Just call me Sandra Bullock...

because speed is the word of the day.

Exhibit A: First Hour Quandary

At the end of last week, I made it clear to Lizzy and to the sixth graders that we would be introducing a new element of music this week. I made it clear to Lizzy that it would be form, and that I was thinking of introducing an improv/comp element to the class toward the end of this week, as the class ends on Thursday. She seemed to have no problem with this.

Today, I introduced the element of form to the sixth graders, after we worked on some rhythmic and melodic dictation. I pushed them a little too far in the rhythmic dictation, so that was tricky to deal with (gave them dotted quarter, eighth; we'd just learned to count and say that rhythm twenty minutes prior). I had to hurry to get even a little bit done with form today, and I think I added one too many things in the last couple of minutes of class. They probably won't remember it all tomorrow morning.

After school, once I'd had some time to look back on first hour and digest it, I had an idea for a form/composition in-class small group project. I was so excited to share it with Lizzy, but she basically shot it down, asking, "You have to think about what prior knowledge they need for that. Are they really ready for it?"

She also said I need to ask myself, "Why do they need to do this? What's the end goal?" Which was a whole other upset in and of itself. It's fun. It fits with the national standards. The kids get to work in a different setting. It's a way to wrap up what we've learned. It's an ASSESSMENT TOOL. THE END. Okay, done with that.

In my explanation of my idea, I'd said clearly that it was an idea that had just come to me, that I could toy with it and try to make it work with what we have. I feel like she didn't hear that part of the explanation. Literally, sometimes I tell her a story and she won't have heard the beginning of it. Granted, in those instances she'll ask me to repeat it, so at least I know she didn't hear it but wants to. There are also times when we just misunderstand each other, and this may have been one of those times (from either end).

This was one of those rare occasions when I really just wanted her to come out and say what was being implied: that I hadn't moved quickly enough with them this term to prepare them for this task. I'm not sure if she meant to make that point, but that's what I interpreted.

Of course, I also really didn't want to hear it. Because I already knew it was true. I did a rhythm composition group project with the December/January class, and they enjoyed it and were quite successful. However, they'd been learning from Lizzy for four weeks. She'd gotten a lot accomplished, and they were ready for it. We didn't do that project with the Jan/Feb class, partially because of the dynamics in the group, but also because they were in a different place with the class than the previous group.

I felt like the message was, "You prepared them on your own, so they're not ready because of you."

Fine. I made mistakes. But if you knew that before, you could have told me last week that you didn't think they were ready for the small group in-class project, instead of letting me hang out to dry until two nights before I want to do it.

I fumed the entire drive home, then took a walk to clear my head. That was incredibly helpful. I decided to just adjust. Scrap the comp project, finish discussing/discovering form, and get into 3/4 time a bit.

This sixth grade class has been a lesson in many things, one of them being speed.

EXHIBIT B: Beep Beep Beep

Yesterday after sixth hour, Lizzy told me she'd be setting an actual timer for 15 minutes for each piece I'd be rehearsing. An extra nudge for speed and efficient rehearsing.

Today I completely forgot she'd set it during third hour, so I only went for ten minutes. I then had to run off and observe the band director, and came back to rehearse for the last 15 minutes of fourth hour.

The timer would beep every five minutes, throwing me off a little and sometimes making me lose my train of thought. Sometimes, however, it made me realize how much I'd been talking, and how much I really needed to push on through.

I got more used to the timer as the day progressed, to the point where it was merely a friendly reminder during sixth hour. And whaddaya know: we got the most done in sixth hour!

Correlation? Oh, perhaps.

Exhibit C: Lesson Tweaks

After every class today I revised my lesson a little bit. I didn't have much time to shift gears between third and fourth hour because I was observing the bands the entire time. Fourth hour went okay, though. Between fourth and fifth hour, my "You'll Never Walk Alone" lesson improved, and it did so again between fifth and sixth hours. Then, after tripping up a bit in "My Heart Will Go On" during fifth hour, I was able to rework it, take it apart further, and make it work for sixth hour. As the day progressed, my lessons grew more effective because I was planning out exactly how to best use my allotted time.

Goal: Make that happen right off the bat!

"The sun'll come out..."

