Standardization of School Music Class is Failing Music Education
I remember my excitement as a young third grader joining the school orchestra – I was a pretty good elementary school cello player, Mrs. Hoffman gave full sized bags of M&Ms as a reward for practicing, and of course there was the thrill of making music in a group. But as the years passed, from elementary to middle to high school, that thrill gave way to anxiety about graded performances, ticking boxes for music standards, and most of all, chair placements in various orchestras. My anxiety wasn’t unique. In one long-term study from 2013-2020, Texas public schools saw an 80% band dropout rate between 6th and 12th grade (with most kids quitting after just one year). A similar trend appeared in yet another pre-pandemic study in California, with music class enrollment halved over five years. It’s a tragic irony: at a time when research shows playing an instrument boosts academics and even personality traits – music students do better in math and reading, have less anxiety, and are more conscientious humans – our educational system is driving many away from music. Over the years, I’ve traveled a lot with my instrument, and have had conversations with countless strangers about the cello in the window seat next to me. In all of those conversations, I have yet to meet an adult who says, “I’m so glad I quit my instrument,” but I know plenty (myself included) who regret that somewhere along the way, the joy was lost.
What’s going wrong? In short, we’ve managed to turn classical music education into yet another standardized grind. School music programs – once meant to instill a love of music and art – are now often governed by grading rubrics, competition scores, and “teaching to the test.” Instead of encouraging deep learning and artistry, many programs fixate on measurable outcomes: can you play a few of your scales at X tempo? Are you using the correct finger? Did we get a Superior rating at the state adjudication? The result is a generation of students who can pass music tests but miss the music itself.
Teaching to the Test in Music Class
Many school ensembles today operate under a mentality eerily similar to academic test prep. A class that should be creative and exploratory becomes all about nailing the concert or competition piece. One music educator I know has lamented, band and orchestra classes frequently fall prey to “teaching to the test — in this case, teaching to the holiday concert,” emphasizing rigid note-reading and rote rhythmic memorization in service of a single performance. How many parents have experienced this cliche bit of Americana: their child’s middle school band or orchestra gives an end-of-year outdoor concert featuring simplified tunes like the Ode to Joy theme and pop medleys. It’s fun in the moment, but behind the scenes, the students were likely drilled on those pieces for weeks. I recall my own middle school band (the only middle school wind ensemble with a string bass, played by a cellist 💁♂️) spending months rehearsing the same three pieces for an adjudication. We were essentially cramming – not for a written exam, but for that sweet, sweet Superior rating. We learned to play the notes (mostly mechanically and from memory), yet rarely talked about phrasing, storytelling, or the composer’s intent.
The problem with this performance-as-test approach is that it can strip away the soul of music-making. Students become reluctant to take risks or delve into challenging repertoire not on the “test” list. There’s pressure to perfect what’s required, so teachers may avoid exploratory activities like improvisation or listening sessions, viewing them as “off task.” Over time, students internalize a checklist approach: play exactly what’s on the page, DO NOT MESS UP, and you get an A or a trophy. I experienced this firsthand. At one adjudicated band festival, our conductor literally told us not to play with too much rubato or individuality – better to stay strictly with the metronome marking to avoid any judge’s criticism. We got a Superior rating, but I have a vague memory of feeling oddly empty about the music itself. The focus on scores and ratings had squeezed out the artistry.
Educators and researchers are increasingly alarmed at this trend. We’re essentially applying the same pitfalls of standardized, academic, “No-Child-Left-Behind”-testing to music. “Teaching to the test” in music might mean only practicing the all-state audition excerpts or the spring concert repertoire, while ignoring broader musicianship. This could yield a note-perfect concert, but it leaves huge gaps. Students may finish high school able to perform a practiced piece, yet be unable to play a simple tune by ear or create their own melody — skills that true musicianship entails — not to mention their inability or unwillingness to think about deeper meaning within their practiced notes and rhythms. We need to abandon that approach and bring play back into the classroom by teaching kids to write their own simple songs or develop their own interpretations of whatever edu-muzak they’ve been assigned to perform. In other words, we must shift from treating music like a performance exam toward treating it like the art that it is.
