The Music Education Team

I began violin and piano at age seven. Both my parents had a keen interest in music, and arranging piano lessons for me seemed an obvious thing to do. However, they would never have thought to organise violin lessons for me. My journey on this instrument began when I was selected on the basis of my performance in the ‘Bentley Measure of Musical Abilities’ test. I was lucky. The other 24 children in my class weren’t. Selection for instrumental lessons is a painful process for many. As a teacher I was delighted when, in 2001 David Blunkett stated that every primary school child should be able to learn an instrument. This produced the Wider Opportunity programmes, which I loved delivering.

I took to both instruments well, particularly the violin, and the ensembles I consequently joined got me though some difficult times. I managed to advance to grade eight ABRSM in a relatively short space of time, but then I became stuck. My technique – which was not good – was prohibiting me from advancing further, and curbing my ability to express myself. I was fortunate enough to begin lessons with Eli Goren, who addressed my difficulties. After three years of monthly lessons with him, and much practice from me I was able to make the sounds I wanted. This was a lesson to me in the importance of an effective technique.

During my time at school, I developed ideas of what I was and wasn’t good at. I believed that I couldn’t lead or improvise. This was due in large part to teaching strategies that I would definitely not recommend. My teachers favoured the already confident and extrovert students to lead, and did not give me either the opportunity of trying, or the coaching I needed to develop this skill. Subsequently though, as an undergraduate at the University of Leeds, I benefited from the fact that lecturers had more faith in me. I was given the experience of leading, and developed the confidence and skills I needed. I actually found that I was good at it! With regard to improvising, I was handed a drum in a class music lesson at age fourteen and told to improvise, with no preamble from the teacher. Of course, I didn’t know where to start, and failed to make a single sound. Later on in my first teaching job I taught myself to improvise a step at a time with my pupils. I began to enjoy the process, and later relished opportunities to improvise in a folk-rock group. These experiences led me to my passionate belief that teachers must never pigeonhole students. Skills are not innate - something you do or don’t have from the time you are born. It is the teacher’s job to help pupils with any issues they have with an aspect of playing. 

I also believe that teachers need to open doors to pupils – not produce replicas of themselves. When I was eighteen, I heard for the first time, fiddle tunes at the Cleethorpes Folk Festival. I loved the sound world I encountered at the festival and regretted not experiencing this music earlier - at the time, it was assumed that all peripatetic music lessons were concerned with passing on the canon of Western classical music. Hungry for more, I subsequently attended folk fiddle workshops. I developed a deep respect for the genre, realising there was much to learn, for instance in the microphrasing that distinguishes one style from another. I also realised that what I was learning from this genre could inform the rest of my playing.

I think I always knew that I wanted to be a teacher. Having completed a P.G.C.E. specialising in high school music (key stages 3 and 4), I realised that I wanted to teach with a violin in my hand – to teach whilst playing – so I began my first job as a peripatetic upper strings teacher in the pit towns South East of Wakefield. To my dismay I experienced what I now know is a common phenomenon, that pupils from disadvantaged backgrounds were more prone to giving up lessons. It should be noted that at this time all lessons were free, so this was not an issue. Time after time I had very able pupils, who seemed to be really enjoying their lessons, tell me that they were giving up. Desperate to try and do something about this I studied for a Masters’ Degree in Education and wrote a dissertation about the social factors affecting motivation in instrumental music teaching. Several things emerged from my research, including the attitudes of parents, familiarity with aspects of lessons, and pupils’ self-perceptions of ability. This last factor is something all teachers need to be aware of when dealing with pupils’ apparent disinclination towards some aspect of playing[i]. My experience also taught me that every lesson needed to be good. One poor lesson could result in a pupil not returning the following week.

My husband, Stephen, also studied to be a music teacher, and he passed onto me the pedagogies particularly prevalent at the time, such as the ability of and desirability for all children to be musically creative. This was expounded by John Paynter amongst others. I found this philosophy very persuasive, and experimented in my lessons, aiming to include creative and aural aspects as well as technical. Unfortunately, some of my early attempts didn’t work, but gradually I honed my method: learn to play a note/learn to play music with and without notation with it/learn to improvise with it. I was delighted to discover, as a member of the strings working party for A Common Approach (2002), that my pedagogy chimed in with the thinking behind this document.

As a manager in ArtForms Leeds I developed, with colleagues, effective methodologies to enable beginner level string players to play an extended concert programme without notation. This produced a high level of musical engagement from the pupils, and audiences were delighted with the performances. 

