Introduction

Is music good? Is music hard? Is it an intellectual pursuit, or is it primarily a sensual experience? Is music intuitively understood? Can it be intuitively learned? In this paper, a distillation of research into music education and a reflection on personal experience, I would like to suggest that innate musicality and musical intuition are the most powerful tools that can be used in music education. Although I have directed the bulk of my commentary toward teachers, this description of my educational philosophy has been written for students and teachers alike. For teachers, I hope that it might encourage us, at the very least, to always be vigilant in assessing the effectiveness of the methods we use. For students, I would simply like offer a reminder that music is one of the inherent abilities of every human being, and that our participation in this "common language" should, as you suspect, always be guided by joy, and by instinct. I am aware that this paper does not map out any technical curriculum or repertoire, nor does it suggest any specific criteria for developing these aspects of a curriculum. I have left this task to teachers themselves, not only out of respect for our diverse tastes and our personal relationship with each individual student, but also in the interests of maintaining relevance across the spectrum of musical styles. My reflections are framed by my experience teaching beginner and intermediate students of classical and popular musics in an industrialized western culture. However, evidence of the validity (and common acceptance) of the ideas I will explore can be observed in non-western and in oral music traditions. I also believe that the points discussed in this paper have the potential to benefit self-educating musicians, teachers of advanced students, and curious non-musicians alike.

Encouragement

In the sections that follow, I will present four key educational reference points, all of which revolve around and refer back to the central theme of encouragement. Encouragement is here the definition of the teacher's role in a student-teacher relationship. It can take countless forms, including the transmission of knowledge, critique, instruction, and other common educational practices. But here I would like to bring all of these methods back under the umbrella of encouragement, an oft-forgotten attitude on the part of many music teachers.

Imagine encouragement as your thumb, and the four fingers of your hand as potential avenues of that encouragement. Any one of these four "fingers," put together with the thumb, allows a teacher or a student to "pick up" a musical element and manipulate it. If two fingers are used along with the thumb, "heavier" items can be dealt with. Finally, when all the fingers and the thumb are used together, the item can really be "grasped," and you can "put your whole body into it." Or, in the case of music, you can "put your whole being into it."

The four "finger" concepts that I will describe, which manifest both in the personal experience of music and encouragement thereof (the music lesson) are: ease, enjoyment, exploration, and expression. While this is only one way of imagining a structure of musical knowledge and musical experience, the "five E's" coherently capture the essence of my thesis. That they share a first letter is not only convenient. It is also illustrative of the associative thinking that a creative teacher must practice.

If indeed music is a universal language that references our consensus reality (Berendt, 18) the effective teacher must be prepared to draw on any thread of that reality that the student is presently holding. We can then lead them back along it to where it connects with whatever thread they were holding a moment ago, yesterday, or which they might likely hold tomorrow. In this manner, we not only enhance communication by coming to the student where they are, but also point out the interconnectedness of the knowledge they are gaining, empowering them to actively seek further relationships in the musical fabric. Conversely, a rigid, predetermined program of sequential learning ignores the fact that each of us makes sense of the world in a unique way, squandering opportunities to teach important lessons exactly when a student is most ripe for learning them.

Ease

The concept of ease in approaching music is greatly served by a constant referencing of artistic goals. Students want to learn music because of its value to them as an art. So, if we have truly contemplated the value of art in our own lives, we can meet a student with full respect for what it is they are actually doing in our presence. They are not there to serve our ego, nor to be shaped by us. They are there to learn with us, not from us. Keith Swanwick, in Music, Mind and Education, suggests that the student is there as an enjoyer, as opposed to an inheritor (of knowledge) (Swanwick, 13), and insists that we "must ask the why of music, not just the how or what" (ibid. 12). Honoring an artistic philosophy in our teaching is invaluable in fostering in our students an attitude toward music which makes learning much easier. Artistic inspiration is not so rare a quality as some might suggest. And for those who have the good fortune to have assistance in exploring, utilizing and developing that expression, there is nothing more valuable than inspiration as a catalyst for growth and learning. Therefore, creating a space for this artistic wellspring to pop up through the surface and flow freely is perhaps the most honorable, if elusive, achievement of any teacher.