Today was a pretty great day, apart from the heat and stuffiness of the choir room. It made me physically ill after lunch, but I still did my lessons with each class as planned! I was just caught off guard by it so I was a bit unfocused for eighth grade.

Started teaching the choirs "You'll Never Walk Alone," from Carousel today. Love, love, love that song. And the students enjoy it, too! Praise God for small miracles.

I'll try to get a full program up tomorrow of what each of the choirs is doing for the pops concert in May. Got some Wizard of Oz, The Wiz, Sweeney Todd, Lion King, and Akon. Because why not? I have to listen to the song and see what I think.

We got to actually use the SMART Board today with the choirs! Huzzah!! Goal is to use it tomorrow in sixth grade as well, so we'll see how that goes.

My lesson today with the sixth graders went really well. I could have gotten the ball rolling a little quicker as far as getting them involved, but after a few minutes it picked up steam. We're learning about singing in different registers in a healthy way so that 1) we can sing melodies more accurately, and 2) no one has to have throat surgery because of poor vocal habits.

I played some examples of pop singers using different parts of their voice, and pop singers with different voice types. Students had to identify first whether the person had a high or low voice, then see if they could tell what register they were using. They held up thumbs up by the top of their head if it was in head voice, thumbs down and near collar bone if in chest voice, thumb sideways and by cheekbones if somewhere in the middle. It got a bit tricky for some singers, either because of their smooth transitions, or because of gender/developmental differences.

Example (which I may briefly touch on tomorrow): If you were to sing an Usher song (I used "Without You"), chances are that you would sing it where it's most comfortable for you. Ladies (and early adolescents), that means you would sing it in a lower part of your voice. However, Usher is singing in the higher part of his range. You're both singing exactly the same pitches, but you are each in a different part of your voice. So now take "Without You." Sing the first part in a comfortable part of your voice. Then when he sings that main part again, only higher, you flip up as well. Yeah, it's pretty darn high. If this didn't make sense to you, I will be glad to demonstrate sometime and you can laugh at my lack of high notes.

So anyway.

After identifying what part of the voice the singer was using, we then identified which part of "Yonder Come Day" that voice would work best for: low, middle, or high. We did some experimenting and found a few things that worked.

I also wanted to use this as an opportunity to prove to the students that most of the men you hear sing on the radio do not have low voices. I played a few extreme examples of high voices and registers, such as Mika ("Love Today") and Usher ("Without You," linked above). Then I played "Afternoons and Coffeespoons" by Crash Test Dummies.

That is...not a voice you hear every day on the radio. I love that example.

For female voices, one example I played was the beginning of "Samson" by Regina Spektor, as she does some really lovely things. I only played the beginning of each song, as I wanted to move on quickly. If I'd had time, I would have used "Us" as an example of her using really strong head and chest voices.

Instead, for an example of a female singer frequently switching between head, mixed, and chest voice, I used "Toto Dies" by Nellie McKay [mc-KYE]. The only video of this song I can find on youtube is of a guy conducting along to it. So there you go. The chorus is really where you can hear the different registers kick in. ("Oh-wee-oh," "Maybe I'll get some Chinese," etc.)

Then we transitioned into vocal health. I briefly brought my chest voice waaaay too far up in pitch, and asked them for some descriptors. They gave me: squeaky, scratchy, creaky, weak.

I then played for them, "Someone Like You," by Adele, and pointed out that even though I love her music, artistry, and expression, she just doesn't provide a healthy vocal model. There are some times when she does flip up into a clearer head voice, and those notes are lovely and sweet. We paid special attention to the line "Don't forget me, I beg" in each chorus, and how each time she brings her chest voice up too far. Emotionally powerful, but you can only do that so many times before your voice gives up.

I asked the students to clap their hands together ten times, as hard as they could. They were wincing, their hands tingling. "Your hands are Adele's vocal cords," I explained. "Could you do that for three every day for even a week without hurting your hands?" I briefly defined what a vocal nodule is, and the kids were sufficiently freaked out. (For a good time, look up "vocal nodules" on youtube. I dare you.)

