by Javi Lucero

The indie jam session is a thing of beauty.  It is completely insulated from inhibition. It is driven by creativity and passion in many forms, many of which make onlookers uncomfortable while captivating them at once. It is struggle among personalities and sounds that fight not to conform but to be independently dependent. Without being dependent, there would be no music. Without being independent, the sound would never be unique or meaningful. 

Thus the jam session as a social and musical experiment occurs between individuals driven to be a part of something bigger than themselves that is special and unique. To the indie band, structure exists and is inevitably required but it is no way static. The conventional and most popular verse/chorus forms are known and easily duplicated but for the sake of soul, originality and innovation are avoided whenever possible. Standard instruments or tools are slightly different in that they are welcomed but not required. In this context musicians strive to master musical tools but draw upon experimentation with different sounds, devices and instruments for an ever-changing musical identity.

Having been involved in countless jam sessions, I have always been fascinated by the dynamics that existed between group members as well as the creation process itself. So many variables could potentially impact any given jam session but the goal remained the same: play music from a soulful place. 

There were times where the product was meant as a presentable product, something intended to move people. Other times we only played because we wanted to experiment with sounds, hone in our chemistry or get something off of our chests. In any occasion, the indie jam session as a dynamic event, shares countless characteristics with what many consider the indie classroom.

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The indie classroom is a thing of beauty.  It is completely insulated from inhibition. It is driven by creativity and passion in many forms, many of which make onlookers uncomfortable while captivating them at once. It is struggle among personalities and learning styles that fight not to conform but to be independently dependent. Without being dependent, there would be no meaningful learning. Without being independent, the project or product would never be unique or meaningful. 

Thus the classroom as a social and educational experiment occurs between individuals driven to be a part of something bigger than themselves that is special and unique. To the indie classroom, structure exists and is inevitably required but it is no way static. The conventional and most popular products and projects are known and easily duplicated but for the sake of soul, originality and innovation are avoided whenever possible. Standard devices and tools are slightly different in that they are welcomed but not required. In this context learners strive to master vocational tools but draw upon experimentation with different perspectives, devices and experiences for an ever-changing educational identity.

Having been involved in countless classroom projects, I have always been fascinated by the dynamics that existed between group members as well as the creation process itself. So many variables could potentially impact any given project but the goal remained the same: create from a soulful place. 

There were times where the product was meant as a presentable product, something intended to move people. Other times we created because we wanted to experiment with project elements, hone in our chemistry or get something off of our chests. In any occasion, the indie project as a dynamic event, shares countless characteristics with what many consider the indie jam session.

photo credit - wowzaa on Flickr Creative Commons

Joel approaches me timidly. It's a rare weekend where I have no other choice than to work on school-related projects. He senses my frustration, so he whispers his request, "Dad, can we pick oranges and make orange juice?"

"Maybe later. I have to get this done," I respond.

He comes back five minutes later and I tell him, "Later means really later, okay?"

Christy calls him aside and says, "I'll help you. Daddy needs to work."

Something in the gentleness of her tone and the emphasis on the word "need" that pulls me from the office. I shut the laptop and put on my tennis shoes. It takes me a few minutes to adjust to the sun on my face and the cold air on my hands. But with every orange we snatch from the tree, I am forgetting about the website I need to develop or the videos I need to edit.

Brenna joins us. She picks thirteen oranges, but each time she counts, she stops at eleven. "I have eleven," she says to anyone willing to listen - to me, to Joel, to Micah, to the dog and to Micah's Papa Bear.

It feels like magic when the twirling machine converts each orange into juice. Joel is obsessed with technique and Micah is trying to figure out the mechanics, but Brenna is simply delighted to press down on each orange and watch the juice flow from the spout.

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When I think about the skills I want my students to acquire, I often say things like, "think globally and act locally" or "recover a sense of the terrestrial reality around them."  Or sometimes I talk of sustainability and organic learning and growth and . . . what I really mean is I want them to learn what it means to shut off the devices, walk outside and pick oranges or plant a garden or study a sunset.

I want my students to figure out what matters in life and then have the courage, patience and endurance to live accordingly. The greatest twenty-first century skill is simply this: to learn to live well.

Mumford and Sons say it best:
Where you invest your love, you invest your life.

photo credit

 

It would be like China or Iran or . . . the average American school.

Maybe it's time we advocate for open Internet in every context.

Dear Time Magazine,

You're a decade late in your assessment of No Child Left Behind. Any decent teacher could have told you it wouldn't work. Then again, you never bothered to ask us.  While I place most of the blame on the politicians, your media outlet has also been culpable in failing to report accurately on the highly publicized "miracles" that have occurred as a result of NCLB.

