Trevor Wye

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    Even though the public school music program was excellent in my city, the emphasis was on ensemble performance rather than on each student’s playing skills. I decided that to develop outstanding flutists, I should gear my program toward three age groups: students who had played for one year, those who had played for two to three years, and flutists in high school. Since I would be the only teacher, I arranged the day into three two-hour blocks. The first group (elementary) was scheduled from 10 a.m. to noon.  The second group (intermediate) was from 1-3 p.m., and the last group (advanced) from 3-5 p.m. 
    Over the years the performance level improved, so I hired additional faculty. This allowed the advanced students to take classes for six to seven hours per day. The classes were held Monday through Friday the first full week after the public school closed in June. On Friday evening they gave a Gala Concert to share what they had learned. 
     The first several years I held the classes in my basement studio. As the classes grew, I moved to a larger space. The Gala Concert went from the high school band room to a local church that had offered free space.
    Over the next 13 years, the masterclass numbers increased from 25 to over 50 flutists. Students who participated in the masterclass program began winning the top positions in the All-State Band and Orchestra festivals. Many students won local concerto competitions and chose to become music majors in college. My ripple effect had started.
    Then I moved to Idaho and had to start over. The first year I advertised the Pocatello Flute Week, I was met with “you are doing what?” Over time,  however, the program grew and flutists from neighboring states joined the local students in the week-long classes. The enrollment increased and I was able to hire artist faculty to provide students with rich experiences. Some years I included theory classes or flute repair in the curriculum.
    What I learned was that offering this type of instruction not only improved the performance level and commitment in my studio, but it enriched the lives of the students in more ways than I will ever know. This article discusses some of the things I learned that may help you start a program for your students. 

The Program
    One of my students returned from a National Flute Association convention and announced that she knew what her career should be. She wanted to travel around the country and present masterclasses. I asked: What is your message? What do you have to offer?  She did have some excellent ideas about flute playing and musicianship, but she had not put it all together into a comprehensive curriculum.  
    Before writing the curriculum for the masterclasses, research what the students have been taught thus far. If you are teaching privately, you may have an idea where each individual student’s playing level is, but to prepare a comprehensive curriculum, observe band classes at several grade levels in different schools to get a more accurate assessment.
    Once you know what each masterclass level is, assemble materials to make a study/performance packet for each student. My masterclass packets are several pages long, stapled together on the left side of the sheet in performance order.
    The first page is a warm-up routine.  It might include exercises on the headjoint, rhythm studies, and note-reading exercises. The next five pages (one for each day of the week, Monday – Friday) focus on the scales, arpeggios, technical exercises, and tone studies in the key of the day. 
    The final pages feature the material that the class will play together in the Gala Concert. These compositions include solos (played in unison) with a piano accompanist a la Suzuki style, canons, and simple duets, trios, or quartets. More advanced classes will play from the standard flute choir repertoire. Packets may also include a page on “How to Choose a Flute;” “Standard Repertoire,” graded by performance level; or “Flute Performance Opportunities.” These might include a list of regional concerto competitions, upcoming masterclasses and concerts as well as dates for Regional and All-State tryouts.

Setting a Date
    Choosing a date is one of the trickiest things about hosting a masterclass.  A date that works in one locale may not work in another. The first full week after school is out in June is an excellent time. However, I have held very successful masterclasses at other times in the summer. Do take into consideration the band marching camps or other school sponsored programs. Work to be an asset and not a detriment to the public school programs. Start media publicity and mailings about six weeks before the beginning of the camp. 

Choose a Location
    My first masterclasses were held in my basement studio. I could easily accommodate 12 to 15 students in each class. However, as the classes grew, I held sessions in high school band rooms, downtown storefronts, churches, and community centers. Before making a final decision, consider the rental cost of the space and if the participants will be covered by the host’s liability insurance. Think about whether the location is suitable for the Gala Concert. If not you will need to rent an additional space for the Friday performance.

