From Research... Carl Hancock, Chairman, Research Division
“Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.” Carl Sagan.
Please forgive me in advance, as I am not a story teller. With the start of the fall semester, I usually enjoy a moment or two reflecting on the highpoints of summer gone by. Some of my fondest memories include the simple pleasures of star gazing while at the beach with family. We would sit on the back porch, with the sounds of dark ocean waves rolling in, and casually talk about the awesome feeling evoked by the multitude of stars winking overhead. Some would sigh and exclaim it made them feel small, while others would talk about the peace of knowing they were part of a larger universe. Eventually, a flashlight beam would reach into the night sky as we traced the mythical figures embedded in the constellations. Like clockwork an astronomical version of Where’s Waldo would eventually ensue with the planets, prominent stars, and various stellar phenomena called out in turn. When it started to get really dark and the lights of fishing boats dotted the horizon, we peered into a telescope and consulted a guidebook to conduct our own exploration of the heavens. The ocean breeze carried our talk about the endless universe and the possibility of traveling to the stars across the surf as the moon rose to dominate the night’s sky, illuminating the water below.
As humans began observing, theorizing, and testing our understanding of the dome above the earth, the universe became clearer and what was once a mystery became knowable. And what appeared finite became infinite. The universe is large and complicated in a way we could never imagine, yet we know more about it today then ever. We also know we may never have all the answers.
In our field, we are privileged to stand in 20 August 2010
awe of the power of music. The concert that moved us to tears, the celebration of a hundred voices united in song, the unexplainable stillness that follows a clarinet tone dissipating into silence, and the thrilling field performance that compels thousands to stand and deliver applause. My non-musician friends say we live charmed lives. I smile at them and nod, thinking, if only they knew the sacrifices we make for our art and students.
Humans have an innate need to understand the world. As music educators we have a tradition of exploring the nature and boundaries of our craft. Who hasn’t abandoned an old mouthpiece for a better one only to return to the comfort of a familiar rim? Or experimented with a different warmup or breathing exercise, and heard an improvement? Have you ever recorded a rehearsal only to discover that the sound in your ears is different from the unbiased sound in the room? Or weighed the benefits and fallout of adding an unscheduled rehearsal? We are tinkerers in every sense of the word, testing variables in the classroom and in our minds, seeing whether we can cause a measurable change, and determining whether the difference is enough to warrant action. We are tenacious
problem solvers who are always seeking better answers and solutions. We are music educators. We are also researchers.
Music teachers who conduct rigorous research published in our leading research journals seek explanations and understanding of problems we share such as: Does the use of risers affect the balance and blend of choirs? Do the attributes of the conductor influence the perception of the performance? Do musicians
and non-musicians
emotionally experience music in the same way? What are the occupational health hazards facing career music teachers? Can music save the lives of premature infants or help the elderly suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease?
One thing that all these studies have in common is that the authors realize that we are only beginning to understand the wonders and nature of making and teaching music. The more studies we conduct, the more questions seem to surface. One may ask, what is the benefit of research if a definitive answer never emerges? Here’s one answer, the sophistication of our questions increases as we become more experienced with research.
Imagine returning to your undergraduate years armed with your
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