I drove through my childhood this afternoon past the street I used to ride up and
down and it all came back to me the feelings so familiar but different somehow a different flavour mint-flavoured Magnum by the river where I first realised water was alive and where the ambulance had to drive that one time at 3am in the
morning the house looked the same in its new coat but the garden was different I once was quiet watching the firefighters in the winter blaze through binoculars
and I drove on through feeling more adult by action but more child by my nostalgic spirit
Soft fluorescent candle-light flickers warped shadows: the Forms in this cave. Crickets chirping: a choir of beeps surrounding him like his yellowed books. A light, the light! Oh, Paradise.
You need to go now, it’s okay. The Guide; the Muse. Let go. ABANDON ALL HOPE!
Clear!
What a shock: this green light I reach for in this tunnel of light. Oh, innocence; oh tyger tyger burning bright so gently you came rapping tapping at my chamber door; in my madwoman attic nevermore!
Feet touch soil so silent but still sound. Vines and trying times creep and grow around his weary ankles and up his legs anchoring him back to dust. He waits in hope that roses will grow a crown upon his head.
His eyes are closed now: he is expansive in his mind only; at peace down those ten steps into his own little Paradise.
Panicked anxiety soaking deep into the classroom carpet on day one: ‘Hi!’ ‘Hello!’ ‘Who are you?’ Who am I? Spider-Man watch’d; shaved hair. I’ve closed the door tightly and bolted up my self: please don’t, please don’t please don’t. The smell of plastic covers and freshly printed cover pages, and Pritt glue – 40g – the big one, an acrid cloud filling the room: a smell that brings me back – still.
No one to play with, but my shivering shadow, day in and out – wave to the metallic blue Citroën each morning from Mrs Peterson’s window. Maybe today the sunshine of friendship can soak up the damp carpet.
Would you believe someone if they told you that a three-year-old could memorise an entire cellphone number? It seems like a stretch. The memorisation of ten separate digits, in a particular order, seems like a tall task for someone who is the tender age of three. But this does seems like it could come in very useful for mother and child should a situation arise when this would be necessary. Interestingly, I have seen this work. But how?
The answer: music. I personally know a conscientious mother who successfully taught her then three-year-old daughter to memorise her ten-digit cellphone number through the power of music. She made up a sing-song tune, much like you would hear echoing throughout the rooms of a nursery school, and paired the numbers to this tune. The result: a three-year-old who can effectively sing out her mom’s contact details! This is but one case of how music can be used effectively to teach and to learn.
In the iconic 1965 film The Sound of Music, the loveable lead character, Maria, played by the incomparable Julie Andrews, sings, in what is an unforgettable scene in cinematic history, “The hills are alive with the sound of music!” And so too are many school classrooms, particularly those of pre-primary schools. Why is this the case? Simply put, music is an effective tool to use in order to teach and learn.
Numerous studies have shown that music education is effective in the development of numerous cognitive domains including intelligence, mathematics, spatial reasoning, reading, writing, and memory[1]. Playing an instrument, or even simply engaging in active listening to music, lights up numerous areas of the brain[2]. One study has shown that after 15 months of learning an instrument, there are even structural changes in both motor and auditory areas of the brain[3]. The brain scan below contrasts the areas that light up in the brain, showing increased activity, of non-musician and musician 9-11 year-olds on simple rhythmic (RD) and melodic discrimination (MD) tasks. It is clear that musicians have more brain activity while doing these tasks[7].
However, one main area of concern for people who research music’s effect on education is the transferability of the skills that music imparts[1]. These are broken down into near transfer effects and far transfer effects: near transfer refers to the immediate skills related to music and music-making such as fine motor skills involved in playing, pitch, rhythm, and creativity to name a few; whereas far transfer refers to the ability of skills gained in music to improve other domains such as mathematics or reading. The near transfer effects are well establish, but the far transfer effects are more difficult to study.
Despite these challenges that researchers face, studies seem to show that music does indeed have far transfer effects. These include an increased IQ, better reading performance, in some cases improvements in mathematics skills, and is even associated with improved school attendance[1, 4, 5]. For special needs children, the inclusion of music in education is even more beneficial as children with reading disabilities showed faster improvement in an eight-week music instruction programme compared to those without such a programme[4].
