Elizabeth Gullick

As a teacher of today’s young artists in a public high school, I see my most important role as helping the learners in my classroom find their own voice, both literally and figuratively. To encourage them to take risks, to learn through exploring, to experience the familiar and the unfamiliar in a safe environment, all while using music as the medium to explore. It is critical that I be the bridge between where they are and where they want to go as musicians and performers, but also as human beings who live in an increasingly fast-paced and ever-changing global society.

I am currently in my 18th year as a public school music educator and I can safely say that this was a year like none other. Nothing in my previous experience could have ever helped me feel prepared for the past 12 months. All of a sudden, the thing we love most in the world, the art form we’ve dedicated our lives to, became something scary, something that could potentially cause harm or even death to people we love. Our school, like so many others, went out on spring break in March of 2020 and never came back to the building for that school year. Then, close on the heels of the first round of shut downs and silencing of choral music, our local community here in Minneapolis experienced the tragedy of the murder of George Floyd. Again, we were rocked to our core, as we came face to face with racial injustice and police brutality in our own backyard.

Either of these events alone would have been enough to create a need for an educator to re-examine their role in the classroom and what it means to help prepare young people for life and art-making in the 21st century. For myself, and I’m sure many others, the combination of the two was completely and totally disorienting and devastating on a very personal level. I am aware that I say this from an immense place of privilege, as a middle class, white, cis-gendered, heterosexual woman who lives and teaches in the suburbs. These events shook me out of my comfort zone, and made looking at my role and my classroom with a critical eye crucial as we muddled through figuring out how to navigate what had previously been such familiar and safe territory.

What does it mean to be a white middle class woman teaching music to primarily white middle class students who need to be prepared to be citizens of an increasingly global society? What can my role be in facilitating my students’ exploration of who they are, and how they fit into this world, while also exploring and creating music together? How can I guide them not to what I think is right, but instead give them space and opportunity to develop their own sense of decision making, evaluating, revising, interpreting, both in the world around them in general and as musicians and performers? How can student voice and student choice play a larger role than what may be typically seen in a traditional, conductor-led choral rehearsal? How can we explore and perform music from histories and cultures that have faced oppression and lack of representation, but in a way that uplifts and promotes the voices of those who have been marginalized and lived these experiences, instead of appropriating and being another source of continued oppression? These are just some of the questions that have occupied my mind in the past year. I definitely do not have all the answers, but do know that educators would do well to reflect on these important, probing questions and issues. I also know that there is not a prescribed method or one-size-fits-all approach that can be packaged as a solution to these questions. Each situation is unique to that director, ensemble, time and place, and piece of music.

One of the unexpected hidden silver linings of the past year is that removing the near constant pressure of high stakes performances has left space and for us to do much deeper dives into the history and culture that surrounded the music we share. My high school aged singers, while so disappointed to not get to share the live concerts we have in the past, have been ready and willing to try new things, to jump in and be respectful in what could be uncomfortable conversations regarding history and race, and in honoring and listening to experiences of others. This is an aspect of discovering the world and its music together that I don’t want to lose even as we all hope to return to more performing in the future. This raises another question, how can we as educators make sure we are intentional about leaving room and space for these types of learning experiences in our rehearsals?

 I am often in awe of these young people; their passion, their drive to be the best they can be, and to share those passions and determination with the world. They are bright, inquisitive, kind—and they love sharing and making music. They also give me so much hope for the future. Sometimes the best role for me is to step back and get out of their way, to be a fellow learner alongside them. And in doing so, I am inspired by their example to strive to always keep learning, growing, changing, and of course to always keep singing.

Elizabeth Gullick teaches Vocal Music at East Ridge High School in Woodbury, MN. She holds a BA in Music from Luther College in Decorah, IA, and is a MA in Music Education candidate at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul, MN. At Luther she studied conducting under Weston Noble and Drs. Tim and Sandra Peter, and sang in Luther’s Nordic Choir. She is an active member of ACDA and NAfME (MMEA), and has served several times on Minnesota’s All-State staff. She was a founding member of The Singers – Minnesota Choral Artists, and has also appeared with Magnum Chorum and The Minnesota Chorale.