Some Things are Better Left Unsaid

The past couple of days I have experienced an unexplained loss of voice. A friend asks, "Have you been yelling too much at your students?" And the truth is, no, but I wonder if I have been talking too much.

One of the first things you learn as a music teacher is to talk less and play more. Explaining the intricacies of the portato bow stroke as demonstrated in Dvorak's 9th Symphony is REALLY BORING and takes a lot of time. But in about 14 seconds, I can demonstrate it on a cello to a group of 8th graders. And about 1 minute later most of them can mimic it back to me. Success might be accomplished both ways, but it is accomplished a lot faster when some things go left unsaid.

This whole less is more idea translates to a lot of things: phone calls, emails, comments in church, and business meetings. Imagine your listeners to each have a flashlight representing their ability to focus. If you only give them one thing to focus on, then it is an easy target. The more things that need to be in focus, the less light is going to be on each object. Each word is something else to focus on.

So why do we talk so much? I submit that it is because we each learn from our own voice, and think that others should too. We understand ourselves (or pretend to) and like hearing the sound of our own voice. Therefore we think others should understand us and enjoy the sound as much as we do. They don't.

Now, don't misunderstand. Vocal communication is important. But there are many other forms of communication that we often neglect for the very fallible aural type: body language, facial expression, example vs. non-example, and the list could go on forever. Try some of them. The quickest way to make someone laugh is not to tell a joke, but to trip over your own feet or make a funny face. Gets 'em every time.

Life is Lke a Violin

So when clumsy middle schoolers meet breakable and valuable string instruments there is very little one can do to prevent the eventual damage done to the instruments. In the last couple of weeks, I have had two cellos broken into pieces and at least eight strings break on school instruments.

You see, a string instrument has certain vulnerability spots. The strings (the first thing every student breaks), the bridge, the sound post, and the bass board. The strings and bridge are easy enough to fix. It's always fun to watch a beginning class when the first student breaks a string or the bridge comes off. A silence settles over the class as their mouths gape open in awe. They are always relieved when I can fix the problem in a matter of minutes.

Then come the true vulnerabilities of a string instrument: the sound post and the bass board. Both of these parts are vital in the production of good sound. If the sound post falls, not only is the instrument vuilerable to complete collapse, but some say it will never sound perfect again. A sound post can be reset, of course, but can it ever be the same? The bass board falls prey to cracks more often than any luthier would like to admit. Cracks throughout most of the instrument can be fixed, but a bass board crack is the kiss of death. The instrument, even when repaired, will never produce the same quality of sound.

So I am learning that sometimes in life, we are asked to place our valuable lives in the hands of others. There are some things about ourselves that others can break but are easily repairable, and then there are those other vulnerabilites in each of us, that if broken, will leave us changed forever. And then the question begs, will we be changed for the better?

Other than immense vulnerabilities, humans have something else in common with string instruments. They get better with time, with age, and especially with use. Without someone there to play music, the instrument is practically just firewood. Without someone there to experience emotion, to love, to lose, to rejoice and cry, the human might as well be dust. And if you've ever experienced the beauty of Dvorak's Cello Concerto or Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, or even Pink's "So What", you know the power of music. And if you've ever loved or been loved, you know the power of humanity.

May all of us survive the middle schoolers of life.