Sometimes, to see the whole, we need to look at the parts. But suppose some of the parts are difficult to see? This is one of the things that makes Dalcroze education so notoriously hard to describe.
In one sense, the curriculum for the Dalcroze classes I teach is very straightforward. The list contains things you might find in any music theory, musicianship or ear-training course: rhythm subjects like beat, meter, duration, syncopation; for advanced students, maybe more eccentric topics, such as polyrhythm, polymeter, metric transformation and metric modulation, etc. We study pitched subjects like harmony, intervals, tonality, scales, etc. For non-professional students (which includes children and most amateur adults), this is usually the reason they are there: to gain experience and understanding of music through the study of these elements.
Most professional musicians or music teachers have already acquired a thorough understanding of this curriculum if they have gone to music school. Rather than hoping to learn music theory, they often come to a Dalcroze class to reconnect with parts of their musical selves that they may have lost touch with. Those who teach might come to connect more deeply with their students. Others are drawn to the work by its promise to strengthen areas that are not specific to music, but which good music-making requires, such as mental flexibility, the ability to function well in a group, a strong memory, excellent focus and concentration, expressivity, an active imagination and the ability to access it easily. There are also physical elements such as body awareness (both internally and in its relationship to other bodies in space and time), coordination, and economy of movement. Professional musicians must spend long hours isolated in a practice room, and so often find the social interaction a powerful corrective. You won’t find these kinds of things on the curriculum of any traditional music theory course, nor do they appear on my own syllabus, but most would agree they are key ingredients for excellent musical performance, and they are what makes a Dalcroze class a Dalcroze class.
I can divide everything I teach into two categories. Category 1 can contain everything that is specific to music: rhythm, harmony, melody, form, etc. These items are the ostensible subjects of the lessons, a class on compound meter rhythm patterns, for example, or an exploration of functional harmony. Category 2 will have everything that is not specific to music, but that promotes optimal human functioning: things like adaptability, expressivity, imagination and cooperative skills. I constantly switch my focus between these two categories as I teach, even if I am only dimly aware of it in the moment. There is a kind of tension or dialogue between the two that I think may be common to all conscientious teaching of almost anything. When I can remember to place equal value on them both, these two ends of the magnet keep me oriented, even though category 2 elements are not the explicit “subject of the day”.
Having recently become more aware of this, I noticed myself switching to category 2 at crucial times. For example:
When children aren’t interested in the musical elements
Children, especially young children, often aren’t directly interested in the mechanics of music-making (category 1). It is hard to motivate a 4-year-old to swing his arms on beat one of a four-beat measure just by asking him to do so, but ridiculously easy when she is a giant chopping down a tree to build a house. I can even get her to change tempos as the giant gets tired or as the tree begins to fall. Why? Her imagination is engaged (category 2).
When activities aren’t working effectively for social reasons
This can be as simple as a child becoming angry because he did not get the color scarf he wanted. He pouts or starts to cry, and I know that he needs to work with feeling disappointment, again category 2. If I remember that category 2 items are as important as category 1, I am more patient with him, knowing that he is learning exactly what he needs to learn. Unfortunately, the adults who accompany the child may become embarrassed or upset by his behavior, compounding the problem! I want to tell them (and sometimes do!) “Don’t worry, your child is learning about himself. That’s why we are here!”
When professional musicians have only an intellectual understanding of the musical subject
When I first came to Dalcroze as the product of a musical conservatory, I was desperate for category 2. I already knew the theory (or at least thought I did), but lacked physical coordination, connection to others and easy access to my musical imagination. Sometimes adult musicians and teenagers are resistant to expressive movement. When I see this I recognize myself. I needed a great deal of time to dissolve the barriers between my intellectual understanding and the physical realization of music, which seemed like a great risk to me at the time. At my best, I can remember that it may be enough for a stiffly, awkwardly moving student to be merely accurate (category 1), knowing that with time their movement will exhibit more flow, grace and ease (category 2). When I am not, I forget how vulnerable expressive movement can make us feel. I find myself pushing the students, or—much worse—taking disengagement personally. At these times I must become the student. Of course, it’s always me I’m becoming frustrated with, my own inability to be expressive, my own discomfort with my body. I have plenty more to learn from category 2
When things aren’t going well in the classroom, I first check category 1. Is the material too difficult, or too easy? If so, I can simply dial the level of difficulty up or down. The symptoms of this problem can be disguised as category 2 issues. Children unable to physically execute something that is too hard may begin to “act out” or “disrupt” (with or without “scare quotes”). So often the diagnosis will come from category 2. Maybe their imaginations are not engaged, or they lack awareness of each other. Maybe they need to express something (anger, frustration, sadness) that has nothing to do with the class. Children as early as 5th or 6th grade into adulthood may be generally self-conscious about their bodies, voices or abilities. Even if I cannot directly “fix” these things, I cannot ignore them, and I am a better teacher when I remember that this is why we are together in the class. Music becomes almost an excuse for working with the very things that make us human. Isn’t that why we play music in the first place?
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Over and over Emile Jaques-Dalcroze describes the central goals of his method in his writings. Especially as he got older, they aren’t about music or even music education. Music was the vehicle for much larger aspirations for humanity. It seems to have taken him somewhat by surprise:
“In evolving the educational system of Eurhythmics some twelve years ago I certainly did not realize the great influence that this new system would have in restoring man to knowledge of himself. 1”
I believe it is these aspects of being a well-functioning human being, my category 2, that are the things Dalcroze is pointing to when he talks about “knowledge of himself”. They are by no means exclusive to musicians. They are necessary in all of the arts, not to mention sports, the sciences, parenting, civic engagement… it’s hard to think of any area of culture that does not depend on this set of skills. Everybody needs category 2 to be a well-functioning human, and you can learn these things from almost any pursuit that stimulates, engages and challenges.
But even understanding how important this is to my own teaching and having communicated it to myself (and now to you), I wonder about how to communicate this to my students or to their families. Am I a ‘self’ teacher? Are the students going to self-school? Is it measurable? How do I teach such a massive but nebulous thing? Where does it fit in my explicit curriculum? And if it is so important, why don’t we talk about it more? It is difficult enough explaining what we do in a Dalcroze class. How am I supposed to explain this to parents? “This year, your child practiced becoming herself. She has made great progress.” It is also a challengingly large thing to talk about with Dalcroze teachers-in-training, given the enormous amount of category 1 material that needs to be covered, practiced and mastered.
We advertise Dalcroze as a great way to teach category 1, and it is. But the things everyone really craves are from category 2. Musicianship, theory, and ear-training subjects will never be as big a draw as learning to play a Chopin prelude, writing a pop song, playing in a rock band. Nor should they be! These ways to ‘musick’ are primary sources for Category 2 growth. They do, however, become much easier with solid Category 1 skills and understanding, and gaining these skills in an environment that stimulates our imaginations, fosters social connections (which are harder and harder to come by) while triggering the same kind of neurological stimulation that singing with a choir does seems to me to be a great two-for-one deal.
I came to Dalcroze at a time in my life when I was really struggling to understand myself. I didn’t know what I wanted to be: jazz musician? Theater composer? Classical pianist? Turned out I didn’t want to be any of those things per se, and stripping away everything but the body, the voice and the ear really helped (forced?) me to see what was left when everything else was stripped away.
Now, how do we get all of that into a course description?
- Emile Jaques-Dalcroze, Rhythmic Movement, Vol.1 (Novello and Company, 1920), 1. ↩︎
