CCBC-Net Archives
[CCBC-Net] music and poetry
- Contemporary messages sorted: [ by date ] [ by subject ] [ by author ]
From: Maia Cheli-Colando <maia>
Date: Fri, 04 Apr 2008 23:57:12 -0700
James -- Loreena rocks. :) (If you haven't seen the DVD she released last year, I highly recommend it!)
Your post ties neatly into what has been rustling in my brain throughout this discussion, which is how we teach music.
In what manners does a poem differ from a song lyric? The most obvious difference is that the song has tones which elaborate upon -- or sometimes contrast with -- the meaning. Yet both generally hold rhythm, pattern, a cyclical quality and often present metaphor; there is more in common between song and poetry than not. But culturally, we are better at allowing that one can explore music intellectually while also working it on an intuitive level. Why?
E.g. tonight I was playing a Mendelssohn piece on the piano for my daughter. We were talking about the chord resolutions -- in particular one resolution into a low A that was achingly perfect. I mentioned how it made me feel (as if my lungs were swelling to gather enough air), and Ciara said that was how it was supposed to feel. That it was there because it was supposed to be.
Together we could talk about the movement of the chords, the "mechanics" by which (whichever) Mendelssohn articulated emotion, and we could simultaneously grasp that emotion. Grasp emotion -- or, one might say, we were in alignment in our comprehension of the meaning of the music.
So, how do we teach children to enjoy and comprehend music? We saturate their environment with music, and we have them make it themselves. We sing them lullabies and go to concerts, we corral or entice them into music class, we turn on the radio, internet or recordings. We have toddler singalongs and high school marching bands. As they progress in their musical experience, we increasingly offer our children tools -- instruments, sight reading skills, ear training, fake books. But we never expect them to make music in isolation of experiencing music; that would be absurd.
I think that part of our disconnect about poetry is that for most folks, unlike music, poetry isn't a part of real life. And so we enshrine it while simultaneously questioning its relevance, and look askew at anyone who spouts it outside of narrowly marked confines. We don't offer that same skepticism for singing in the shower or humming on the bus!
So, what is important about poetry? Can it articulate soul the way a riff on a guitar or Bach's cello suites can? Does it teach us something as do The Wind, All That Is, or The Drinking Gourd? Does poetry impel us to action, yield information, explode the ranges of our imagination? Is it useful to our hearts and psyches?
Myself, I will happily analyze a thirty line picture book, a song, or a poem for hours. It doesn't threaten me, it deepens my delight. I wonder if the reason many people have difficulty in describing poetry is because we so often put the cart before the horse -- we ask children
(and adults) for analysis without creating the environment in which poetry is a living language. If poetry has no daily importance or livelihood, then our young readers have no context for analysis. Tones are not present to offer music's rich non-verbal cues, and yet we expect more precision in understanding poetry than we would in understanding song!
These days, I think that we mostly teach poetry like a dead language. You don't expect someone to come up and speak to you in Latin, but the language is put forward as educationally useful, especially if you intend to become a botanist. Likewise poetry. For some of us, learning is reason enough. But everyone needs a toehold of relevance, of immediacy to one's own self.
Maybe it hurts too much to admit that we live in a culture where poetry isn't entirely alive. As Leo Kotke said tonight of a friend of his, and I paraphrase generously, "You didn't expect him to die because he wasn't exactly alive. You didn't expect him to die because he was alive like a napkin is alive." Is poetry more than a napkin? If we want kids to comprehend it, then we have to live it around them, as we do music and art. And then, they will be able to tell us what that poetry means -- what it means to them, at the least.
Cheers, Maia
Received on Sat 05 Apr 2008 01:57:12 AM CDT
Date: Fri, 04 Apr 2008 23:57:12 -0700
James -- Loreena rocks. :) (If you haven't seen the DVD she released last year, I highly recommend it!)
Your post ties neatly into what has been rustling in my brain throughout this discussion, which is how we teach music.
In what manners does a poem differ from a song lyric? The most obvious difference is that the song has tones which elaborate upon -- or sometimes contrast with -- the meaning. Yet both generally hold rhythm, pattern, a cyclical quality and often present metaphor; there is more in common between song and poetry than not. But culturally, we are better at allowing that one can explore music intellectually while also working it on an intuitive level. Why?
E.g. tonight I was playing a Mendelssohn piece on the piano for my daughter. We were talking about the chord resolutions -- in particular one resolution into a low A that was achingly perfect. I mentioned how it made me feel (as if my lungs were swelling to gather enough air), and Ciara said that was how it was supposed to feel. That it was there because it was supposed to be.
Together we could talk about the movement of the chords, the "mechanics" by which (whichever) Mendelssohn articulated emotion, and we could simultaneously grasp that emotion. Grasp emotion -- or, one might say, we were in alignment in our comprehension of the meaning of the music.
So, how do we teach children to enjoy and comprehend music? We saturate their environment with music, and we have them make it themselves. We sing them lullabies and go to concerts, we corral or entice them into music class, we turn on the radio, internet or recordings. We have toddler singalongs and high school marching bands. As they progress in their musical experience, we increasingly offer our children tools -- instruments, sight reading skills, ear training, fake books. But we never expect them to make music in isolation of experiencing music; that would be absurd.
I think that part of our disconnect about poetry is that for most folks, unlike music, poetry isn't a part of real life. And so we enshrine it while simultaneously questioning its relevance, and look askew at anyone who spouts it outside of narrowly marked confines. We don't offer that same skepticism for singing in the shower or humming on the bus!
So, what is important about poetry? Can it articulate soul the way a riff on a guitar or Bach's cello suites can? Does it teach us something as do The Wind, All That Is, or The Drinking Gourd? Does poetry impel us to action, yield information, explode the ranges of our imagination? Is it useful to our hearts and psyches?
Myself, I will happily analyze a thirty line picture book, a song, or a poem for hours. It doesn't threaten me, it deepens my delight. I wonder if the reason many people have difficulty in describing poetry is because we so often put the cart before the horse -- we ask children
(and adults) for analysis without creating the environment in which poetry is a living language. If poetry has no daily importance or livelihood, then our young readers have no context for analysis. Tones are not present to offer music's rich non-verbal cues, and yet we expect more precision in understanding poetry than we would in understanding song!
These days, I think that we mostly teach poetry like a dead language. You don't expect someone to come up and speak to you in Latin, but the language is put forward as educationally useful, especially if you intend to become a botanist. Likewise poetry. For some of us, learning is reason enough. But everyone needs a toehold of relevance, of immediacy to one's own self.
Maybe it hurts too much to admit that we live in a culture where poetry isn't entirely alive. As Leo Kotke said tonight of a friend of his, and I paraphrase generously, "You didn't expect him to die because he wasn't exactly alive. You didn't expect him to die because he was alive like a napkin is alive." Is poetry more than a napkin? If we want kids to comprehend it, then we have to live it around them, as we do music and art. And then, they will be able to tell us what that poetry means -- what it means to them, at the least.
Cheers, Maia
Received on Sat 05 Apr 2008 01:57:12 AM CDT
