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Vol. XIX No. 5 February 2004 |
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 Following a Different Beat The sound of the music took me back to my own troubled years in junior high school. Through the open classroom door, I could see a group of students huddled around a distressed upright piano. It was a scene that Norman Rockwell would have loved to paint. The tune was that tired warhorse, "Heart and Soul." I smiled to myself, remembering my own experiences in school and around a piano. It's good to know that the piano still functions as a sanctuary from the uncertainty and self-conscious obsession of adolescence. Stepping into the room, I politely ask the students for directions to Mrs. Xanier's office. They freeze momentarily, unsure of themselves, and me. Slowly, one of students raises a finger in the direction of a blue door at the far corner of the room. Thanking them, I walk over and stop short to steal a peep through the rectangular window. A middle-aged woman is seated at a desk between precariously stacked columns of scores and folders. Her hair is gray and pinned up on top of her head. She is engrossed in a conversation on the phone. I wait until she puts down the receiver before venturing a few pecks on the door with my knuckle. In a burst of energy, she pushes back from her desk, and skates unceremoniously to the door on her wheeled stool. "Derek?" "Yes! That's me. Mrs. Xanier? I hope I'm …" "Please call me Alana; I wasn't sure if you were coming today." She offers me the only other seat that isn't piled high with music. It was one of those coincidental surprises. I had arrived in Salmon, Idaho, a few days earlier to attend a friend's wedding. At the reception, I was seated next to a charming couple who nearly fell over themselves to tell me that a Juilliard music graduate was living in their town. I was surprised. Was she working in an orchestra nearby? Directing a music series? Teaching at a local college or university? It is nothing quite so glamorous. Mrs. Xanier is the music director at Irving Washington Junior High School. I was curious. What sort of work was this alumna up to? I decided to call her and arrange for a visit. "So, Alana, when did you graduate from Juilliard?" "I finished in 1967. I was a pupil of Ivan Galamian, who was very helpful with my career. He had arranged for several concerts in Germany, and I was to be his assistant for master classes he was giving in London that summer. Unfortunately, my father fell ill and I was forced to return back home. "He was ill for over a year before passing away in late 1968. I had already lost my mother a few years earlier, so I was all he had. During his last year, I needed to find some sort of income to support myself. His pension was barely enough. A friend informed me that the junior high school happened to have a position open for music director. So, I applied. Thirty-four years later, I'm still here"—she beams a big smile. "Wow! Thirty-four years is impressive. What is it about this career that enabled you to stay so long? Did you ever consider changing your path? Maybe moving into higher education?" "Actually, there is more to it than that. My father's illness occurred during a formative and impressionable period in my life. It was a sort of message about my purpose in life. "Teaching was a kind of salvation. The more I started thinking about students, the more I felt a real purpose. To me, it really didn't matter whether I was teaching at the Moscow Conservatory or at P.S. 102; the message was the same. I enjoy connecting with young students on a musical level. I find that music offers me the ability to connect with all types of students. Music is a universal language." "It sounds like a scene from Mr. Holland's Opus !" "In some ways it is, although I didn't come to this job kicking and screaming like the character played in the movie by Richard Dreyfus. You must understand that to me, teaching is a road to self-discovery. Do you know the saying, 'The teacher always learns more than the student'?" "Yes, but my personal favorite is, 'The teacher's job is to put him/herself out of a job.'" "That's a good one! Teaching students how to teach themselves is really what it's all about. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all subjects could be taught with that goal?" "Alana, I'm in the process of collecting career reflections from some of our alumni to share with students as they prepare to graduate. From your own perspective, what sort of advice can you give to young students who are about to embark on their career?" "Hmm, that's a difficult question. I love what I do, but I wouldn't tell anyone that what I do is the key to his or her happiness. Instead, I would tell them not to be misled by someone else's definition of success. If you begin your career as a performing artist with an idea that success is measured in how many performances you give per year, then you will be opening the door to a lot of frustration and unhappiness. Thoreau says it all: 'If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music he hears, however measured or far away.'" "Alana, that's perfect. Can I treat you lunch?" "Sure! I know a perfect little diner that has the best meat loaf west of the Mississippi." (All characters and dialogue in this piece are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people or dialogue is purely coincidental.)
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