A Crybaby's Pro-Arts Manifesto

Call me sensitive, but I often cry in the presence of a moving musical phrase, at the height of a crescendo, or when I witness rare talent in a young person.  Yeah, I'm a crybaby.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  This week was full of such moments.

First, I watched a dancer perform a solo contemporary dance routine for a ballet class I was accompanying.  While I can't be certain, I suspect she choreographed it herself, to music she chose. As the electric guitar wailed, this girl was putting out everything that she had to give.  There was no holding back, and it was obviously her passion.  Her skill was second to none, but it was her feeling and passion that moved me.  The expression on her face told me that this was who she was.

Dance meant everything to her; it was her mode of being -- her life.  

I had to cry.  I couldn't help it.  At the same time, I felt embarrassed or ashamed for doing so.  But should I feel embarrassed for putting my feelings out in the open?  Isn't that the point of art?  To swell our emotions and bring joy to our hearts?  Honestly, I think our society is emotionally repressed.  That's why I feel guilty for opening my tear ducts in public.  I really think I should be Italian.

Today I heard my twelve-year old composition student play and sing a song that she wrote...her first song with words.  I had just started her on accompanying techniques; how to play while you sing.  I figured I was planting a seed for songwriting, but I had no idea that such a vigorous sprout would burst forth from that seed.  I was pretty sure her skill at composition and her skill at singing could be artfully joined.  The previous week, I had started her on a song I was pretty sure she knew -- "Say Something," by Great Big World. Sure enough, she had it on her iPod.  It's an emotional ballad that relies on simple chord-pulsing for accompaniment, allowing the singer to focus on her singing and not a difficult piano part.  So after playing and singing that all week, she decided to write a song last night. This was not an assignment that I gave her.

It was something she WAS INSPIRED TO DO - OF HER OWN ACCORD.  Of course, I DEMANDED to hear it!  

As she played and sang her very first original song with words, I began to cry.  I think her mom was crying too.  We couldn't help it.  On her very first effort, it was creatively harmonized, the lyrics were moving and clever, the accompaniment was imaginative, and the delivery was sincere and pure.  She wasn't trying to please anyone or meet a standard; she was just sharing her unique creative genius and her heart, something the school system rarely asks of its pupils.

Her achievement came not from following orders, but from doing what she enjoyed, and working hard at it -- because she WANTED TO.  

There were most certainly technical things to tweak, but I couldn't believe my ears; the raw talent and creativity that I heard.  Not all children/ musicians have the gift of crafting an original song that is dripping with soul, or do they?  Perhaps we are so busy suppressing their imaginations in order to meet standards. Why is it that more of my past piano students composed than most of my colleagues' students combined?  Is it because their method book told them to?  No.  Is it because my own identity as a composer inspired them to try it?  To realize it was possible?  Did my confidence as a creative artist somehow free them to explore composition?  I think so!  If teachers can't inspire, can they really expect their students to soar, just by directing and controlling?  Absolutely not!

Creative genius, whether it's dance, writing, or music, is a rare gift to those who have the privilege of being on the receiving end.  I think of what a sad world it would be without artists like this to help us feel and see life in new and beautiful ways.  And they want to cut arts budgets out of school; as if children are only supposed to be data processing machines!

Data in, data out.

Is that what we have boiled our youth down to?  No wonder -- the suicide rate nowadays.

                  We care about the numbers more than children's hearts.

My mother, a fourth grade teacher, is complaining about all the data she has to submit to the school system lately.  It's all about the data, the test scores, the graduation rates, and the college admissions. It's all one big driving force designed to produce obedient, tax-paying citizens and a thriving economy full of revenue-generating workers whose taxes can pay for the overgrown and flawed school system.  Ok, a necessary evil, perhaps, to keeping our economy afloat, but still...a vicious cycle.

But what if we cared enough to ask our children about their feelings and interests, rather than pressing them through an education factory that expects perfect well-roundedness out of every student?  What if we asked them which disciplines they would like to focus on, and gave them even more arts?  

Might we find that greater academic effort and success is a natural byproduct of emotionally healthy kids who have more say over what they study, and more artistic outlets?

What of children's emotions anyway?  Are they unimportant? How often do we ask children to write in a journal about how they feel today?  And they refuse to put drama classes in our county's middle schools because - - why???   I know I am in the presence of excellent public schools, being in Loudoun County, Virginia, but what about all the caged hearts and suppressed artists?

What happens to kids when we care more about data than hearts?  What happens when the classes are so large that the kids rarely get one-on-one instruction?  Do kids fall through the cracks?  Do loners get ignored or shunned?  Do pent-up emotions take their toll when there is no outlet through artistic expression? Do kids decide to check out of life because they are just a nameless number, and no one cares?

No one took their own life while I was in high school.  And now, it seems like there is at least one teen suicide in my town every year.  I know there are far more attempted suicides that are not completed.  Is it because we're not tending to these children's emotions?