourth hour seventh grade choirs worked on sight-reading with Lizzy. I circulated, pointing out ways to figure out the answer to errors, answering questions, and of course reporting back to Lizzy if there were a few students who were woefully unprepared for their final exam, or if there were some who were surprisingly adept at solfege and note names. Overall, I think these two classes came to trust me a bit more because I started showing them that I do actually know my stuff.
Approaching fifth hour, I got a little intimidated because I would be leading the eighth graders in sight-reading. However, Lizzy was incredibly encouraging (as usual) and I stepped up my energy. They breezed through the Primary level SAB right away, so I whipped out the intermediate.
Of course I am always a fan of students learning multiple clefs, so I made the girls sight-read in bass clef! The sopranos were a bit concerned, but they sort of got it. The altos, expectedly, had little problem with it, and if the guys were a bit smug, they kept it to themselves.
When they sang through it as a group, I caught myself watching the music up on the board more than the choir. What do beginning teachers do? They look at the music, not the choir. I had to force myself to assume that most of the notes were right (they really were, and I could tell by ear when they weren't, either because of the chord or because of a section slightly falling apart). Tearing my eyes away from the front projection board, I saw that at least 90% students were using Curwen hand signals, were singing confidently, and fixing their own mistakes or helping their neighbors with their mistakes. Of course, the goal is to get that to 100%, but I thought, "Not bad for a Friday."
I ran through some music with a small group of girls singing some two-part music at Solo & Ensemble on Saturday, and Lizzy went on to Advanced SAB sight-reading with the fifth hour. At the end of class, the small ensemble performed their two pieces for their classmates. They clammed up a little bit out of nerves and intimidation, but were much more in tune than they were on Tuesday, and infinitely more so than on Monday. I've only known them for a week and I was proud of them.
I had a fair amount of sympathy for them, as I know all too well that ideal performing conditions do not constitute a bored peer group stretching out in a glassy-eyed ocean on the choir risers before you. However, their friends were far more supportive of them than any Voice Area Recital crowd at my university.
Sixth hour I sat back and Lizzy took over sight-reading, which was a blessing because while the level of ability is the same as fifth hour, the level of giving-a-crap in that class period is not even a registerable number. Lizzy pushed and pushed and about halfway into class, the choir started to give back to her and show her what they can do.
Turns out if eighth graders realize that they could get a lower rating than the seventh graders if they don't step it up, they'll...step it up.
The best part of my day was during sixth hour, as terrifying as that class was in the beginning. Lizzy had just worked with the men, encouraging them in their endeavors because they were getting the pitches/solfege and were singing with lovely tone. She moved over to the sopranos (Part I), and the Part II girls immediately caught my eye. As soon as Lizzy walked in front of Part II, all of the girls shifted to try and see the music on the board. I decided that this was worth watching.
There are a few chatty girls in Part II and one or two downright mean girls who can do really well if they put their minds to it. I hadn't seen this part of them until today.
By the time Lizzy went to work with the Part I ladies, every single girl on Part II was signing in rhythm and audiating their part. How could I tell they were audiating? (Singing in their heads) The looks on their faces were ones of intense study and focus, and most of them lingered on some notes, trying to hear them and figure out where they went. I could tell that one of the "problem" girls in the back was at first over-signing with large gestures to be sarcastic, but she gradually got herself wrapped in the exercise.
It was a truly empowering and moving moment. When the choir sang through the exercise, it was obvious that Part II had been working their butts off on their part. When Lizzy let the students grab their things and then head back to their seats for afternoon announcements (right before school lets out) I told her about how every single girl in Part II had been working incredibly hard. She spoke to the class about it, rewarded Part II with Jolly Ranchers, and was very uplifting and encouraging towards the class as a whole.
The guys looked at me during Lizzy's speech like I had betrayed them to be crucified. "We worked hard too!" They stage-whispered in my direction. I walked over and bent down next to them.
"I know," I said, "But there are so many more on Part II that it was compelling to watch them work. Miss Bennett knows you did really well today, I know you did, and you should too." They still looked marginally upset, so I added, "You know, you don't need candy to tell you that you did a good job."
"I do!" one protested, and the others laughed.
"No," I laughingly replied, "You want candy. You don't need it." I leaned in. "You're above needing candy to validate your performance. Now show them that you're above it every time you sing."
The high-fives I got from those four eighth-grade boys were quite possibly the highlight of my week.
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