What To Charge
    The first years I chose a fee that was affordable by all. As the program grew and became well-known, I was able to charge more. Expenses should be factored into the cost. Basic expenses include guest artist fees, rental fees, insurance (if needed), music, photo copying of instructional packets, publicity, postage, and refreshments. 

Choose a Name
    My first masterclass camp was called Quincy Flute Week. When I moved to Idaho, it became Pocatello Flute Week and eventually Pocatello Flute Spa. One of my students designed a logo that was used on all materials and on T-shirts. Each year, the T-shirt logo was the same, but the shirts were a different color. 

Boarding Students
    The Pocatello Flute Week masterclasses attracted students from many states. I arranged with a local motel to provide group rates. Since I could not be at the motel to supervise the flutists, parents alternated staying with the students during the week. Many of the adult participants had cars and transported the students to the masterclass location. I did not provide food.

Make A Flier
    The ideal flier is one page that can serve as both publicity material and a registration form. The flier should include the name of your program, class dates, registration deadline, class ages, class size, times, fees, what to bring, instructional topics, information about the final concert, and biographical information about the teachers.
    In the early days, I mailed 10 copies to each band director in my region; but later sent the flier by email so each director could print as many as needed. If you are not well known in your area, contact the band director and offer to give a free masterclass to his students for the opportunity to distribute masterclass fliers. If students like your teaching, they will attend the masterclass. In the flier, I always include the following disclaimer:  Neither Pocatello Flute Week or Patricia George assumes any liability for your person, flute, or property. Be responsible. Keep your flute with you at all times. Depending on the size of the program and laws of your state, you may wish to obtain local legal advice about additional waivers and potential liability.

Advertising
    Create a press packet to send to area newspapers and for television public service announcements. Include photos from previous years with bios of all faculty members. It is best to send this information via an email. Attach digital photos of 300 dpi (dots per inch) or higher with your copy. The best publicity, however, comes from one student recommending the class to another.

Before the Masterclass
    Try to be as organized as possible before the masterclasses begin.  Masterclass teaching done well takes enormous energy. The more you have organized beforehand, the more you can relax during your down time. Create and copy the class packets. Purchase pencils for the students to take notes upon their packets.
    Make sure you have a music stand and chair for each student, and create nametags to be placed on the stands. Reorganize the nametags each class so that you can place a student with a weak sound next to one who is stronger. By switching stand partners each time, students also get to know more of their fellow flutists. Many of my students made life-long friends at summer programs.
    Assemble your teaching tools such as plastic bags, cigarette papers, plastic wrap, black board, etc. Type the Gala Concert program in a computer file so that you may easily make additions or deletions to the program during the masterclass week. On the back of the program list each student’s name and home town. Print the concert program as soon as the program is set. Make an average of two programs for each participant. Ask a parent of one of your private students to organize punch and cookies for the reception after the concert. The reception is a great opportunity for pictures, so bring a camera and arrange for a parent with photography skills to document the event. At the reception you can present each participant with a certificate of participation. Some years I presented humorous certificates. Certificates are easy to download and print from the web, or you can make your own.

Teaching
    I invite my music education majors to serve as mentors and assist in the classes with younger students. The mentors adjust headjoint corks, align flutes, and take students out for private instruction if special attention is needed. The mentors also play along with the class so younger students get to sit by a great player.
    To keep things interesting, you may want to intersperse activities such as juggling, movement classes, breathing instruction, music theory, or flute repair into the curriculum. The classes should be appropriate for the age group.
    I have hosted 38 summer flute masterclasses, and they have included some of the most enjoyable teaching of my career. Many of the students who attended as young children continued on to become music majors in college. If you want to have great students, sometimes you have to grow them.  

