My recorder feels beautiful, I love the softness of the wood and I love the warmth that emanates from the instrument as I blow into it…the breath and the wood reacting together to create the sonorous warm sound.

I love the feeling of the holes in the instrument under the fleshy part of my fingertips…feeling the resonance of the breath and the sound through each finger that closes a hole. I love that you can bend the notes by lifting your fingertip off by degrees, it is different for each hole. You can also interrupt the sound by waving your finger over the hole to create a vibrato that gives the note character. The sound is not completely even-tempered it is there to be played with, to use your listening to tune across the notes.  I love the finger patterns, from my childhood, the ease of the fingers around certain shapes and idioms that take me back in my memories to other times and places…the tatty sheet music with childlike writing of dynamics and encouraging words at the top of the page to prepare me for performances of long ago, so long that I can’t remember the performances, but the encouragement speaks to me as an adult, crossing time and space through familiar movements and feelings.

My recorder, my recorders, accompany me to times of enjoyment, social encounters shaped by shared musical experiences where sounds played together attune and blend with each other. Knowing the other players comes second, playing together comes first. The instruments, the breaths coordinating temporally to join and intra-act with one another. My bodily function of breathing coordinating and working together with this wonderfully crafted and shaped wooden tube to meet the breath and sound created by the other players in the air around us, the breath and sounds intra-acting in an aesthetic, physical, beautiful assemblage.

The maker of the recorder is also in some way intra-acting in the assemblage – and the very tree itself from which my recorder/s are/were made. My treble recorder is boxwood. Boxwood is very hard and can give a smooth surface, it was used in the baroque era for making recorders, giving a powerful and brilliant sound.

My tenor is cherrywood:

Cherrywood is lightweight which makes it ideal for larger recorders.

I found a marvellous website with information about the making of wooden recorders https://www.flute-a-bec.com/buisgb.html to discover that, of course, wood is a living material, full of sap which must dry out through seasoning. Old wisdom suggests to cut trees in winter when the plant is resting, and in the last quarter of the moon when the sap is attracted down to the roots by its tidal effects. The felled wood is then stored in a cool, dark place for between 15-20 years for the sap to fully leave the wood and for it to be ready to be carved. The patience, the waiting for the right time to work on the particular piece of wood is the work of the artist, the craftsperson, the woodworker, instrument maker extraordinaire.

The lives of my recorders have been long – before I ever get to breathe into them. The skilled hands that work on the log to turn it into a resonant sonorous instrument have years of practise and ‘knowing’ to enable them to create this perfect and beautiful object.

The natural, living tree is transformed through the process of felling, storing, carving and turning on a lathe, into a different, (re)incarnated ‘being’ – a new ‘living’ object, animated by breath, to sing melodies sometimes, it feels to me, of its own making.

I am coming to understand more about how things ‘intra-act’ and how the very essence of materials are entangled with me through thinking about my recorders, my love of them, and the sounds they make. The sounding together with others, the attuned breathing the shared temporal space that playing recorders together affords, represents a glorious assemblage of the majesty of a woodland, tangled with the patience and expertise of the woodcarver/instrument maker, my breath, and the breath of others, our fingers, and the inspired thoughts and feelings, that have found their way onto manuscript paper that we then play together. What a glorious assemblage of tree, season, moon, resting, wisdom, knowledge, skill, breath, fingers, thoughts, ideas and feelings intra-acting together in an encounter, in a sounding of time and space.

Reading that has inspired this thinking:

Davies, B. (2014). Listening to children: being and becoming. Routledge.

Taylor, C. (2016). ‘Edu-crafting a cacophonous ecology: posthumanist research practices for education.’ In C. Taylor & C. Hughes (eds.) Posthuman research practices in education. Palgrave Macmillan pp. 5-24.

At the start of a new decade for me, there is time to look back over the last 10 years. In 2009 I  wasn’t looking forward to being 50, it felt like an unwelcome milestone. Goodness me the last 10 years have been pretty awesome! I began, what has become, a thriving consultancy practice; in 2010, I started to study for PhD on a fully funded scholarship and then life took unexpected twists and turns – I lived part -time with Religious Sisters the Society of the Sacred Heart and learnt so much from them in so many ways, especially about making and living in community. Through studying, my mind felt like it was expanding every day with new ideas and concepts as I grappled with philosophical ideas and explored what my deep questions were about early childhood music education. Teaching undergraduates expanded my experiences as an associate lecturer whilst a doctoral student. Becoming a generalist in early childhood studies opened out my understanding about my own field. Lecturing and then becoming a tutor on the MA in EY music helped me to organise and deepen my thoughts and underlying values about my own field. It has been an absolute privilege to be inspired by thoughtful musicians with a thirst for enquiry, wonderful students. Thank you Susan Young for that amazing opportunity and for writing a wonderful module to work from.

