The Kodály Method

Image courtesy of http://www.emb.hu/page/Kodaly_concept

By: Kristie Hinckley

Zoltán Kodály (1882–1967) was a Hungarian who became famous for his music education program known as “The Kodály Method.” I served my mission in Hungary and as a pre-elementary school teacher with desire to incorporate music in my classroom, I had the desire to learn more about this figure who had a great impact on music education. After doing some research, I learned about this method, “The Kodály Method”. Although Kodály did not teach these techniques, nor create a step-by-step process for teachers, he did formulate the principles of this teaching practice and his followers developed his principles into the powerful method that has impacted children across the globe.

The Kodály Method uses a child-developmental approach to sequence, introducing skills in accordance with the capabilities of the child. New concepts are introduced, beginning with the easiest, and become progressively more difficult. Concepts are constantly reviewed and reinforced through games, movement, exercises, and songs.

Kodály believed that music education should begin at the earliest possible age. In his method, not only do students learn through song and movement, but they learn solfege (Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do), hand signs, rhythm sequence, and more. I watched a short but fascinating Hungarian documentary about a small elementary school class in Hungary in the 1960s where this method was practiced. At one point the class was reading a poem. The teacher asked a child to come to the chalkboard and place five musical notes on the staff. The young boy placed the notes on the board and said each coordinating solfege name. Each student put the same notes on their small chalkboards at their desks. The teacher led the class in singing each line of the poem with this new little tune. I bet the students memorized the poem quickly and remembered it for longer because music was incorporated.

In 1945 the Hungarian government finally started implementing Kodály’s teaching strategies into public schools. The first primary school where music was taught daily opened in 1950. Over the next 15 years, roughly half the schools in Hungary were music schools. Today, Kodály-based methods are used worldwide.

Music has had a powerful influence in my life. My mom told me that when I was a child and heard a new song, I asked her to sing it to me over and over again until I had it memorized. In third grade we learned multiplication facts through song and I still remember them! I find it fascinating to learn about Zoltán Kodály and his principles of teaching that revolutionized Hungary and eventually the world.

What kind of impact has music had in your life? Do you plan on using music in your classroom? …in what ways?

When the Senate Gives You Lemons

By: Hannah Rackham

Last time, we left off with the cliffhanger of the Senate’s vote on House Bill 203. Well, folks—results are in. As of March 12 the Senate voted to pass it.

My music teacher bias is going to be obvious, but I want to submit a public disclaimer: I hold STEM teachers in high regard. Math and science done well are as beautiful to me as art done well. After all, according to Einstein, “After a certain high level of technical skill is achieved, science and art tend to coalesce in esthetics, plasticity, and form. The greatest scientists are always artists as well.” I’ve had a handful of really wonderful math and science teachers and I’ll be forever grateful to them for expanding the conceptual boundaries of my artsy world, even if I still feel like “imaginary numbers” are a sly cop out.

Here’s the gist of the bill: increase salaries for “eligible” (read STEM) teachers to try and keep more STEM professionals in education rather than other more potentially lucrative careers in the private sector. Part of the bill’s definition of “eligible teachers” are those who “[have] an assignment to teach: a secondary school level mathematics course; integrated science in grade seven or eight; chemistry; physics; or computer science” (link to the full text of the bill—http://le.utah.gov/~2015/bills/static/HB0203.html). Those teachers are up for a raise of about $10,000 in the next six years—which will cost the state $13.4 million in 2016 and $42.4 million by the time the raise is in full swing.

This statue in the Utah State Capitol bears the inscription “Arts & Education”

The mentality, as I understand it, is that since STEM teachers have many other opportunities to make a career in non-educational venues, the government is opting to raise their salaries to incentivize more highly qualified professionals to stay in the schools and educate our future. Completely reasonable. So why not up the salary of the high school choir director with doctorate degrees in choral conducting?  The difference is that for a musician, a career in the performing arts is less stable than a career in education. Essentially, teaching is the lowest priority option for STEM professionals and generally the most viable career option for music professionals. So, since it’s the artists’ best option and the scientists’ worst option, scientists will get paid $10,000 more than artists for doing the same job and having (arguably) the same impact on the rising generation.

Now, lest you think that I’m bitter about others’ good fortune—I’m a huge advocate of increasing teacher salaries in general. Our cultural priorities (as reflected in where we put our money) are most often quite misaligned in my opinion and I’m glad to see society choosing to more adequately compensate its educators for the invaluable (and occasionally thankless) service they provide. I’m delighted that math, science, technology, and engineering teachers will be paid better. The sticky part of this whole thing is asking at what cost to the rest of the teachers? What does it do to a culture or society to overtly value certain trades and subjects above others? (Cue every dystopian book or movie ever.)

David Fullmer, western division president of the National Association for Music Education, expressed it this way: “We are concerned as music educators that there may be some unintended consequences by the passage of this bill. . . . We worry about the message it’s sending to the other really fine educators in fine arts, language arts, [and] world languages . . . [an] unintended message that these subjects are somehow secondary and less important.” Additionally, the Utah Music Educators Association President Samuel Tsugawa cautioned against the bill’s potential to “affect teacher recruiting and retention, student enrollment and participation, force districts to re-allocate time and money away from non-STEM courses, and create an unhealthy competitive environment between teachers.” The idealist in me hopes that none of those negative side effects will play out, but the idealist in me has been wrong before.

