I got certified to teach English as a Second Language and English as a Foreign Language just a few months ago. I thought my intense 190 hour program would prepare me for the reality of lesson planning, classroom management, and immersion in a new culture and that, when I arrived in South Korea, I would be an efficient lesson planning machine. I thought that my understandings of education and creativity in the intimate, one-on-one scenario of the flute studio would translate smoothly and immediately into the larger TEFL classroom. I thought that my experiences abroad and with my boyfriends family over Christmas would make my transition into Korean culture more effortless and comfortable. I wasn’t wrong. I just wasn’t right. The culture, the language, and the new standard of living is comfortable and what I had expected, so we won’t go into that in too much depth here (for more information on what that has been like check out my personal blog). Instead I want to take a moment to record my immediate perceptions on the pedagogical and cultural differences I have encountered in the classroom. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Within my first three lessons I managed to make every mistake in the book: I mismanaged the class, I did not plan enough activities for the student’s age level, I spoke too quickly, changed topic too often, and just generally did not do the things that I knew I needed to do as a TEFL teacher. But each night I went to bed a little happier, a little more comfortable, and a little wiser, knowing that as I make one mistake that is one mistake that I will not make again. Teaching in this setting has been a process of trial by error (or trial by fire, depending on your perspective). As I grow more comfortable with each class and get a feel for their general attitude and needs as students I’m able to remind myself of the important things. These important things are ones that I can’t wait to apply directly to my flute studio in the future. 1. You cannot expect a young child to focus on one topic or activity in a 45-minute lesson. At this age the students need to be changing activities and focus every ten to fifteen minutes at least. It’s not fair for me as the teacher to expect such a young student to be able to focus, learn, and produce the language information I am presenting them in the same way for an entire class period. This is one of those things that I absolutely knew before coming here. It was one of the things I took for granted in my lesson planning when getting my TEFL/TESOL and it was one of those things that I constantly reminded my colleagues about in a “I know this, it’s obvious” sort of manner. And yet it was one of the first mistakes I made. Sure the students are learning a fun song, they are learning physical movements to go along with it, and they are singing along. But what made me think they could do it for an entire class? 2. Relying on the production of background knowledge about the course subject is, at this age, an inadequate and ineffective way of introducing the class focus. This one requires a bit of explanation on my part because this technique (eliciting prior knowledge like vocabulary and concepts before teaching a topic) is rather effective for the most part. But in the context of the unexpectedly young learners I have been presented with here in Busan, it’s just not feasible all of the time. Of course, no warmer is feasible for every single class anyways, but in this case the background knowledge warm up should be reserved only for certain lessons. For example: when reading the book Click Clack Moo with my students it was certainly effective to ask the students to list any and all animals they know. After giving them some examples (bear, wolf, rabbit) the students became excited and were able to list off the (quite large list of) animals that they already knew. It was only a matter of limiting this list to animals you would find on a farm, asking the students what these animals had in common (yes, you can find them all on a farm), and then beginning the reading. But when the lesson is on a lower level, simpler topic asking the students to recollect instantly any information that they had already been taught isn’t entirely fair. Teach the information again, even if you have taught it once or twice already, until the student is so comfortable with it that, as you teach it, they are able to finish your sentences for you! 3. Young students crave routine and order. I remember feeling like a cheater and bad teacher during my TEFL course when I stuck to a specific routine or class schedule. It seems unfair to the student to be constantly doing the same thing: warm-up, presentation, individual activity, physical group activity, cool down activity, and wrap-up (to give a simplistic outline of a standard class). Why should I, as the teacher, just be able to plug and chug the new lesson into this template? Don’t the students deserve mind-blowingly creative class formats each week? How dare I take the easy way out? Well, as it turns out, students at this young of an age actually crave the same order that taking the “easy way out” seems to give. Especially in a TEFL classroom where instructions are extremely difficult to give without the aid of a native Korean teacher present (which, unfortunately, I do not have in the majority of my classes), the students feel comfort knowing the activity they will be doing next. The predictability and comfort of routine enables them to feel like they know what will happen next and enable them to focus more on the content than on the structure of the lesson. Reflecting on this time that I have spent teaching English in Korea and finding applicable and relevant connections to my future music teaching makes me feel a lot better about this year abroad. Although I haven’t been able to establish the systematic practice routine that I want, I feel great knowing that my experiences teaching these young language learners will directly impact my effectiveness teaching young musicians in the future! I have always felt more comfortable with older students in any discipline, and these next 12 months in Busan teaching children will only make me a better teacher for all age levels in the future.
