Last night, I wrote of my happy – almost giddy – exhaustion in the wake of Kenosha’s solo & ensemble contest. Then this morning, I received an email which contained a very poignant poem written by a music teacher for whom this year’s contest was shadowed by more than a little melancholy. For this particular teacher, it was impossible to participate in this year’s contest without wrestling with the all-too-real possibility that this might be their last contest. And as I read those words, I realized that his or her fears were far from unique – and that many of those teachers I passed in the hallways, caught up in the frantic fun of it all, had to be harboring similar fears for the future. . . wondering if next year at this time they will still be teaching music for Kenosha Unified. . . or teaching music anyplace, for that matter. It left me hanging my head in shame that I had managed to be so caught up in the day’s excitement – and my own busyness – that I had not given so much as a single thought to the plight of those dedicated, devoted teachers who at this point have no idea what is ahead for them and for their programs yet could not allow themselves to yield to those fears. . . not on such an important day.
I’m especially embarrassed by my insensitivity because it’s not like this isn’t a frightening threat for Kathy and me as well. She is a music teacher for Racine Unified – which like Kenosha is facing a staggering reduction in state funding amounting to many millions of dollars – and although no decisions have yet been made on how to make up for that shortfall, there is always the very real possibility that music will be savagely cut back or even eliminated. (Particularly if the district opts for some sort of large scale amputation rather than a host of smaller cutbacks to make up the difference.) And although the cutbacks in Governor Walker’s budget do not directly impact a school like Carthage in the same way, I fully expect that our music department- which has enjoyed such spectacular growth over the last few years- will be hurt by what is sure to be a sharp reduction in the number of young musicians wanting to be music majors. . . and probably a sharp reduction in the number of young musicians auditioning for us in general, if music programs across the region are hurt as many are predicting. That’s at least a real possibility that I find myself thinking about all the time. And on another front, the projected cutbacks to the state technical college system- plus reductions in aid to public radio- are making me more nervous about what’s ahead for WGTD than I’ve been in more than a decade. Talk about the ground seeming to tremble beneath your feet.
But somehow all of those fears perpetually simmering just below the surface were a million miles away on Saturday, which just underscores the amazing capacity of music to send us soaring high above our troubles or cares, which is just one of the miracles it offers. It can take a young student who’s a shy wallflower in any other arena and transform them into a confident, charismatic performer. . . or give successes to a student who otherwise seems to struggle in nearly every other endeavor. It can uplift the young adolescent girl who might not ever feel attractive until she opens up her mouth to sing . . . or helps an awkward young person feel like they are a part of something, like they matter to someone, like they have something important to offer the world. It can help someone come to grips with dark or frightening hurts or fears which are bottled up inside of them . . . or get someone to think beyond themselves and their own concerns to think about the world around them and the needs and concerns of others. It can help a young person foster one of the most precious gifts with which human beings have been blessed- Imagination . . . or help them tap into their unique creative impulses. It can teach students (sometimes the hard way) the value of hard work and careful preparation. . . or remind them what it means to be part of a team and of how important (and satisfying) it is to shoulder one’s responsibilities. It can teach them to succeed with humility . . . and to bear disappointment with grace. It can teach them how to extend comfort and support when one of their colleagues in struggling – or how to share in their joys. It can remind them that not everything is entirely within their control . . . and that life is not always fair. It can put them in touch with the more spiritual side of their being. . . and remind them that real beauty has almost nothing to do with how attractive they are or what kind of clothes they wear, but instead is about what’s inside. And I especially love how music brings such an amazing array of people together. . . to the point where a slight, bespectacled member of the chess club might very well sing a duet with a forward on the basketball team. Because music is this amazing miracle that is so much bigger than any one of us, and there is always something more to learn about it. You’re never ever completely finished when it comes to music. And you’re not fully alive without it.
Solo & Ensemble underscores all that and more. . . and I wish anyone inclined to regard music as nothing more than a frill would attend just a few minutes of one single competition. I think they would be amazed and inspired by what they saw and heard. And what would truly seal the deal would be if they could witness the many hours of lessons and rehearsals leading up to contest. That’s where the magic really happens. . . in the choir rooms and practice rooms, in lessons and rehearsals, where teachers and students alike give themselves over to this amazing thing called music. That’s always been an incredible thing to witness, but especially this spring, in this difficult hour with so much at stake and hanging in the balance.
In fact, the term “heroic” comes to mind.
pictured above: Polly Amborn, choral director at Tremper High School (and, in case you don’t already know, my sister-in-law) listens to four of her young men rehearse Kurt Bestor’s “Prayer of the Children.” left to right: Landon, Andrew, Bergin, and Sam. They ultimately earned a I* and will be going to state.