. . . and the Arts.

I'm going to describe something that happened to me last week at work that is unfortunately, all too typical. But first I need to give you a little background.

West Virginia has adopted the "Common Core" State Standards in English and Math. These standards were authored by work groups with membership from around the country. In West Virginia, these standards have been renamed the "Next Generation Standards." The Common Core State Standards (CCSS) include literacy standards in social studies, science and the "technical subjects." In their shortsightedness, the writers of the standards apparently believed that literacy was not an important issue in the arts. I approached my bosses and suggested to them that we author literacy standards in the arts as well, to demonstrate both our commitment to the arts, as well as an understanding that literacy (including reading, writing, speaking and listening) are key processes in the arts. I've received the go ahead for this and I am hopeful that we will unveil West Virginia Literacy Standards in the Arts in the 2012 school year. I'm not sure, but I think we may be the first state to do so.

My office has presented on this topic on multiple occasions to various audiences. Last Wednesday was one such occasion, when we were asked to present for four hours to various offices from around the Department. We were to present the background for the work, an overview about the math and English/language arts standards, a discussion of "text complexity" and how the issue of literacy is important in every content area.

I discovered on Tuesday that I had been given the "sweet spot": the final ten minutes of the four-hour presentation, right before lunch.

The ordering reflected the implicit (and sometimes explicit) hierarchy that dominates our educational system. English and math usually come first, the sciences typically follow, then the humanities, "and the arts." This hierarchy is reinforced everywhere in a thousand different ways. It is so pervasive, that the phrase "and the arts" has become a bit of a joke among the arts advocacy community. I'll illustrate with just a few examples.

When I was working in the classroom full time, I was asked to write an "instructional guide" in music for the Department of Education. We convened one time at the Waterfront Place Hotel in Morgantown, where there were instructional guide writers in the other disciplines as well. All the teachers listened to a general session on the work and then we broke out into our content areas. The other content areas worked in adjacent salons that were roomy and close to the restrooms and break areas. The arts teachers were shuffled off to a second floor work room without enough chairs and no WiFi access.

In another instance, I was with several arts teachers working at the Flatwoods Conference Center on another project. We were piggy-backing with a different project involving English, math, science and social studies teachers, so we were sharing some space. They had this curious thing at Flatwoods where the meals and breaks were given names that were displayed on placards on the buffet tables, things like "The Fruit of the Sea" for a seafood meal or "Down on the Farm" if you were having fried chicken and biscuits. Anyway, it came time for lunch and we moved to the common dining area. As we entered, the catering staff asked which group we were with, the arts or the other group. The arts were escorted to a buffet line with a placard that read, "A Taste of Italy." Lunch included baked ziti, salad, rolls and chocolate cake. We looked curiously over at the other buffet line. Their placard read, "A Tour of Italy," and included everything we had, plus vegetable and meat lasagna, meatballs, chicken picatta and tiramisu.

Now, it's not just that I think that these incidents are illustrative of the lower value we place on the arts and arts teachers, though that certainly may be true. What I think both of these instances illustrate is that the arts were an afterthought in the planning process. I doubt that anyone wanted to put arts teachers in cramped spaces or feed them less, it's just that they hadn't considered them in the first place and then had to fit them in.

The same thing happens in our schools everyday and unfortunately, it happens with our students, not just the teachers.

We pour untold resources into our math and language arts programs. Millions of dollars are spent building high-stakes summative assessments to measure student literacy and numeracy. The federal Title I programs give millions more toward the same goals. Schools invest in computer-based test prep programs in those subjects. Students' schedules are built around the required English and math requirements first, followed by the sciences and social studies.

Yet we expect our arts programs to thrive through car washes and bake sales. We expect elementary students to master arts standards with 30 minutes of instruction a week (or less). We ask secondary arts teachers to teach multiple levels, sometimes even multiple subjects, in the same class period. We keep students from scheduling arts classes they want to take for classes we've judged are more likely to "prepare them for college." (And we counsel them they aren't going to be musicians or artists. Of course, they probably aren't going to be linguists or mathematicians either.) Then when our arts programs fail, we blame the arts teachers, the only people in the building working to make them succeed.

If we are going to truly transform our educational system, we must stop thinking like this. The arts are core academic subjects that are essential to student success. Our students need language and math to make sense of their world, of course they do. But they also need an understanding of movement and gesture, color and form, drama and narrative, rhythm and melody. They need to be prepared to make sense of their world in all the ways they experience it.

The workplace that students in our schools will inhabit is nearly unimaginable to us. What we do know is that they will benefit enormously from creativity nurtured in the arts classroom. We also know that they are so much more than "workers," that if we value their humanity, we will give them a world filled with dance, theatre, the visual arts and music.

Everyone wants to reform education right now. That's what the Common Core State Standards are all about. The problem is that the work being done belies the fact that our priorities may have not shifted at all. The work began first in English and math, then science and social studies. The arts were still an afterthought.

Many have begun saying that education reform is not enough. Some are beginning to use the word transformation. But the word that others are bold enough to use, the one that really describes what we need, is revolution. I would argue that the first order of the education revolution should be re-valuing the arts in our schools.

History is on the side of the bold. To paraphrase Sir Ken Robinson, the Italian Renaissance didn't happen because the Medici's had a literacy plan. When we view the major cultural achievements of civilizations throughout history, the role of the arts is central, equal to the role of the sciences, mathematics, and the humanities. The reason for that is obvious: the arts inflame the intellect and the imagination.

The arts are the soul of a school. Schools without thriving arts programs are desolate places, not just intellectually, but emotionally, too. Whoever you are, whether a teacher, student, administrator, parent or part of the community, it is incumbent upon you to help us make schools the culturally rich places we imagine they can be. The revolution needs you.

On the Partial Reading of Books

When I lived in Morgantown as graduate student, back when the Internet was young and Amazon.com was just a twinkle in Jeff Bezos' eye, I used to make regular trips to Border's Books and Music in Pittsburgh. This was the first large bookstore I had ever seen. A professor of mine had directed me there to purchase a copy of Ellington: The Early Years by Mark Tucker. I asked if I should call ahead to make sure they had a copy and he responded, "Of course they'll have it."

Growing up in Beckley, WV, it was difficult to imagine a book store that would have a copy of something I wanted to read when I wanted to read it. I was certain that if I had asked someone at Waldenbooks at the Crossroads Mall if they had a copy of Ellington: The Early Years, I would be met with a blank stare.

I still remember first walking through the front door. It was like a wonderland. Shelf after shelf of books on philosophy, religion, music, art, poetry . . . everything. There was a music store inside, too. Their world music section was about as large as my record store at home.

I spent a lot of money at that place in two years. A lot of money. (In retrospect, it seems unethical in the extreme to issue credit cards to college students, but it seemed like free money at the time.)

I bought everything you can imagine. I bought new releases with quirky titles and brushed-paper covers. I bought glossy travel guides to places I had no plans to visit. I also bought "classics."

One of the first books I bought at Border's was Ulysses by James Joyce. At the time, I knew nothing about Joyce except that he was Irish and that Ulysses was considered a classic, a major achievement in Western literature. It was massive. I bought the paperback copy, but I still think it weighed about 8 pounds.

I took home Ulysses along with a sack of other purchases and settled in to read. I picked the Joyce up first. I got about ten pages. I put in a bookmark then picked up another book.

I tried again about six months later. I think I may have gotten 20 pages that time.

