When I was 9 years old, I received a Magnus Electric Chord Organ as a gift. My parents allowed me to set it up in our front room, a decision I'm sure they soon regretted. The beauty of the Magnus Chord Organ is that it's like a paint-by-numbers kit set to musical notes. You can play without any skills or talent, which was a good thing for me.
I learned such rousing crowd-pleasers as "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" and "Hickory Dickory Dock," compositions I so enjoyed that I played them many times every day. Sometimes I'd relax long enough between performances to let my parents think I'd had enough for the day, and then I'd start up again.
That was the same year I was required to learn the recorder. Hoping to uncover some deeply hidden talent in her pupils, our music teacher, Mrs. Schwartz, insisted that we practice one half-hour every day. Buoyed by my success at the organ, I was determined to be the best recordist in the fourth grade. I was in my second week of instruction when I realized that playing the recorder was not very exciting. With a heavy heart, I gave up my burgeoning music career and turned my dreams elsewhere.
Like many parents who want their children to accomplish those things they themselves never had the talent or motivation to do, I have encouraged my kids to cultivate an interest in music.
My eldest, now a high school freshman, has been involved in band since fourth grade. He has benefited from music education just as I hoped he would. He has played during football games, competed at band reviews from Livermore to Santa Cruz, and taken band trips to Disneyland. If he stays with band, he may one day travel to the Midwest, where some of the biggest competitions are held, and discover that there are worse places to live than Merced County.
As a mother, I am pleased that participating in band is relatively safe. My son might get a bunion while marching, but that's not really as bad as multiple concussions resulting in permanent brain damage.
While being a musician has lifelong benefits, I am more interested in what music education will do for my children today. We've all heard that learning to read and perform music improves cognitive function and SAT scores. According to Buhach Colony High School band director Chad Humpal, music also keeps teens in school, a claim supported by a 2006 report in Music Education Online that cited 90 percent graduation rates for schools with music programs and 72 percent rates for schools without them.
Such studies are, of course, open to interpretation. Perhaps successful students are more likely to be attracted to pursuits such as music, and maybe schools that can afford to offer band programs are in districts where the graduation rates would be high in any case. I also suspect that being in band gives kids a place to belong on campus and a ready group of friends.
That might be a more powerful motivator for staying in school than marching in 100-degree heat while blowing on a trombone. But why music education works is less important to me, as a parent and taxpayer, than the point that it does seem to work.
The most compelling argument for music education, however, is not found in statistics and reports. It is found instead in human experiences, from the joyful to the tragic, the minor to the significant. We work to music, shop to it and listen to it when we're put on hold. We graduate to "Pomp and Circumstance," calm our infants with "Hush Little Baby," and send our loved ones to their graves with "Amazing Grace." Even a Gregorian monk, dedicated to a life of deprivation, has his chants.
Recently, I attended an honor band performance where the conductor spoke about the importance of funding music programs in an overburdened education system. I share his concern. While athletics generate more money, music is more crucial. We need our future Rachmaninoffs and Claptons. Even the most fervent fan could, eventually, find happiness in a world without football. But without music, we would all lead a diminished life.
The author teaches English at UC Merced and Merced College.
E-Mail
Print