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    Emily, you are not the only one! Let us back up a little. Ornamentation in general, and grace notes or appoggiaturas in particular, were not consistently indicated before 1800, because it was assumed that a good musician would implicitly know what to do. In Blavet Sonatas and the Telemann Fantaisies, for example, a trill or ornament was sometimes indicated with a simple + (or not at all). In J.S. Bach’s music, the appoggiatura (leaning) before a cadential trill was written out or implied (or not at all), etc.
    It must also be remembered that playing styles differed considerably, because of geographical distance, different generations, instrumental innovations, and so forth. Even the style of J.S. Bach’s sons differed from the towering authority of their father. There was the London Bach, Johann-Christian; the Potsdam Bach, Carl-Philip Emmanuel; and the Halle Bach, Wilhelm Friedemann. What was true for Papa was something else for the kids.
    In spite of distance and stylistic idiosyncrasies, there were a few things that “went without saying” but which to us go even better if said. Inevitably, these self-evident truths had exceptions, just like any modern law. If there were no exceptions to laws, our poor lawyers would starve.
    The general rule, which in my youth was not really common knowledge, was that a trill always started with the upper note. Take a look at old editions of Baroque music by the old masters. I will accuse no one, cite no names, but there are some very fallacious (and famous) editions that are still sold in flute shops. These editions included ornamentation where none existed in the original (called urtext); dynamic markings and metronomic indications (the metro­nome dates from ca. 1800); articulations where the original had none or very few; and a general heavy and pompous, let’s say Romantic, approach to music of the 17th and 18th centuries.
    However, what was a constant of the Baroque was that the appoggiatura was an expressive tool. It was leaned upon, generating harmonic tension. For that reason, the actual or implicit grace note had more intensity than the actual trill, instead of what we tend to do nowadays, when the shake or trill obliterates everything else.
I spoke about rules (I don’t like the peremptory weight of this word) and now enter the exceptions:
    The rule: Grace notes were always long and on the beat, leaned upon as it were (appoggiatura=leaning), except when they were short and before the beat. I am not kidding. Now the four main exceptions:
    I.    The grace note is long when it is an appoggiatura. An appoggiatura is a non-chord tone that is approached by leap and resolved by step. In the following example, the C natural is an appoggiatura to the B. It receives one-half the value of the B. The B is the third in a G-major chord, progressing to an A in an A M/m7th chord. However, I like to perform the C natural short because all Baroque treatises, the Quantz in particular, set out rules and then qualify them with the admonitions to exercise good taste in whatever you choose to do. That is certainly the case here, whether you select to play the C heavy (long, on the beat) or light (short, before the beat).

    II. In bar 2 the grace notes are short, because a grace note placed just before the fastest value of the piece (here 32nds) keeps the flowing value of the shortest notes.

    III. The grace note is also short when it is the first note of a larger interval (more than a third). The grace note in bar 10 of the same movement is short, comparable to a kick on a diving board. Here is another example of this springboard idea.

Here the D# grace note is short, a spring to the octave, whereas the A# is a 4-3 suspension, which is played long.
    IV. The grace note is short when it is placed on repeated notes.

This tradition is carried over to our Mozart concertos.

    There is also a curiosity in Baroque keyboard music called the acciaccatura, meaning crush or squeeze in Italian. Not only was the grace-note short or very short; the two concerned notes were crushed together to create acute dissonance. Such an effect is beyond the possibilities of the flute, but it shows that not all grace-notes were long.
    For a long time (1850-1950 approximately), Baroque grace notes were considered a purely decorative, if somewhat dry, embellishment. Then, as the Baroque revival started taking place, ornaments in general and grace-notes in particular became the issue, to the extent that they sometimes appeared to be the tree hiding the forest.        

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Undoubtedly you and your students will think of other equally inspiring or amusing texts for the flute music you are currently studying.

Sounds in Nature
    Some musical ideas, though not rhythmically matched with a text, are nevertheless evocative of natural sounds or moods. Some examples are the numerous birdcalls in flute repertoire and the musical imitation of wind or bells. I mention these because they show the power of a word (birdcall, breeze, ringing) to evoke a spectrum of associations in the imagination of performers and the audience, all of which can contribute to interpretive ideas. The best way for each of us to add to our store of evocative words and images is to live a full and attentive life outside the practice room. The more experiences we have, the richer our store of imagination-triggers.