Over the years, I believe I've tried to read Ulysses five times, each time inching forward a few more pages. The last time I got to about page 75 before giving up. The problem is that the damn thing is about 800 pages long.

For those of you who have not set out on the odyssey to conquer Joyce's epic novel, I will simply say that it is daunting. There is a long bit at the front about a tower. And a key, I think. And some young men arguing, but not in any sort of violent way. At one point the main character goes to use the toilet.

I feel like a true failure and a bit of a fraud, pretending to be an educated person when I am largely unfamiliar with this important literary work.

I feel like a failure until I read Nick Hornby.

Hornby, the author of High Fidelity and several other lovely works of fiction also wrote non-fiction books about books, The Polysyllabic Spree and Housekeeping Versus The Dirt. If you are a bibliophile to any degree, I would highly recommend them. In each, Hornby chronicles his own love of books, each chapter a monthly entry in a diary recounting books he has purchased, books he has read and books he has started to read. One quickly learns that this successful author, who is widely read and British, for crying out loud, has trouble making it to the last page quite frequently.

I suffer from this disease in the worst way. At any given moment, there are four or five books I am "reading," though some have gathered dust on a shelf for months.

Here's what I'm "reading" right now.

Touched with Fire: Manic Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament by Kay Refield Jamison. Okay, I really am reading this one right now. I'm about three-quarters through and it is sitting on the table next to me, waiting for me to quit blogging. It's excellent, by the way, and compelling for anyone in the arts and/or anyone who is familiar with manic depression.

I think I could still argue that I am reading the second volume of Peter Guralnick's Elvis biography, Careless Love. I plowed through the first volume, Last Train to Memphis and expected the number two to be just as exciting. The problem is that volume one feels like "That's Alright Mama" and volume two feels like Having Fun with Elvis on Stage. I'm sure I'll finish it: I'm about 50 pages from the finish line. Actually, the last 50 pages may be good companion reading with the Jamison book.

By the way, Guralnick's other books, especially Sweet Soul Music and Lost Highway are excellent. He is my favorite music writer and has a deep understanding of American music.

I cannot tell you how excited I was to begin reading Creativity by Mihaly Csikzentmihaly. I have given away about six copies of his seminal work Flow, which is about the science of motivation and why we should do the thing we love. I read Flow in college (I bought it at Border's) and will talk about it to anyone who will stand still for five minutes. Imagine my excitement when I learned that one of my favorite authors had written on the subject of creativity - a topic I never tire of discussing! I made it about half-way through.

The problem was that I disagree with Czikzentmihaly's framework for understanding creativity, which he introduces early on, as well as his very flawed method of studying the issue. I'll spare you the details here, but the experience left me jaded. I suppose I may finish it someday soon, since I think the issue of creativity is so very important. But I'm not going to enjoy it.

This is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession is a pretty good read by Daniel Levitin, in spite of its truly horrific title. I could even say that I loved the first part of it. Somewhere about two-thirds of the way through I set it down and just haven't wanted to pick it up again. For the first several chapters, it was very affirming to me. I read page after page about why we love music - not some voodoo, but hard science. It's in our genetic code! Hurray! Science validates my love of music! That's all well and good, I suppose, but after a while I felt like Whitman listening to the learned astronomers, wanting to go outside and gaze at the silent stars.

We were assigned Readicide: How Schools are Killing Reading and What You Can Do about It by Kelly Gallagher as a work assignment. The premise of the the book is excellent and important, and that is that we have taken the joy of reading from students, largely by forcing them to read things they don't want to. Here's the thing: I hate being told I have to read something. So I haven't finished it. (I'll give you a moment for the irony of this anecdote to fully settle in.) I've got a single chapter left in this slim paperback, but it may never get read. Keep in mind, I went through junior and senior high school English reading every novel assigned after we had the final test on each. It's just some weird compulsion.

That leaves one final unfinished read.

Ulysses.

Maybe I'll start that one tomorrow.

Transforming Education through Challenging Our Assumptions, OR Why the Founding Fathers weren't Smart Enough to Use an iPhone

(Written July 30, 2011.)

I'm a big fan of Sir Ken Robinson. Anyone who has known me for any time has been forced to watch one of his videos or listened to me quote him. His first TED talk, entitled, "Do Schools Kill Creativity?" has been viewed 9 million times. If you've not availed yourself of the opportunity, you should go watch it immediately.

He also has a very entertaining piece from RSAnimate entitled, "Changing Education Paradigms". In it, he outlines the history of educational systems around the world and why they emphasize the things they do. One of his chief contentions is that modern education systems are made in the image and serve the ends of the Industrial Revolution. While not the first to note this, Sir Ken highlights the more humorous aspects of this phenomenon. One of his chief concerns is that we are educating people out of their creativity and away from their natural talents. We are doing this because our education systems were built to develop a narrow set of human capacities most useful for work in the 19th and 20th centuries.

Many have responded to these concerns in admirable ways. The Partnership for 21st Century Learning developed their framework around those skills and content areas necessary for the new workplace: creativity, innovation, collaboration, information and communication technologies, critical thinking, leadership and others. Recognizing their own image in this list, arts educators applauded these. The Council of Chief State School Officers (CCSSO) organized work on common state standards (the "Common Core") in English and Math, which include "anchor standards" in grades K-12, designed to promote college and career readiness. Teachers and parents will be able, it is thought, to see how ready for college their 5-year-old is.

The discussion in education is moving away from the topic of "reform." Robinson and others have argued for "revolution" or "transformation" of education systems. The problem is that many have yet to challenge their own long-held assumptions about education.

In my opinion, the chief assumption of public education systems everywhere is that education is to prepare students for work. One of the reasons that arts programs have historically been viewed as dispensable is that most thought it unlikely that large numbers of people would find gainful employment as painters or guitarists or whatever. Algebra and English and the lot were viewed as essential to entering the 20th century workforce in a way that dance was not.

I would like to comment here about our use of the word “talent,” because I think it reveals a great deal about our view of intelligence as well. Most people describe someone who plays the piano or dances well as “talented.” Yet we describe someone who is good at trigonometry or chemistry as “intelligent.” Knowing what we do now about human cognition, this seems an arbitrary distinction. I remember a conversation with a colleague a couple of years ago where she insisted that you could not teach someone to sing – the person was either born knowing how to sing or not. This is complete nonsense and demonstrably false. Thousands of children are taught to sing by music teachers every year. The fact that some people seem to be “born singers” in no way negates this. Some children seem to be born writers, yet no one would think of suggesting that we stop teaching all children to write.

Designating some human capacities “talents” has allowed us to wash our hands of developing these in our school systems to some degree. That our deepened understanding of human intelligence, especially the work of Howard Gardner, et al, has not driven us toward a broader curriculum, may indicate that those decisions are made for political rather than educational reasons.

As a consequence, even though it has long been possible to get a job as a violist or an actor, it was assumed that those in possession of these “talents” would gain the prerequisite skills quite apart from education. It seems unthinkable that we would make the same assumption about engineers or physicists.

The workforce has changed radically in the last twenty years and will continue to change for the foreseeable future. It’s become common in education to quip that most children are being educated for jobs that do not even exist yet. Who was educated to be a smart phone app developer or a viral marketing consultant?

Not only is the workforce changing, but views of work itself are changing. To many people in the mid 20th century especially, work was seen as a necessary process for obtaining the life one wanted: bread on the table, shoes for the kids, then later an automobile, your own home, several televisions, etc. You may have taken a job in a factory or mine and viewed that as merely a means to an ends. While it is true that there are still those who view work in this way, there seems to be a growing number who expect work to provide personal satisfaction. According to a report from the Conference Board in 2010, job satisfaction among Americans is at 45% - the lowest since the report began examining that data in the 80s. Chief among the reasons was that workers found their jobs uninteresting.