Promoting ease in our students is also greatly encouraged by an attention to our own internal processes and outward manner in the music lesson. It is of the utmost importance that we do not exercise value judgements when evaluating the performance or process of a student (Swanwick 91-99). A sensitivity to the emotional experience of trying something new (and of performance itself) can clue us in to ways of communicating, both verbally and physically, that put the student at ease. This encourages their bodies and minds to relax in what might otherwise feel like charged, challenging circumstances to them. At the very least, we should be careful to always use appropriate language in critique. This might be as simple as saying (to a young or tender student), "when you shift to the 'D', it sounds like you slow down a little bit," when we might otherwise have said, "it drags there! Keep up!" On the other hand, if a student is advanced enough to jam, and can already appreciate the flow of a good groove, they are likely to positively respond to the negative social or aesthetic implications of missing a beat. At that point, it might actually be appropriate to use language like "you lost it there," or "keep it up!" Of course, this sort of talk is only a good idea once a certain level of trust and mutual respect has been established and is flowing between the teacher and the student.

Along with these psychological concerns, technical ease (technical facility) is obviously another rightful goal of the process of education. As mentioned, it is not my intention within this paper to map out any specific technical curriculum. Instead, I would simply like to remind us that there is a fluidity (ease, or the illusion of it) that the conscientious student should aspire towards, and which it is the teacher's job to encourage, demonstrate, recognize, and help develop. Throughout the practice of technical exercises, improvisations, and compositions, that subtle quality of natural flow should always be present in our form, or at least in our intentions. A holistic, sensitive perspective of the student's experience can often direct our attention and critique toward some simple, subtle element of technique that, once improved, might completely free up their form. Is the breath flowing naturally? Are all possible muscles relaxed? A more basic question to ask could be whether the student has developed the technical skills to comfortably accomplish whatever it is they are working on. If not, what specific skill is lacking? Is there a way to address this in the context of the task at hand? Or does some more fundamental technique, skill, or conceptual knowledge need to be developed first?

As many music teachers know, often all that is necessary to bring ease to the experience is to slow down. Start at a speed at which rhythmic integrity can be maintained, then gradually increase the tempo until the desired tempo is achieved, and comfortably so. The result is that the student can enjoy a sense of accomplishment, as the music in the passage can actually be heard (however slow it may be) as opposed to being lost in the struggle, the strain or the mistakes.

Finally, in the encouragement of ease in music-making, it is of more importance than anything else that the student be presented with an example (on the part of the teacher) of the universal availability of musical knowledge, and of the personal accessibility of musical inspiration. Unfortunately, whether this can be communicated depends first of all on whether the teacher possesses this sort of inspiration themself. It requires a deep love of music, and demands an energy that can only come from an authentic desire to share this love of music with others. Perhaps this is the most important test that prospective teachers need pass in pursuit of their credentials. It is also unfortunate that true love of music is not always empirically observable, nor authentically verified through the exchange of words. Students themselves are often the only ones who can tell whether a teacher does or does not possess this characteristic. And sadly, most often nobody asks them!

Exploration

The second finger of our "educational hand" is exploration. A similar applicable concept is experimentation. But if we trust that music is inherent to our experience as humans, and can be understood by every individual, I would like to use the word exploration. This suggests that there is something already existing that can be discovered by the curious mind, the mind that expects to find something if it goes looking for it.

Again, the metaphor of a collective musical reservoir is useful here. From the shore, the ocean looks frighteningly vast and unfamiliar. So, for the person who is approaching the study of music for the first time, testing these vast waters -playing in the surf, so to speak- is of great importance. By exploring to the range of sounds that an instrument can make, our curiosity is sparked, and our fascination begins. By (even crudely) experimenting with changes in pitch, volume, speed, and timbre, we become acquainted with the raw elements of music (Swanwick 55, 65). Without this experimentation, the student might not so fully appreciate the accomplishment (when it comes) of controlling these elements. Once they can control them, experiments in manipulating them in more and more complex ways are part and parcel of an ongoing exploration of possibilities.

