Educational Opportunity

As your representatives regarding special education students, one of the most difficult questions we get regarding music and inclusion is the idea of quality versus equity. This subject is hard to talk about, yet we cannot ignore it. It's easy to say that arts education can and should have both simultaneously; but forty years after the enactment of The Special Education Act of 1976, educators still struggle with these concepts. My personal philosophy hungers for the idea that every student should have equal access to a quality music education experience. The term equity originally conveyed a legal idea dating back from mediaeval times. It relates both to the ideas of justice and of value. We tangle the terms equity, equality, justice and fairness. But what do these principles mean in arts education for special learners? If I look at 2-D and 3-D art education, I see grand opportunities for individual effort. In theatre, there are different roles that can be tailored toward individual characteristics. But in music and dance, the precision of the competitive ensemble performance brings up real issues around inclusion.

When I think of students with special needs, my dream embraces a combination of "full-service" music education with additional "related service" supports. That image would provide each student with equal access to wonderful music educators, great facilities, wonderful technology, supportive peer musicians, and amazing music with "related-service" enhancements to assist any and every student who had a need. We would have music therapists to assist some students, private instrumental and vocal specialists to teach others, and a wealth of support from administrators, the community and our fellow teachers. We would have a variety of quality group music experiences, each tailored to musical development rather than chronological age levels. My dream would be to provide quality but varied music experiences for each student so that he or she could achieve to the maximum of his or her musical ability. That maximum ability might be to simply allow music in the environment; or it might be to play as a soloist with a professional orchestra. Thus both quality and equity would come with being "the best we can be." Such would be true for each child: special learners, typical learners, gifted and all of those who cross-over between categories. Even students who say they don't like school music would have the perfect music experience for their interests, their needs, and their learning profiles. Their music experiences might allow them to use video-conferencing to work with a favorite musical celebrity. They might experience the artistic processes of create, perform, respond and connect through that association.

But then factors of education reality burst the bubble of my idealized philosophy. Would allowing the student who hates music to work with a celebrity be considered the rewarding of non-compliant behavior? Or would that opportunity provide a quality experience that fosters a spark of artistic curiosity and brings that student to my music class with renewed interest? Would such an experience only be appropriate if we could provide the same option for the hundreds children that we serve? Does equitable actually mean equal? Does equal actually mean identical?

Does fairness mean equal or identical?

In the words of one of my favorite special education professionals, Rick Lavoie, "Fairness is not equal identical treatment; rather, 'fairness' means that every student receives what he needs. Because each individual's needs are different, 'fairness' dictates that their programs and expectations will be different." (1986, p. 63). I recently saw Dr. Lavoie in person. Though he wrote those words almost 30 years ago, he noted that we still struggle with the concept that fairness means equal. In our efforts to provide equality, have we stressed ourselves and our students to the point that we are not providing quality programming for anyone? The old adage says that we cannot be all things to all people; yet teachers feel the pressure to provide "equal quality" experiences to every child simultaneously. This fulfills the pervasive idea that the only way to achieve quality is to provide equity; equity in the form of identical inputs (such as common curriculums with pacing guides and district-wide behavior plans with scripted phrases) and then expect convergent outputs—high scores on the same few standardized tests, model citizens, and perfected musical performances. Deep down we know this is not realistic, but we feel the pressure to strive for perfect quality and equality—especially in courses like general music.

So how does this relate to the idea of inclusion; and how should music teachers handle inclusion? Identical input never was the intent of inclusion, nor were identical outcomes. Special education always was about quality. The ideas of assessing strengths and weaknesses, considering needs, and defining appropriate goals and objectives that are individualized and educationally sound. Hence the term IEP—individualized educational plan. It developed from the medical model. We still look to medical personnel and therapists to give us individualized assistance, even if they have hundreds of patients on their caseloads. We want equal access, but we seek individualized treatments. In fact, we call it malpractice if a physician prescribes identical treatments for every patient. This same principle is described in the Understanding by Design model that underlies the Core Arts Standards. McTighe and Wiggins advocate that the standards provide guidelines much like "building codes" (2012, p. 3) but that individual teachers may meet the needs of their students, much as architects and builders must address the needs of their clients.