With regards to public education, your reporting has been irresponsible, flighty, vapid and prone toward ignoring the hard data so that you could follow the latest corporate reform. I read your glowing articles on Michelle Rhee (including the front cover image of Rhee holding the cliche reform broom) and your misguided editorials about merit pay, tougher standards, unions and failing schools.

I suspect it will take you another decade to see that the corporate reform that columnists such as Joe Klein have been pushing (and the Race to the Top initiative in particular) are just as flawed as the No Child Left Behind law.

Sincerely,
John Spencer

"I hate that robotic hip hop music," I complain to Quinn the Business Bohemian as a car rolls in bumping a tune so bland it has to be shouted.

"Why's that?" he asks.

"It's the autotune. They sound like robots. I think it's the start of the android colonization program. They're priming us so that the next generation will revere the robot overlords."

"You really hate autotune, don't you?" he asks.

"It's not just that. I hate drum machines. It's the tiny imperfections in music that make it sound amazing. I can't stand it when it sounds artificial," I say.

"But you like The Postal Service?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"They use auto-tune on a few of their songs and you can't deny that they have drum tracks."

Quinn reminds me that the real issue isn't the instruments, but how artists choose to use them. Does it enhance or inhibit creativity? Does it admit the artificiality and in the process show us the human element? Or does it pretend to be real when it's not?

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I've railed against certain instruments used in assessments, pointing out the dangers in standardization and in the multiple choice format. The truth is that in the right context and in the right way, both common assessments and multiple choice tests have a place. A fluency test is a standardized test and it's well worth using as a diagnostic tool. The problem is when we use it to judge teachers or to claim a "grade level" for reading. Multiple choice tests are bad when used objectively, but send kids out with multiple choice Needs Assessment surveys and you get a great snapshot on the overall views of the community.

Being indie isn't about creating new instruments or dogmatically opposing the sounds that are already out there. It's about pushing for environments where we can use the instruments more creatively, where we can choose songs that tell our stories and where an artist can find his or her voice without trying to sound like auto-tune.

 

Arne Duncan sets up an elevator for me. We cram as many students into our mechanical box in a systematic Race to the Top.  I'm relegated to a button pusher. At one time an elevator man had a place. He was an expert trained, not just in elevators, but in the art of conversation.  Not in the twenty-first century.  After all, technology is the teacher.  He's simply a facilitator. Let the system do its work.  In the background, we might get a bland jazz tune created for the sole purpose of not offending anyone.  Each person follows the elevator etiquette of respectful silence and individualism.  It's tidy and efficient, a well-oiled machine, totally predictable. The real test is whether they quickly get from floor to floor.

So, I saw this video by The Frames where they sing "Star Star" on an elevator.  It's the last thing I would ever call elevator music.  The moment is creative, quirky and a bit out of place.  Within this metal box, they are playing an acoustic set and it's beautiful.  True, it's a bit contrived, but it makes me think about my place within the system.

My wife's grandpa asked me why I still stay in education.  "We had silly politics back then, but when I taught, it was clear that it was my classroom.  They weren't trying to make things teacher-proof.  They trusted us.  I don't think I'd last very long in the current system."  Maybe not.  He's a bit loud and provocative and he might piss off a few people, but I'm guessing he could make it just fine. Even the Clipboard Crew gets tired of the typical elevator music.

I have a hunch that he would do exactly what most subversive sages do.  Outside the elevator, he would hold the instruction booklet about pushing buttons and he would talk about the best methods for elevator mechanics and he would listen quietly at the experts who have spent a lifetime on the top floor and know nothing about what it means to be grounded.

Then, when the door is shut and the elevator is working, he would move the kids from silence to dialogue and from isolation to cooperation. He would abandon the elevator etiquette.  He'd sing a tune with them.  Or maybe not.  Maybe he would get them to take the stairs and, though it is slower, it would be healthier and more sustainable in the long run.  And when the fire hits and the unpredictable occurs, his students would make it.  Either way, to the executives at the top, it wouldn't look very different. The results would be similar, but the process would be entirely different.

Call it Meander to the Top. We'll find an indie route to get there.

photo credit

The talented yet road-worn indie guitarist stands diminutive in front of a wall of potential instruments. He sees a great deal of potential in many of the guitars but knows that he has to work with what he has. Resources are tight. Given his talent and passion, it seems unjust that he plays night after night for often difficult crowds without a choice guitar. He does however know that he signed up for this. He reflects and shortly after realizes that it is that tattered six-stringed companion of his that is tried and true. It is the tool by which he has been able to inventively and artistically project emotions and ideas to all willing to embrace the auditory complexities of one of his masterpieces. He turns his back and walks out of the music store.

If his talent were a guitar, it surely would have been handcrafted on the turbulent and inspiring shores of Italy by one of the ancestors of Stradivarius himself. Talent is not a guitar. It is many things though: inspiration, meaning, emotion, creativity, intensity, authenticity, complexity, etc. It transcends the very tool that is used to convey it.