Why should this be? It’s difficult to imagine that working in a factory stuffing cardboards into shirts was all that interesting in 1960. Are we just less content and grumpier than our parents and grandparents? Perhaps, but there may be other reasons.

One, as Robinson has noted, is that we are living in the most stimulating time in all of human history. Talking heads are fond of imagining what George Washington might say about the economy or how Abraham Lincoln might view the war in Iraq, but I’m guessing that if we showed them an iPhone their heads would probably explode. One can imagine John Adams in the passenger seat of a Mustang cruising down an eight-lane highway at 80 M.P.H. holding on for dear life and screaming for the witches to stop their demon metal horse carriage and let him repose in the nearest apple orchard.

We take for granted the constant stream of media in our lives. Yet many go to workplaces that haven’t changed that much since their parents’ times and find them boring. Workers in 2011 want stimulation at work, they want to use social networking, they want to view cat videos on YouTube, they may even want gaming.

Other ways our lives have changed are causing us to seek meaning in our workplace as well. Many do not find personal meaning in religion or family the way that past generations did. While I will not argue that this is a good, or even neutral, thing, it means that work plays a larger role in how we make meaning for ourselves. We want what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls “flow” – that feeling of timelessness and purpose as we are engaged in an activity that maximizes our talents.

It was easy to see “work” and “life” as separate worlds in the mid 20th century. The worker, usually the “man of the family” would go to work during regular hours, wearing his “work clothes,” whether blue or white collar, return home and enjoy his family and leave work until the next day.

For many of us, this is no longer the case. I had the opportunity to visit the offices of VH-1 this year for a work-related trip. The employees there arrived when they wished. VH-1 stocked each floor’s kitchen with the favorites of the staff: energy drinks, Captain Crunch, popcorn, etc. Everyone dressed stylishly; you might think the whole staff were preparing for a night of clubbing. The employees spoke casually to one another, even their bosses. The interior looked like Tony Stark and Andy Warhol had designed it, and all the furniture was comfortable. Employees walked around on cell phones, listening to music and genuinely enjoying their day. They left when they finished their work.

We do not have the silos of “work” and “life” the way many of our parents and grandparents did. I’m writing this piece, largely about my work, on a Saturday afternoon. I plan to post it to Facebook so that my friends might think about it. When I’m at work on Monday, I’ll probably spend some time making personal calls, checking my seats for the concert next Thursday, and buying a pair of shoes online. Then I’ll take my laptop home and work some more on a guidance document from my job.

We no longer think of ourselves in these discreet ways anymore and our education systems must mirror this shift. Education must help us think about global issues so that we can make informed decisions. It must help us to find thoughtful ways to engage our time away from work. It must help us make choices that affect our health and wellness. It must help us express our thoughts and feelings about ourselves and the human condition.

Education systems must also begin to recognize that children are human beings now – not simply when they begin contributing to the economy. 18-plus years is a significant portion of one’s life. We must start considering the humanity of those we teach and recognize that each has unique gifts and abilities, each has thoughts and feelings, and each has the potential to help make this world a more humane, rich and meaningful place. While we want our students to be “college and career ready,” they have lives and are looking for purpose now.

If our education systems are to meet the demands of the 21st century, we need to stop thinking about educating children solely for work. We don’t know what their work will be; we cannot begin to imagine it. Not only that, but they are much more than workers. They are whole human beings and it is a moral imperative, in my opinion, that we educate as many of their capacities as we can, not only that they may be prepared for the workplace, but also so they will be prepared to make meaning of their lives in an increasingly complex world.

The arts must be included in any curriculum that will prepare students for the future. We all have the ability to dance, to act, to draw and to sing, if we are given the chance. These abilities foster creativity that will help us to solve problems we cannot begin to imagine will exist. They will also help us make meaning of our 21st century world, just as they have in every other century.

Secrets of the Successful Classroom Revealed!!

(Written May 5, 2011.)

Teaching can be a very strange profession. Up until the mid-twentieth century, it was probably widely believed that teaching was not a separate skill set. Most assumed that if, for example, one knew how to play the saxophone, one could teach others to play. Knowledge of content was equated with the ability to teach. This is apparently the predominant view in most colleges, universities and churches to this day. Professors are routinely hired for their expertise in a field and given teaching assignments with little or no thought given to their ability to teach. Law schools are the worst. They seem to hold those in the highest regard who have the least pedagogical ability. Law professors who have high failure rates and belittle their students are revered. (Keep in mind, most of my knowledge of this comes from being married to a lawyer and watching three seasons of The Paper Chase.) How many of us have been put to sleep by the lectures of those considered the leading experts in their field, only to leave their classes with no more understanding of the content than when we entered?

Knowledge of content does not equate with the ability to teach. In public schools at least, we have come to this realization.

The problem is that we have seen the pendulum swing too far the other way. In my own field, I have grown sick of hearing, “She’s not really a good musician herself, but she’s an excellent teacher.” Bullshit. No, she’s not. In the arts at least, I sometimes think this is a crisis. I will say this as plainly as I can: if you have not mastered your craft enough to be a passable dancer, actor, artist or musician, please stay out of the arts classroom. You simply do not know enough. You may write killer lesson plans, you may have wonderful classroom management skills, you may even “inspire” students, but all of that will break down where the rubber meets the road. The simple truth is that if you don’t love the subject you teach enough to master it, you cannot possibly guide other human beings to mastery.

The concept of “teaching technique” has reached a strange level in our field. Every few months someone appears with a new method, complete with a reinvented vocabulary, in an attempt to build the teaching craft. My first few experiences with this as a young teacher were truly baffling. I attended a professional development on something called the “Thompson Method,” that was sure to transform the classroom. We learned about “essential questions” and “activating strategies.” It was all very informative. I thought my college professors must have been quite ignorant to not be familiar with this technique. I tried it for about a year, until I went to another professional development session where I learned that Max Thompson had it wrong, that his “essential questions” weren’t all that essential at all.

The same has been true in other areas of teaching as well, including classroom management, approaches to differentiation, lesson planning, assessment, remediation, literacy and so on. I learned how to write instructional guides. I learned the difference between “goals” and “standards.” I learned the principles of project based learning. Every new idea came with its own body of research supporting it and promises that it would reinvigorate our classrooms. It is actually quite difficult to stay abreast of trends in pedagogy. I have a few friends who are always on the cutting edge and I admire them. Every year they have a fresh approach to the classroom and they seem better teachers for it.

I am not like those teachers. Don’t’ get me wrong: I think the craft of teaching is important. For that matter, I think it is a skill that can be developed, just like playing the saxophone. It is incumbent upon educators to learn their craft. What I think I object to is the short shelf life of our vocabulary. I’ll give an example.

At the Department of Education, I’m currently working on professional development for teachers on learning progressions. I’m charged with helping them understand grain size and the importance of vertical alignment of their curriculum. The thing is, I didn’t really know what a “learning progression” was until a few weeks ago myself. (I’m not an idiot: I understand the words “learning” and “progression.” I had just never heard that as a term of art.) I had never heard the phrase “grain size” and “vertical alignment” would have had no specific context for me.