Individualization

Interestingly enough, music teachers were among the first implementers of individualized educational teaching—we called it "private teaching." The best private teachers always addressed student differences. Even if they used many of the same scales and etudes with every student, quality teachers individualized each student's experiences. Private teachers continually adjust their technical expectations, pacing and feedback, including the selection of special pieces for recitals or to foster individual student interests. For example, my own two children had quality experiences in private lessons from the same teacher—one liked very melodic pieces, the other liked rhythmic challenges. Their experiences were not identical, but they were quality experiences that supported learning. Therefore we felt equality. The same was true for their public school music experiences—not identical but quality experiences just the same.

Can the same thing happen in full inclusion settings of music education? What determines quality? Can quality only be seen in perfect performances? High contest ratings? Or is inclusion itself one sign of a quality music program? That's a really tough question. We may have to swallow hard and admit that we feel pressured to choose—especially if our programs are focused toward inclusive ensemble performances as the standardized measures of our success as teachers rather than helping students gain transferrable skills. We may have fallen into a trap. As a result, we end up with competing values and a major frustration in our work settings.

Quality of Performance or Quality of Experience?

Admittedly, the Common Core and the 21st Century Skills are about having a competitive edge in the marketplace. Common Core is about "big ideas" and "anchor standards" (McTighe and Wiggins, 2012). Common Core is about samples of work and qualities of performance that illustrate the standards (McTighe and Wiggins, p. 10). In a similar vein, the P21 skills seem designed to develop individual student abilities through communication (not cohesion), through critical thinking (not convergent thinking), through creativity (not conformity), and through collaboration (not competition).

Yet, in our efforts to demonstrate quality, music educators have accidently slipped into the quicksand of competition instead of collaboration. We audition. We have tests. We have chairs for which students compete. We say we are all about collaboration, but only when it improves our performance quality. In other words, when collaboration makes us more competitive in performance. We have been taught through a conservatory model of auditions, achievements, and perfectionism—and intense competition. We graduate and get jobs where again we are chosen competitively. Then we are asked to put all of that aside to teach social equality in the classroom yet still produce perfect renditions of music that was designed primarily for professional musicians. No wonder we are stressed at the end of each grading period, particularly if we rely on a public performance to prove the quality of our programs. Is that really what the public expects of a quality program? It may be, but it is because we adhere to conservatory values.

Equal or Valued?

So what does feel like a quality educational experience in the arts? If it isn't really equality, perhaps it is value. Over my lifetime, we have created a system of value where there seem to be more choices but fewer real options—McDonald's, generic drugs, PC or MAC. On a recent trip to South America, the grocery, drug, and clothing stores in a foreign country all looked the same as home. Mom and pop stores are overtaken by a few standardized giants. Store brands, all in the name of value, gradually replace my favorite name brands. We are told that the quality is the same, but is it really? Supposedly rural and city dwellers have become equal because thanks to Amazon and Fed Ex, we have access to virtually anything and everything. Yet, none of us would argue that equal access to goods and services automatically translates to identical quality of life. We want to be more than a number, more than the recipient of a burger and fries experience. We want value, equity and quality simultaneously. It all makes my head spin.

I would argue that what we really want is to be valued! But what do we experience when we have value? We want to know that we have worth. So do parents and guardians of our students. They want to know that educators value their child. There is nothing more valuable in the world to most parents than their children. That is why special education exists. That is why inclusion exists. That is also why music education exists in the schools. Parents value their children, and they want their children to have valuable experiences—quality experiences. So we have come full circle. This is a chicken and the egg story. It probably always will be so. Can we provide equal experiences to every child? No. Can we provide quality experiences for every child? We can try. Will every experience be perfect? No. Will the result of every experience be perfect? No. We actually can provide equal experiences—but most of us would argue that when that happens, everyone feels a little less than fulfilled. Yet we seek identical educational experiences for our children and think we will be satisfied if that occurs. If and when it does, we feel equal but not always valued.

