Why Wait? Sing Out!

It's not on the test, but music has helped children come together, cope with tragedy, and learn.

By Anna Antonucci

Photo by Brian Davies

In the corner of my study sits a plain rectangular box. Within rests an old autoharp, a small wooden instrument that plays chords when keys are pressed and strings are strummed.

My autoharp evokes vivid memories of teaching primary school children in California in the '50s, '60s, and '70s. In those days, before theorists and tests took over the school curriculum, teachers were trusted to plan what young children needed to know and to teach each child at his own level as much as could be absorbed. We were free to fit the lessons to the needs of the day.

Each elementary teacher, as part of California's certification process, had to be proficient in playing the autoharp and teaching music. When children needed a rest, we often stopped and injected some singing into the day's plan. What joy! When days grew long and stressful, how refreshing it was to bring out the autoharp and sit in a circle and blend our voices in shared songs. A child who needed to move about was often called up to strum the autoharp, and became, for a few moments, a star.

We sang "Down in the Valley," "White Coral Bells," "I Know an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly," and many, many others. Each morning started with a patriotic song—"America," "The Star-Spangled Banner," or "America the Beautiful."

Even kindergartners were delighted to sing the morning patriotic song. I wonder sometimes now, do they remember those songs and what they mean? Did the words imprint in the psyche, as they did in mine, and come to mind at stressed times all these years later?

Through singing, we felt a communion of spirit and a joy in the beauty of life, friends, and tasks well done. There is something about being in a group close together, raising voices in harmony, that gives one such a feeling of community and completeness.

One beautiful autumn morning at school, we heard bells continuously ringing. Thinking it might be a fire drill, we exited the room, and marched to the area designated for fire drills. But when we arrived, the principal announced that our beloved President had been shot.

Stunned, we went back to our classroom, gathered in our singing circle and softly sang songs of comfort: "Where Have all the Flowers Gone," "Be Nobody's Darling but Mine," and "Some Sunday Morning."

How heartwarming it would be today, in our classrooms, if we could put back some of the joy of spontaneous music, physical education, and playful games. Maybe then children would not be so stressed out as to have to commit hate crimes or bring weapons to school. Music is a great replacement for bad language and bullying behavior.

I think back sometimes to those days of double session schools, classes in barracks buildings, overcrowded classrooms without special services and aides and wonder how we survived. Survive we did!

We were ever mindful that music, art, recess, and physical education are important. Love and hope are the backbone of all learning. Children are not cogs in machines. We do not educate them that they might fit into some gigantic money-making bureaucracy. We educate them to be persons with a sense of hope and community. We educate them to be integrated persons who can love life, even when it is tough.

And so, when I look at my old autoharp, I remember all these things and I am glad that I had the opportunity to bring music and joy to the lives of some children.

Anna Antonucci retired in 1990 after teaching for 36 years in California and Oregon. This piece was earlier published in The News-Review of Roseburg, Oregon.