In the three years I’ve participated in musical activities at Parker, I’ve noticed two things: not enough students participate in the fine arts, and of those who do, most face consequences of the extreme imbalance between music classes. But, before I jump the gun, let me take a step back and explain my thinking on the latter.
At Parker, I’ve dabbled in every genre of music, engaged in three performing arts classes at school (orchestra, band, AWE), and even made my way into city-wide music festivals. I may not be a perfect musician, but I can feel satisfied knowing I put my best self into all of my in-school flute activities. With that being said, I still don’t feel represented or even respected as a musician at school.
Out of the 52 students in Concert Band, I’d say that maybe a third of us practice our craft outside of the classroom. And before you feel the need to call me out as part of the larger two thirds, I’ll admit that I don’t always practice. But even when I don’t, I make sure to try my best when I know others are counting on me. Now, that isn’t to shame my peers or accuse them of not trying. I understand how busy my friends are and how music often takes a backseat in the greater scheme of life. The issue for me, though, is when a lack of external practice time leads to internal failures. Let me explain.
In performance based settings such as musical ensembles, every player is equally valued. Sometimes, a player may have a solo while others have to support them through a comparatively simple yet vital backline. Without one of those pieces, the entire performance comes crumbling down, just as a community like Parker might when a seemingly small conflict breaks out. We band kids need to be there for each other, both in terms of musical support but also as friends. Oftentimes, that isn’t the case. This got me thinking. Why do instrumental musicians at school refuse to put in their best effort? I think that people in Concert Band don’t try because they don’t feel like others care if they do.
On the few occasions where you can catch me at a school performance, it is likely that you will not find my non-musical peers by my side or rooting for me from the sidelines. This isn’t to blame them. Because students often don’t try their best in these musical settings, they end up playing at a level where they could have been years ago; they don’t sound their best because they aren’t playing at their best. And it is obvious. I’ve had friends tell me that they’ve skipped events where instrumental music groups are playing because they don’t think it “sounds good”. And, yeah, they’re not wrong. But it’s not because they are bad performers. It’s because their lack of effort stems from the audience’s lack of effort to show up in the first place. I’ve had my share of discussions with friends in band where they describe their lack of effort stemming from a lack of greater Parker support. They can see the difference in turnout between band MXs and choir MXs. It is a big difference.
Because band students have never experienced the feeling of larger community that choir students have, there comes a greater difference in both musicianship but also continued Parker support. It makes sense that the school is more willing to financially invest in programs that return more “value.” This same financial support seen as musical outings and special guests from outside programs (for example, the Yale Choir singing with our very own ACE last winter) only furthers the divide in musicianship. Now, this isn’t at all to say that choir members deserve to have their opportunities taken away from them. In fact, I believe the opposite. I love watching my friends in Concert Choir put themselves into performances and listening to Grape Jam sing proudly during the Corinthians MX. Choir is the perfect representation of Parker’s fundamentally loving community. It’s a clear demonstration of one of many Parker mottos: when one member of a community rejoices, the whole community does as well. Part of that community, though, is a notion of feeling joy for others’ successes. And while I think students have learned how to celebrate some of their friends, they still need to learn how to celebrate others so that the divide between musicians can be lessened.
Now, this is not an easy goal to reach. In fact, I don’t even have an in-depth solution on how to fix the problem. But I do know this: with the right continued support, we can form the fine arts into one greater category instead of several fractured bubbles. As a community, we need to unlearn the biases we have towards one group or another and learn to show our utmost support for everyone. Then, there is a chance that students can finally feel as though they belong and have a reason to demonstrate their best selves.