Like the babbling baby with their newly discovered voice, the student that is encouraged to experiment with their instrument will certainly succeed in discovering relationships and structures which can be further explored with the teacher. The question that the student formulates on their own will always burn hotter than the question posed by the teacher, and will therefore always lead to deeper revelations when answered. Research into creativity and consciousness reinforces this exploratory approach to learning. We actually learn the most, and in the deepest way, as a result of processing the unknown, the unfamiliar. It is at the points of ambiguity and asymmetry in our thoughts that we are forced to synthesize, to resolve, to connect previously disconnected dots, or to drawn new ones that will finish the picture. (Montouri et al., 10; Priest, 4). Exploration gives birth to questions, and those questions beg answers. Tension demands resolution. Exploration leads to discovery.

Composition and its Rewards

It is logical to assume, then, that the more questioning we can get a student to do, the more they are going to learn. Pushing them to the edges of what they understand by soliciting novel composition is one of the best ways of encouraging this type of exploration. In my observation, the emotional benefits of successfully composing music are a bottomless well of motivation for the beginning student, the intermediate student and the professional alike. The reason for this might have something to do with the brain's emotional response to music itself [see the following section on expression]. Research into the limbic system of the brain has revealed that repetition and novelty are the main elements of emotional response. (Robertson, 27) And if you think about it, elementary attempts at composition are undeniably exercises in balancing these same two elements! The student strives to maintain order in the development of a phrase, and simultaneously delights in the choices they made that distinguish the piece as uniquely their own. The experience of actually "creating" a piece music from "scratch" that successfully elicits this emotional response (in the student, at least) can be a profoundly rewarding one. And for adolescents and teenagers, discovering that one is capable of accomplishing what might have previously seemed the exclusive right of dead, famous or otherwise "hypothetical" people can be the single most energizing factor in a musical course of study. (At the very least, original composition makes a music curriculum more fun and well rounded, although I have even seen it function as the primary source of motivation for high school students to not drop out of school altogether.)

The emotional rewards of composition also provide us with a purely pedagogical advantage. Through experiments in composition, new musical elements are unconsciously brought to light, and by the student's own hand, no less! As mentioned before, using a student's own example of a musical concept far surpasses the comparatively un-intriguing "exhibit A" of a recognizable vernacular example in focusing their attention. Comprehension and retention of the concept being investigated is usually more successful when the student is already intimately familiar with and invested in the piece being used to demonstrate it. Call it the ego at work, or call it narcissism, but this reality is not limited to young people. I think it is simply a function of approaching the aforementioned universal musical reservoir from a less distant point, from a point nearer the source.

Flexibility

Another important consideration regarding exploration is the concept of classification and framing (Swanwick, 121, referencing Bernstein 1971). Classification is essentially the genre, style or repertoire within which the lesson is taught. Framing is the manner in which the lesson is taught: the pace, pedagogical approach or method. While honoring the need for timely development of necessary technical skills, it is my opinion that the classification and framing of any lesson should be as weak (open-ended) as can be afforded by the knowledge and experience of the teacher. We should listen carefully to what the student wants to do, what music they enjoy, and pay even closer attention to how they learn and how they are responding to the present task.

Although it is rarely the case that a teacher can offer a student equal amounts of knowledge in more than one or two styles of music, it would be desirable. Barring this, however, "weak" (loose) framing can largely compensate for strong (strict) classification in rounding out the curriculum. This is to say that even if a teacher is only experienced in one style of music, a comprehensive curriculum can still be achieved through the utilization of multiple approaches to the material. Notation, ear training, improvisation, reading, and composition, if sensitively applied, can provide a student with the necessary tools to confidently approach other styles on their own.