How Grading and Standardization Choke Artistry
Why does this standardization happen? One reason is that schools feel pressure to quantify learning, even in the arts. Administrators ask for grades and data, so music teachers develop point systems: 100 points for a playing test, 50 for concert attendance, etc. Well-intentioned as this is, it can send the wrong message. Students start to approach music as just another graded subject – practice your instrument to get your A, rather than to express something meaningful. I’ve seen students become risk-averse, choosing to practice ONLY their school orchestra music for concerts or playing assessments – ensuring a good grade, chair ranking, or performance – rather than tackling their scales and etudes, lesson repertoire, or something personally inspiring that might take time away from that which could be devoted toward their assessments. The letter grade in band or orchestra doesn’t capture qualities like expressiveness or improvement in tone, so those often aren’t emphasized in school teaching. We end up with players who are moderately-competent, technical musicians, but who lack any connection to music.
Standardized curricula also play a role. Many school programs use method books (such as the ubiquitous Essential Elements classroom books) and syllabi that lay out “by week 6, students will master X; by week 12, Y.” There’s value in clear goals and sequential progress, but strict adherence can lead to superficial learning. For example, a curriculum or adjudication rubric might require introducing vibrato by a certain grade. I’ve watched teachers force this complex skill – using deeply flawed methods that range from, “wiggle your wrist,” to “shake the TicTac container” – on every student in order to check the box, even if some kids’ fundamentals weren’t ready. The result is nearly always a wobbly, uncontrolled, BAD vibrato that will have to be painstakingly corrected later, usually by someone else (but hey, it was in the rubric, so it had to be taught!). In contrast, a less standardized approach could allow waiting until a student is personally ready for that next step, perhaps after they’d learned not to strangle the instrument with their left hand. Rigid standards – or bonus points at the adjudication – leave little room for the individual pacing and exploration that artistry often demands.
Moreover, the competitive structure of many school music programs can undermine deep learning. All-State ensembles, chair auditions, adjudication rankings – these pit students against each other on narrow criteria. I confess that as a teenager I practiced my audition pieces obsessively, but only the tricky excerpts that I knew would be in the audition or on the playing test (this method was, in fact, encouraged by my teachers). I neglected etudes and arpeggios – activities that would have made me a better musician long term – because they weren’t on the immediate test. The system indirectly taught me that outperforming my peers was more important than genuinely improving my craft or deeply understanding the music.
All of this amounts to a degradation of classical music education. We are producing students who may snag high ratings or ace their rhythm exams, but who lack the emotional and intellectual connection to classical music that yields lifelong engagement. The tragedy is not just fewer future professional musicians (though that is a concern), but also fewer educated listeners and amateur enthusiasts. Many kids quit by high school, burned out or uninspired. Those who continue often treat music as a competitive sport or a GPA booster, not an art form. The deeper benefits of studying music – developing patience, empathy, creativity, and an appreciation for beauty – are lost in the shuffle.
Intrinsic Motivation vs. Extrinsic Rewards
One of the most subtle but devastating effects of our grade-and-performance-metric focused system is its impact on student motivation. I’ve already discussed how standardized grading and competition-driven teaching can suppress creativity. But beyond stifling artistic growth, these external pressures also fundamentally alter why students engage with music in the first place.
Young children often start music out of excitement—they’re drawn to the thrill of playing an instrument, experimenting with sound (ask any of my students about the “seagull effect,” or, “tailpiece whale”), or making music with friends. This is intrinsic motivation: the internal desire to engage in an activity for enjoyment and personal fulfillment. However, as students progress through the American school system, external motivators—grades, chair placements, competition scores, and the lure of college scholarships—gradually take over. These extrinsic rewards can serve a purpose, but when they become the dominant force, students often lose sight of why they play music in the first place.
Instead of practicing because they love improving a difficult passage, students start practicing “because there’s a playing test tomorrow,” or to “avoid a bad grade.” Over time, many only engage with music when required. It’s common to see students stop playing their instrument after a concert or after high school simply because the external motivators are gone. Without intrinsic motivation, music becomes just another obligation rather than a personal passion.
This shift isn’t unique to music; research in education and psychology has long noted that excessive external rewards can undermine intrinsic motivation. I was taught by one teacher who utilized rewards and fear to push students—only to find they became focused on approval rather than genuine engagement. If students are constantly ranked or rewarded with incentives like pizza parties, they may practice—but for the reward, not the music. Over time, they stop taking creative risks, sticking instead to what will earn them a slice of pepperoni.