At the other end of the scale, I ran a folk ensemble for experienced young players. This used folk tunes as the basis to develop aural and creative skills. Pupils used aurally learnt material to create their own arrangements. My role was to ensure that all students were able to contribute, no matter what their experience or level of confidence. In this environment students developed social skills, such as when to lead and when to follow. I was privileged to experience the personal, social and musical development that could arise from a relatively small ensemble, in which participants learnt music without notation and had the opportunity to make musical decisions.

Having moved on from ArtForms in 2020, I am endeavouring to share my ideas, advice and resources to a wider audience.

I was born in Porthcawl, on the south coast of Wales. There was a piano at home, and my Nan (who lived with us) had played when younger. I had piano lessons, but never took to it: my teacher never fired my imagination. However, we worked through the ABRSM theory syllabus too, which I found very easy. When I was struggling to play Grade 1 pieces, I was sailing through Grade 7 theory exercises. Why? Because I was never expected to ‘hear’ any of the dots and lines as sounds in my head. It was a sterile, paper-and-pencil, exercise. Although I found it easy, I learnt nothing of value.

Primary school brought recorder lessons. I liked these. There was a year 6 recorder residential course put on by the local authority, and this gave me a taste for ensemble music making. I’ve never lost this enthusiasm. The teaching I received again emphasised the non-musical aspects: lesson 1 and 2 consisted entirely of assembling and folding a music stand. 

Secondary school: Mr Hughes appearing in a music lesson. ‘Hands up if you want to play a brass instrument.’ I reported to Mr Hughes at break, to start learning the tuba. 

‘No, the school doesn’t have a tuba. Try the cornet instead. Hang on, the cornet is broken. Try the tenor horn.’

‘What’s a tenor horn?’

‘This is’.

So, with a case held together by one of my Dad’s old belts, I took myself off to lessons, and to the local youth music groups on Friday evenings. I switched to French horn because a shiny one was available to borrow, got a place in my local youth orchestra and loved it. I was the 13 year old sitting between two 21 year olds in the first rehearsal. Tchaikovsky 4, first movement. The hairs on the back of my neck still rise at that wonderful horn fanfare which opens the piece – what a way to start at youth orchestra.

School music lessons filled me with boredom. Hardly a note of music was played or listened to. I remember having to trace a picture of Haydn from a textbook. But the choir was great. Choruses from the Messiah, at big Christmas events – wonderful. O Level (‘with optional practical’ – no performance requirement back then)  and A level, then university.

I went to the University of Leeds, to study music. I fell in love with the place, with the course, with my future wife. A fantastic time, in a great little music department. Then a PGCE year, and back to the Leeds music department for a part time Masters in composition. Dr Philip Wilby (‘Phil’) was an inspirational tutor. I was lucky enough to get some music performed by, among others, the Brodsky Quartet and the pianist Martin Roscoe, but maybe composition wasn’t for me: it gradually fell out of my life as other musical activities – especially teaching – replaced it.

While studying, I had the opportunity to do some part-time teaching. I never enjoyed the classroom side of teaching nearly as much as working with the instrumental pupils: my lifelong enthusiasm for practical, hands on music making dictated my future in music services. Full time jobs in Calderdale and Leeds followed, and I was able to progress within the Leeds structure to become Head of the Music Service and the Music Hub. This took a while, of course, and I was privileged to teach thousands of children, run composition classes, conduct orchestras, deliver projects and workshops, and thoroughly enjoy myself. 

Along the line, I was given a beaten up old piano accordion, and found a new passion. Several instrument upgrades and lessons later, I was able to play well enough to be able to help out with Roots Alive, the youth folk group in Leeds. This inspirational team of young players at one point contributed twenty-five percent of the National Youth Folk Ensemble. I was privileged to take the group to Durban, South Africa, twice, to play and teach in some of that city’s poorest communities. 

Folk music for me was an utter liberation. Sudden freedom to express myself as a solo player, and to engage in musical conversations with colleagues in a band. Melodies can be phrased as wished. Harmonies can be chosen by the performers. What a rush of freedom this was! As a composer and as a teacher I’d always been interested in creativity, and exploring the range of what is possible. The freedom of expression in folk traditions set my classical music playing free too. Suddenly, I understood ‘interpretation’ in music on a far deeper level. 

I gave up the day job in 2020. I’d led the music hub in Leeds since its inception, and felt it was time for new challenges. Since then I’ve been able to support hubs and services in a variety of ways, and to broaden and deepen my own knowledge as I’ve seen inspirational colleagues at work in many locations and contexts.