Don't get me wrong. I love listening to Adele as much as the next person (which judging by her popularity, would be a lot). She has great artistry and soulful yet catchy music. However, much like with Ke$ha/Kim Kardashian and their fry tones (see previous entry for link to article on fry tones in speaking voices of college-age women), younger and younger girls are starting to imitate Adele's voice. Sing her songs, fine. Imitate her style, fine. But middle school and high school girls don't understand that most of their voices are not developmentally anywhere near the singers they hear on the radio.

I really can't stress enough that I do enjoy listening to Adele (except for those few points when it's clear why she had surgery). But I know enough that when I sing along with the radio, I don't try to imitate her voice, particularly on sections such as the one mentioned above. And I don't feel bad because it doesn't sound exactly like her. You don't have to know much about music or the voice to know that each person's sound is different. What we are trying to do in the sixth grade class is embrace those differences and allow each student to find their singing voice where it currently is.

I got a bit ranty. I apologize. But I'm leaving it there so future me can see it.

Another favorite part that former CMU voice pedagogy students might enjoy (if you've had Mary): one girl raised her hand and asked, "Didn't the girl who played 'Annie' lose her voice?"

"I AM SO GLAD YOU BROUGHT THAT UP. HIGH FIVE." We then talked about how the same thing happens with Annie kids that happened with Adele. The quality of the sound is different, but children are asked to shove their chest voice up into their upper range. This leaves them with a really undeveloped head voice...if it doesn't destroy their larynx first.

I think the kids got all the different points I threw their way. At the end of class I asked why it's important to learn to sing healthily in the different registers of the voice. Here are some of the answers I was given (not in this specific order):

"So that you can sing pitches better all over the place."

"So you can sing one note here and one here and one here but still sound good."

"So you can sing high, even if you have a low voice, and low even if you have a high voice."

"So you don't lose your voice."

"So you can still sing when you're older."

"So you don't have to have surgery."

"So you don't have to spend thousands of dollars on surgery."

That last one cracked me up, and yet it is perfectly valid. Gotta love eleven-year-olds.

---

I feel like I have to say again that I have a lot of respect for Adele in her individuality and artistry. I just don't think adolescents should try to be imitating her sound. I feel like someone is going to read this post, get very indignant, and then angrily comment before reading the rest of my thought process. So I thought I would just sum up that thought here at the end and make it very clear.

Honey Badger

Today was one of those weird days. Just...one of those. I felt okay about how first hour went, but it wasn't great. I would have changed a lot of things, and I veered off into territories I didn't even want to get into and that had nothing to do with my objective. When Lizzy and I talked about my lesson, I got this vibe like she was disappointed in me, or thought that because I'm not afraid to make mistakes that I've stopped preparing and thinking through my lessons. I work my butt off.

I told her as such during second hour, and she replied, "No, it's obvious that you put thought and effort into these lessons. We just need to hone the focus a bit more." She gave me some thoughts on objectives and anticipatory sets that really helped this evening when I was prepping for tomorrow. I've been putting energy and thought into my lessons, just not in the right places. I feel much better prepared for tomorrow than I did for today, probably because I know exactly what I want the students to take away, and exactly why they need to know it. That "why" has danced around me thus far, but I believe I finally nabbed it.

What are we working on in sixth grade right now? Singing healthily in different registers! Why? To improve accuracy when singing in different parts of your voice, and also so you don't have to have throat surgery like Adele. Already have a girl in eighth grade who has beginnings of nodes, and it's largely due to where she talks. I talked to her mom (who had nodes removed in her 20's for similar reasons) and I agreed to help her find the right speaking register. Whereas most girls speak far too low, I think this girl may speak too high. We shall find out!

Yesterday was a seminar day. We were split up into trios for interviews. Two people would interview one person, and then we switched around a couple of times. Each time we got a new set of questions from the lead coordinator. I was the first person in my group to be interviewed. It went...not awful! I only used a few "ums" toward the beginning, and then caught myself every time I wanted to use them. One thing I could have done better is use my hands more. It wasn't the most accurate idea of how an interview would go, but it certainly was helpful!

I was told by my interviewers and by the coordinator that I gave good answers. When asked about materials in the classroom, I gave specific examples of useful materials and how/why I use them. When asked about how I would handle any one of the numerous hot topics in teaching now, I gave specific examples of how music relates to subjects across the board. Surprise! The topic I chose to discuss was standardized testing. I figured I'd advocate as much as possible within the six questions they asked me.