How is this possible? I think I’m a pretty damn good teacher. I’m not saying this arrogantly. I don’t mean I’m a phenomenal teacher, just that I have a degree of competency. How is it possible that I was able to put on several concerts a year without a learning progression? How did my students learn to play the twelve-bar blues, master AP Theory and make the all-state choir before I knew about grain size?

Lest I be misunderstood, let me say that I think it is important that we have these discussions as teachers. Some of these ideas are actually quite good. I am concerned, however, that this mastery of technical nomenclature is equated with good teaching. Nothing could be further from the truth. You become a good teacher much the same way you become a good saxophonist: you practice. Faced with 25 (or maybe 125) teenagers who have just failed an algebra test or broken up with their boyfriends, went to bed at 2:00 AM, skipped breakfast, text constantly and desperately want to learn to play music, the technical knowledge of teaching will only get you so far. It’s good to have a plan. But it’s even better if you can communicate, empathize, improvise, adapt, create and synthesize.

Luckily, if you’re a real artist, you’ve already mastered those skills.

The Artists' Meeting

(Written April 10, 2011.)

I was looking for a quote just now but can’t find it online. It’s probably an apocryphal story anyway. Supposedly someone asked Greta Garbo why she had chosen a life on the stage and she answered, “Because I got tired of sitting in the audience.” (Maybe it was Mae West. Or Marlene Dietrich. But you get the point.) There is something about artists that makes them want to be the focus of attention. I used to think this was only true of performing artists, but I’m discovering it’s just as true of painters and sculptors. I am coming more and more to believe that this is a product of our insecurity more than anything else. This is no great revelation: I am hardly the first person to note this. No matter what any artist says, s/he needs that audience approval, or at least an audience reaction. Some artists seem to thrive on provoking their public, but that’s really just the flip side of the same drive. Ask any classroom teacher and they will tell you: students who are unable to get positive attention would rather have negative attention than none at all. Even an angry audience is confirmation for us that we exist, and that our existence matters. Indifference can crush one’s soul.

I’ve also discovered that this need transfers to other life situations, with sometimes disastrous results. Having spent many hours in meetings with artists and arts educators, it seems that we, as a community, are at times crippled by an inability to remain dispassionate. I will freely confess that I find this occasionally amusing. Watching the color rise in the face of la prima donna or listening as maestro’s words crescendo and become increasingly nonsensical has a comic effect – if you are not the target of her or his ire. More often than not, however, the final result is a lack of any real progress.

For you artists and arts educators who are not frequenters of meetings, let me give you a bit of a guide for the neophyte.

First, you must learn proper protocol when speaking. It is incumbent upon you, the artist, to give everyone in attendance as much of your résumé as possible. Before addressing the matter at hand, preface your remarks by indicating famous venues where you have performed or noted pedagogues with whom you have studied. If you lack these credentials, speak in vague terms. Tell everyone you have performed “in France” if your high school choir once sang at Euro-Disney. If no one has heard of the college you attended, simply feign disbelief at their intolerable ignorance.

Your tone and demeanor deserve much attention as well. They are many possibilities, so I will mention just a few.

Theatre is always appreciated, so if you have a flair for the dramatic, it certainly helps. Try speaking with just a hint of an accent (a faint Irish brogue is charming). Or maybe use archaic words, such as “Avaunt” or “Betimes.” Gesticulate wildly if you cannot think of a quick retort. And project! Even if you are addressing a board meeting of a dozen individuals, speak as if you are center stage at the Met.

Another option is to play the indignant formalist. Ask for clarifications about parliamentary procedure as much as possible. If you don’t like what someone is saying, simply shout, “Point of order!” No one really knows what this means and they will think you are really smart. Make certain you always know when you have the floor and never yield.

If neither of these fit you, try being the free-spirited hippie. Others will be impressed at how artistic you are by your memorable fashion faux pas and the distinctive scent of patchouli that lingers long after you have exited the room. Being so artistic and “right-brained” frees you from the burden of providing reason and judgment to support your opinions. You also may feel free to attack others with impunity, since they know that you value peace and love.

Next, remember that an artist never compromises. If you’re newly-commissioned performance piece involves defecating on stage and someone suggests that this may not be appropriate for the audience of elementary school students who will be in attendance, this is censorship. If your ensemble is asked to shorten their piece by two minutes in order to accommodate the other 15 performers on the concert, this will certainly compromise the artistic integrity of the work.

Speaking of which, it is imperative that you learn the correct vocabulary when addressing a meeting of artists. You must always speak of “the work” or “the craft.” You may use terms of art, especially if they are non-English words, but this only works well if addressing someone outside your own discipline. If you are musician addressing a group of visual artists, for example, pepper your remarks with words like “virtuosi” or “divertimento.” Refer to any project you are working on as your “opus.” Actors and dancers can likewise confuse musicians by mentioning the “proscenium” or “gels.” (Little known fact: though musicians spend much of their professional lives onstage, none of them know any of the jargon associated with those folks in black t-shirts.) If you’re speaking to someone who has no professional experience with the arts, it helps to mention the “fourth wall” a lot.

I know: physician, heal thyself. I see myself in too many of my own comments, but that’s the point. If we are to move “the work” forward, we have to start working together. Not only that, but I’m beginning to worry about my own mental health. A life of passion is one I highly recommend. Yet it is easy to see the arch of the artist’s life spanning from “angry young man” to “bitter old man.” It may be that being an artist necessitates a hyper-sensitivity to our culture and to societal ills. I just hope we can maybe be a little more civil when talking to each other.

A Guide to New Orleans for My West Virginia Friends

(Written March 11, 2011.)

I am writing this note at the suggestion of Heather. A lot of these things aren’t unique to me, so I won’t claim original thought. But I’m betting a few of my FB friends might read one of my notes who won’t read Frommer’s. A few general points.

1. First, the name of the city is pronounced “Noo Ohr’-luhns” – just like it’s spelled. You can say “New Orleenz” if you’re singing it. Don’t say “N’awlins.” Everyone will think you’re a tool.

2. It’s okay to wear beads on Mardi Gras. In fact, it’s de rigueur. You can also feel free to wear beads gotten at other parades: Easter, St. Patrick’s, New Years. That’s it.

3. You should go to Bourbon Street to see it, but don’t spend too long. You will leave appreciably more stupid. And wear shoes. That’s not a gentle mist that has covered the street.

4. The easiest way to be hip in New Orleans is to be your loosest, most funky self, whoever that is. They will accept anyone – grandmas, hipsters, losers, gang bangers, etc. The easiest way to be cool is to realize you already are. (This is actually true everywhere.)

5. Don’t eat at any restaurant that has another location outside of New Orleans.

6. They like music in New Orleans, especially music from New Orleans. Try to learn something about it before you go. You will have a better time if you know who Louis Armstrong, Professor Longhair and Kermit Ruffins were/are.

7. They also like a lot of non-New Orleans music, like Sam Cooke, Al Green and James Brown.

8. Abita Beer is good, but more people drink Bud Light. Sad, but true. Don’t drink Dixie.

9. Put hot sauce on everything. Crystal is the best.

10. It’s okay to ask the band to play “When the Saints Go Marching In,” but you better tip them. A lot.

11. Always tip the band. They’ll bring a bucket around and sing a special song for you when it’s time to tip the band. The song is called, “Tip the Band.”

12. It helps to know the words to a few songs, and not ones you might guess. “It’s All Over Now,” by Bobby Womack and popularized by the Rolling Stones, is a favorite of everyone’s, as is “I’ll Fly Away.” It helps to learn a few local favorites, especially from the brass bands, like, “I Feel Like Funkin’ It Up” and “Do Watcha Wanna.”