The ability to move from method to method in the midst of a lesson (or a course) benefits the student tremendously by respecting the way they learn, the way they think, and the kind of stimuli they respond to. For instance, if a student doesn't grasp the nature of a half step aurally, they might understand it in mathematical terms, physically on their instrument, conceptually, or visually (in notation). All the relating aspects of the musical concept at hand can come back to reference the "frame" of the idea that is most easily understood by each particular student. For successful music teaching, flexibility is key, as pre-determined paths can be paved with frustration. Put yourself in the student's shoes, or, better yet, put yourself in their ears.

Expression

The third finger of our musical "hand" is hopefully an obvious one. Expression is what music is best at, what it is for. We make music in an effort to express ourselves, to communicate things that words cannot say. The entirety of human culture and civilization has valued music for this reason, and our modern culture continues to find new ways of demonstrating this fact (imagine a blockbuster movie without a sound track, or a cross-country drive without your CD collection). All this is largely -but not wholly- a function of our emotional response to music. Although it is possible for each individual to come to their own valid understanding of how and why music affects them, and how music relates to their emotions, I would like further explore one explanation that science has offered. (Sladoba, 1-4)

Our emotions function in large part as a system of detecting change, both in the body and in our environment. Consider the survival instinct of fight or flight: It is a change in the environment (movement in the bushes, a change in temperature, a smell, vibrations) that triggers a change in respiration, heartbeat, or of chemicals in our bloodstream. But in order for the external stimuli to translate into a response, our emotions must first make the body want to respond. We have to "care" about what happening around (or to) us (it is important to remember that it is not only threats that trigger emotional response from us --- both positive and negative emotions can arise from changes in our environment).

As mentioned before, music is fundamentally based on the dynamic between pattern (repetition) and change in that pattern (novelty). When we listen to music, we link up with whatever patterns become recognizable. Rhythmic repetition entrains us, as we tap our feet or bob our head along with the beat. Repeated arpeggiations, ostinato, a funky guitar riff or a slick bass line become the foundation upon which the musical composition is built, analogous (psychologically speaking) to the static environment that elicits no emotional response. (We can all remember being bored by a musical pattern that repeated itself excessively. Science would suggest that the boredom we felt resulted from the brain deciding it knew what was coming next, ceasing emotional response).

Emotion in music arrives when something happens that is a surprise, a variation from what was expected. Imagine a phrase that rises in intensity, then suddenly dips to a very quiet section. It is at this moment that we feel the most. The odd note, the unexpected chord, a sudden burst of 16th notes, or any other change from the previously established pattern creates tension, which elicits our attention and triggers our emotions.

But we must put this mechanistic model to the side, at least for the moment, for a more everyday understanding of expression that will bring us closer to the experience of the average music student. Any student who spends an hour with you (if by their own free will) likely has a natural affinity for the sound the instrument makes that they have chosen to play. They have surely intuited the potential for expression through that instrument. As their teacher, it is part of our role to demonstrate the range of expressive character that the instrument is capable of. When we do this, it is extremely important that we present this example as being a product of not just the instrument, but also of the feeling and intention that we put into the instrument. It is important that we model an expressive intention and demonstrate the potential for emotive communication from the earliest possible moment.

While teaching by example is of the utmost importance in this regard, it is through composition (and improvisation) that the beginning student can most quickly and profoundly engage in their own expression. Although there may still be a lot to be learned about technique and theory, "students must recognize that they are engaging in a means to express their own ideas through sound" as early as possible (Priest, 3). Through composition and improvisation, even the newest, most inexperienced student can reap the benefits of knowing this.

