Story 3: Safe Scholar, Terrified Teachers, 2005

By the time I began writing my dissertation on improvisation, I was much more confident in my abilities to contribute to the profession as a teacher and scholar. This confidence stemmed primarily from the fact that I had more diverse teaching experiences and had become more familiar with how others in the field were approaching improvisation. Timing within the profession was also in my favor. In 2005, teachers were aware of the expectation that improvisation and composition be part of music instruction due to the inclusion of these creative endeavors within the United States’ (voluntary) National Standards for Music Education (Consortium of National Arts Education Associations, 1994¹), but I had a sense that these things were still not happening everywhere despite the fact that it had been over ten years since the standards were published.

Ever the rule follower, I did an exhaustive literature review focusing on improvisation in elementary general music classrooms. I was pleased that my article on Kodaly-based vocal improvisation was well received by teachers and had become part of that literature. The more I read, the more confident I became in my own abilities to design more creative opportunities for music students in the future and contribute to the profession in meaningful ways. In their book, The Confidence Code (2014), Katty Kay and Claire Shipman state, “Confidence occurs when the insidious self-perception that you aren’t able is trumped by the stark reality of your achievements” (p. 48).

My dissertation developed into a descriptive study on the status of improvisation in elementary general music classrooms in the state of Illinois (Whitcomb, 2005). This was an old-school survey study in which questionnaires were mailed to the participants who then completed them with a pen and mailed them back to me in a postage-paid envelope. Data from paper questionnaires does not automatically enter itself into a spreadsheet like today’s online survey tools, so my husband (Dave, not a music teacher) and I decided to make data entry a bonding experience for us and our cats. We regularly drove together to pick up the returned questionnaires from our post office box. Dave read the results to me aloud and I entered them into my electronic spreadsheet while the cats did their best to distract us.

In the questionnaire, I asked respondents to indicate the kinds of improvisational activities occurring in their classrooms by circling “yes” or “no” for each activity within a comprehensive list, inquired about the instructional time allotted to improvisational activities (again, primarily yes/no questions), and asked teachers to provide background information such as years of teaching experience. Data for these types of questions was easily entered into the spreadsheet (e.g., 1 for yes, 2 for no), to be analyzed in more detail later. One question required teachers to rank 10 activities—singing, playing instruments, notating, listening, evaluating, improvising, composing, connecting music to history and culture, moving to music, and connecting music to the arts and disciplines outside the arts—based on the amount of instructional time allotted, with 1 indicating the activity that received the most instructional time and 10 indicating the activity that received the least amount of instructional time (p. 147). I also asked teachers to indicate factors that assisted and inhibited them in including improvisation in instruction and gauged teachers’ attitudes regarding improvisation. As Dave read the results, we both developed an understanding of what was happening in elementary general music classrooms in Illinois related to improvisation. Entering the 1s and 2s was rather straightforward.

The last question on the survey was the only open-ended question, where I provided a few blank lines for respondents to share additional handwritten information related to teaching improvisation. A common theme within the data for that question was a low confidence level on the part of the teachers to include improvisation due to a lack of improvisational experiences as musicians, with comments such as the vulnerable yet honest, “I would like improvisation to play a bigger role in my instruction, but because I feel inexperienced myself, it is difficult to incorporate” (p. 114). Although the last question was the only official opportunity for respondents to share thoughts in their own words, some did not hesitate to use any available blank space on any page to share their views. The rule follower side of me did not report any of the information that respondents added this way, but in my opinion, the information they shared illustrated the stronghold that self-doubt and vulnerability had on these teachers.

Approximately 10 years after the study was completed, in a quest to downsize my file cabinet collection, I discarded the paper surveys and therefore cannot directly quote respondents’ editorial comments from the margins. I can, however, recall the humorous, fictional voice that my husband used in between recitations of 1s and 2s to express the “How dare you!” sentiment that teachers launched toward my study and me. Some teachers were appalled that I would care at all about creative endeavors when there are more important things to accomplish in music class with the limited instructional time available. The page with the question requiring teachers to rank the activities based on instructional time was particularly popular for respondents to vent about the unfairness of it all, most likely because they could no longer safely circle “yes” when asked if improvisation and composition were important. Once they ranked the activities, perhaps they felt vulnerable that the evil researcher would use it against them. Out of the 10 activities, improvisation ranked ninth and composition ranked 10th (p. 102). It seemed to be angry vulnerability, as if I were their professor and I was expecting them to do something that they were unprepared or unable to do. Alyson J. Bond, Laura Ruaro, and Janet Wingrove (2006) state:

When people perceive a threat to the ego, they are likely to feel hurt. In order to avoid these negative feelings, they may use defence mechanisms, resulting in the externalising of these feelings as anger towards the source of threat. A negative evaluation of the perpetrator, whether the threat was intentional or not, reduces disturbing feelings of vulnerability. (p. 1088)

At first, I regressed and felt vulnerable in my abilities as a researcher—so I was angry right back! But as I talked it through with Dave and the cats, I heard myself saying that I wished these teachers would realize that through this study I was simply trying to gauge what was happening, why it was happening, and the factors that contributed to it. I was not in judgment mode, nor was I a threat to their teaching in the ways they might have perceived. Ultimately, my goal was to first understand and then, if possible, assist. Although they were throwing angry vulnerability at me, I still intended to be on their team.

Lesson 3: Find a support system and be a support system. Questions to Ponder:
- How might students express angry vulnerability during the songwriting process and how can music teachers address it productively?
- How and where can music teachers find support systems for their own creative musical endeavors?

- What do music teachers and their students have in common and how can that affect songwriting processes?
- How can music teachers productively break down the defensiveness that students display when presented with new musical challenges or ideas in order to foster creative learning?
- What can music teachers do or say to become a support system for young songwriters?