When you think about it music does have some qualities that are beneficial to learning: active listening, repetition, as well as enjoyment. Taken together these elements enable a learning experience that is enhanced. No wonder a three-year old can then memorise a cellphone number. In a TEDxSydney talk, music educator Richard Gill stated passionately that, “Music evokes, music suggests, music implies, and music opens up the mind of a child in an extraordinary way.”[6]
Unfortunately it is often the case that music education has to continually justify itself to powers that be, such as school policy makers and school management structures. Such is the case with many artistic subjects in a world moving increasingly towards an emphasis on STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) fields of study. But clearly music still has its place and it is in the best interests of children to include music in their education in some form. It falls to us then, the custodians of children’s futures, the parents, teachers, school managers, and policy makers to really think about the answer to the questions posed in the classic song:
How do you keep the music playing? How do you make it last? How do you keep the song from fading too fast?
Sources: 1 Jaschke, A. C., Eggermont, L. H., Honing, H., & Scherder, E. J. (2013). Music education and its effect on intellectual abilities in children: a systematic review. Reviews in the Neurosciences, 24, 665-675. 2 Iversen, J. (2015). “Does music change a child’s brain?” TEDxSanDiego Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2sqXbwlaWw 3 Hyde, K. L., Lerch, J., Norton, A., Forgeard, M., Winner, E., Evans, A.C., et al. (2009). Musical training shapes structural brain development. Journal of Neuroscience, 29,3019-3025. 4 Gordon, R. L., Fehd, H. M., & McCandliss, B. D. (2015). Does music training enhance literacy skills? A meta-analysis. Frontiers in psychology, 6, 1-16. 5 Standley, J. M. (2008). Does music instruction help children learn to read? Evidence of a meta-analysis. Applications of Research in Music Education, 27, 17-32. 6 Gill, R. (2011). “The value of music education.” TEDxSydney. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeRus3NVbwE 7 Schlaug, G., Norton, A., Overy, K., & Winner, E. (2005). Effects of music training on the child’s brain and cognitive development. Annals-New York Academy of Sciences, 1060, 219-230
Hold on for just an hour longer, my Friend. I miss you already and the way your eyes smiled at life even though I know it isn’t easy. Please put down those pills so sombre in your shaking hands and walk with me down the street. I love you enough to care in these riptides of sorrow and strife, and I just need to hug you, for you more than for me this time. Don’t write that note much stronger, call me and let’s go on that trip we always spoke of. In my head the tenses are confused because you still are to me: not was.
Hold on for just an hour longer: please put down those pills so sombre; don’t write that note much stronger. Because you still are to me.
High, dry memory throws up:
a tying of knots in a tent in a house
(which reminds me of music in grade 3
and Mrs Whatsherface with the immovable hair).
Moments of wander (or is it wonder?)
sprinkle my memory like some hopeful
seeds scattered in the zephyrs of tomorrow.
“These moment will haunt you later in life!”
a voice whispered then, which only reached me now.
(I really do not know if I’ll ever feel this moment again).
But blackjacks appear out of nowhere
(yes, that’s what we called them!
they stuck to our socks and pants
like memories we don’t want)
and suddenly I’m back:
waiting for my Dad to drive away,
with a heavy feeling inside my tummy I didn’t understand
(until I studied Psychology much later on).
Or that time, etched in black trauma,
of being betrayed for believing someone’s pain
or trying my best but not succeeding.
Gentle, gentle, over the top, boys, mighty Gentleman!
You know not what lies ahead.
My soul is dressed in black today
as I attended another one
and my anxiety is back
(I can feel its kneeding in my chest)
and I’m blinking to keep away tears.
It’s a dusky dawn of drain,
my thoughts of care just a stain.
I walk around mute
but it’s loud inside my mind
with thoughts of this and that
how maybe I said something wrong
or didn’t do enough
(despite knowing I did more).
But I lower another one
into the cold, hard soil of memory:
Rest in peace, what never was.
Rest in peace.
Looking at a rainbow
their backs are to the sun,
and this is how it is:
departing wasn’t fun.
He to the far cold east
and she to the glum west.
Separate paths for separate souls:
relationships pose the hardest test.
She felt something weighing her down
so she searched her heart’s pocket
And there she felt something gold:
while he, afar, cried holding half a locket.
Mr Individualist 