Music grading also introduces an odd contradiction: turning a deeply personal art form into a quantifiable academic subject. Imagine telling Mozart or Louis Armstrong to improvise—but grading them on it. The pressure of being evaluated can strip music of its joy, shifting the ownership of the activity from the student to the teacher. Some passionate young musicians even disengage when music becomes just another graded class. Ironically, the students who develop the deepest connection to music are often those who engage outside of structured school settings—writing songs at home, playing chamber music with friends, or exploring new repertoire without fear of evaluation.
This problem isn’t theoretical; we see its consequences in the sharp decline of student engagement beyond high school. I have hypothesized that standardized music education often leads to technical competence but lacks emotional depth. Here, we see another casualty: sustainability. Many students quit playing once the structured rewards of school disappear because they never developed an independent connection to their instrument or the music they’ve played.
Some progressive educators recognize this issue and are experimenting with ways to foster intrinsic motivation. Some orchestra directors have replaced traditional grades with student-led goal setting and self-reflection. The result? Students became more engaged and took greater ownership of their musical growth. By emphasizing autonomy, mastery, and personal meaning over scores, educators can help students sustain their passion for music long after the school structure disappears.
A Global Perspective on Motivation
The way intrinsic and extrinsic motivation are balanced varies by country. In places like Russia and China, the system still relies heavily on external pressure—competitions, parental expectations, and national pride in producing elite artists. However, these traditions also emphasize a deep artistic purpose. In the Russian conservatory model, for instance, students don’t just drill technique; they also learn interpretation, storytelling, and emotional expression from an early age. This emphasis on musical meaning helps sustain motivation despite the demanding workload.
Unlike in many American school programs, where a student might focus on a concert program to be played later that semester, Russian teachers often assign fewer pieces but require them to be learned in extraordinary depth. This method reinforces that music is not just about execution—it’s about communication. A conservatory student who spends months perfecting a Chopin étude learns to love the process, rather than just chasing a passing grade.
Keeping the "Play" in Playing Music
Because music education in the U.S. often exists within an academic framework, we must be careful not to unintentionally drain music of its intrinsic joy. The more we emphasize grades, competition, and college resumes, the more we risk turning music into a task rather than an art.
Instead, students should be encouraged to stay close to the “play” in playing music. This means fostering an environment where exploration and creativity are just as valued as technical precision. When students experience the thrill of shaping a phrase beautifully or discovering a favorite piece on their own, they are far more likely to stick with music for life. Play doesn’t just happen on stage; my students will tell you that I won’t shut up about playing games in their practice room. Having problems with right and left-hand coordination? Make up a silly rhythm and try it now. String crossings got ya’ down? Exaggerate and accent them to an absurd degree. Lift your feet off the ground and stomp, back-and-forth, while playing a phrase to help instill that deep sense of pulse. The sillier the game, the more effective it can be, while also breaking up the monotony of a practice session.
Without this personal connection to play, many students stop playing as soon as school incentives disappear. A music education system that fosters intrinsic motivation will not only produce better musicians—it will cultivate lifelong music lovers.
A Tale of Two Approaches: Conservatory Training vs. Classroom Music
Is there another way? Absolutely. For generations, Russian, Asian, and European conservatories have trained musicians with a very different philosophy. Having later experienced a taste of that world in my own training, I often wonder how my musical journey might have been different if our school programs borrowed some of those methods. Let’s contrast these approaches:
The Russian Conservatory Tradition: Rigor and Depth
Russian classical training is almost legendary for its rigor. Instead of large classes and generic curricula, Russian music education typically revolves around dedicated music schools and one-on-one apprenticeship. Talented children often attend special music schools (there were thousands across the former USSR) that offer intensive instruction daily. A friend from Ukraine described her local system as a network of “neighborhood conservatories” for kids – readily available, high-quality training that she couldn’t find anything comparable to in the U.S. Crucially, these schools (historically state-funded) made serious music study accessible to many, not just those from well-funded schools or wealthy families. By high school age, students who stay in the program are essentially at pre-conservatory level.
