School of Music Faculty Reflections: Remote Teaching, Week 4

April 10, 2020
Twitter Facebook

Week Four, Remote Online Teaching

In response to a Mini-Grant opportunity in the CFA School of Music, a group of faculty members is blogging each week on their experience teaching remotely online to their students at BU. What follows are the individual experiences of talented and dedicated faculty members as they adjust to new pedagogical modalities. Each demonstrates commitment to learning with and frequently from their students. 

Note: the editor of these blog posts may very well not endorse any faculty preferences that devalue the powers and potency of caffeine!


Lucia Lin Associate Professor of Music, Violin

An Asian American friend of mine was walking on Mass. Ave. in Cambridge when an older white man spat at her. A colleague of mine, when referring to the progress made in China concerning Covid-19, said to me “you and your people”. Though well-intentioned, I felt as if I had been spat on. In the eyes of my esteemed co-worker, I, like many Asian Americans, am a perpetual foreigner. When one thinks of racism, Asians tend to be low on the list. For some, we are the “model minority”, with many holding jobs as doctors, scientists, engineers. Comments like “Of course she’s a good student, she’s Chinese,” is insulting because it does not recognize the individual. Clumping of an ethnic group is unconscious bias, and compliment or not, it is a form of racism.

This is a country built on racism. Native Americans suffered injustices by the settlers, Africans were put in chattled slavery, Middle Easterners were profiled post 9/11 and Latinos are currently targeted because of our president’s current immigration policies. Asians have historically suffered from discrimination as well, including the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 (repealed as late as 1943), the slaughter of Chinese miners in 1885, the Japanese internment camps of 1942-46, and now Covid-19. All of these ethnic groups make up the United States of America.

Since March 19, there have been over 1000 reported incidents of coronavirus discrimination against Asians. That number is increasing by more than 100 per day. Some stores will not serve an Asian with a mask unless they take off their mask, proving they aren’t sick. Some hotels will not accept anyone Asian. 61% of the incidents involve Asians of non-Chinese descent. One may think this discussion has no place in this blogging space, however as one of the few Asians on the faculty in the CFA, I want to bring awareness to the rest of our faculty. In the School of Music, a large percentage of our student body is Asian. With social distancing, our students have lost their physical community. They run their errands alone, they walk on the streets alone. Worry of getting the virus is compounded by the fear of racially motivated assault. With government officials condoning rhetoric like “Kung Flu” and “Chinese virus,” many in our society have no compass for decency.

I was guilty of not speaking up. I let my colleague’s comment go unchecked. At the time I chalked it up to unconscious bias. But it was a wakeup call that racism runs deep. The only way to change ignorance is to be an educator–an “upstander”, not just a bystander. Don’t be afraid to speak the truth, check in with those who may be victimized, and show your support, even through remote means.


Michael Reynolds Professor of Music, Cello

My students have gotten into the swing of Zoom very well, all considered. They’re all coming to lessons even more prepared than usual (practicing to keep from dying of boredom—perhaps we can work this in to standard pedagogical practice). I point out to my class that one reason for so many great Russian musicians is their long winters. One tech thing: we’re starting to use external microphones, which greatly enhance acoustical quality. I picked up a Move Sevenoak USB connected mic; works well and under $20.

Zoom studio classes have been very good; there are numerous invited guests, including newly accepted BU students (perhaps a good recruiting strategy) and both my high school students and others wanting to join in. There’s lots of enthusiasm to play, and everyone chimes in with positive critical commentary after each performance. It’s making me think more about Zoom as a long-term worldwide recruitment and teaching tool.

My chamber groups are engaging well; we gather after they’ve had a chance to study the score and visit as a group before coaching, and we work our way through the movements we hadn’t had a chance to before spring break, talking about tempi, general musical characters, leading voices, conversations, some harmonic analysis, balance and whatever else comes to mind. I’ve been very impressed by how well Zoom’s working for this kind of meeting; I “share” the score with the group via Zoom’s sharing feature as we cruise along through the movement.


Karin S. Hendricks Associate Professor of Music and Chair, Music Education

My friend has a son in Hong Kong who reported that quarantine life starts to “normalize” (whatever that means) after 7 weeks.  I had a whole variety of feelings well up inside of me upon hearing that timeline.  To add insult to injury, this week we got the news that Summer II classes (including BUTI and our online DMA residency) cannot take place on campus.  Just as soon as one piece of this becomes bearable, more [stuff] happens.  Yet there are many things for which I am grateful–one of them being the weekly SOM Zoom happy hours, where I have been able to better know some of the SOM faculty members whom I rarely see when we’re all going from place to place in our busy lives.  Glad I have more grapefruits ready for future Fridays!