In 2012, whilst chair of MERYC-UK a small group of us organised our first national  conference, with a similar event almost every year since then. So much learned on that particular journey, alongside absolutely wonderful colleagues: Alison Street and Linda Bance. In 2016, MERYC-UK became a constituted charity – MERYC-England – watch this space!

In 2015, Julian and I  walked the Camino de Santiago (791 km), an experience that was transformative in many ways, giving fresh and new personal insights about listening, choices, stamina, relationships and health.

With my colleague and dear friend , Laura Huhtinen-Hilden we began to work on our book, which was published in 2018. What a privilege to work with Laura, she guided and led me through the publishing process with vision and grace, thank you!

Consultancy work grew to include research projects and evaluations. Wow – – so much learning and synthesis of ideas, beliefs and values through working with wise and amazing colleagues. I feel so blessed. And finally, last year I started a new job as part-time Music Education Lecturer at The Royal College of Music. Not something I would have predicted as I looked to the future in 2009.

Dipping into Alasdair MacIntyre’s  ‘After Virtue’ again, I find his discussions of Aristotle’s arguments of Virtue particularly resonant:”What then does the good for man turn out to be? […] He gives it the name eudaimonia – as so often there is a difficulty in translation: blessedness, happiness, prosperity. It is the state of being well and doing well in being well […]” (2011, p.174).

So, I write this to encourage anyone facing an unwelcome milestone in their life. Do not be afraid – embrace the chapter as best you can, seize the opportunities however aspirational they may seem, give time to thinking.

Be open to possibilities – you may be astonished by what arrives!

I have decided therefore to dive into my 60s and see what possibilities there may be for eudaimonia – and to continue to seek after the state of being well and in doing well in being well.

With love to my family, friends and colleagues without whom nothing in life seems possible.

 

My colleague (Laura Huhtinen-Hilden) and I are about to give birth to a book: ‘Taking a Learner-Centred Approach to Music Education:pedagogical pathways’  which addresses a less frequently discussed, yet we think, very important aspect to teaching music (or any subject for that matter) that of the pedagogue’s (or teacher’s) choices or actions taken in any given moment and the thoughts, reflections and ideas that drive these actions.

I was working yesterday with a group of experienced and reflective early childhood music educators who are studying for a Masters degree in early years music and we were thinking about the different elements involved in music teaching. I based the ‘provocation’ lecture on a chapter from Elliott & Silverman’s (2015, 2nd Edition)  of ‘Music Matters’ (pp.43-48).

We discussed the fourth dimension of Aristotle’s  conception of praxis: Phronesis, or practical wisdom,  which is at the heart of making choices and acting in the moment as a teacher. We can know all the research-based evidence needed to teach music, we can possess plenty of technical skill and knowledge, we can have an awareness of the structures in music that we plan to explore in the lesson…BUT, if we don’t employ all these aspects with our practical wisdom of ‘being a teacher’, the learning won’t be effective. Teaching, we concluded is close to being an artist – it requires creativity, attunement, inspiration and a commitment of ourself to the process, a giving of ourselves, being open to vulnerability and preparedness to jump into the unknown with a group of learners when this might be what is needed.

We talked about what is needed to use phronesis well in teaching, we decided that experience is very useful.  We talked about apprenticeships, learning alongside a more experienced teacher, as being invaluable. We talked about being tuned-in to our learners, not focusing on what we want to do, but rather on what the learners want and need, being flexible in the moment to adjust and change tack. We discussed the benefits of studying, increasing knowledge and having the time to reflect with peers as being important to the process of developing phronesis. ‘The system’ has to acknowledge what it takes to teach well, it was felt that currently the profession of teaching is not valued as a skilled profession.  Thank you to these students for the discussions and thoughts that have contributed to this outpouring!

Let’s celebrate the art of teaching, the great profession that it is.  Let’s build up our phronesis, our practical wisdom, our self-belief in knowing what our learners need to learn, because we are professionals and know this better than anyone else.

Nobody tells an artist what, or how to paint. Nobody should be telling teachers what or how to teach…it is an art form and we know our art!

