The Time We Were In Sync (not N'SYNC)
The Time We Were In Sync (not N'SYNC)
Collective Growth
The Story
In the final three minutes of a fifth grade band rehearsal, I told my students to take out one of their concert pieces for a run-through. This was a piece that the band wanted to play very much, but it was also very difficult. Maybe too difficult-- one of the hardest pieces I'd ever attempted with fifth graders. I’d told them that we could try it, but it was possible— maybe even probable— that we wouldn't be able to make it work. I warned them how hard they'd have to practice, that I was putting my faith in them. They promised to deliver. We started in January; it was now April. Despite working on it nearly every single lesson and rehearsal, it wasn’t clicking.
People ask me all the time how I can stand being an elementary band teacher. It was even one of the questions Laura Vanderkam posed in my interview on the Best Of Both Worlds podcast. It's true, I hear a lot of unpleasant sounds. I have to listen to the same music ("Hot Cross Buns," "Jingle Bells") year after year. It takes a very long time for young band students to learn how to play just one piece of music together. It's easy to assume that a professional musician like myself would prefer to work with older, more experienced students.
But when I hear my band play, I don't hear just the sounds, good or bad, that they're making in that moment. I also hear the growth from one rehearsal to the next. I hear the trumpet section finally hitting their high notes, or the trombones nailing that tricky rhythm. I hear the saxophones communicating with the clarinets and the percussionists keeping the tempo perfectly. And on some rare occasions, after months of work, it all comes together in just one rehearsal.
At 11:07 that Wednesday, I raised my hands. Instruments went up. I counted off. They began to play. And for the first time, they really got it. Everything clicked. There were no sloppy entrances; the rhythms were flawless. The air crackled with electricity. I could almost hear the collective thought: We're getting this. We sound amazing. See how much we've improved.
They were perfectly synchronized.
I stood there, ostensibly conducting, but truly, I was their audience. In those three minutes, I felt a rush of pure, transcendental joy. Tingles shot up my arms and made my skin hum; I was enthralled, from head to toe. It was a musical high even better than the ones I've experienced as a member of the band, because I had guided them toward this moment. I was hearing them play the song, but I was also hearing every moment of their growth up until this point. They, and I, had made this happen through sheer willpower and hard work. We’d synchronized more than just the music; we’d synchronized our bodies, minds and hearts.
They finished the song. Everyone was quiet for a breath, and then they all burst into bubbles of excitement.
If this story is familiar to you, that’s because I first published a version several years ago in a previous iteration of my newsletter, The Perspective Post. So if you recognized it, THANK YOU for sticking with me through many years and newsletter themes! I’m so grateful for you, reader!
Stuff You Might Like To Know
As you may be able to tell from this post, it’s concert season! Send me and my four bands (two schools, two grades) some luck!
I’m currently reading MAYBE ONCE, MAYBE TWICE, a romantically-themed novel by Alison Rose Greenberg, and I truly cannot tell which of the two love interests the protagonist will choose!
I’m enjoying taking walks and runs. I love this time of year, when the trees bloom and stretch to the sky, and the sky is so blue.
Related, yes— I’m buying plants. So many plants. In the past week, I’ve acquired four, including a very fun little zebra plant.
Also related— I’m NOT enjoying allergy season, which mostly affects my eyes, making my contacts super-dry and my “floaters” (IYKYK, and I’m sorry if you do) are 1000x worse.
Here’s to us, in all of our imperfect, striving goodness.
Keep hoping. Keep caring. Keep trying.