Why music remains indescribable

Passionata - Music lessons make the difference

There are two rules in my lessons. I call them F&F: Be friendly and make mistakes. Both are essential foundations for creative processes. Of course, the little ones look a little surprised when I tell them to make mistakes in their first music lesson. They often ask what I mean by that.

Some bring previous knowledge with them and say: «You learn from your mistakes.» For me, that sentence has a pinch too much pain and moralising in it. That's why I prefer to tell the children: «If you don't make mistakes, your life is boring because you never try anything. And I want you to try as much as possible with me and ask yourselves: Do I like this or do I want to change something?»

Music enables us to perceive ourselves. This is a basic human need. Unfortunately, «right» and «wrong» dominate our understanding of music to a large extent: «I'm singing wrong! I can't play the piano, I make mistakes.»

Making music is much more than a measurable achievement. Music enables a journey into the inner world. «Man's knowledge of music is man's knowledge of himself», wrote the music educator Hermann Siegenthaler. He describes music as a mirror of ourselves. When I read his short work «Introduction to Music Education», his explanations were a revelation to me.

Experience music theory

I fondly remember the lesson in which I was able to impart some of Siegenthaler's knowledge to a first grade class for the first time. It was a Tuesday and we were going through the grades. A topic with clear definitions where there really is right and wrong: the bear takes two large steps (half note), the fox takes four steps in the same time and the hare takes eight steps (quarter and eighth notes).

In elementary music education, we work holistically. The children therefore see different tracks on the floor, which represent the note values. Then they move over them and finally these movements are set to music with their voices and instruments. Music theory is thus experienced, recognised and finally named.

Music is like maths!

Leon

The children enjoyed themselves that morning until Leon* realised: «Music is like maths!» For some of the children, the thought of doing maths was a brake on fun, which is why they protested. Luckily, Siegenthaler came to mind. I asked the children to sit on the floor for a discussion and asked Leon to explain why music was like maths. It wasn't difficult for him, as his arguments were on the floor in the form of the footprints for recalculation.

I asked: «Those who are against music being like maths: what else is it?» «German», said Kim, «we wrote a song beforehand and we had to find words». I nodded: «Music is a language for you.» Then I played a few soft minor chords on the piano. «And how do you explain the fact that you all find this music sad?»

What is music?

I switched to a lively sequence and everyone immediately started moving. «Why are you standing up and dancing away to this music?» The children couldn't find an explanation. So I finally had them vote on three possible definitions: 1. music is maths, 2. music is language or 3. music is indescribable. For each of the variants, a couple of children put their hands up.

«You're all right,» I solved the puzzle, «music can be calculated and often it even works. Music is also like a language and sometimes we understand each other through music. And yet there is something about music that you can't describe, that is neither right nor wrong.»

I am like music!

Shadia

The bell rang and the children stood up, but Leon was not yet satisfied with my explanation and asked: «What do you mean, you can describe music and yet not describe it?» «It means that music is like us humans,» I explained. «Look at Shadia, for example.» Shadia turned round in surprise.

«We can describe Shadia as about one metre twenty tall, with brown hair and dark eyes. She laughs a lot and likes to sing. I could say a lot more about her. But after that, do you know exactly who Shadia is? Isn't there a lot about her that we can 't describe? Leon frowned. "Then Shadia is like music?» he said thoughtfully. «I'm like music!» Shadia rejoiced and skipped out of the room.

When everyone had left, Liliana came back. A quiet girl who hadn't been in class that day. Now she ran up to me, hugged me and whispered: «Every day should be Tuesday» and disappeared as quickly as she had arrived. The following week, Liliana brought me a mobile she had made herself, on which she had drawn scenes from music lessons. One sheet read: «Making mistakes is always good, is her saying. It's a nice saying.»

*Thenames of the children have been changed by the editors.