Abstract
Hope springs eternal as the pandemic shows signs of easing in the United States. Despite evidence of vaccine hesitancy in certain regions of the country, vaccine availability is increasing and almost one-half of Americans have received at least one dose, with over one-third now fully vaccinated. While we have some distance to go to achieve the much-ballyhooed herd immunity, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention just approved the Pfizer vaccine for children ages 12 to 15 years and loosened masking and distancing recommendations for those who are fully vaccinated.
Within higher education, there also are important changes afoot. Many colleges and universities are requiring vaccinations for faculty, staff, and students effective with the start of the 2021-2022 academic year, though in some instances students are only required to be vaccinated if they live on campus; religious and medical exemptions are considered in almost all cases. Vaccine policies are viewed as a baseline measure necessary for higher education to emerge from this highly disruptive period wrought by Covid-19. To the extent that campus-level health concerns related to the novel coronavirus can be greatly diminished or even nullified, the vast majority of university operations may return to some form of prepandemic normalcy. Important questions linger, however, concerning the curriculum, instructional modalities, and assessment and grading practices; changes brought about by the pandemic have not produced consensus opinions as to which new approaches may merit a permanent place within the academy.
I have been thinking about how disruptive this past year has been, what those disruptions may portend for the future of higher education and music teacher education, and what insights we should take away from our experiences. During the past 14 months, college faculty performed minor miracles in porting entire courses to online or hybrid formats, and the Zoom platform became as ubiquitous as it was once rare. I have seen many faculty colleagues and students adapt extraordinarily well to unprecedented challenges; there is clear evidence of creative and resilient growth in ways that we never could have anticipated. Yet, I cannot help but consider what those disruptions may have done to our shared sense of purpose, our collective joy, our simpatico, and our soulfulness.
It is debatable whether the pandemic represents a tsunami of new disruptive forces or served instead to intensify and accelerate forces already in place (Pulsipher, 2020). Prior to March of 2020, higher education leaders were engaged in important conversations around (a) college affordability and institutional solvency; (b) equal access and educational opportunity for students from diverse economic and racial/ethnic backgrounds, and appropriate cultural and academic supports for such students when they do enroll; (c) the role of distance technology in both democratizing and monetizing higher education; and (d) shifting sensibilities about the fundamental purpose of college degrees given an increasing emphasis on workplace preparation and job placements (i.e., return on investment). All of those challenges remain, but perhaps with the sense that there is greater urgency for action and resolution.
Futurists and technocentrists typically favor disruptions as social mechanisms that may be leveraged to implement overdue or necessary change, including within higher education (Galloway, 2020; Mintz, 2020). But if we learned anything over this past year, it is that “change” does not necessarily mean “better.” In their book, The Innovation Delusion, Vinsel and Russell (2020) observed that innovation has an intoxicating nature that leads many to mistake novelty as progress. Instead, they argue, leaders should balance the desire and need for innovation with a commitment to infrastructure maintenance and rejuvenation by making key investments in the people and practices that have long contributed to an organization’s success.
Consider our pandemic epoch. Faculty responded to the scourge of lockdowns and campus closures with unprecedented levels of creativity and innovation, and some of those efforts produced pedagogical shifts that should be retained as part of a “new normal.” Positive gains in how we communicated or delivered instruction aside, college students lamented the loss of on-campus amenities (e.g., eateries, recreation centers, reliable internet access, libraries and study spaces) and questioned the fairness of tuition increases. They complained of social isolation, lack of motivation to complete the most basic assignments, and more pronounced symptoms of anxiety and depression. According to a recent survey (Ezarik, 2021), most college students were appreciative of safety measures put in place to combat virus spread, but would like to see a return to in-person classes with fewer restrictions and more opportunities for authentic social interaction. Others would like to see course materials and lectures remain online for review, or have the option to switch between in-person and online modalities as the need arises. A bifurcated system, with some faculty teaching in-person and using online supports, and others teaching exclusively online, may be part and parcel to universities adapting to diversified demands while making investments in valued dimensions of their infrastructure.