So, there you have it folks—Utah’s House Bill 203 will go in effect this July. Can’t say I’m particularly thrilled about it overall, but when life gives you potentially style-cramping legislation, you keep voting anyway and make lemonade.

As always, your comments and questions are more than welcome. Thanks for reading!

Count Basie at the Capitol

By: Hannah Rackham

I find that once I start learning about something it’s suddenly everywhere. As soon as I learn a new word I hear it a dozen times in the next few days in conversations, on the radio, in movies, etc. Lately, I’ve had a growing interest in how legislation affects schools. As an up-and-coming music teacher, my future is very interconnected with how things play out at the Capitol in terms of legislature regarding arts education. I suddenly care more about the political process than I ever have before. It’s a complicated, fascinating—I might even say beautiful—process.

In my Foundations of Education class here at BYU, we had a guest speaker come talk with us about school governance. We looked at the hierarchy of power and decision making. Teachers were at the bottom. I started to wonder if that’s really where I want to be—if I have no political clout I will not be able to ensure teaching jobs for other arts educators like myself. On the other hand, if I’m wrapped up in the political machine trying to change the world, I won’t get to be in the classroom with the kids which is where I really want to be. See the dilemma? The lecture made me ponder anew the question of where I would be happiest and have the greatest positive influence. During our break in the class I talked with my professor for a few minutes and he suggested lobbying. You probably know what lobbying is, but I didn’t. Lobbying is when you—as a teacher, citizen, or anyone who wants to see things improve—find a senator or member of your state’s house of representatives to team up with. The music teacher who wants to stay in the classroom yet still wants political influence; the politician (an avid music lover, of course) who wants a worthy cause to champion and maintain public favor—it’s a win-win situation.

Two days after the discussion there was a music education rally at the Capitol in Salt Lake City. Enthused curiosity won out and I went. The acoustics in that building are incredible!  I mean, of course they are—the whole thing is made of marble and there’s a huge dome for a ceiling. The speakers had excellent points (details next time) and the groups that performed were top notch. Hearing a high school band play the national anthem inside the Capitol was one of the more moving patriotic moments of my life. The jazz band’s jam under the chandelier was the perfect, iconic American juxtaposition of stately and swing. And, I saw a handful of people walking around with name tags that read: “Lobbyist.” Like I said, as soon as I learn something, it’s everywhere!

Tune in next time for a more detailed chat about the legislation surrounding arts education here in Utah.

Inspired.

By: Hannah Rackham

As a pre-service teacher, I don’t know what burnout feels like from a teacher’s perspective.  (As a student, I definitely do.)  But what I’ve heard about it has made me classify it with other noxious and detrimental conditions like senioritis, bronchitis, influenza, and mono.  So how do teachers vaccinate themselves against the burnout epidemic?  I’ve had a set of experiences lately that have shed some light on the matter.

In my last post we talked about the UMEA (Utah Music Educators’ Association) Conference in St. George.  The conference included workshops, opportunities to purchase scores and instruments, networking, and concerts.  My association with other music teachers was deeply rejuvenating, I got some good ideas from the various workshops, and seeing the beauty of our craft masterfully showcased in concert was the perfect, inspiring finale.  For me, the concerts were a very energizing and encouraging boost.  If young musicians can “get it” like that, then I’m going to have the best time ever!  It would seem almost unfair to get a paycheck for having that much fun with my young musical colleagues.  After that experience, student teaching can’t come fast enough!  I can’t wait to be in the schools helping students have quality musical experiences.  There’s something truly uplifting about seeing art in action.  The principle applies across the board, too. I’m sure a teacher of any subject thrills when the students show real mastery and enthusiasm for the subject.  (Couldn’t think of a good example of what would make a math teacher giddy, but I’d love to hear your ideas—any math teachers out there?)

My second experience mirrored the first; this time I was on the student side performing for the teachers in need of a galvanizing experience.  As a member of the BYU Women’s Chorus, I got to sing for the American Choral Directors’ Association Conference (ACDA—never enough acronyms). Our director told us that this would be a group of tired, high school choir directors who needed a musical shot in the arm to finish the school year strong.  Our music was epic.  It was a BIG program.

Abravanel Hall in Salt Lake City–devoid of performers, brimming with inspiration. BYU Women’s Chorus performed here and in the Tabernacle last week.

Our goal was to serve up a musical feast with each course thoroughly appetizing and satisfying.  We’d been rehearsing the music and focusing on it for months.  And we delivered.  The feeling in the concert hall when we finished was priceless, especially after having sat in the teacher’s spot at the UMEA Conference a few weeks earlier.  I can now appreciate how good it feels to receive an excellent performance.

So, my own conclusion of how to avoid burnout involves a healthy dose of concert attendance.  Teaching is like running a marathon and you really need to fuel up at the snack stations along the way.  What are you “snack stations” in your career?  What fuels you to keep teaching?  Where do you find your inspiration?  As always, your thoughts are welcome here.