What’s the learning process like? In a word: deep. Whereas an American student might breeze through a new piece every week for a grade, a Russian student might spend months perfecting a single concerto movement – but in the process, learn it inside and out. One pianist I know, who worked in both Britain and Russia, observed that Russian pedagogy focuses on fewer, more challenging pieces, learned from memory, often via intense teacher demonstration. By contrast, British (and by extension, many American) teachers might prioritize working on lots of simpler pieces and moving on quickly. I vividly remember auditioning for a Russian teacher when I was in high school. Part of the audition was a standard etude, and he made a great effort to restrain himself when I told him that not only had I not prepared an etude for the audition (because my teacher never made me play them), but, “I don’t like etudes, so I don’t do them.” After a bit of a tongue lashing - in the audition! - I left and spent the next 3 months playing hardly any repertoire at all – instead, it was scales, etudes, and more scales! It was grueling and at times infuriating (to teenage me), but a year later my technique and understanding of music had leapt to a new level. To this day, even though I am rarely practicing-to-perform any longer, I spend time on daily scales and etude work.
One-on-one mentorship is the centerpiece of this conservatory model. The literal hands-on approach – a common scene in studios across Russia and Eastern Europe – is anathema to the American music education system which prioritizes the conductor-teacher, lecturing from the podium, most often with a baton in hand, not an instrument. The philosophy of the one-on-one model is that a strong technical foundation and musicality are best cultivated through individualized coaching, not large ensemble drills. A surprising number of my students’ parents lament that their childrens’ American orchestra teachers are focused on learning fun pieces, with titles like “Rosin Eating Zombies From Outer Space,” whereas a Russian teacher would be more concerned with developing technique, less immediately gratifying but ultimately producing better musicians. (Perhaps not surprisingly, it is the parents who were not born in the U.S. who do much of the lamenting.)
Furthermore, the curriculum in these programs is often holistic. Students don’t just study their instrument; they also take courses in solfège (sight-singing and ear training), music theory, and music history from early on. As a result, Soviet-trained musicians knew much more, technically and musically, having studied everything from opera plots to composers’ biographies alongside their instrument. The training was demanding – even harsh by some accounts (one teacher of mine quipped that the overly strict drills could crush the joy out of playing) – but it undeniably produced generations of world-class artists and passionate amateurs alike.
What’s really striking is how music education is valued as a serious endeavor in that culture. In Russia, music isn’t a fringe extracurricular; it’s woven into the fabric of education and society. Even general schools include compulsory music classes through secondary grades. And beyond producing musicians, Russia sees art education as a way to shape better citizens. The system is “committed to improving personal competitiveness ... in various social fields” (science, management, etc.) and to developing innovative thinking through the arts. In other words, they believe the rigor of learning Chopin or Shostakovich will benefit you whether you become a concert pianist, a doctor, or an engineer. This perspective – that music education builds valuable life skills – is something we largely pay lip service to in America, but Russia has built an entire infrastructure to actualize it.
Asian Approaches: Discipline and Cultural Reverence for Music
Across Asia, we see yet another contrast to the American school model. Countries like China, South Korea, and Japan have witnessed an explosion of classical music training in the past few decades. In China, for example, Western classical music has become hugely popular – so much that an estimated 36 million Chinese children are studying piano, about six times the number of American children! This astonishing figure reflects a cultural shift: music training is seen as both a mark of personal cultivation and a pathway to success. The rigors of classical training align with Confucian values of discipline and self-improvement; historically Confucius himself touted music as essential to forming a noble character, “more important than mathematics and writing.”
Parents and students in China often view musical study as a serious supplemental education, not just a hobby. By the 1990s, the Chinese government was actively encouraging music education, and families embraced it partly because playing an instrument became seen as an advantage in the fierce competition for university spots. As a result, even many who never intend to be professional musicians commit to years of intensive piano or violin lessons – practicing daily, taking graded exams, performing in recitals – much like young athletes training for sports. (As an aside: more than three times as many Americans make a decent living as professional musicians than as professional athletes. So – he asks, knowingly – why do Americans mock elite training for music-as-career, but vociferously promote elite athletic training?)
From a pedagogical standpoint, Asian music education often blends imported conservatory methods with local educational intensity. It’s common for children to take private lessons (sometimes with teachers trained in Juilliard or Moscow Conservatory methods), attend music theory classes on weekends, and participate in youth orchestras or competitions. Discipline is typically very high. I’ve taught some exceptional pre-college students whose parents came to the U.S. from Korea, and their practice ethic puts most American kids to shame – hours a day of focused, intelligent practice is not unusual by middle school. In South Korea, specialized arts high schools allow talented teens to devote a large portion of their day to music, akin to a conservatory environment. The result? A disproportionate number of top prizewinners in international piano and string instrument competitions hail from South Korea, China, and Japan. But importantly, even those who don’t reach the world stage carry with them a high level of musical skill and literacy. I once attended a party where an engineer friend from Korea casually read through Chopin Nocturnes – he never became a professional pianist, but his school and private training gave him a lifelong gift of music. That’s something our standardized school bands and orchestras rarely achieve.