 

 

We had our final session of the MA in early years music education @ CREC (Centre for Research in Early Childhood) yesterday for this academic year with time to reflect together on our learning journey. Building a learning community together has been very fulfilling as one of the leaders of the course.

I am increasingly convinced that peer-to-peer learning in the social-cultural environment of CREC which is in itself a ‘liminal’ space – away from everyday work practices and family roles – provides a rich and deep place for learning that cannot be achieved by the tutors alone. The student ‘community’ in that space (and perhaps elsewhere once the bonds have been made) is dynamic and provocative, not afraid to challenge one another and open to new experiences, ideas and ways of thinking about the world and themselves in it in a way that a lecture cannot in itself provide.

Teaching at every level from working with the youngest infant through to mature students relies on establishing strong relationships and understanding of one another.  The use of ‘Phronesis’ or practical wisdom by the pedagogue allows and permits individual flourishing and growth.

These stones in the image above could represent the variety of individuals that come together to learn – we all have something unique to bring to the community and using the metaphor hidden in the stone’s shape, colour and form to stand for how we are feeling at a certain point in the learning journey, we can assume the metaphorical characteristics of a different stone, at different times. Every shape, colour and form is valued and needed.

Learning and teaching are very active processes and can change us deeply from the inside out and vice versa.  Thank you to this wonderful group of students and to my superb most treasured colleague – Alison Street – a truly special person.

 

I am delighted to share here a paper published in Music Education Research. In this paper I share research findings from phase one of a three-phase doctoral research project in which I explored parent and child music groups in Children’s Centres.  The music groups  are offered free of charge and may be delivered by early years practitioners who work as part of an inter-disciplinary team with families with children under five.  Why are music groups offered in Children’s Centres and what are the perceived benefits for children, parents and practitioners?

 

 

Source: Attitudes towards and perceptions of the rationale for parent–child group music making with young children

Have you ever sat in an Airport lounge about to board a plane and realised that you could be anyone, going anywhere, to do anything in that moment?  This is an experience that got me thinking about being ‘in limbo’ and the terrific sense of possibilities that this limbo state allows or permits.

The following extract comes from a covert observation I conducted as an exercise for an assignment some years ago.  It allowed me to think about liminal spaces and childhood.

“I was sitting waiting to board my plane at an airport when I heard a rhythm pattern obviously being made by more than one ‘instrument’ coming towards me down the open walkway which was beside me. It prompted me to remember my observation assignment and I happened to have a notebook and pen to hand so decided on the spur of the moment to observe what seemed to me to be an unexpected and interesting occurrence.

The observation lasted forty five minutes until my flight was called for boarding. I wrote freely as I watched and noted interactions or events of interest. I did not add my own comments or thoughts at this time – it was purely descriptive. Spradley (1980) suggests that descriptive observations are ineffective yet I found it was what occurred naturally. Mulhall (2003) argues that however hard we try to be objective an unconscious analysis of events is still taking place. Two days later I reflected on my field-notes. These reflections led to more abstract thinking about the location in particular and the effect it might have on behaviour.

What initiated the observation at that particular moment was the sound of the rattling sweetie tins and the rhythm that was being co-created by the 3 sisters who came into view by which time I had my notebook and pen ready to write: “3 girls (sisters) 5, 9,12-ish are shaking sweetie tins and making a rhythm as they walk together.”

Once I saw it was children making the rhythm pattern I decided to observe children in the walkway and this led me to my initial thought; do children use the walkway differently to adults?

In the 45 minute observation I saw nine ‘events’ involving children. In five of these ‘events’ the children were acting in a ‘different’ way to adults.

Describing actions as being ‘different’ is a social-construction, it carries with it notions of what society deems appropriate adult behaviour and likewise appropriate child behaviour.

Children/Adults

“A small boy comes off the plane (at my gate) he stands in front of me with his back to me and looks as though he’s pulling up both sides of his underpants through his trousers!”

“Girl (about 9 years) as she enters the gangway does a small ‘breakdance’ and sings a little tune as she crosses to the shop.”

“2 boys (about 7 – 9 years) walking with their parents – pushing against each other using the space, filling the walkway.” Taken from field notes 12.6.11

All these activities were acceptable to us because they were carried out by children. There were many cultures assembled in this space and several languages being spoken. However the acceptance of child-like behaviour seemed universal to all of us. It was a northern European airport so that may have determined, to some extent, the demographics of the population. It seems that certain behaviours are acceptable when performed by children in a public setting but would be unacceptable if performed by adults.

Who has decided this? How has it come to be this way? At what stage do we stop being children?