During these past months, I also have realized just how dependent the music teacher education enterprise is on partnerships with K–12 music educators and higher education leaders who value teacher preparation as part of their mission. When the pandemic hit in spring of 2020, there was an emergency response appropriate to the uncertainty and gravity of the situation. Schools closed, spring breaks were extended, performances were cancelled, and teachers bootstrapped lesson plans as best they could with a modicum of success. But, over the summer months and prior to the fall semester, leaders within universities and K–12 schools had time to adopt policies specific to music instruction that reflected the best science and latest guidance on mask wearing, physical distancing, and aerosol transmission. Such policies were particularly impactful for vocalists and wind instrumentalists who confronted long-term holds and greater restrictions on applied study and ensemble rehearsals and performances in those areas.
The responses of music teachers and music teacher education faculty to various policy shifts reflected divergent philosophies and conceptions of music learning. Elementary general music teachers were most adept in repositioning their curriculum and instruction given that they already viewed music education through a student-centered lens and with a comprehensive set of learning goals in mind. If little or no time could be spent on singing or instrument playing, then more time could be devoted to developing notational understanding, composing or arranging, listening and responding, or connecting music to larger theory, history, and cultural concepts. Technology tools such as Seesaw, Pear Deck, Soundtrap, Google Slides, and Chrome Music Lab provided the medium and flexibility, but preexisting views on the “why” and “what” of music education brought focus and direction. Some secondary music teachers were similarly agile in their approach, but those who aligned most with the ensemble performance tradition often were at a loss as to how to reposition instruction and provide students with continuity of experience. Too often, the net result was a highly ineffective mix of old practices in new packaging or new practices that lacked a coherent implementation strategy. My own daughter found the experience so unsatisfying that she took a semester off from high school band.
During this disruptive phase, many music teacher educators also struggled to adapt and put theory into practice. Breakout groups, polls/quizzes, and chat windows allowed for some degree of instructional variability and interaction when teaching online courses, but faculty soon recognized that students could feign engagement while working on other class assignments, texting peers, or shopping on Amazon. Peer teaching, while physically distanced with masks on and mid-class interruptions to allow for aerosol dispersion, proved less than satisfactory for most music education students and instructors alike. Through most of the current academic year, early field experiences were only possible through a digital interface. Preservice music teachers struggled to make sense out of classroom routines or design lessons, let alone teach K–12 students, in authentic or effective ways. In turn, music teacher educators struggled to mentor students through these quasi-practicum placements or provide them with valid assessments and useful feedback on their teaching given incredibly awkward and unforgiving circumstances.
On some level, I see the past year as an event horizon for music education and music teacher education. The term event horizon, as used by astrophysicists, refers to the boundary that separates interstellar space from a black hole. It is a point of no return. Once a physical object or other forms of matter cross the event horizon, the gravitational pull of the black hole is so strong that they can never escape. Given the disruptions, dilemmas, and despair experienced this past year, and the operational challenges presented by policy positions that undercut core precepts of music as an art and teaching as a profession, we were brought closer to the brink than many realize. Only the emergency authorization and deployment of vaccines created the inertial velocity needed to escape an education policy black hole that may have altered what we do in profound and interminable ways.
There are many disruptive forces at work these days—societal, political, legal/moral, medical, technological, environmental, economic, and more. Collectively, these forces can pull on a profession in ways that distort members’ sensibilities and practices, or pull them in directions and to places so far removed from what is known and understood that they become unmoored and adrift. My hope is that music teacher education remains vital because the work of music teacher educators is seen as being both responsive to calls for change and respectful of established practices where appropriate. While our research efforts also have been disrupted these past months, we absolutely need research to help anchor our decision making, temper disruptive impacts and the impulsive tendencies that too often follow, and keep us at a safe distance from another event horizon.
I conclude this column by mentioning some changes more transitional than disruptive. First, I extend my sincere appreciation to Dr. Jocelyn Armes, who will be completing her third year as my editorial assistant! Jocelyn has served a critical role in conducting preliminary compliance reviews of manuscripts and sending notification letters to music school administrators when their faculty researchers have articles published in the journal. She also has been part of innumerable conversations with the editorial committee and SAGE staff regarding seamless but important changes made to the journal’s operational procedures. One such change is the recently approved expansion of the editorial committee to 12 members, with Dr. Ryan Shaw from Michigan State University joining the committee and Dr. Elizabeth Parker from Temple University being appointed associate editor. Welcome to Ryan, and congratulations to Elizabeth! With the next election cycle in 2021-2022, the editorial committee will be expanded by one additional member to position the Journal of Music Teacher Education for continued growth and excellence well into the future.