[Hey Kirsten reading this sometime down the road: remember, specificity is key.]

There was one question that was aggravating and disorienting, and one question that...challenged my creativity. The aggravating one was the last one, and went as such: "Today you are going to leave this interview and think of one thing you wish you'd told us. What is that one thing?"

As my interviewers and I had already broken character a few times, I felt no qualms with saying, "Doesn't the first part of that imply [infer? whatever] that regardless of what I tell you, I will still find something I'll wish I'd told you? Ugh." And sure enough, after that interview I wish I'd said something about oh, I dunno, cello.

The other less aggravating and more challenging question went as follows: "Choose three animals that you feel best represent three of your strengths in the classroom. Explain why you chose them."

I felt like I was in middle school.

I wanted to just immediately blurt out "HORSE!" but I had no real reason to that I could think of. The next animal that popped into my head was the honey badger. I planned my words very carefully.

"I would have to say that the first animal that represents a strength of mine is the honey badger," I began, as my interviewers gave a couple of good-humored snorts. "The honey badger has zero fear. I have zero fear of getting up in front of a class and making mistakes, because at the end of the day I'm a better teacher and a better person because of it."

Animal cliches were popping into my head left and right. "The second animal," I slowly phrased, "would be a mule. There's that old cliche, 'stubborn as a mule.' I am stubborn in the sense that I will keep at a lesson until the students understand it. I will never give up on them." I couldn't think of any other descriptors in the moment, but a few hours later, the word "determined" popped into my head and I wished I'd used it.

"My final attribute I want to address is my energy in the classroom. I try to be as positive and excited to learn as possible, and students feed off of that. So I guess in that sense I'm like the dog or puppy that greets you when you come home at the end of the day. You could have the worst day ever and feel awful, but that dog will always be excited to see you. No matter how horrible you feel, that excited puppy will lift your spirits and change your attitude. You could walk into my classroom and be having the worst day of your week, but instantly start smiling because of the positive energy I get rolling in the rehearsal."

Honey badger, mule, puppy.

As strange as those answers were, and for how randomly they popped into my head, I think I made them work for me.

So what animals reflect your strengths?

Fat Teacher

I was going to write a post this evening about how generally I've made a lot of progress in student teaching so far. How I've started to find my voice in the classroom. How I'm starting to allow myself to make mistakes again and be okay with that.

Because after the steaming turd of a day I've had, I was starting to feel better.

And then I was abruptly told in no uncertain terms that I am basically not going to get a job because of my weight. "It shouldn't affect if you get a job, but it probably will."

Perhaps surprisingly, my response wasn't, "That's a load of crap," but rather, "Do you think I don't know that?"

I get it. I need to lose weight in order to a) be healthier, b) feel better in general, and c) snag a husband (you know, later). I have not lived under a rock. And I get that I have to just man up and exercise already.

You may not know that I have not been oblivious to my weight gain, or to my appearance. That I long to look like I did in high school, or even two years ago. That I feel incredibly self-conscious teaching in the same room as Lizzy, who is a fit and gorgeous blonde. I get over that so that I can teach.

And the kids don't like me any less for my size. They respect and like me for my knowledge, voice, high standards, and caring attitude. I know it's only been ten weeks, but I have yet to catch wind of any students mocking me for my weight in class, and if I did, they would reap the consequences. Same goes for teasing any student in class.

Yes, I am fat. I am overweight. I am plush. I am probably--dare I say it--obese. I don't say this in a self-deprecating sort of way. Them's just facts. I believe I am fat and beautiful. But I've started on the path to becoming healthier by making some healthier food choices on a regular basis. The comment made to me may spur me to exercise on a daily basis. For that, I'm glad it was said.

But the intent seemed to be to shock me. "No!" I was supposed to say, "I can prove to them that I deserve the job, regardless of my weight!" Instead, I was bitterly upset because this person knew exactly the kind of day I've had, and decided to say it anyway.

I know there are changes that I need to make, and that it's time I started making them. Just be tactful about what you say, and seriously consider the implications. Which may be ironic after this incredibly bitter post.