Staff/Passengers

The observation also included ‘events’ of staff activity. In a three-minute period there were seven separate ‘events’ involving staff.

“Stock trolleys are rolled up and unloaded, staff use shopping trolleys to transport stock.”

“Man goes past on a pedal scooter-thing, (to get from one end of the shopping mall to the other speedily)…another woman walks past pushing a trolley of dishwasher crates.” Taken from fieldnotes 12.6.11

All staff had a demeanour which showed that the space was known and comfortable to them. It was not ‘special’- it was a workplace. Their body language was relaxed, comfortable and efficient.

Reflexive Thoughts: Taken from Reflection Notes 15.6.11

Questions arising from these data:

• Do different groups use this space differently?
• Is there something about the space being in an airport that affects the way people use it?

My reflections focused on staff and passengers; “we were two groups in the airport mall. Staff – not going anywhere and Travellers – coming or going somewhere.”

…This was an opportunity to watch people in an ‘in-between space’ for some – and a work space, firmly rooted for others” In the margin I wrote “Liminality? Use of the spaces on the edge.”

I also spent time thinking about my role as the researcher; “I was a travelling participant observer – Firmly in the liminal camp…aware of the feelings I had about leaving a place and returning to another one. I had a sense of being ‘between’ a slight sense of disconnection to my normal life. I could be anyone, going anywhere. No one knew me. The feeling I have is one of freedom and liberation knowing that this time is limited and passing.

Arnold Van Gennep describes a time when countries were surrounded by strips of neutral ground. These zones gathered a ‘sacredness’ about them and when passing through a neutral zone from one country to another a traveller finds him/herself “physically and magico-religiously in a special place…this symbolic and spatial area of transition…” Van Gennep (1960, p. 18)

Turner (2009) describes three phases to rites de passage or transition; Separation, margin (limen: or threshold) and aggregation. The separation phase includes symbolic behavior of detachment from a fixed point in the social structure with its set of cultural conditions. During the next intervening ‘liminal’ period the characteristics of the ‘liminal’ subject are ambiguous. In the final phase the passage is completed. The individual returns to a stable state again with rights and obligations as before. These rights and obligations have clearly defined customary norms and ethical standards of social position.

It occurred to me that elements of Van Gennep’s and Turner’s description of transitions were present in my state of consciousness at that time and may have been for other passengers. Does this inner state affect how we act in the social world?”  end of extract

I’d like to suggest that Music plays a part in creating a liminal environment…Structured sounds can help separate us from the everyday.  To cross into a group music-making space can perhaps feel like crossing over a strip of neutral ground into another ‘country’ or ‘world’ with different cultural practices and traditions. I have noticed both parents and young children behave differently in a group music-making session to other parent-child group activities (Pitt, 2014). There is a sense of liberation and freedom that music, perhaps through its structured ordering of time, permits and enables. In the group music-making ‘world’ it is possible to move away from what is expected of  a ‘parent’ or ‘child’ into a space where these roles become more ambiguous: playfulness is for all and ritual and symbolism can give rise to creative explosions and expressions that the ‘normal world’ wouldn’t allow.

There can be a sense of separation from everyday routines and expectations as you cross over into the music group that is liberating and free-ing.  A little like being ‘in limbo’, as I experienced at the airport: I could be anyone, going anywhere, about to do anything…and this seems to be true for the music group:  You can take on a different persona, inhabit a social world that is different from your everyday and therefore do differently.  When the group finishes you can safely return to your expected role of parent, of child, of family support worker of early years practitioner.  This altered ambiguous space is held or contained by the music, which orders and organises the time spent together in the group so that the group experiences a sense of ‘flow’ together as the music excites, or calms or provokes.  You journey along and reach the end of the session having experienced something in place and time that cements the group as a whole. You can be changed through the group process of ‘flow’ – the musical experience can enhance the sense of belonging.

For me it is a truly liminal space which seems to represent some of the qualities that Van Gennep (1960, p.18) describes as “… a special place… [a] symbolic and spatial area of transition…”

References

Mulhall, A. (2003). In the field:notes on observation in qualitative research. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 41(3), 306-313.

Pitt, J. (2014) An exploratory study of the role of music with participants in children’s centres. Unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Roehampton

Spradley, J. (1980) Participant observation.” Wadsworth, Belmont, USA.

Turner, V. (2009). The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. New Brunswick, USA: Aldine Transaction.

Van Gennep, A. (1960). The Rites of Passage. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul Ltd.