…and never start a choir function with talking…
“Your gathering begins at the moment your guests first learn of it. […] The intentional gatherer begins to host not from the formal start of the event but from that moment of discovery.” (145-146)
I’m thinking a lot about first rehearsal right now. That’s the context in which I read the first part of this chapter, on PRIMING. As Parker says, “90 percent of what makes a gathering successful is put in place beforehand.” (149)
I know for certain that my best rehearsals are the ones where I spend 20 minutes ahead of time writing a detailed rehearsal plan. That’s part of my 90%. I also know that there are things I can do to make my first rehearsal an amazing launch, by respecting the idea that “Every gathering benefits or sufferers from the expectations and spirit with which guests show up.” (151)
I started up my Aces Group Chat today (we’re currently using GroupMe) and I’ll put something to prime our first rehearsal next Monday every day for the rest of the week. Things like:
- post a picture from this summer!
- what’s the best thing that happened this summer that you didn’t get a picture of?
- post a picture of your favorite dessert
- Most-used GIF in your photo library
- Share your current favorite song to listen to on repeat
Each will, hopefully, increase our connection to each other before the first rehearsal, building a shared reference, and get everyone excited to be together.
Parker creates workbooks that she has gatherers complete before their meeting begins – this is something I’d like to build into our prep for our weekend retreat.
“I try to embed two elements in my workbook questions: something that helps them connect with and remember their own sense of purpose as it relates to the gatherings, and something that gets them to share honestly about the nature of the challenge they’re trying to address.” (154)
“A gathering is a social contract,” says Parker. (155)
“A social contract for a gathering answers this question: What am I willing to give–physically, psychologically, financially, emotionally, and otherwise–in return for what I expect to receive?” (156)
The thing about a social contract is that it is something we decide together. That means two things: first, that until we’re an “us” we can’t make the contract; second, that our contact has to be discussed and decided upon intentionally – or it will revert to the least common denominator.
We’ll be devoting time at our mid-September retreat to developing that social contract, but it really needs to at least begin to form before that. My mentor, Steve Zegree, always ended the first Gold Company rehearsal with what amounted to a philosophy and culture session – talking at length about what it meant to be part of that special gathering ensemble.
After priming comes ushering and then opening.
First, ushering. “Managing…entry is important because none of us shows up as a blank slate to anything.” (163) Think about singers in school hour choirs – coming straight from Precalculus or AP Biology or Civics classes. (Or, some from each of the above…) The ushering moment becomes crucial to creating the safe, productive, musical gathering you desire from the next 60 minutes. Perhaps you mark the moment by standing at the door and personally greeting each student as they enter. Perhaps you start a gentle hum that pervades the room as students are finding their seats. Perhaps it’s the calming breathing exercise you start each rehearsal with, or a momentary mindfulness meditation. Whatever it is, it’s “an initial act of tribe building, and it [happens] at the border of the gathering.” (169)
Finally, the opening. “The opening, whether intentionally designed or not, signals to guests what to expect from the experience.” (173) Most teachers are urged, repeatedly, to begin with classroom expectations and the syllabus. I am deeply convinced that a choral ensemble that begins its first gathering with rules is using a lead balloon as an opening.
“However vital it may seem to start with this housekeeping, you are missing an opportunity to sear your gathering’s purpose into the minds of your guests. And sometimes you are actually undermining that purpose by revealing to your guests that you do not, in fact, care about the things you claim to care about as much as you profess. (175)
I care about my purpose. I care about making music with the singers I’m gathering. And that’s why I want to start singing as soon as possible. Before any talking whatsoever, if possible. My current plan is to begin our first rehearsal with a circlesong – taught without any instruction, just call and response, until the room is filled with music.
“It’s not that you don’t need time for logistics and the like. Just don’t start with them. Open cold.” (177) Then we can talk, and set ground rules and expectations. But first, we sing.
I feel the same way about the opening of a concert. There should not be any addressing the audience until there has been music that provides the opening. The Michigan ACDA Conference always begins its opening session with a group sing, led by the previous recipient of the Maynard Klein Award. This, to me, is the best way to begin a choral conference – and even better if the song is in hand and can be begun with no verbal instructions. Let the first thing we do together be singing.
There is so much in this chapter that applies to what we do – in performances and in rehearsal. I’ll close with one more: the idea of a pledge. Parker describes the pledge that Tough Mudder participants repeat in unison before the race:
“Tough Mudder is designed as a collective physical challenge that is experienced collectively. Its pledge primes the contenders to help one another physically and emotionally, even at a cost to their own personal success. […] [Founder] Dean and his colleagues understood that to reorient their participants from competing to collaborating, they would need to do something at the opening of the race–this small but lasting act of fusing.” (183)
I can’t share my pledge yet with you, as I’m still finishing it. But I think a pledge is the perfect way to seal a group, united around a common purpose, and create a strong opening to a new year of music-making.