One noteworthy aspect in many Asian systems is the use of graded music exams (like the ABRSM or Trinity College exams, originally British). These are standardized tests, but they are comprehensive – requiring scales, sight-reading, ear tests, and solo pieces. In a way, they manage to balance standardization with musicianship better than our school assessments. A student can’t just learn one showpiece; they must also develop sight-reading ability and aural skills to pass. There’s still a risk of “teaching to the test” here, but the tests themselves demand broader skill sets, and the one-on-one teacher environment ensures more personalized growth. The exam systems also provide a clear progression that motivates students (many Asian parents hang the certificates with pride). Culturally, there’s a huge respect for the classical canon – learning Beethoven or Mozart is considered a worthy endeavor even if you become a doctor. This mindset means students and parents are often willing to endure tedious practice and strict teachers, whereas in the U.S., a private teacher who unwaveringly insists on scales and proper technique might quickly lose students to more "fun" competitors.
European Conservatories: A Legacy of Excellence
In Europe, classical music education has, of course, its own rich traditions. Many European countries have dual systems: general schooling and separate music schools or conservatories for serious music students. For instance, Germany and Austria have the Musikschule system – state-subsidized after-school music schools where children get structured music instruction outside regular class hours. A child might attend academic school in the morning, then Musikschule in the afternoon for instrumental lessons, theory classes, and ensemble rehearsals. These schools often culminate in exams or diplomas (akin to British grade exams or the French conservatory brevet), but the focus is on mastery and artistry in the European classical repertoire. European conservatories (at the college level) are famed for producing legendary musicians, but the pipeline starts much earlier through these preparatory programs.
Throughout Europe many countries never fully embraced the mass “school orchestra” concept that the U.S. did; instead, they maintained the old conservatory apprenticeship model albeit in modern forms. Take France or Italy: students aiming for a career in music usually enroll in a conservatory as teenagers, where they receive intensive training quite separate from their high school academics. Even those not aiming at a career often study an instrument privately and play in community youth orchestras. The result is a populace that, while perhaps fewer in number in school ensembles, often attains a higher level of musicianship by adulthood. A British teacher writing for Pianist magazine noted that in the U.K., many piano teachers try above all to make lessons enjoyable and cover lots of easy pieces, whereas in Central and Eastern Europe the expectation is that music is a serious pursuit requiring discipline and yes, sometimes strictness. Neither approach is perfect in isolation – the ideal probably lies in a balance of fun and rigor – but it’s telling that European and Russian teachers share that belief that hard work and high standards are essential to musical excellence.
Another hallmark of European training is the emphasis on ensemble and performance experience outside of graded contexts. While American school programs have concerts, in Europe one finds a tradition of frequent recitals, chamber music sessions, and competitions that are musical events, not just assessments. As a teenage violinist in Slovakia, one graduate school colleague of mine performed in monthly studio recitals – casual gatherings where students played for each other and parents. There were no scores or ratings; the teacher and peers gave feedback, and everyone ate pastries afterward. It was low-pressure but cultivated performance poise and a supportive musical community. In contrast, I played in exactly one recital prior to my high school graduation, and it felt like an exam where the piece was expected to be perfect. The European mindset tends to be, “perform often, learn from it, and grow,” rather than the American mindset of, “prepare one shot to be judged.”
The Difference in Musicianship and Lifelong Impact
The outcomes of these conservatory-style approaches speak volumes. Many of the world’s finest classical performers come from these backgrounds, but beyond the stars, there is a broader impact on musicianship in the general population. A person who went through, say, eight years of Russian music school or took ABRSM exams through high school likely emerges with a solid ability to read music, a trained ear, and an appreciation for classical music. Even if they pursue medicine or business, they often remain amateur musicians or at least active concertgoers. They have a relationship with the art form.
In contrast, how many American adults recall their school band experience as the time they truly fell in love with classical music? More often, I hear things like, “Yeah, I played clarinet in high school. It was fun, but I haven’t touched it since.” Or worse: “I quit piano as soon as I could; all I remember is how mean my teacher was and stressing over competitions.” Our system is not effectively creating lifelong musicians or appreciators at scale. Sure, some go on to music school or continue playing, but a vast majority drop music once the external structure (and pressure) is gone. That’s a sign that the intrinsic motivation and artistry weren’t successfully cultivated.