Transcendence

Even for the "illiterate", speaking comes naturally as a result of living in the world, surrounded by other "speakers". This would suggest that we possess an inherent ability to understand and utilize language - a dipping into the collective pool, so to speak. In musical language, this concept of a collective reservoir of "words" can be observed in "untrained" musicians, members of oral music traditions, and even in the casual humming of the man/woman on the street. But unlike spoken language, the language of music is symbolic (Swanwick, 5). Our individual interpretations of the meaning of what is "said" through it are not limited by literal or even consensus definitions. Nor is intelligibility dependent upon one's membership in any particular culture. One might therefore agree that music is an inclusive human language, a vast reservoir with innumerable wells, springs, and rivers from which to drink.

As evidenced by the fascinating variety of musical traditions in our world, the "words" that constitute musical "language" can be structured in an infinite number of ways. And within each of those traditions, a great number of distinct genres are found. Within each of those genres, many unique styles can be observed. Finally, at the root of all this diversity -in eastern, western, classical, folk, popular, and traditional musics alike- one of the most highly valued characteristics of a musician's product is originality, or at least unique voice. This makes it clear that musical language is capable of being re-organized and re-interpreted by each and every individual. It would also seem (in music, as in all the arts) that where there is no novelty there is stagnation, but where there is innovation, there is growth and vibrancy. With a nod to the earlier discussion of artistic goals, the encouragement of originality in a student will always serve our ultimate goal as teachers. We are, after all, simply acting as an assistant in each student's quest for the music that lives somewhere within (or perhaps beyond) themselves. Whatever it may be that each particular person hears, feels, or plays will never be the same as what we hear, feel, or play. And if we fail to remember this, we run the risk of unconsciously amputating the student's most vital artistic organ, their imagination.

Our global musical culture, perhaps more than ever, relies on imagination and originality for its sustenance and evolution. Therefore, to do whatever we can as encouragers (teachers) to open students to their own process of creativity, exploration, and innovation should be our ever-present intention, our ultimate goal. It is helpful, therefore, to understand our role (as teachers) as transcending the interpersonal relationship at hand and extending to the greater musical universe, the larger human community.

Enjoyment

We've all heard the legend (true story) of the scowling piano teacher with ruler in hand, ready to exact revenge upon the student for his/her apparent sins against the repertoire (mistakes). I myself have had more than a few adult students who were initially afraid to even try to make music again because of the strict, un-fun, pressure-chamber-like atmosphere in which they first took music lessons as children. It is unfortunate that the weaknesses of humanity should find their expression in such a sacred space as music class, but alas, they do. Without fully psychoanalyzing the archetypal bad tempered, insensitive music teacher, we might do well to consider the fact that, when in a position of power, insecure personalities will often turn mean.

The atmosphere created by the teacher has a tremendous amount to do with the response a student might have to the questions posed at the beginning of this paper. Is music good? Is it hard? Is it good for us? Is it hard on us? Is it fun? The inspirational qualities of mortal and psychic pain notwithstanding, I believe that music is, can be, and should be an uplifting activity. Especially concerning young people (and adults pursuing music as a hobby), I can think of no reason why a musical endeavor should be absent of enjoyment. Even in regards to the "grunt" work of practicing scales or working out a new piece of music that is particularly challenging, there should be some spark present (if only a spark) of the pleasure that will come from finally accomplishing the task at hand.

Hopefully, a teacher will have naturally imbued in their student an implicit understanding of the benefits of perseverance, but achieving this can sometimes require the application of more focused "encouragement". This might take the form of a reminder (through demonstration) of what the "finished product" might sound like, or what the ability to run scales enables one to do in improvisation (again, through example). Sometimes, playing along with the student provides just the right amount of juice to push them beyond their (non-enjoying) timidity, and into the (enjoyable) swing of it.

Overall, the attitude of the teacher is what it's all about. A true love of music, and a desire to share the pleasure it brings can guide us in our efforts to positively communicate with our students. Making a lesson an enjoyable experience can be as simple as providing a smile at precisely the moment the student might be starting to frown. Take the pressure off. Lighten up. It's music, after all.