KrystleJane Musician, Educator, Traveler Black note syndrome. As flutists we have all experienced this. The nausea, fear, and unsettling uncertainty that comes from looking at a piece of music and seeing a multitude of dense runs. We often find ourselves panicked, ultimately making the symptoms of this syndrome worse as we rush through it in a frenzied attempt to reach the next beat and try to forget that the run ever occurred. But as a flutist especially, we need to overcome this terrible disease and finger out a way to approach these thick musical moments as they are often some of the most exhilarating and musically satisfying moments in a piece. So today, as I was practicing a standard and an old favorite of mine, I realized that I have a very efficient technique for approaching these sometimes scary musical moments. I thought I would take a moment to take you through my personal process, one step at a time. The piece that I am currently working on has many fast runs of varying degrees--from triplets and sixteenth notes to 7-tuplets and thirty-second notes, and although I have been able to get these musical moments under my fingers to some degree, I have found that they are not always as centered and consistent as I would like them to be. So rather than be satisfied with a hazy and not-so-satisfying performance of these runs I decided to take a moment to consider how to better approach them. Fortunately for me I have had some incredible teachers in my musical studies and have developed an accessible method for approaching these daunting black note passages. Let's take this example from the piece I am working on: My inner technician and theorist tells me that the composer is simply arpeggiating a C Dominant 7 chord and, thanks to many hours spent toiling away at scales and arpeggios, I am able to execute the fingers after a short period of time. However, execution and musicality do not always go hand in hand, and I begin to wonder if there isn't an easier way to consider this 10 note run. With this in mind I begin to look at these ten notes from a different perspective. Here you can see that I have decided to split this 10-tuplet neatly in half, forming two 5-tuplets: This seems to be an elegant, easy solution: as I play the run my mind (and fingers) will anchor on the E (which is the third of the seventh chord) and again on the C (which is the seventh chord's root). As I approach the run with this in mind, it begins to sound more even and clear. However, it is still a bit disjointed and not nearly as focused as I would like. So, I decide, why stop here? The first step was a bit easy and obvious: take the group of ten and split it in half into two groups of five. But how does one split up a group of five? Well at this point it is a matter of personal preference. One could easily split the groups of five into 3-2 or a 2-3, depending on which pairing feels better and makes more sense to the fingers. (I often talk about my fingers as if they have a mind of their own, which they sometimes do!) Here you can see how I have decided to split up this run: Each group of 5 has been split into two groups: a 2-tuplet followed by a 3-tuplet. It is important to remember that I have not altered the rhythm of the original 10-tuplet, I have simply created four anchor points within it (the E, Bb, C, and G) to facilitate in the performance of the run. Rather than hitting the high E and hoping your fingers and air will line up perfectly, focusing on multiple anchor notes within the run enables me to effectively shift my air stream and accurately place my fingers throughout the run. I use this technique of splitting up longer runs frequently in my performances. Here is a longer example, from the same piece, of how I do so. I want to direct your attention specifically to the three consecutive upward runs beginning on the low E in measure 6 of this example. As you can see, the composer is beginning each of these runs with an E-G-B and then extending this arpeggiated triad up by: 2 (E-G), 3 (E-G-B), and finally 4 (E-G-B-E) before landing on the climactic high G. By taking the time to split up the runs in this passage I have not only enabled myself to better execute the passage technically, but I have also gained a deeper understanding of this passage. The composer is not simply making the music more hectic to frustrate future performers, but rather he is building musical tension by adding more notes to the same time (these runs all take up the space of one eighth note) before ascending to climax of these measures: the high G. This high note is more effective when one exaggerates the swell and fall of the music preceding it, and I am in a better position to convey this in my performance thanks to how I have approached the passage technically.
So when you find yourself puzzled by an intimidating black smudge of ink on the page take a moment to step back, breathe deeply, and then approach the music with a fresh mindset and look for a way to split the run up in your head. You will find that very soon you will be able to accurately and effectively perform the music at hand. From the wandering musician, KrystleJane And bonus points goes to the first person to name this piece and the composer! |
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