Research and experience suggest that the conservatory-trained student, even if not a professional, gains benefits that last a lifetime. Self-discipline, perseverance, attention to detail, and the ability to self-criticize constructively – these traits are nurtured in the practice room and carry over to any career. A Silicon Valley friend who studied violin seriously in Bulgaria attributes her success in tech to the grit and problem-solving she learned while practicing difficult passages for hours. And indeed, this aligns with the Russian view we saw earlier: they deliberately see music education as training for life, not just for music. Western studies echo this too, linking childhood music study with improved executive function and creativity in adulthood.
Crucially, those who deeply study music also tend to develop a lifelong love and understanding of music. They become the audiences, donors, and community orchestra players that keep classical music alive in society. By contrast, a generation that learned music only superficially or stressfully might not engage with it later – contributing to the decline of classical music’s cultural presence. In Asia, there’s now a massive audience for classical concerts, partly because so many people learned an instrument growing up and retain an appreciation. As one particularly pithy friend put it, “the future of Western classical music … is in Asia,” at a time when the West is marginalizing it as an esoteric genre for a privileged few. That’s a sobering thought: the very educational practices we dismiss as “too intense” may be what’s preserving the art we love.
Personal Reflections: Finding Artistry Beyond the System
On a personal note, I experienced both extremes of music education. My early years were in a standard American school program – I enjoyed social aspects and progressed quickly, albeit with an insane number of bad habits on the cello and shallow understanding of music. After high school, I sought out teachers from the conservatory world who essentially tore down my playing and rebuilt it. It was humbling to realize that despite all the A’s and orchestra awards I’d collected, I was behind in actual musicianship. I couldn’t sight-read as well as my colleagues from Asia and Europe. My intonation was suspect because I had never done intensive ear training or scales (except for those required for All State auditions). And interpretively, I realized I’d always waited for someone (my teacher, the judge’s comments) to tell me if I was doing it “right” – I lacked both the confidence and know-how to begin shaping music myself.
Through painstaking work over years, I started to touch the deeper layers of music – analyzing structure, experimenting with phrasing, listening to historical recordings for inspiration. It was like discovering a new dimension. Honestly, I felt a bit cheated that none of this was emphasized in school earlier. At the same time, I’m grateful I eventually discovered it rather than quitting. Many of my school friends did quit – they associated music with marching in 100-degree heat or ruin-your-grade playing tests, but not with art or joy. I was headed that way too until a couple great mentors (and a lot of personal stubbornness) pulled me onto a different path.
This isn’t to say every conservatory approach is perfect or that American schools do no good. I have heartfelt memories of high school jazz band and youth orchestra trips and the camaraderie of ensemble playing at All State Orchestra. Those experiences do matter. But I wish they had been balanced with teaching that went beyond the next concert. Music is an art, not just a performance. It took me unlearning and relearning to really get that.
Moving Forward: Reforming Classical Music Education
As my spouse, coincidentally a high school orchestra teacher, tells me on a regular basis, it’s so easy to criticize and much harder to fix. Having said that, how can we realistically improve school music programs to foster true artistry and deeper learning? A complete cultural and political overhaul might be a tall order, but there are practical reforms and alternative approaches that could make a big difference:
Reduce the Emphasis on Competition and Grading: Shift the focus from scoring to personal progress. For instance, replace chair auditions with periodic individual goal-setting sessions and then seat based on progress. De-emphasize ranked competitions in favor of non-competitive festivals or joint concerts where the feedback is narrative rather than numeric. Students should feel the goal is to enjoy and improve their music, not to win a score. Assessment can be made more holistic – e.g. a portfolio of recordings/journals – instead of a single playing test. Here in Georgia, that might mean making All State auditions a bit more subjective (especially in the later rounds of auditions) and altogether getting rid of the numeric rubric at the Large Group Performance Evaluation.
Integrate Musicianship Skills into the Curriculum: Dedicate a portion of class time each week to activities like ear training, improvisation, and composition, even if they aren’t part of the concert program. Teach students how to figure out a melody by ear, or have them try writing an 8-bar song, complete with interesting harmony. This builds musical understanding and creativity. As one educator suggested, instructing kids on how to pick up a song from the radio or create their own simple song can bring play back into learning. It also makes music class feel less like a rote routine and more like an exploratory art course. This means encouraging, not penalizing, mistakes and missteps. Dare to fail, if you will.
