Book Review: A-R Online Music Anthology

By Kendra Preston Leonard

The A-R Online Music Anthology, published by A-R Editions, bills itself as “an extensive collection of music and articles designed expressly for music history courses” and as an option to traditional music history textbooks, print anthologies, and sets of CDs. (https://www.areditions.com/information/a-r-music-anthology.html) Having both taught music history courses and worked as a professional textbook editor (and, in the interest of transparency, have contributed to the A-R Online Music Anthology), I admire the approach A-R Editions is taking with this project. As textbooks and ancillary materials become even more expensive, online textbooks that have the capacity for continually adding new material, as A-R’s does, are helpful for students and instructors alike. Instructors can request complimentary access. Student subscriptions to the Anthology cost $60 for six months of use; institutions can purchase a site license for on-campus and networked computers for $2500 a year. Students and instructors can print out individual essays or pieces from the site.

The Anthology currently offers about 600 pieces of music primarily from the Western art tradition, including works from antiquity through the early twentieth century. The same composers found in print anthologies are well represented here: there are enough pieces by Beethoven, Chopin, Handel, Josquin, Monteverdi, Mozart, Palestrina, and Schubert to satisfy any traditionalist. The Anthology also includes works for those wanting to broaden their students’ worldview, such as works by Wizlâv IV, Luis de Narváez, William Billings, John Field, Clara Schumann, Ruth Crawford, W. C. Handy, Krzysztof Penderecki, and Bessie Smith, and Anthology editor James Zychowicz is taking suggestions for and planning to include other works by marginalized composers as the Anthology continues to expand. Most, but not all, of the music is newly engraved for the Anthology and is clear and easy to read, and all transposing instruments’ lines are notated at concert pitch. However, the Anthology does not always provide sources for editions or the year in which pieces were completed, information that would be useful to include.

In addition to this collection of music, the Anthology also includes just over one hundred “textbook articles” and “textbook commentaries.” The articles are in-depth discussions of individual pieces, such as Allan Atlas’s article on Ralph Vaughan Williams’s Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis; concepts, like Richard Bass’s essay “Harmony and Key Relationships in Romantic Music;” and composers, including Karen Cook on the Comtessa de Dia and K. Dawn Grapes on William Byrd. The articles generally run from about 12 to 35 pages and include links to sources, recordings, videos, and pieces available through IMSLP that are not yet included in the Anthology. Textbook commentaries are shorter (1–3 pages) introductions to a specific piece. The commentaries mostly accompany pieces from the medieval and Renaissance periods, and include images of manuscripts and diagrams that help explain the concepts and materials in the commentary. Most of these are by a team of authors including Emily Lawrence, Carolyn Bacon, and Catherine Nix and provide thorough introductions to the pieces they accompany.

The Anthology’s weakness is its interface, which is clunky and difficult to read and use. I tested the site using several different operating systems and browsers. In each, the primary page loads in a window that uses only part of the screen with about a 9-point font (Figure 1). I could not find a way to expand this window or increase font size.

Figure 1. The Anthology’s landing page, shown in Google Chrome.

Fig 3

Clicking on an article leads to a new page in which the article appears in a small reading pane; enlarging the view within this pane to a comfortable reading size makes the page expand beyond the limits of the reading pane (Figure 2).

Figure 2. An article in the reading pane, shown in Google Chrome.

Fig 4

The same holds true when opening a piece of music: the size is small and the reading pane is limited (Figure 3). Pieces can be also opened in a split-screen format with the search tool.

Figure 3. Music in the reading pane, shown in Google Chrome (Ruth Crawford’s String Quartet, III).

Fig 5
Navigation also needs to be simplified. There appear to be redundant search functions and menus, which provide different results for the same search. One top-level search tool (Figure 4) offers multiple options for genre, key, tonality, et al., while the other (Figure 5) does not. It’s not clear how to access one over the other.

Figure 4. Multiple search options within the A-R Online Music Anthology.

Fig 1

Figure 5. Fewer search options.

Fig 2

 

In all, the Anthology is a solid resource for teaching and learning music history. As it expands, it will become even more valuable for users, especially if the user interface is redesigned to be more accessible and user-friendly and the navigation is streamlined. At some future point, too, the collection will need to include twenty-first century music and reconsider its use of labels such as “Baroque” and “Romantic,” as scholars develop new and more accurate terms.