13. “Do Watcha Wanna” is the only rule on Mardi Gras Day.

14. Mardi Gras is Tuesday. While a lot of people call the whole season “Mardi Gras,” most will say “Carnival.”

15. The language that used to be spoken in New Orleans was French. Then it was something called French Creole, which mixes in a little Spanish and some West African languages. This means two things:

a. You can expect to see some signs and menus in French. This should not shock you.

b. The “French” you read will not be recognizable by any native Francophone and trying to use your high school French to figure pronunciation is pretty pointless. “Chartres” is pronounced “Charters.”

16. Musicians in New Orleans don’t think in the same categories as they do in many other places. Asking if a band plays “jazz,” won’t get you a straight answer. Everyone plays jazz, even the country bands. They also play soul, hip-hop, gospel, rock, punk and anything else you might want to hear.

17. People in New Orleans like to party. I’m being serious here. Now, I don’t mean “party” as in get drunk with three people and throw up. I mean, drink, stay out all night and dance with strangers until 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning. On a Wednesday.

18. Wear a costume on Mardi Gras. Seriously. It is appreciated and you won’t stick out.

19. Go somewhere besides the French Quarter. I mean, go there, too, it’s fun. But catch a street car and go see Rebirth at the Maple Leaf or take the ferry to Algiers.

20. Don’t give money to any white kids with dreadlocks. That’s a $600 banjo that kid is playing. Let him go join Dexy’s Midnight Runners or dip into his trust fund.

21. If someone approaches you and needs “$11 for a hotel for the night,” don’t give it to him. He’s hustling you.

22. If someone offers to guess “where you got your shoes,” he’s hustling you. The answer is, “You got them on your feet.”

23. New Orleans is one of the few places you can order certain cocktails and not get mocked. Pimm’s Cup, Gin Fizz, Sazerac and Rum Punch are all favorites.

24. On the other hand, don’t order a Hurricane or a Hand Grenade if you are over 22.

25. Don’t argue with bartenders. Actually, don’t do this anywhere. If the place doesn’t have Coors Light, it’s not because they don’t carry “good beer.”

26. Do not be alarmed if an insect crosses the bar where you are sitting.

27. In New Orleans, fun trends never go out of style. People in clubs still “put their hands in the air and shake them like they just don’t care,” and you can expect to hear, “The roof! The roof! The roof is on fire!”

28. Not everyone is Cajun in New Orleans. In fact, almost no one is Cajun. Cajuns are from the country.

29. No one wants to hear you opine about Katrina. On the other hand, anyone you meet will be happy to tell their Katrina story.

30. New Orleans-themed attire, especially Saints tees, never goes out of style.

Twenty Books My Twin Sister Should Read

(Written January 4, 2011)
Sarah,
You asked me for a list of books I would recommend to you that “cause [you] to view the world from a different perspective,” my “top twenty or so.” I want you to know that I have taken this responsibility very seriously. Please guard this list carefully. Possession of this list may lead to your moral decline or possibly your excommunication (I’m actually not joking on that one.) You won’t find any Elizabeth George or William P. Young here. There is nothing that ranks as pornographic literature, though some King-James Only proponents might disagree. The list is ranked according firstly to how different the perspective is from your own and secondly how enjoyable and/or informative the book is.
You may want to get a scotch, neat, to drink while you read.

1. Preacher by Garth Ennis. A “graphic novel” (i.e., comic book) that you can buy in nine paperback volumes, Preacher is about a preacher (!) who loses his faith due to being possessed by the offspring of an angel and a demon. To say that most people would consider this comic blasphemous would be an understatement. (Hint: the villain is an omnipotent deity.)
2. Hip: The History by John Leland. I recommend everyone read this book. This book chronicles the concept of hip in the conflict between West Africans and Western Europeans in America, beginning with minstrelsy and ending with trucker caps. By the way, there is another John Leland who authored some minor Calvinistic Baptist works in the 17th century. This one writes for Rolling Stone.
3. Pimp by Iceberg Slim. A memoir that teaches you the best qualities of a “bottom bitch” and why you shouldn’t have sex with your own prostitutes unless they pay you. I bet no one in your church has read this.
4. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess. I’m reading this now. Violent and Pelagian. The book ends more upbeat than the movie.
5. A Confederacy of Dunces by Jonathan Kennedy O’Toole. Set in the French Quarter, so you know I love it. The protagonist is a fat medievalist who lives with his mom and has a faulty pyloric valve. A really good way to learn how weird New Orleans is.
6. Watchmen by Alan Moore. Another comic, this one the great American novel, written by an Englishman. This one flips the concept of heroes on its head, with the good guys committing rape and genocide. I like the ending of the movie better (Craig Calcaterra will probably bash me for that) but the book is great.
7. The Biography of Malcolm X by Alex Haley. Yes, the guy who wrote Roots. Malcolm Little starts out as a hustler in Harlem, then converts to Nation of Islam, then finally to traditional Islam. Another one that’s probably not on your church’s book table.
8. Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. Have you read this? Christians hate it because it uses the word “g**d**” (and yes, it’s spelled with just six letters). (Btw – I edited that to spare your church friends on your FB. I’m that gracious.) You have to read it just because it gets banned so much. Just don’t kill Paul or Ringo.
9. Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist. What’s scarier than vampires? Child vampires – that are Swedish!! This book is great. It’s really about how awful it is to be an adolescent. Just make sure you get the English translation. Unless you speak Swedish.
10. Seymour: An Introduction/Raise High the Roofbeam Carpenters by J.D. Salinger. Another Glass family book (actually two in one).  Family dysfunction that is witty and dark.
11. Miles: An Autobiography by Miles Davis. The first page has the sentence, “Ella Fitzgerald was a m*****f*****.” Do you really need another reason to read this?
12. Chronicles, Volume One by Bob Dylan. This guy has had a really interesting life. When he gets bored with who he is, he just decides he’s someone else. Non-chronological, which is nice.
13. Post Office by Charles Bukowski. The opposite of the Puritan work ethic.
14. Catalog of Cool by Gene Sculatti. Really a catalog. Find out why Hostess cupcakes are cooler than Twinkies.
15. The Joe Pitt series by Charlie Huston. A five-book series. A cross between a horror novel and a noir crime thriller. The coolest vampire.
16. High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. Losers who are obsessed with records. And making lists. Nothing like your twin brother. (The movie is great, too, if you haven’t seen it, though it’s set in Chicago.)
17. A Good and Happy Child by Justin Evans. Set in a fictional Virginia town that closely resembles Lexington, this book is just frightening. Childhood demon possession.
18. Cash: The Autobiography of Johnny Cash by Johnny Cash. I love this book because it says stuff like (paraphrasing from memory), “I’ve been touring for forty years and the only thing that has changed is that forty years ago they didn’t have extra crispy.” And he loves every American president.
19. The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler. My favorite noir. I love Chandler’s prose. A sample: "He was a guy who talked with commas, like a heavy novel. Over the phone anyway."
20. Songbook by Nick Hornby. Nonfiction. I read this in one setting. Basically a list of songs and why he likes them.

