The bridge I must be
Is the bridge to my own power
I must translate
My own fears
Mediate
My own weaknesses
I must be the bridge to nowhere
But my true self
And then
I will be useful
—- Excerpt from Kate Rushin’s The Bridge Poem
During the first year and a half of our global pandemic, teaching online challenged me to connect with students in ways I hadn’t previously considered because they needed something different from me. Since returning back to in-person instruction, I’ve carried a lot of those practices with me, consistently and intentionally striving to make all students feel welcome in our coveted spaces of curiosity and growth. Since my time at Hunter College in NYC, I’ve had the privilege to work with students in a variety of capacities, from large music history 101 lectures, to chamber music coachings. And despite these diverse experiences, my teaching philosophy remains grounded by three principles: authenticity, storytelling, and representation.
Authenticity
“The bridge I must be is the bridge to my own power”
What are the student’s individual strengths? What sets one student apart from another? There is only one you, so let’s work together to bring that most authentic version of you to the classroom, the master class, and the stage, supporting your strengths while perhaps uncovering hidden talents.
Storytelling
“Translate my own fears and mediate my own weaknesses”
Music is written by human beings from a particular place at a specific time. Music does not exist in a vacuum, but is a living document of what was or is. There are a multitude of stories surrounding a piece of music, whether historical, theoretical, or even psychological (or emotional). Based on our work with authenticity, what is (are) the story (stories) that most strongly resonate with you? And what are the vulnerabilities that begin to emerge when discovering those connections? Bring yourself to the music, and communicate that story.
Representation
“Bridge to nowhere but my true self”
Once we investigate the multitude of stories surrounding music and sound, and their connections to you, the musician-scholar, and your audience, larger themes begin to emerge. We discover that music is a powerful way of bringing all kinds of people together. When words fail, a melody speaks, a rhythm reverberates, and harmony unites. When we believe in this gift that music gives, boundaries begin to peel away, and genres cease to matter. EDI isn’t just trendy for me in this moment - when considered altogether, equity, diversity, and inclusion form a necessary starting foundation from which to build honest inquiry and truthful discovery.