Book Review: Stephen Brookfield, Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher

By Daniel Guberman

In the music history classroom students develop knowledge, skills, and experiences that go beyond remembering facts. Regardless of the music covered, as teachers we have a responsibility to empower students to engage critically with the world by fostering information, social, and political literacy. Although some may perceive this mode of teaching  as hostile to traditional narratives, it develops from a critical pedagogy that prompts instructors to expose the ways in which structural inequalities throughout history, current society, and our discipline shape contemporary musical culture. As a means of reaching this end, instructors must uncover the ways these hierarchies continually inform our classrooms, curriculum, and discipline.

This critical pedagogy framework derives from the writings of Paulo Friere and bell hooks, but for many, these theories offer a challenge in praxis. How do we go from idealized theory to practice? Stephen Brookfield’s Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher provides and models specific tools for teachers pursuing these lofty goals.  Originally published in 1995, the second edition (2017) retains the original framework but is completely rewritten, drawing on new examples and experiences. Entirely new chapters deal with incorporating new technologies, teaching classes about race and racism, and applying these principles to leadership roles. Here, though, I will focus on the book’s premise and method of critical reflection.

At the core of Brookfield’s pedagogical approach are a set of tools for uncovering and evaluating suppositions, especially hegemonic assumptions about our teaching. Brookfield outlines four critical perspectives and provides specific examples of practical applications of each reflective lens (a separate chapter is devoted to each one):

  1. Students’ Eyes: Debates abound regarding the value of student evaluations. Regardless, there are many ways to solicit and collect meaningful feedback on our teaching, and no matter how we do it, Brookfield argues that time spent collecting and engaging directly with student feedback gives us insight into whether students are succeeding, the goal being student learning, rather than our successful teaching. Moreover, if one of our goals is to empower students to see structural hierarchies, and we recognize the classroom as one that we want to challenge, we must ensure that students are able to push back when our teaching does not align with these democratic principles. One particularly valuable tool, developed by Brookfield for collecting student feedback, is the “Critical Incident Questionnaire,” which asks students to reflect on specific moments and actions during a class. I have experimented with asking these questions at the end of every meeting, and find that this helps to illuminate the dynamics of group discussions and provide deeper insights into student learning than traditional minute paper questions such as “What did you learn today?” or “What do you have questions about?”
  2. Colleagues’ Perceptions: Traditional peer observations can be just as fraught as student evaluations, but again, our colleagues have important experiences and lessons to share with us.  Rather than open observation or discussion, Brookfield offers some specific approaches designed to structure colleagues’ discussions about teaching. For example, in “chalk talk,” an activity designed for faculty meetings or small workshops, a teaching question is written in the middle of a board. Colleagues silently write responses to that main prompt, as well as engage with ideas contributed by others. The facilitating colleague, meanwhile, silently draws lines to establish connections and poses clarifying questions in writing. Verbal conversation follows only after the ideas have been developed silently. A second chapter approaches team-teaching as a way to model critical reflection.
  3. Personal Experience: This is admittedly the most challenging reflective lens to use productively, because we must not assume the universality of our experiences or attitudes. Brookfield models ways to address this challenge by including his own reflections on various learning situations (workshops, conferences, recreational learning). By describing his own experiences as a learner, particularly in situations in which he is not an expert (e.g., taking swimming lessons), he can engage with some of the feelings his students may have as non-experts in his class.
  4. Learning from Theory: Too often, we engage with scholarship as a way of confirming what we already know or think. Brookfield challenges us to use scholarship as a way to uncover and challenge assumptions. For many musicologists, this might mean venturing out into other academic territories to explore how other disciplines teach similar skills. For example, the author describes how his engagement with critical race theory changed his perspective—instead of viewing himself as “one of the good guys,” he saw himself as “complicit in unthinkingly supporting structures that legitimize racism” (p. 176), which led to a dramatic shift in his teaching (described in detail in chapter 12).

These tools facilitate continued growth in our teaching, and Brookfield’s reflective mode of articulating his own narrative of his journey as a scholar and teacher, models how to integrate these abstract theories into one’s personal practice.