[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]This week something happened that made me feel really awful. And angry. And sad. All at the same time.

The dad of a family I teach died. He died in a horrible way – he fell off a balcony. Of course there are two sides to this story. According to police they were coming into the apartment. He panicked (and was taking drugs), and tried to climb off his balcony (on the 13th floor) to the balcony below (the 12th floor) to escape. He was wanted for various offences. He slipped and fell, and this is terrible. According to the community, he was chased. But the ending is the same. He died. It’s awful. His family and friends are angry. Really angry. And he’s Indigenous, so this community is still getting over Invasion Day (sorry – Australia Day).

I am really sad for his kids I teach. And for me, this part is black and white. They shouldn’t have to deal with this. You don’t choose your parents, or where you live. They should just be able to come to school, go home, sleep in a safe place. Be fed and loved. These kids I see are great kids. They are resilient, and full of personality. They have amazing independence. They are talented. This dad loved his kids, I know that. His kids loved him back. I am sad for these little people. Their lives have now changed enormously.

I am also angry. Because the picture of him that is being used in the media is horrible. I can’t help but think that is he was a white bloke from the Eastern Suburbs, or Rozelle, or the North Shore, they would use a different sort of picture. It would be really flattering. He would be surrounded by his kids. It would be the sort of photo that would make you think it was sad that he was gone. The photo of this bloke? I can see readers of the Daily Telegraph thinking that it doesn’t matter he died. It simply feeds into the stereotype of black-man-up-to-no-good.

And I feel awful. I feel awful for these kids. They have so many things thrown at them. So many hardships. So many setbacks. And it’s not fair.

It’s actually not fair. Not for them.

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[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Last weekend I was teaching at a music camp for grown-ups. I like being at this camp – I’ve written about it before. There’s an awful lot of people who are really passionate about music, and want to learn. But there’s this weird belief that a lot of them have – than me, as a teacher, can give them one insight that is going to make things hugely different for their playing – like putting more rosin on their bow, or sitting differently, or adjusting their music stands. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.

I was also fortunate enough to sit in on a lesson given by a very-fabulous guitarist to a young student. And really it all boiled down to one thing. You need to know so much background knowledge to play better. You need hours at the instrument. And not just a few – but hundreds of hours every year. You need to work hard, and work hard consistently.

I joke with a regular playing partner of mine about a certain style of amateur player. They have every gadget available. Tuners. Fancy stands. Magnetic self-sharpening pencils. Apps that show them all sorts of stuff. But they don’t play very well, because they don’t actually sit down and practise.

It’s not magic. It’s not really a gift. I mean, sure, there are people who show aptitude. And there are people who instinctively can phrase beautifully. But actually, most good players work. And work hard. Damn hard. Day in, day out.

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[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]I deliberately try to steer away from political issues here. I do this for a number of reasons. I’ve tried to have only a few ‘battles’ in my life and work, and speak about them only. I know a fair bit about those issues, and so can talk about them knowledgeably. I don’t have the time to know (and learn) about other stuff enough to talk about them with enough knowledge to propose a good case, and to rebut points from a differing point of view. I won’t talk to you passionately and persuasively about Trump, or American politics, for example. I won’t talk to you about mining. I won’t talk to you about high school education problems, or tertiary education. There are too many things I don’t know.

I will talk to you about primary music education – I know a lot about that. I mightn’t talk to you a lot, as I’m too busy just doing it, but if you get me at a good point in the week, I’ll sit you down and bore you to tears, if you’d like. I’ll also talk to you about chamber music, and performing it in a real and risk-taking way. I’ll talk to you about how hard it is to run your own concerts, and all the hurdles you’ll face. I’ll talk to you about how great it is to perform with other inspiring musicians.

But now I find there’s a political issue that has sort-of flowed into my teaching practise, so I’ve thought about it a lot. And I’ve read about it. And now I’m going to talk about it. And what’s more, I’m happy for you to talk back to me about it. In a grown-up, let’s-have-a-discussion-about-this-properly-and-not-start-name-calling way.

It’s about Australia Day.

Here’s the problem I have. You see, I work with a lot of Indigenous kids. And this really affects them and their families. This day makes them really angry. They are in fairly tight communities, and the whole community is angry about it. There’s marches, and drinking and anger. (Have I mentioned the anger?) And the kids pick up on this. And then, very soon afterwards, they go back to school, and are taught by (in my neck of the woods, mostly) whites. And they are still angry. And it takes a while to settle down. A goodly while.