Athenians, Spartans & Philistines

(Written December 10, 2010)

Do you remember studying Athens and Sparta in high school? The two most powerful of the Greek city-states fought the Peloponnesian War and represented to the modern imagination the two sides of human nature. The Spartans were masculine, disciplined, truculent, martial and unreflective. The Athenians, on the other hand, were more androgynous, free-spirited, peaceful, artistic and philosophical. This contrast seemed to fire the modern imagination and its love of dualism. The truth was more complex, of course, as it always is. Yet it was easy to classify personalities as fundamentally Athenian or Spartan. Custer was Spartan. Thoreau was Athenian. MacArthur was Spartan. Einstein was Athenian. Stalin was Spartan. Solzhenitsyn was Athenian. Nixon was Spartan. Lennon was Athenian. You get the picture.

It’s really not hard to see who the good guys are on the list. I mean, I know General MacArthur helped save civilization from totalitarianism and fascism. Yet one suspects that civilizations are built by the thinkers, not the warriors. As an artist, it’s pretty easy to see one’s role, too. There are several of my friends who serve in military bands (and God bless you Mike, Chris, Jeff, Kelly and the rest), but it’s hard to imagine myself going through basic training or wearing khakis every day. I find myself much more comfortable around people with nose rings and police records.

When I was young, someone pointed out to me that every city in the world named Athens has an institution of higher education. This was meant as tribute to this ancient culture of thinkers. I can’t think of any cities named Sparta. That’s not to say there aren’t any, just that the name is much less common. I suppose that when one founds a city, one would rather think of the foundations being philosophical than militaristic.

Yet, there is still one realm where the name of that ancient city is frequently invoked. You’ve already thought of it, I’m sure. The Spartan is still one of the favorite mascots of public high schools and colleges all across our country. Along with that other greaves-and-helmet-wearing mascot, the Trojan (the Crip to the Spartan’s Blood), the Spartan seems one of the least likely emblems of institutions dedicated to the life of the mind. So . . . what’s he doing there?

We seem uncomfortable in our country with those who spend their time thinking, discussing, creating art, writing or making scientific discoveries. Well, unless they beat someone else doing it. Then it’s okay. Glee is the most popular television show in America right now, and while I do enjoy Jane Lynch and its occasionally dark sense of humor, I doubt anyone would be watching if they were performing madrigal dinners. The story line is driven by the sense of competition. The students must compete with each other for chances in the spotlight. The teachers compete for resources and students. The choir is gearing up for the big state competition. And so on.

To many it seems downright un-American to suggest that one choose intellectual pursuits simply for their own enjoyment. There is something a little queer, isn’t there, in wanting to just sit around playing a saxophone or something? I mean, people don’t just read a book anymore do they? And writing poetry?! Shit. Why don’t you just wear a dress, boy?

I’ve been sickened for years at this strain of pure anti-intellectualism in schools. Think about that one for a second: anti-intellectualism in schools. We want schools to be places where students learn to think, yet we stigmatize the very act. Somehow we want them to spend all their time lifting weights and chasing tail but leave school smart enough to solve the world’s problems. I have sat in teacher meetings where veteran teachers admitted proudly to not having read a book in years. I have heard teachers ridicule other teachers for being such “know-it-alls.” That’s like Usain Bolt being mocked at the Olympics for running so fast. You’re supposed to be smart if you’re a teacher, dumb ass!! You’re supposed to know more than most of the kids, you’re supposed to encourage their questions, you’re supposed to help them love learning. If you don’t love learning, please do something else.

Being good at a sport that no one plays outside the U.S. does not qualify you to be a teacher. Using class time to free associate and espouse your personal religious or political beliefs does not constitute sound pedagogy. Your hobbies – scrapbooking, fly-fishing, quilting, NASCAR – do not constitute a curriculum. (I know: teachers shouldn’t be expected to check their personal ideologies at the door of the school and scrapbooking, fly-fishing, quilting and NASCAR can be used to raise student interest. I get it. But is that all you’re planning for the whole school year?)

In the arts we often refer to another ancient culture, the Philistines. To call someone a Philistine is to imply that he is uncultured or uneducated or demonstrates remarkably poor taste. Now, the Philistines make one lone appearance in ancient literature of which I am aware, and that is in the Old Testament of the Bible. You will probably remember them from the battle between David and Goliath. Almost nothing is known of their culture. Yet it is assumed that a culture that celebrates war and brute strength would not cherish the arts and letters.

The irony is this: the culture that cherishes winning over learning is the culture that loses. The shepherd-boy David, who played the harp and wrote songs, went on to be king in a very great nation that shaped the Western world. Goliath lives only in infamy. (How many Goliaths do you think are starting kindergarten this year?)

For you artistic Davids out there, remember that one small stone can fell a giant, if placed just right. We may not always win, but history is on our side.

If You Can Read This, So What?

(Written November 30, 2010)

There was this bumper sticker that was going around a couple of years ago that I never really got. It showed this musical staff with a few measures of fairly-complicated piano scoring in it and a caption that read: “If you can read this, thank a music teacher!” I never really got it, because I always wondered what the point was exactly. Was I supposed to be thankful if I could read the music and perform it on the piano? Or if I could simply read it and imagine it rendered in my head? Or if I could just identify the notes on the staff?

I was thinking about this today after a conversation I had with a music teacher.

The music teacher in question was discussing a project he is working on and where it might fall in his curriculum. He suggested that, since the project would involve improvisation, he would teach it later, after he had covered the “fundamentals”: quarter notes, half notes, “Every Good Boy Does Fine,” etc.

I suggested that he might rethink his approach. “You know,” I offered, “Muddy Waters or Louis Armstrong never read music at all and they were great improvisers.”

“Don’t say that around my kids!” he shot back. “They all tell me they are all great ‘drummers’ but they can’t read the first note. I say to them, ‘Don’t insult my education. I had to go to college to become a musician.’”

After checking my iPhone to make sure it was still 2010, all I could do was offer, “I suppose that’s one viewpoint.”

How is it possible that we still think this way, arts teachers? Why do we still have the cart before the horse? How many more generations of young artists will leave school being taught they aren’t dancers or actors or musicians or artists? How many of them will watch their creative urges die and learn to hate the arts and arts classes.

Let me say this emphatically, as perhaps the only article of faith I have left: all human beings are creative and all are born artists. We may teach them craft, but creativity is something they bring with them to the classroom. We may nurture that creativity or we may kill it, but the urge is inherent in all of Adam’s children.

We have elevated craft over art for so long in the classroom, belittling students who show any real creativity. We laugh at them, tell them to stop screwing around or even punish them when they invent, compose, improvise, doodle . . . anything they don’t get from us, we instantly devalue. Why?

Honestly, I think it is rooted in our own insecurity. We are, each one of us, very insecure beings who fear being thought stupid or inept. This is easy to recognize in the students we teach. They are frightened to take a chance, mostly because they don’t want others to see they aren’t super groovy or brilliant or strong or whatever. Or maybe they are afraid that others will see that thing in them they have been hiding from the world for so long. Guess what? Teachers are the exact same way. We don’t like it when students learn that we don’t know the answers. Worse, we hate it when students know something we don’t. Our solution to the problem is simple. If we have a student who can sit at the piano and play for hours on end without looking at the first bit of paper, we say, “You mean you’re just playing by ear?!” If they can rattle off the lyrics from every single Eminem record, we say, “Rap isn’t music!” You get the picture.

The result is a stifling environment, for students certainly, but for teachers, too. Who can live with that pressure? Not only do I have to be better than I know that I am, but I have to be better than the other 30 human beings in the room? I have to know more? My skill level has to exceed theirs in every area?

Ken Robinson said, in his now-famous TED talk, “I don’t mean to say that being wrong is the same thing as being creative. What we do know is, if you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original . . . And by the time they get to be adults, most kids have lost that capacity.”

