Editorial

Back to basics

What exactly are we trying to achieve when we teach music? The start of another school year is the perfect time to ask this question, and if we are to deliver teaching that is concise, relevant and meaningful, it is a question that cannot be ignored.

Those studying on ABRSM’s Certificate of Teaching course (see feature, page 34) would doubtless offer up a range of responses, perhaps including these: we teach music to keep a tradition alive, or to communicate a love of it; we teach to explore creativity and expression, or to maintain rigorous standards, or to promote inclusivity. The education managers of symphony orchestras (pages 20, 25 and 30) might, on the other hand, argue that their work brings a particular kind of music to an audience that would not otherwise hear it, transcending social barriers and providing much-needed creative platforms. Those who work for charities such as Music and the Deaf (page 42) might focus on different goals: opening up music to those whose disabilities might previously have excluded them, perhaps.

Different answers again are suggested by the work of music educators across the globe. Venezuela’s famous El Sistema project has long trained children from poor backgrounds to play orchestral music, claiming its goals are social rather than musical: classical music in this case used as a tool to build cooperation and foster self-esteem. This chimes with my own experience of teaching at the Kenya Conservatoire in Nairobi, where I found myself responding to an agenda set firmly by my students. For many of them, western classical music was a way to build an identity and secure a future income, which, as a reason to study music, is as good as any.

Such questions are particularly important in the light of the current fight for funding that so many of us are facing. As music services and other bodies increasingly find themselves having to sell the idea of music education to a cash-strapped government, a dose of clear thinking about exactly why we teach music is needed. The reality is that there are as many reasons to teach music as there are pupils, but this is not always effectively communicated by music education figureheads, many of whom are in the unenviable position of having to persuade politicians of music’s value by way of simple soundbites and neat columns of facts and figures.

An example of this is the use of research on the effects music can have on children’s literacy and numeracy to argue for continued funding. Much of this research is compelling, but over-emphasising it could be seen as an apology for music as a subject in its own right. Education is about more than preparing young people for the jobs market, just as music is about more than complementing ‘more useful’ subjects. Music education leaders are right to use any evidence they can to help make their case, but it is vital that they remain focused on the magical, intangible, diverse benefits of music that affect people’s lives so deeply. I am yet to meet the person who says, ‘I’ll never forget the effect music had on my numeracy and literacy.’

As music teachers, we need to take our share of the responsibility: it is up to each of us to know exactly what we are doing. If more teachers had a greater clarity of purpose, those who represent us would find it easier to explain why our sector must not be cut. Many politicians enjoyed a musical education, so they should be able to understand how difficult it is to condense music into one easy slogan. Let’s make a thousand different cases for our subject, all of them clear and without apology: in doing so, we stand the best chance of showing that music education is something we can’t manage without.

Two music teachers who certainly knew what they were doing were John Paynter and Clara Taylor, both of whom died recently. Their obituaries are on page 65, and Patrick Gazard reviews Paynter’s last set of writings, Thinking and Making, on page 89. We would be delighted to hear from readers who worked with either of them; drop us a line, about that or anything else.

CHRISTOPHER WALTERS