I wonder what it would be like if my teacher-friends didn’t have to start the year off like this.

This all-important public holiday hasn’t always been a public holiday. It has only been like this since the 90’s (1994 to be exact). Why does our ex-PM think it’s appropriate to send off barbed tweets about the only reason to change the date of this is ‘political correctness’? Did he learn nothing as the Minister for Indigenous Affairs?

Have a think about this. Picture yourself in a share-house, and you want to have a party on a particular Saturday. One of your flatmates says “Guys, my grandma, who I loved so much, died on that day. I feel really miserable on that day. Can we have it the next weekend?” What do you do? You change the party date.

I am not saying let’s not have a day to celebrate this great country. I’m saying let’s have a date that everyone can celebrate together. We talk about ‘reconciliation’. We talk about ‘respect for the first peoples’. So let’s actually do something. Surely no-one really cares about celebrating on January 26?

And as an aside, how about a public holiday in November instead when everyone’s really knackered?[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]I have just come back from two wonderful weeks away. I swam in cold ocean water every day. I didn’t wash my hair at all. (I didn’t brush it either, but that’s nothing new….) I ate fresh oysters and just-caught lobster. I listened to a lot of music. I stayed up late, playing games and laughing with people I love. I didn’t play the cello at all. I read a lot.

It was perfect.

2017 was a busy year – full of concerts, artistic challenges, a few disappointments (but they come with the territory, really), lots of teaching problems (and mostly solutions), headstands, handstands, a new wine bar in Marrickville, recording plans, good food and a big trip overseas. I needed a rest!

Now I am sitting writing this ready for 2018. It’ll be bigger, I think. More concerts already. A CD to record. Some travel – some for work, some for play. I’m looking forward to so many things! I know that not everything that 2018 will throw at me will be positive. I know that there will be some hurdles, probably a mountain to climb (that’ll most likely be the CD recording), plants in my garden will get eaten by snails, and there will be some bendypretzel yoga stuff I’ll not be able to do at all.

But I think I’m ready for it. I have some funky new tye-dye pants. I have new pieces to play. I have friends there with me. My cello is good to go. Bring it on![/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]I used to teach in a school. I won’t say where it was, but I was there for many, many years. I made some good friends there, and worked with some fabulous teachers. I loved the kids there – opening up all sorts of musical doors for them. It was there that I refined a lot of the stuff I do now – djembe drumming patters, chair drumming, many of the part songs I teach in choir. There were two very fair and far-sighted principals there.

As an ACMF teacher, I don’t work for the Education department. Most of the time I use that to my advantage – I’m a slightly ‘different’ teacher, and most of the kids I teach get that. Most of the teachers I work with get that too. In the schools I’m in, I understand that I expect a great deal. I will also give a great deal. I expect children to be engaged in my lessons. And if they aren’t, that’s my problem. I will rack my brains to work out how I can engage them better. I expect teachers to join in and learn with the children. I expect musical instruments to be treated with respect. And most of the time, I will expect teachers to teach a ‘revision’ lesson.

This may sound a lot, but let me explain further. Most schools ask for this. They want me to ‘upskill’ their teachers – to teach myself out of a job. I don’t just say to teachers ‘Well, do this.’ I give them a lesson plan, with all the backing tracks they need. I demonstrate very clearly in lessons how to do things. I am extremely methodical. If they want other tracks, or listening activities I will share it with them.

So, back to this particular school. After over-a-decade, you’d think that teachers would have seen what to do. And at the risk of sounding really egotistical, the music lessons I provide to teachers are really good. Really, really good, in fact. There were instruments there. There were backing tracks, both on-line and in CD format.

Sadly, the two fabulous principals I worked under left. Someone else came in. She called me ‘intimidating’ and wrote that my music lessons excluded children (not too my face, mind. Just on paper.). It was time for me to go, and with a heavy heart, I left. It was hard for me to leave a school I loved so much, but the staff had changed, and so had the culture of the school. I now hear that they are involved with a program run by another arts organisation that provides a few days of music training for teachers just for one year group. And that is their music program at the school.

I have nothing against this arts organisation. But we all know that a handful of training days does not an expert make. My reasonable husband said something like “But you should be happy – because a group of children get music lessons.” But we both knew it’ll be not-very-good music lessons.

And after all those years, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the guts. It doesn’t surprise me, knowing this principal. But it still knocked me for six.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]