Can we change that? Can we make our classrooms places where creativity is nurtured and praised? Can we build secure environments where we value the contributions of our students? Can you begin to imagine that?

If you are an arts teacher in West Virginia, I have a special message for you. Starting today, I grant you permission to be wrong. Admit you don’t know something. Tell a student s/he is better at something than you. I will still love you. And your students will love you. Maybe even more than they do now.

The Meta-Problem in Education That No One is Talking About

(Written October 2, 2010)

My new gig is going reasonably well, for anyone who is interested. I think we are making some progress in arts education in West Virginia, though really it is too early to tell. All the Debbie Downers among my friends tell me that nothing is going to change, nothing ever has changed, a proposition that is demonstrably false. Others seem surprised that in the two months I've been working for the West Virginia Department of Education that I’ve not doubled arts funding in every county and fixed everyone’s schedules. Both of those issues are pretty far from my control, but I’m doing what I can. As predicted, I do miss teaching. That’s no surprise to anyone, least of all myself. I just hope that the work I am doing will yield some results over the coming years. Building 6 is a remarkably less stimulating environment than the music classroom and I will return to it if I don’t see fruits from my labors in the coming two or three years.

A lot of the work I am doing is self-directed. I see a problem that I want to fix and I try to address it the best way I can. To that end, we (and I’m using the plural pronoun there literally, not like the papal “we”) are working on issues like our dance certification, art and music teachers in every elementary school, professional development for administrators on arts education, and more. Other tasks get assigned to me, either because I show an interest in them or because I’m the new kid on the block and it’s easy to give me assignments. So I’m on a committee for promoting student engagement, answering questions about the issue of creativity in the classroom, meeting with a work group dedicated to parental involvement and serving as a liaison from WVDE to the Martin Luther King Celebration planning committee. Still other jobs are handed to me because someone else sees their importance and thinks I’m the one to do them. These are the trickiest ones, because they seem to take up a lot of time and sometimes I’m not entirely sure that my skills are matched to the task. I’m working on one like that right now.

The Office of Instruction has been asked to provide professional development sessions at an upcoming Title I conference for educational leaders from around the state. These would be primarily principals and superintendents, I believe. My session is being co-presented with our Science Coordinator. It is entitled, “Why You Should Still Teach Science, Social Studies and the Arts.” Take a minute and let that sink in. Got it? Jack Deskins, who has spent most of his professional life teaching teenagers how to finger concert A-natural is charged with convincing educational leaders that the core academic subjects of science, social studies and the arts are important enough for children to learn. For those of you not from the greater Bridgeport area, I will try to explain.

For schools to make Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP), the federal measure that determines if yours is a failing school, certain data is collected. Specifically, states test their students using some sort of nationally-normed, standardized instrument. In West Virginia, ours is called the Westest. The Westest purports to measure academic achievement in English, math, science and social studies – most of the core academic subjects (ahem). Yet for purposes of federal accountability, only English and math data are used. The thinking behind that is . . . well, honestly I have no idea. Someone in the federal government believed (and still does) that literacy and numeracy are the only skills that matter. Not only that, but only those English and math skills that can be readily measured on a standardized test matter (“No sonnets for you, Jimmy!!!”).

A few weeks ago, the Board of Education in Harrison County, West Virginia, made a startling announcement. Well, startling for anyone who does not understand cause and effect. They announced that they would no longer be teaching science and social studies to their elementary students. Their reasoning (tee hee) went like this: since the federal government only requires minimal language and math scores to make AYP, we are going to pour all of our efforts into those two academic areas. (Interestingly, they did not mention the arts. I am assuming that Harrison County will continue its practice of offering minimal arts instruction to its elementary students.)

Now your humble narrator and one of his stalwart colleagues are charged with changing the minds of those who might follow this questionable practice.

I could talk about this issue specifically at length. That there are those in positions of educational leadership who do not view the potential loss of culture, the scientific method and law as significant seems beyond distressing. But as I was preparing my session for this week, another issue seems to loom larger.

Suppose for a moment that you are a principal or superintendent looking at your low language and math scores and wondering how you are going to address the problem. What skills are you going to use? Well, it will require analysis and critical thinking to understand the meaning of the data and the attendant issues. It will require collaboration as you seek to maximize human resources in your office and in your school(s). And it will require imagination, creativity and problem-solving skills as you look for new solutions. After all, simply doing the same thing you have always done is not working.

In other words, you will need that 21st Century skill set that we know our students need in the world they will inhabit when they leave our classrooms. We recognize that our students will not succeed if they possess only those basal skills that an educational framework rooted in the Industrial Revolution is designed to provide. (Incidentally, those basal skills are still the only skills that standardized tests are able to measure.) Most of our students cannot leave high school and go to jobs in the mines and factories. Most of those jobs have been lost to automation and Asia (read Dan Pink).

The problem of poor-performing schools is a 21st Century problem. I do not mean to imply that it is new this century, merely that the problem itself is a classic example of one requiring those skills. The “meta-problem” is that most of our administrators have a skill set rooted in the 20th century. That is to say, many of them may have scored well on both the verbal and math on the SAT. It doesn’t matter. They lack the ability to think critically, collaborate, solve complex problems, imagine and use creativity. These are just the skills necessary if we hope to have students who can think critically, collaborate, solve complex problems, imagine and use creativity.

This is why those educational leaders do not understand the problem they are facing. Let me give you an example.

If you were an administrator, you might intuitively believe that the solution to low reading comprehension would be to drill students on words and definitions. Your intuition would be wrong. Students do not acquire language through word banks, although most of us can remember weekly spelling and definition tests all through our education. How do they learn words and their meanings? Through experience. Let me illustrate further.

A child might first encounter a spiral looking at a snail shell. She would note the pleasing shape and might even be interested enough to attempt to reproduce it through drawing. Then she might visit a building with a spiral staircase and something in her mind would connect the shape to the snail and the drawing she made. In science class at school, she might see diagrams of a geological time spiral or pictures of spiral galaxies. When she encountered the definition of spiral – “A curve on a plane that winds around a fixed center point at a continuously increasing or decreasing distance from the point” – that sentence would have meaning for her, rooted as it was in her prior knowledge. Later, when she encountered spiral algorithms in math or read a sentence that said, “His life was a downward spiral,” those experiences would deepen her understanding of what those six letters could mean. If she encountered a piece of music where the composer tried to create the feeling of a spiral descent, she would recognize it. You could probably add to these experiences.

Jung believed that the purpose of life was to create meaning. At their best, schools are places where students learn habits of mind and symbol systems that allow them to find and create meaning in their world. If we have administrators who fail to recognize this, then schools will continue to teach children a minimal set of increasingly irrelevant skills. The meta-problem facing our schools is not a lack of skills, it is a lack of imagination.

Credo

This was originally written in September of 2010.  I have revised it several times.

1. All of us are on a continuum, a “journey,” and our understanding should evolve as we go.  Although it is a cliché, I realize at this point in my life that I know a lot less than I thought I did, so everything on this list is subject to change.  As Notorious B.I.G. may have said, “A motherfucker’s a work in progress.” 

2. An idea is the most powerful thing in the world.  Consider Plato, Paul, Copernicus, Martin Luther, or Ornette Coleman.