The truth about teaching is that it isn’t fair. There is no level playing field. We all know that. I don’t mind though, well not anymore. I used to be so concerned with the outward appearance of my instruction that I made it a point to bring out the newest and most conspicuous tech-tools out there. I was never a “yes” man or out to please but given the deteriorating quality of instruction of this inner city school, I just wanted to cover my bases. It didn’t even matter that I previously found a tremendous amount of depth in what would have seemed mundane to others. I just had to look good… things changed though. I wanted to see students express themselves. I wanted them to realize their talents. I wanted them to become independent learners.

Much like the traveling indie band, I found myself playing dual roles. I felt myself become an artist and manager in the classroom. The artist yearned to create and show others how to create. The manager had to make things happen given the social context and minimal access to resources. I went indie. The students went indie. It didn’t matter what others thought anymore. It was about the process of expression and creation. After all, the true instructional leader would easily recognize the depth and creativity in products that the students created, not the kinds of tools being used. It wasn’t flashy, it was raw talent on its way to something greater.

This is the first in a month-long series that I'll be co-writing with Javi Lucero. The title of the series is "Indie Teachers." 

Some indie bands are indie only because they aren't good enough to be discovered. They play the empty bar tour with the illusion that some day they'll be playing before a packed crowd.  Likewise, some indie listeners prefer indie music only because it hasn't been discovered. Then the minute a band hits it big, they scream about how awful it is to watch a band sell out.

However, this isn't indie. This is novelty. I've been there as a teacher, especially in my first two years. I wanted my projects to be noticed. I wanted to be discovered. Worse still, I followed bloggers and then complained bitterly when they were recognized or offered a book contract or given the top slot at a conference.

Some indie bands are indie because they despise all things mainstream and so, out of a sense of elitism, they deliberately create a reactionary sound that will be as radio unfriendly as possible. Or they quote as many obscure poets as possible with the hopes that they will sound unabashedly intellectual and attract just the right art house crowd to their music. There's an audience for this type of band; people that think that a tune doesn't sound good unless it sounds like the polar opposite of anything remotely popular. They'll listen to the Neutral Milk Hotel, not because of the profound lyrics, but because it isn't easy on the ears.

However, this isn't indie. This is snobbery. I've been there as a teacher, each time that I mocked an idea simply because it was popular. I blasted PLC. I mocked Instruction by Design. I called Marzano a Collage Artist. And yet none of it had to do with ideas, but with my rejection of all things mainstream in education.

But there is another type of indie. It's the kind of music that doesn't make the radio, because it is too creative and quirky for an audience with a short attention span.  It's the kind that doesn't shy away from sounding a bit mainstream, but is also bold enough to say something profound. This type of music has its listeners as well. They're the folks who might enjoy some pop music every once in awhile so long as it moves them and makes them think and has a deeper aesthetic quality.

I want to teach like an indie listener. I want to be open to quality ideas, regardless of how indie or mainstream they may seem. I want to hear about what works. I want to listen to ideas from public and charter and homeschool and unschool as long as it moves me and makes me think and ultimately transforms my practice.

I want to teach like an indie artist. I want to be a teacher who does something different, not for the sake of novelty, but because it is meaningful. I want depth, not for intellectual snobbery, but out of a desire to think well about life. I want to remember that it's not about being noticed, but about doing what matters.


photo credit: the photo of indie folk singer Hayden is by sarae

Many of you know my friend Javi the Hippie from conversations in my books or the times I've referenced him in this blog. He is a talented writer, a great thinker and a phenomenal teacher. His students worked with my students on service projects and murals. He will be joining me on this blog. I'll let him write his own bio, though.

The plan is to co-write a series per month while occasionally writing on other topics when we feel so inclined. I'll be writing less (probably 1-2 posts per week) and adding my posts to johntspencer.com  and closing up some of the blogs that I've had for awhile (Pencil Integration, Ditch that Word and others).

I'm not abandoning edu-blogging altogether. Just pulling back a little and spending more time writing fiction. (Just finished A Wall for Zombies) Meanwhile, I hope that the 1-2 posts a week that I write here will be more intentional and thoughtful than what I've written lately.

Data is like the Bible in that people can make it say pretty much whatever they want it to say. Context is critical, but people quote data to justify just about anything imaginable, often without citing the source or explaining the story behind how they data was gathered.

Much like the Bible, I am most comfortable with people who approach data with an open mind and a sense that it should inform rather than drive decisions; and I cringe at those who use it as a tool for sorting, judging and applying condemnation instead of open doors to wisdom.

I'm a fan of the Bible. I'm also a fan of data. But if you're using either of these to cram ideology down my throat, chances are I quit listening a long time ago.