Incorporate One-on-One or Small Group Instruction: Large ensemble rehearsals are efficient for running an orchestra, but individual skills often lag. Schools could adopt a hybrid model – for example, once a week, have sectional rehearsals or practice labs where instrument sections work with a specialist or advanced student in a smaller setting. If budgets allow, hiring assistants or using trained volunteers to give more personalized feedback in those sessions would mirror the conservatory master-apprentice dynamic. Even brief one-on-one coaching on fundamentals (posture, bow hand position, etc.) can dramatically improve a student’s trajectory. School teachers who have the funding, yet choose not to utilize outside experts should not be lauded as brilliant, all-around teachers; instead, they should expect criticism for making a choice to hamper their students’ improvement.
Broaden Repertoire and Context: Expand the repertoire beyond the standard contest pieces. Include more classical works in their original form, not just simplified arrangements, so students get to grapple with the real thing (appropriately chosen for level). Also expose them to diverse styles – baroque, contemporary, world music – to spark curiosity. For the love of everything holy, stop programing this terrible education music by composers whose names every teacher knows. When preparing any piece, teach the context: talk about the composer, era, and expressive intent. Moreover: don’t bullshit — nobody expects teachers to know everything, so if you don’t know much about baroque interpretation, be an example to your students, and tell them you are going to research it and find out! Perhaps assign listening homework (e.g. “check out this recording of the piece by a great orchestra, and write a few sentences about what you liked and didn’t like.”) and compare both students’ and the teacher’s responses. These practices, common in conservatories, cultivate a respect and enthusiasm for music as an art and history, not just dots and lines on a page.
Foster Collaboration Over Ranking: Encourage chamber music and peer learning. Small ensembles (trios, quartets) where students must listen to each other and make musical decisions are fantastic for developing artistry. They also remove the safety net of a large section, pushing each student to contribute expressively. Schools could host chamber music clubs or casual recital nights. Likewise, connect with local conservatories, colleges, or community music schools for mentorship programs – imagine high schoolers paired with college music majors for periodic coaching, or guest workshops with professional musicians. Such interactions can be inspiring and model the passion and discipline of serious musicians.
Reconsider What “Success” in School Music Means: Finally, advocate for a cultural shift (even if gradual) in how we define success in music education. Administrators and parents often look for trophies, high ratings, or large ensemble sizes as indicators of a “good” program. We need to highlight other indicators: alumni who continue to play in adulthood, students reporting increased confidence or creativity, a school community that shows up for concerts not out of obligation but genuine interest. Music educators can collect testimonials or track how many students keep music in their lives post-graduation as metrics of success. By changing the narrative of what we celebrate, we encourage programs to prioritize long-term love of music over short-term accolades.
Conclusion: Nurturing the Artist in Every Student
Writing this, I am admittedly candid – perhaps even a bit harsh – but it comes from a place of love for music and my students, and I am frustrated at seeing the educational potential wasted. Classical music education in schools does not have to be this way. We have examples from around the world of how it could be: more personal, more rigorous in the right ways, and more fulfilling. Not every child will become a concert artist, but every child who encounters music can become a more thoughtful, creative, and inspired human being through that encounter. To achieve that, we must ensure that the experience isn’t reduced to scales, scores, and stress, but instead enriched with mentorship, meaning, and yes – music.
It’s time to reclaim the “music” in music education. That means championing artistry alongside literacy, and passion alongside performance. It means learning from the conservatories and cultures that treat music as a profound art form, not just a school subject. And it means as teachers, parents, and policymakers, we have to be willing to change our measures of success. The irony is, if we do this, those measurable outcomes (test scores, academic success) that we care about will likely improve too – as numerous studies and global examples suggest. More importantly, we’ll send off into the world generations of students who carry with them the gift of music as a lifelong companion, not just a high school memory.
In the end, the goal isn’t to produce more music majors; it’s to produce more complete musicians and empathetic listeners, regardless of profession. We owe it to our students to give them more than a standardized experience – we need to give them the tools to find their own voice in the music. Let’s make sure that in our zeal to educate, we don’t inadvertently silence the artist in each young player. The next chapter of classical music – and its audience – depends on it.