It behooves us to be able to look every parent in the eye and say "I value your child and I want to share my love of music with her, or him." Is this an easy task? No, but when parents feel that their children are valued, they are more likely to see their child's education as quality. Isn't that what we really want?

Recommended Resources

In 2006, Tomlinson and McTighe teamed to write an excellent book called Integrating Differentiated Instruction and Understanding by Design. Carol Tomlinson facilitated the descriptions of principles for differentiated instruction. Jay McTighe offered guiding principles for backward design. Almost a decade later, the influence of this collaboration is evident in the new Core Arts Standards (2014). Understanding by Design (UbD) was foundational to the development of the four Artistic Processes that overlay eleven Anchor Standards which reflect essential outcomes. Wiggins and McTighe argue that "the Standards come to life through the assessments" (p. 10). McTighe and Wiggins described five "big ideas" that they think should drive the curriculum and ensure a quality education. They also indicated that the true measure of student learning comes with what the students can do "independently." They use rigorous music and math outcomes as two of their primary illustrations. They also suggest this big idea: Which brings us back to square one. Are McTighe and Wiggins suggesting that the best evidence of quality music education is the culminating rigorous musical performance that we have traditionally used? What about the reality that such performances may be compromised by the inclusion of students who have not mastered the Standards? Is there any hope for inclusion and rigor?

Differentiated Instruction Revisited

This takes us to the value of differentiated instruction. When we value individual student learning, we will want to differentiate instruction. We will seek end-goal outcomes that are appropriate for each student. Those goals will fall into the areas of "product, process and progress" (Tomlinson and McTighe, 2006, p. 145). One child's goal may center on the process of vocalizing when there is singing and being quiet when the music stops (process). Another child may be challenged to perform a memorized solo in a particular piece (product). Both can demonstrate progress. Both can demonstrate that they have reached their goals through musical performance (one of the Core Arts artistic processes). Individualized goals may even combine P21 skills as well as the Core Arts artistic processes. McTighe and Wiggins state, "curriculum development must be goal focused: Having learned key content, what will the students be able to do with it?" This aligns the learning of special needs students with all other students. While students may not do identical behaviors, they may demonstrate that they have had access to quality educational opportunities. Valid demonstrations of P21 skills and Core Arts standards may be varied. Examples include:

• Communication (P21) and Response (Core Arts) can be demonstrated by communicating enthusiasm for a musical task, showing concert etiquette or singing/playing in a group;
• Critical thinking (P21) and Performance (Core Arts) could be demonstrated by making a choice by touching the classroom percussion instrument that is heard, writing the stick notation for an ostinato's repeated rhythm pattern, or playing an improvisation in the jazz band;
• Collaboration (P21) and Connection (Core Arts) could be shown when a student with autism uses a scarf as a partner for a dance experience because human physical touch is too invading, or by singing with a partner to show the question and answer phrases in a folk song from Mexico;
• Creativity (both P21 and Core Arts) may be evident as a student with cerebral palsy responds by making a flashlight dance to show melodic contour while the rest of the class does creative movement, or better yet, when individual students use that same flashlight to create a melody by directing their peers in playing up and down a pentatonic scale on barred instruments.

The products, processes and progress may not be equal, but each child's contribution can be valued, thereby creating a quality music education program for everyone.

As Tomlinson and McTighe stated, "A goal of differentiated instruction is providing opportunity and support for the success of far more students than is possible in on-size-fits-all approaches to teaching and learning. (2006, p. 100)." I would argue that we may need to develop sets of goals that demonstrate our value for both the discipline (music) and the student. These will not be one-size-fits-all performance goals. Nor will they result in perfect musical performances every time. We may need to re-evaluate our role as music educators in our schools. Quality and equality can co-exist, but only when we understand that quality is the root word of equality; and when we actively value each child's ability by seeing ability as the root word in disability.

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