Gestures
    Another source of interpretive inspiration is physical gesture. It is a rare student who doesn’t move her hands, eyebrows, or head as she speaks. Surely expressive gestures (clapping, pointing, hugging) predated speech as a means of communication. In dancelike music we speak of the musical gesture to refer to the contour of a phrase that reflects a physical impulse. Students who have experience in theatre or dance will recognize the parallels between musical gestures and the physical movements that are appropriate for those phrases.
    Less obvious, but equally fascinating to explore, are the more subtle movements or gestures that substitute for a verbal explanation. In fact, a single gesture such as a raised eyebrow or a finger to the lips may take the place of many words. Consider the familiar gesture of a handshake. Practice various styles of handshake with your students so they can experience the tactile difference between a warm, hearty handshake, which is the equivalent of a confident opening phrase that shows the performer’s pleasure to be there, and a handshake that communicates the opposite message.
    An underlying premise of this project is that music and speech are communicative functions, requiring a listener, so I had students experiment with reading aloud. A child is the ideal audience for this purpose because when we read or speak to a child, we tend to exaggerate our expressive gestures in order to convey the story clearly. A single child is better than a class or roomful of children because we relate more personally to a single listener than we do to a crowd. Small children, especially, give immediate and honest feedback, so we know whether our communication has succeeded. Many of my students babysit or have younger siblings who are eager participants in this part of our exploration.
    Using the discussion of physical gesture and vocal nuance as a background, I asked students to read expressively from a children’s story and to observe how naturally they used the elements of the story to structure their expression. Features like quotations, italicized words, questions, changes of character, or words like and, but, or so invited imaginative inflection or changes of vocal quality that could be transferred to musical expression.
    Just as the words and, but, or so have musical analogs, certain musical elements imply verbal equivalents. Pickup notes, for example, indicate and then this happened, repeated notes can say and I really mean it!, and a V-I cadence signals the end.
    Sometimes the music suggests two people having a dialogue or an argument, or one person asking a question that is answered by a second person. Character changes can be indicated by a new dynamic, a faster vibrato, or a darker tone color. We work on these skills, not because they are ends in themselves, but because they are the tools with which we achieve more sophisticated communication. Clearly, the responsibility and pleasure of finding an effective way to communicate whatever we perceive as the composer’s intent lies with the performer.

Historical Styles
    There are aspects of historically correct performance practice that must be considered at some point in a young flutist’s study. My concern is simply to show students the many expressive possibilities that are available and to leave the refinement of these expressive choices for another time. Until students have developed a repertoire of expressive gestures, the confidence to experiment with them, and an attitude of curiosity and delight towards musical communication, I believe that they should not have to worry about whether the choices are historically correct.
    Breath, in all its poetic and physical manifestations, is the source of energy for speakers and wind musicians. In addition to its physiological function, breathing has expressive possibilities of its own. Breaths generally correspond to commas, semicolons, or periods, with varying lengths of pause that correspond to the relative weight of a punctuation mark within a sentence. 
    To put this to use in musical performance, first listen to a simple melody, observing phrases, cadences, and sections of the melody. Then decide whether the phrase endings should be punctuated with a period, a semicolon, a comma, or perhaps a question mark or exclamation point.
    When students learn to recognize the sound of a V-I cadence, they understand that the aural sense of resolution demands a breath-pause indicating finality, whereas an unresolved progression calls for a shorter pause, so that the listener’s attention may continue without a break.
    To help students discover how important breath-pauses are to the audience’s comfort and understanding, they can read a prose passage, breathing only when they run out of breath. The result is a disconcerting rush of confusing words, with the audience as well as the reader feeling breathless by the end of the passage. Students can also learn how expressive breathing affects a listener by observing the various styles of breathing used by professional announcers or actors.
    In unaccompanied music, a cadenza, or music notated “freely” or “in an improvised style,” we can make especially good use of meaningful breaths and breath-pauses. This style of music offers performers considerable rhythmic freedom and frequently intimidates students. It requires performers to make decisions usually handled by the composer. Students learn that they can trust their own ability to make good expressive choices and that there are many good options. The test of a good choice is whether it communicates effectively. 
    It is a challenge to find a textual equivalent for a mood in abstract music. Sometimes, music is most effective when left in its purest, least textualized form, unencumbered by visual associations. One of the strongest arguments for not over-interpreting music is that its emotional impact can transcend the realm of verbal expression; it is precisely this inexpressible aspect of music that is so compelling to performers and listeners alike. On the other hand, any ideas that help a student understand a previously inaccessible piece are worth considering. Even abstract music can be approached from more than one direction.
    As students become familiar with the idea of using their speech skills to enhance their expressive playing, I use questions about the music we are studying to help them recognize these parallels. Here are some of the questions that I have found to be particularly helpful.

