observing all aspects of their academic and musical training, and attending rehearsals and performances. The DBC is multiracial in its make up, integrating Black, White, Afrikaans, and Colored1
South African boys in a
residential choir school in the Drakensberg mountains. As I waded through interviews with all 101 boys in the choir, I noticed an interesting trend regarding the socialization of the boys. Most boys remarked on the role of the choir in helping them to understand more about racial and cultural diversity. Due to the truly multicultural nature of the South African society and the fairly recent dismantling of the Apartheid2
government (1994), racial and
cultural tensions remain a challenge (see Thompson & Berat (2014) for a thorough account of the complicated political history of South Africa). For DBCS boys, living and working together in a residential music school has provided them an opportunity to learn about diverse cultures and develop strong relationships with others different from themselves. This emerged as a manifestation of what Putnam (2001) called bridging social capital, a kind of “sociological WD-40” that can “generate broader identities” (p. 22-23). The boys learn to appreciate and respect the diversity of their community and develop a strong collective identity as a “Drakie.” I left the Drakensberg with a deep
awareness of the potential of choir to unite individuals from very different backgrounds and wondered how choir might serve as a source of bridging social capital for singers in the United States as well. Could we cultivate a deeper appreciation of diversity through encouraged cross-cultural interaction and thoughtful and varied programming? How could the choral classroom be a forum for the exploration of issues of racism, homophobia, transphobia, and other forms of prejudice and inequity? By fostering a creative and cohesive community of singers that develop strong bonds across perceived differences, we might allow acceptance and appreciation of diversity to flourish.
A Lesson from Kagbere: Building Bridges with the Community In an earlier study of choral culture,
I found myself in Kagbere, an extremely rural community in Sierra Leone. Home to approximately 400 Landogo people, Kagbere is a subsistence farming village without access to electricity or running water. I was amazed to find that this tiny village had a small, two- level children’s choir at the Wesleyan Church. I spent a month investigating the roles of the choir and was surprised to find that the choir
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served a critical service role in the community (Bartolome, 2013). In addition to serving particular evangelical, educational, and musical functions, the children and youth in the choir were responsible for cleaning and maintaining the church building, tending the church’s groundnut fields, assisting elderly, sick, or pregnant villagers, and organizing sports and cultural events for the community. When I returned home, I started to
consider the potential role of choirs within surrounding communities and the mutually beneficial relationships that might arise between choirs and community partners. What might our choir offer to underserved or marginalized populations in our local communities? How might the students in my choirs learn and grow from interacting with individuals with very different backgrounds, life experiences, or challenges? How might those experiences enrich them personally and musically and contribute to their development as an engaged citizen? By providing opportunities for student musicians to engage with communities in need, we might encourage a certain civic mindedness and an awareness of what they might offer the world through their musical training.
A Lesson from Vilnius: Building Opportunities
In 2013, I spent 6 months in Vilnius,
Lithuania, teaching at the Lithuanian University of Educational Sciences and conducting research on local folk ensembles. My study was intergenerational in nature and so I observed ensembles serving children, university students, adults, and more elderly individuals. Through weekly visits with each of these populations, I came to understand the value of a lifelong orientation to music education. Residents of Vilnius have a wide range of rich, meaningful music making opportunities available to them from childhood through old age. In a single week, I interacted with 5-year-old children, 20-year- old university students, 40-year-old professionals, and 85-year-old retirees, all learning traditional Lithuanian folk music and dance. It was beautiful and unexpected to see communities of all ages focused on the same Lithuanian folk traditions.
After six months with these
communities, I began to think about the typical American’s access to musical engagement throughout their lives. If we profess that the goal of music education is to provide our students with the skills to participate in music across a lifetime, we must also consider what kinds of opportunities are
available for continued participation in music. I wonder what our role might become if we stop thinking about music education as a K-12 enterprise and begin embracing a more lifewide and lifelong approach (Jones, 2009). Programs like New Horizons have become more popular in pockets around the United States, while community and church ensembles provide opportunities for some to continue engaging in music making. What (else) can we offer in our communities that might draw a wider spectrum of adult participants that valued the music making experience during their K-12 education? What would best serve the community outside the doors of our high schools regardless of prior participation? What kinds of music making are relevant and accessible to community members? By engaging more individuals in music making beyond high school graduation, we may cultivate a community more committed to music education for their children, for themselves, and for society.
Final Reflections: Building Communities My experiences with each of these
very different music making communities linger. They force me to reflect and they inspire me to think outside the box. I wonder how the things I have learned might inform new and innovative approaches in my work as a music educator. I find myself asking even more questions: How can we have the greatest impact? How can we grow choirs and provide joyful opportunities for relevant and meaningful music making for even more people? I recall the incredibly aesthetically satisfying performances in Pretoria and the joyous ululation of the audience as they stood and danced and clapped along with the choir. I think about the next crop of Drakies, learning to live and cooperate in a rich and diverse multicultural environment. I imagine the choir in Kagbere sweeping the church after a service and collecting wood for an elderly neighbor. I remember shiny, little five- year-old faces and wrinkly, grey-bearded eighty-five-year-old faces joyfully singing Lithuanian folk songs. I think about the power of choir to foster each of these unique and wonderful situations. And I can only conclude that the true lesson is that our choirs are communities. We have the joyful and daunting and rewarding job of growing communities of singers and witnessing how people (singers, audiences, community members) are impacted by our efforts. We must recognize the power of music to teach our students about themselves, about each other, and about the world. And we must also think about our
May/June 2016
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