With more than 30 years conducting graded music examinations
under my not inconsiderable belt, I have lost count of the number of times I
have listened to inspiring talks given to teachers by chief executives, chief
examiners and examiner colleagues (I’ve even done it myself more than once)
during which the exam system is likened to the “rungs of a ladder”. It is a useful metaphor for seeing
examinations in the wider context of musical education and
reinforces the idea that exams are things which are passed along a journey, but
are not in themselves the ultimate destination.
I particularly like the ladder analogy since it not only implies a sense
of striving upwards but hints that, while the exams are rungs which,
sequentially, help reach whatever is at the top, each also represents a certain
level of achievement which can, if needs be, serve as a goal in its own right
while promoting a desire to progress further.
Invited to give a series of lectures in China to students
preparing to work as music teachers, I have decided to include some
mention of graded music examinations.
Students in China live in blissful ignorance of this peculiarly English
approach to music education; indeed, beyond the British Isles and its former
colonial possessions and protectorates, graded music examinations are largely unheard
of. Music education in such places as
the USA and Russia, China and Venezuela, carries on perfectly well without
them,. However, as I believe fervently that there are enormous benefits and advantages
in the graded music exam system, I feel fully justified in, at the very
least, explaining what it is and how it works; even though these prospective music teachers will have never experienced
it for themselves and are unlikely to have the opportunity to involve their own
students in the process.
So, in preparing my lectures, I have almost decided to go
down the ladder route (if you get my drift), thinking it the best way
of explaining the function of graded music examinations to those for whom examinations
are usually regarded as essential rather than helpful. I did have some reservations about this,
since my lectures will need to be delivered in the presence of a live
interpreter, and I’m not sure how the rungs of a ladder analogy works when
translated into Mandarin. I have thought long
and hard for a more obvious Chinese metaphor, but none springs to mind.
However, after travelling in a remote and
somewhat hostile border area in south east Asia, a new idea struck me. There was a history of hostility between the two countries on either side of the
border, while a third was actively
claiming part of the territory as its own.
The result had been some insurgencies during which foreign tourists had
been particularly targeted. Along the
road we encountered numerous road blocks where nervous soldiers and police unsmilingly
demanded to see passports, permits and the contents of cases. After the third of these, and its attendant
queues, my driver was clearly getting frustrated, and when a parade of flashing headlamps coming
in the opposite direction foretold of yet another roadblock, he lurched on to a
dirt track and barrelled through some pretty desperate countryside,
until, eventually, he bumped back on to the road. It terrified me and, having shared his frustration
with the roadblocks, I realised that I felt much more comfortable with them
than without them. They were an
inconvenience, certainly, but they helped ensure my safety and increased my
sense of security in strange and alien surroundings.
It has since struck me how much these roadblocks have in common with graded
music exams. They are an inconvenience,
interrupting and obstructing what we would like to be the free and easy passage
from one point (complete beginner) to another (brilliant virtuosity) but ensuring
that, at every stage of the journey, we are not only progressing safely, but
helping us to feel more prepared and secure on the lonely journey ahead. A good teacher should understand that graded music
exams are an inconvenience, but a useful
one. Having to stop and check things
like technique, interpretations, aural and reading skills, theoretical
knowledge and musical understanding, seems a lot of trouble at the time, but if
we skip them, we risk heading into disaster.
You can bypass an exam, just as you might a roadblock, but are you
totally confident that you haven’t put your future wellbeing in jeopardy?
Continuing the roadblock theme, we can also see how the
pupils of a poor teacher - the one who only works towards examinations - will
soon lose heart and abandon the journey.
Hopping from one roadblock to another, stopping only to sort out the
papers and requirements for the next, makes the journey incredibly frustrating
and, ultimately, pointless. We do not
need security on the road if we are not actually going anywhere. I cannot imagine anyone sitting stationary
waiting for the police to set up a roadblock; yet this is exactly what an awful
lot of music teachers do.
So, I have rather taken to this road block analogy.
But there is a problem with it.
I was once in a car stopped at a roadblock on a road out of
Shanghai. The driver calmly wound down
his window, handed the police officer a wad of currency notes, and then sat
back as the barricade was lifted and we could carry on unmolested. I am not
sure that is a message I want to give to my Chinese students, so, regretfully, it’s back
up that ladder.