Jazz at the Improv

Kappa Delta Pi Record, Fall 2004 by Mantle-Bromley, Corinne

Teaching to the rhythm of true pedagogy means nurturing students as individuals, focusing on their learning, and doing so in the context of a civic society of learners.

Good improvisational jazz musicians don't know until the music starts where the night will take them. What they play and how they play it depends on the other musicians with whom they perform, their moods, the atmosphere, and the audience. Such musicians are not seeking consistency or replicability; they are striving for magic in the moment. They create something unique by listening carefully to one another; by anticipating where they can move in concert with others' movements; by knowing well the theory of music, their fellow musicians, and their instruments; and by surprise. A welcome element of the unknown keeps them exploring new territory, discovering new possibilities, making new music. Good jazz musicians are tireless learners. If they stop listening to others, stop seeking new paths, stop inviting surprise into their musical conversations, they lose their mastery.

Mastery in teaching follows the same path. However, new teachers-at least initially-focus single-mindedly on me and my teaching. They ask themselves questions like What should I do? and When and how should I do it? Beginning teachers script their lessons: "First, I'll say this, then I'll do that." These first steps in learning to teach are necessary, and similar to learning to play a musical instrument.

Elevated to a systemic level, this focus on me, the teacher, in some cases, can contribute to the disappearance of skilled teachers from the classroom. The assumption behind scripted literacy programs or "drill and kill" worksheets is that learning is a commodity and anyone can be trained to deliver it. Programs based on such a metaphor disdain the notion that skill and experience are involved, failing to account for what it takes to figure out why Stephanie is having problems with long division or how better to work with Jose on his particular analysis of a chemistry experiment. Master teachers, however, understand that each day is an improvisational concert, a musical conversation with their students.

Before the day begins, master teachers don't know where their students will have difficulties, but will certainly anticipate problems based on past experience. The teachers' responses, in turn, will depend on their careful listening to the stories of students' struggles and successes. Before we examine more closely how the master teacher engages in this improvisational act of teaching and learning, let's first take a closer look at three noteworthy dissonances implicit in the kind of schooling that is, instead, teacher-centered.

Me, the Teacher

Teaching that is centered on me, the teacher contributes to several maladies of schooling. First, as we've noted, teachers can wrongly assume that technique-actions independent of context-is primarily what constitutes good teaching. A teacher-centered focus also can contribute to other missteps. It may, for instance, lead teachers to believe that techniques that worked well for them, back when they were students, will work equally well when applied with the students they now teach.

Most teachers were once successful students who liked school and were good at it. We learn to teach, in part, by thinking about our own experiences as students. Yet, by so doing, we run the risk of reinforcing a system of privilege that ensures the success of only a select few-the ones who are most like us. If we are not careful, we may favor the systems, methods, and content that privileged our own ways of knowing and learning-our own ways of making sense of the world-over better alternative approaches that may help students who are not like us to succeed.

I remember, for example, that as a new Spanish-language teacher in an American junior high school, I shared with my students a variety of music, magazines, books, and artifacts that 1 had brought from Spain. I raved about the trends being set in fashion and hairstyles, and the foods I had so enjoyed when living there. What I didn't realize was that my male 13- and 14-year-old students were struggling to develop their own identity, including their national identity. I was shocked to learn that they viewed me as unpatriotic. After begging the boys to tell me why they were resisting the class so, one young man blurted out: "Why don't you just move there if you like it so much?" My enthusiasm for the Spanish culture, it turns out, had threatened them.

Another problem that potentially can result from a teacher-centered focus is decision-making that benefits adults, but not students. I once worked in a large high school with faculty members who were contemplating a move from a 50-minute class schedule to a 90-minute block schedule. The argument for the change was this: Students-especially those currently struggling-would have more time to develop deeper understandings of subject matter and form stronger relationships with teachers.