3. New ideas are threatening to those in power.  Consider Socrates, Jesus, Galileo, Martin Luther King, or Shostakovich.

4. Almost all American music has its roots in the South.  Even Motown.

5. Colleges are great places because there are big libraries and free concerts, plays, exhibits and lectures.  The problem is that no one goes to any of those things.  As Frank Zappa wrote, “If you want to get laid, go to college.  If you want an education, go to the library.”

6. New Orleans is the most interesting city in the United States, probably the world. 

7. Politics are important. Art is more important.

8. Demand more art.  Demand it from our political, social, and cultural institutions, but demand it most of all from yourself.

9. Music is better than just about anything else.  Art, the theatre, dance and books are tied for second.

10. It is much easier to love someone when you hear their story, and it is nearly impossible to hate someone when you eat with them.  

11. Travel makes people better.  

12. If you’re not trying to make life better, more comfortable, or hipper, you’re wasting your time.  In the words of Hugh MacLeod, “Change the world or go home.”

13. Eat and drink whatever you please, whenever it pleases you. The only people who are impressed by what you eat or drink are the types of people who are impressed by what others eat and drink.

14. The idea that wisdom comes with age is bullshit.  Death comes with age.  There are lots of old fools walking around.

15. If no one thinks you’re hip, you probably aren’t.  If everyone thinks you’re hip, you definitely aren’t.

16. Small talk is for people who have nothing worth saying.  Most conversations should broach religion, politics, education, or art.

17. If no one has ever threatened to hurt you for something you’ve said, you probably haven’t said much worth hearing.

18. Human beings are inherently artistic and the urge to create cannot be suppressed by your despotic religion, political party, school or family.  Some people think this is the image of the Divine in us, while some believe it is an evolutionary impulse – but either way, it is there.

19. There is real evil in this world.  Anyone who says otherwise is either deluded or lying.  There is a reason we have nightmares from the time we are babies.  Most of us carry it around with us all day long.

20. Anyone who mocks American culture is an idiot.  In music alone America has given the world blues, country, bluegrass, jazz, rock and roll, soul, funk, disco, hip hop, punk, grunge and more.  None of those things could have happened anywhere else.

21. About 80% of the world’s great cultural achievements were a result of human misery and oppression (see #4, #6 and #20 above).  The other 20% happened in Florence.

22. If all of your friends think like you do, it probably means you’re dull, a bigot, or both.

23. Everyone should own a recording of Beethoven’s 9th.  I mean, there are “great” recordings and all, but even the bad recordings are usually really good.  And cheap.

24. Racism is still one of America's biggest problems.  This falls under: “Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind.”

25. You shouldn't wait until you are 37 to get a tattoo.  But if you do, you should try and make up for lost time very quickly.

26. You should ignore most life advice from friends and family, unless it resonates with you.  They are often motivated by their desire to keep you safe, which paradoxically may keep you from being happy. Ignore about 99.9% of advice given by teachers, pastors, school principals, and politicians.  Most of them aren't thinking about your future happiness at all.

27. A lot of people say they believe the Bible and even quote it to support their opinions.  Almost no one has actually read it.

28. Don't selectively quote others to support your opinions. Anyone who has said anything worth hearing has left a body of work and anything they said should be understood within that conext.

29. If you can’t stand what you are doing, do something else.  No one can make that decision for you.  Stop being a cliché.

30. Singing is central to the human experience.  If you don’t sing regularly, you are preventing yourself from being fully human.

31. About 90% of the things people do are motivated by their insecurities.  This is just an average.  It’s actually 93% for me.

32. Life is absurdly angular, irregular, messy, complicated, and mysterious.  I've stopped listening to anyone who offers linear narratives to the universe: all the evidence points to something contrary.  There is birth and death and love and hate and joy and pain and fear and boldness and just plain weirdness in myriad combinations, and we try to use the tools we have to make sense of it.  Sometimes we can. Other times just leave us puzzled and hoping for the best.

33. “Plan B” is usually better than “Plan A.”  We’re typically forced into “Plan B” because something in our life or experience or personality doesn’t resonate with our current path.  This doesn’t necessarily mean we made the wrong decision to begin with, it’s just that circumstances – and people – can change.  It also doesn’t mean that it is not exceptionally painful.

34. Plans C, D, E, F, G, and H can be pretty good, too.

35. Everything that happens to us makes us who we are.  To wish away our pain is to wish that we were someone else.

36. Love comes in lots of ways.  We should be open to it every time we encounter it.

37. Each of us has different faces we show – to friends, family, colleagues, children, authority, and lovers – and they are all true. It is at times most difficult to show your true self to family, for fear of disappointing them, causing them pain, or invoking their anger.  Paradoxically, they are the ones most likely to accept us when they see our true selves.  

38. Most cultural institutions – schools, governments, churches, etc. – are committed to the express purpose of suppressing in us what comes most naturally.  Sometimes these “natural” urges are destructive and merit suppression.  Sometimes they just violate social mores and are a threat to those in power.  

39. Those who hold power over others rarely, if ever, relinquish it willingly.

40. America is a police state.  The police in this country are overwhelmingly corrupt and committed to the violation of the rights of her citizens. This, coupled with the increasing militarization of our police force has led to an untenable situation.

41. Our government is, by and large, completely corrupt. For some it is "hard corruption," the sort of thing you imagine when you hear the word: vote buying, extortion, perhaps even murder. For most it is "soft corruption," however: serving at the behest of PACs or party bosses, corporate interests, or others, rather than citizens.

42. Socialism is the most underrated and the most reasonable form of government there is.

43. Our ancestors committed the self-same sins we have, though the accepted narrative may lead us to believe otherwise.  

44. There are lots of ways for things to be true.  Scientific truth is not the same as artistic truth, mathematical truth is not the same as metaphysical truth, and so on.

45. Stories help us understand the world.  This is why books are so important.  No one will end their life thinking they’ve read too much.

46. Most people believe that they are not creative.  This is not true.  Our educational systems lead people to this conclusion through the systematic suppression of the creative urge and the express teaching that creativity is the realm of the exceptional or the super-gifted.  Many of the problems we face as a culture could be solved if we cultivated a creative disposition in students.

47. Our educational system has also done an exceptionally poor job of helping us learn to weigh evidence and make decisions.  We give lip service to “critical thinking,” but if we are not prepared to challenge our own presuppositions and biases, there is nothing “critical” about it.

48. Most people believe the things they do without any evidence that they are true.  Maybe it's just that our beliefs reinforce our own prejudices, or maybe it's just laziness.  Much lip service is given to questioning received wisdom, but not many of us ever will.

49. The smartest people in the world read constantly, experience life fully, travel frequently, and talk to everyone they can.  A few of them have college degrees. 

50. Everyone should dance more.

51. If you ask someone what the best of day of his life was, he usually will say something like, "The day my son was born."  It makes me wonder what sort of terrible children they raised.

52. Human beings have enormous capacities, though we suffer on the one hand from romantic notions about those and on the other from crass cynicism masquerading as wisdom.  We expect too little from ourselves and others, and we are worse as a race for it.

53. Everyone is the central character in his or her own life story.  We like to imagine that others play supporting roles and that there are occasional cameos, but this is just arrogance.  If we could just stop and listen more . . . life can be really wondrous at times.

54. There is a great deal of wisdom to be had from the world's books of religion and mythology, if read correctly. If read literally and in an ethical vacuum, they may be the source of bigotry. Read with imagination, they may be liberating. It may be that Satan is the chief hero of the Bible.

55. Jesus is dead. It seems incredibly irrational to believe otherwise.

56. Ain't nothin' better in this whole wide world than rock-and-roll music and a fat-bottomed girl.