I didn't include the name of who said it, because that would be poor form. I could have written so much more and gone off on tangents, but it's bedtime for me if I want to get some decent sleep.

How low can you go?

Friday I didn't get home until 9:30 pm, so I was completely wiped out. Why did I get home so late? Staff. Dodgeball Game.

The staff dodgeball game split up numerous staff members into four teams: Birds, Pigs (of Angry Birds fame), Plants, and Zombies (of Plants vs. Zombies fame). Lizzy was on the Zombies team, and I strongly considered playing as well. I decided against it, and I wish I had just gone through with it. The students and parents attending had a lot of fun, but the teachers had probably the most fun of all. Lizzy noted that it was a really great community builder for the staff, who have sort of come apart in the past few years. It was lovely to see the whole school getting excited for something, and to see the teachers really coming together, even over something as silly as dodgeball.

I was very glad I went to the game, anyway. I was able to help out the parent volunteers and teachers who were coordinating it, and got to put my zombie makeup skills and hall monitoring skills to the test. My choir students and sixth graders who came frantically waved at me and started breathless conversations with me (well the girls more so than the boys), and my previous sixth graders were impressed that I remembered their names. Probably because Lizzy has a hard time remembering all the names crammed into her head, while I am still relatively fresh as a daisy as far as the amount of names I've had to learn.

Oh, and the Birds won the tourney and the Zombies came in last, so their team captain had to eat a cricket. She embraced it and grossed the kids out by how much she enjoyed it. I think it was flavored somehow.)

Honestly, while the dodgeball game was fun, the best part of my day--nay, my week--was in fourth hour. Yes, that's right: fourth hour.

Lizzy decided after warm-ups to re-test the boys voices and toy around with their seating to see how it would change their sound. She had them come up in small groups, facing towards her and away from the girls, and they were brave enough to sing down a scale along with the piano in front of her and the whole class. All the boys matched pitch quite well when it sat in their comfort zone. She arranged them into smaller sections by row, and even reassigned two boys to sing up the octave from the boys instead of trying to push it down low. She and the whole class were very encouraging of them the whole hour so that they didn't feel so out of place singing in the same octave as the girls.

While those two boys were really cool, that wasn't the best bit.

The best bit was when she started taking some of the guys down low. There is one boy who's generally pretty quiet, mostly knows what he's doing, but doesn't sing very loud. I've never even been able to tell if he's really matching pitch at all. We all found out on Friday.

Lizzy started a sol-fa-mi-re-do pattern, starting in Eb-Major and descending by half-step. I can't remember what vowel, but I think it was "naw." Again, I could be completely wrong. All I know is that all of a sudden, I could hear Bingley, as we'll call him for now, singing a really healthy note that was quite a bit lower than the rest of the boys so far. Only one of the boys up until that point could healthily get lower than a D3 (D below middle C), and I think that one had only hit a B2. I could tell that Bingley had hit a lower note and could easily keep going.

I got you this reference image.

Lizzy called my attention. "Kirsten," she said, "That's an A." She kept going, telling me each low note he was able to reach as they continued. Every one of them was easy, free, and not forced in any way. How low did he get?

E2.

Look at that image I posted. Look at where E2 is. Now look at the lowest note most of the boys got, which was a D3. Now think about the fact that between each of those notes listed, there is an extra note (F#, G#, A#, etc).

Now find an online piano and try to hit that note. Can't hit it? That's okay. Most of the basses in Concert Choir at CMU have a hard time getting down to an E2. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's super low. This was a twelve-year-old boy. It wasn't earth-shattering or soul-melting, it was just healthy and natural.

Bingley could have kept going, I could tell, but Lizzy stopped because she was just completely speechless. She showed the class where most of the boys sat on the staff, then showed them where Bingley was. The entire class burst into applause, and Bingley got high-fives all around. Not even the boy who's sung through his change and is the male leader in the class could healthily sing lower than an A2, which is still nothing to sneeze at. Especially in seventh grade.

Every time I think about it I get a smile on my face. The entire class was completely uplifted after that, and worked their tails off until the end of the hour. Even though Lizzy had to change around the seating yet again, the boys's sound was much more confident and unified because of that voice testing.

E. 2. Blows my mind.