A member of BPYO wrote an essay for school about the assignments. It captures perfectly the purpose of these open-ended invitations to live life more fully. Thank you Lilia! Maestro’s Homework The finish line’s ribbon, the leap over a hurdle, the trampoline to a glossy transcript: the A. It is easy to determine success after plowing through hours of study, note-taking, and piles of crunched up rough drafts. Our generation, a party of lackeys, chases the bait of academic prestige. Mr. Zander gives his musicians a very different kind of goal. It is half-past three on a Saturday afternoon. We have just come from rehearsal with our respective sections, and the eagerness to play with the full ensemble electrifies the room. The rehearsal hall is a replica of Boston’s Symphony Hall, scaled down to a third of the actual size. Sunlight spills in from the tall windows in the balcony and refracts against the warmly-tinted wooden floor, where the seats in Symphony Hall would be. Instead, a semi-circle of black steel, leather-cushioned seats awaits the musicians. Seated in the back of the balcony, a party of gray mattresses quells any unwanted resonance. We have all settled in our respective seats by now. Facing the conductor’s podium at the center of the semicircle, Mr. Zander stands, smiling proudly, clad in his uniform of light-wash blue jeans held up by a black leather belt, gray New-Balance sneakers, and an immaculately pressed white button-down shirt. A cloud of cotton white hair rests atop his head. When conducting, his face is focused and piercing; otherwise, it is kind and earnest. His eyes, pools of blue, sport wings of crow’s feet wrinkles; in between them, a hooked, sloping nose curves slightly to the left. “Today is a new day!” he exclaims, looking about the orchestra with great pride and rubbing his hands together quickly as if sparking a flame. “I have an assignment for you” he announces, while we wait with wide eyes. “...The practice of walking with spirit and love is such a profound and powerful one that I am going to ask you to do the assignment again this week. However,” he shifts, suddenly drawing in the semi circles radius, “this time I am asking you to notice what effect it has on the people around you,” he pauses, letting the room absorb his presentation. “One of you asked, ‘How do you inspire those around you to love when they seem to have none of it?’” Mr. Zander inquires in mock frustration, furrowing his tufted, white brows and throwing his hands in the air. “Have you noticed that the sun doesn’t advertise?” he prompts, relaxing. “It doesn’t take out an ad in the local newspaper saying, ‘I will shine around 2 o’clock down by the beach.’ It just shines and people show up. Walking with spirit and love is like being the sun – some will ignore you, others will make a beeline and glow in the warmth.” Winking, he raises our eyes and instruments with his baton, and with its nod, the basses heroically thunder the beginning of Strauss’ Ein Heldenleben. The string players’ instruments are held higher than usual and the wind section has crept towards the edge of their seats. Even those in the back, lining the perimeter of the semi circle, let their torsos sway to the waves and their bows pull the strings with gravity. Some close their eyes, appreciating the warmth-- there are no self-conscious calculations. Two days later, I walk with renewed vitality through the drudgery and lethargy the Monday-morning brings. I herald my orchestra’s imminent concert to inquisitive peers and teachers, handing out fliers while raving of Strauss’ heroic symphony and our up-and-coming guest cellist, Alicia Weilerstein. Encouraged by the awakened response, I call more relatives and family friends throughout the week enthusiastically, hoping that the “glow” of my excitement will draw those less-familiar with classical music. Each Saturday, Zander gifts us with advice that inspires us to take such action. These assignments have included instructions like “Cross a Bridge that you have wanted to cross” or simply, “Surrender.” The magic of the assignments is that they are not required, nor are their goals attainable. There is no indication of achieving the assignments-- they are simply a way of living. Instead of the orthodox pyramid structure of an academic goal, of climbing to the zenith, his assignments take a more esoteric route-- a V-shape, if you will. Mr. Zander’s instruction lies at the bottom apex and opens us to possibility, not the simple mark of success that an A brings. These philosophical teachings make the Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra so different from other youth groups. Many music groups tend to have an underlying sense of competition. The rat race to obtain first chair, the gossip of who has won the latest competition, the critiques of the soloist. But Mr. Zander instead fosters a culture of community and shared sense of possibility, allowing his students to free themselves of the tedious status quo. Unlike that of typical tasks, the implication of these assignments is flexible. Mr. Zander hopes that they will create a “ripple effect,” altering all areas in our lives. When he encourages us to “Come from the Power of a Child,” we may sit down with less familiar peers in the cafeteria, or take simple joy in a stroll outdoors. His assignments are the impetus for us to take more risks, to be more optimistic. He has instilled such lessons for decades in his ever-changing orchestra, creating in us thousands of leaders that may pass on these lessons to our peers. One may argue that these instructions are too abstract, too indirect. But Mr. Zander would reply that their goal is to simply turn on light bulbs in our heads. A small piece of advice, a new perspective each week, is what he grants our generation. Lilia Chang
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 15:40:21 +0000
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