Questions to Ask:
•What mood do you hear? 
•Does it change?
•Can you think of adjectives to describe the moods?
•How many characters are involved and what are they like?
•Are they arguing, discussing, questioning?
•Are there places in the music that remind you of a gesture or a sound, such as a sob or a sigh?
•How would you move if you danced to this music?
•Where are the best breathing places to show where characters change or ideas end?
•Are some of the breaths dramatic, meditative, aggressive?
•If you were speaking the message of this music dramatically, where would your voice be most intense? Where would it be hushed?
•How will you transfer those qualities to the flute tone?
•What is the mood at the very end of the piece? The audience will experience this mood. What can you do visually as you finish playing to help them switch from the music’s mood back into their role as audience members?

    The following is a list of activities related to the concept of using the correspondence between speech, music, and gesture to trigger interpretive ideas. The activities are open-ended and can be expanded or adapted as needed. Many of these work well in a group setting where students can brainstorm ideas, play their experiments for each other, and enjoy trying new interpretive possibilities together.
    These ideas will not necessarily turn shy students into extroverted performers, but they may open up worthwhile communication channels. Students who experience performance anxiety may also be helped by these exercises as they learn to focus on the story they are telling, rather than on the audience’s judgment of their performance.

Activities and Suggested Music
     1. Read a passage from a children’s story aloud or some other text that includes dialogue, various characters, and emotional expression. I used the opening of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. Observe the way vocal inflection is used for quotations, parenthetical or italicized phrases, and the lengths of breath-pauses.

     2. Become aware of gestures used by friends and family, with or without accompanying speech. Consider how these gestures affect the speaker’s meaning, or whether a gesture substitutes for words.

     3. Use a folk melody or other tune with familiar words (Rockabye Baby works well) to discover why we breathe in the places we do.

 The first two breaths occur at the ends of ideas. The third breath illustrates breathing before a pickup, and the fourth breath reinforces the text by leaving a silence at the moment of the surprising tumble.

     4. Use a copy of an unfamiliar but expressive piece that has been purged of all expression markings. Listen carefully to phrase contours and implications of tension and resolution. Find good breathing places and notate them with punctuation markings.

     5. Using music with the composer’s own markings, play with careful attention to those markings not as abstract instructions but as a way of telling a story. Possibilities for this music include the slow movements from the Baksa Soliloquy (because of their rich emotional content and their relative lack of technical difficulty), the middle movement of Muczynski’s Three Preludes, and the opening of Honegger’s Danse de la Chevre. Britten’s Six Metamorphoses after Ovid for oboe solo works well for flute and offers a story to use as a starting point.
     For younger students, the Vaughan Williams Six Studies in English Folksong are beautiful. I use the version for violin, which needs just a little modification to be suitable for flute.

     6. As a final collaborative activity bringing us full circle back to Lewis Carroll, read together his Jabberwocky, demonstrating that even nonsensical words can be meaningful. Although the notes in flute music have no inherent meaning, we can play them meaningfully by using our imaginations, just as we can turn the whimsical gibberish of Jabberwocky into a story understood by any audience.      

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