Social Music-The Great Educational Lubricant

In industrialized societies, people have tended to listen more and more to music, and to play it less and less. If you think about it, there is a general motion in our culture toward a more individualistic experience of music, and away from a social experience of it. (Sladoba, 3) Most people, if they sing, sing along to the car radio, or secretly in the shower. We hear more music in our cars than anywhere else. Gatherings that include a social sharing of music are few and far between these days. Even when there is music present at parties, holidays, or community functions, most of the time it is not performed live. And when it is, there is a good chance that it is left to the "professionals", which again illustrates the fact that we just don't "make" music like we used to.

We should ask ourselves what effect this might have on the average music student. What does it suggest to them about the potential for music making to remain a part of their lives as they move into other endeavors? In the private music lesson, or in the context of band or orchestra class, there often lacks any encouragement for students to make their own music. I do not mean to suggest that the repertoire for group playing should necessarily be composed by that group's members. My point is that students should be provided with opportunities (and the necessary skills) to initiate ensemble playing without the aid of a teacher.

This all-important aspect of a comprehensive musical education can, like composition, become the primary source of a student's passion for learning. Music is not quite so enjoyable as when it is shared. We should therefore endeavor to teach music as a social and shareable activity. If we ever wonder why young people find it hard to practice every day, we might do well to compare individual practice to the kinds of activities that children seek out on their own. More often than not, young people are keen to find as many ways as possible of passing time with their fellows. Until they realize that music has the potential to be interactive, and fun like anything else, they might likely lump it into the category of chores, along with washing the dishes or taking out the trash.

Adult students are just as excited to find ways of playing music socially as children are. Since there is less of a chance that they are considering a career in music, it is more than likely that they are consciously pursuing music as a leisure activity, a desperately needed creative outlet, or a hobby. In fact, for adults, the ability to play music in social situations is very often their primary reason for taking lessons. Regardless of whether this is the case, being able to participate in social music making is inspiring, fun and rewarding, and every music student should be able to participate in it. We should consider this, along with other concerns, when we ask ourselves whether we are successfully preparing our students to fully reap the benefits of their abilities and achieve their potential with music. If not, we just might lose them, and they might lose music.

Jamming

Though chamber music (in the classical tradition) succeeds in providing a context for the reading musician to play socially in a small group, there is another experience entirely which awaits the musician who can "jam". Jamming simply refers to the experience of making music without notation to refer to. It means that there is some element of choice and compositional/improvisational responsibility on the part of the player. It is my firm belief that an ability to improvise and jam, even in a rudimentary sense, is as important to a student's education as any other element. The ability to access a spontaneous, personal source of music is of great importance, even to the professional classical performer. For everyone else, jamming usually means we will pick up our instrument more, and get better at it, regardless of how much we actually "practice". This is, of course, because it is tremendously fun. As mentioned above, as a society we are playing less and less. Encouraging a student to jam, teaching them how, and jamming with them can do a lot to counter the negative effects of this trend on the student and their musicality.

In another sense, partaking in this type of music making can have even broader positive effects on the individual and the community. In terms of communication theory, jamming is a fulfilling, cooperative activity achieved "under conditions of minimal self-disclosure and limited consensus." (Eisenberg, 139) This is noteworthy because of the fact that there are so few opportunities for individuals to engage in coordinated, rewarding activities with others in which they are not made vulnerable by having to literally express who they are or what their experience is. (ibid) Drop in on a bluegrass jam, a jazz jam, or a folk festival. You will soon notice that complete strangers who know nothing about each other are communicating, smiling, and connecting with each other in ways that are not superficial. In these types of situations, music can be seen once again playing the role in community that it always has. Once a student can participate in this kind of collective musical invention, we can safely assume that the well has been tapped. At that point, it is our job as teachers to simply help the student keep the musical waters flowing freely, and to discover new ways of navigating and "playing" in them.

Where does music come from? Where does it go? Does it live on the page, in time, in space, in the air, in our hearts, in our ears, in our community? Who knows.but jamming -which is, in a sense, making music out of thin air- acquaints students with these kinds of questions, and once again brings them closer to the source: that of their innate musical ability and intuition.