Each of my blog entries has centered around three steps of creativity, FILL, CHILL, and DRILL.  According to this theoretical model, “drilling” occurs after resources have been gathered and self-care is (at least) practiced.  So this week I will attempt to “drill” out some ideas for “no-touch” technique instruction.

When I first started teaching some 30 years ago, I did so the way I had been taught: one-on-one, with lots of hands on instruction to teach fine points of technique.  Then when I became a school teacher I had to very quickly change my approach, for two reasons: (a) it is problematic to touch school students at all, even when asking permission; and (b) suddenly I went from teaching private lessons to teaching up to 60 students simultaneously, and I couldn’t possibly be everywhere at once.  Thanks to many great mentors and other resources I started to develop an approach to teaching technique from a distance, which is in many ways applicable to remote teaching now.

Here are five highlights to “no-touch” technique instruction:

  1. Relying more heavily on analogies to help students grasp concepts.One of my favorite books full of analogies is Playing the String Game by Phyllis Young.  Although some of the analogies may seem juvenile at first (e.g., “pat the dog,” “make room for the cat”), Phyllis used these analogies in her own studio at the University of North Texas and I have found that they save me a lot of time with BU students in Instrumental Lab.  Mental images help people at any age!
  2. Teaching technique in motion rather than a static one-right-technique approach.“Back in the day” I was taught to hold a cello bow one finger at a time (“place the pinky here, place the thumb here…”), which led to all sorts of tension in my right hand because I was so fixated on placing everything correctly. Since then I have learned the power of motion—not only to free up tension but also to help students feel the results of good technique as one moves through various stages in a full bow, a shift, etc.  For example, combining highlights #1 and #2, I have found that having students imitate a swimming jellyfish with their right hand can help them loosen up while also conceptualizing how good technique fits in.
  3. Contrasting good technique with poor technique. The first time I saw Louis Bergonzi ask a room full of cellists to put their feet on the side of their chairs I thought it was anathema—why on earth would you ever have students do something wrong like that!?!—but since then I have realized how effective it was for students (whom I could not touch) to figure out for themselves how to move from a poor technique to a proper one.  I use this technique regularly now when helping students find the “sweet spot” from overextension to under-extension, etc. I have learned that some students need to really have it spelled out what they’re doing wrong before they can start to self-regulate, and having them do the motions to bring themselves to the right place can fire all sorts of synapses that would otherwise stay dormant.
  4. Utilizing other people.When I have a room full of students I often rely on stand partners to help “teach” one another, which not only saves time but also helps reinforce concepts as students process ideas in the role of “teacher.” In this time of quarantine students are likely in isolation from other students, but if they have roommates or siblings there, they might be able to help one another feel the “dead weight” of the bow arm, etc.
  5. Utilizing props.Props can be similarly helpful, and can be impromptu. For example: “Hey, Aravane, I see you have a tennis ball behind you on that shelf… can you hold that with your left hand and see the shape of your fingers?  Now run it up and down the cello fingerboard and see how your fingers stay curved as you slide upward . . .”

So… that’s my “drill” for this week. I can’t wait to read about what other people are trying out and finding effective!


Kính T. Vu Assistant Professor of Music & Dissertation Progress Coordinator, Music Education

It’s a Good Thing—This week I had the opportunity to meet with several students outside class via Zoom. Whether they are music majors or residents at Kilachand Honors College where I live, a common conversational theme arose with nearly every person. Our learners are looking for something good to emerge from this incredible trial. In longing to connect person-to-person, what is apparent is that we all want and need to be near one another. How or where can good or goodness arise from living in a socially distant and largely virtual world?

To borrow an old phrase from The Martha Stewart Show, “good things” will emerge from what I call the Corona-cation. Chief among the good things is a threefold act inclusive of appreciation, thankfulness, and thoughtfulness. All of us, our students included, are learning the value of the good things we have in life. That triad—appreciation, thankfulness, thoughtfulness—centers on the people in our homes, workspaces, play-spaces, communities, and beyond.

Another good thing to come of this situation is generosity. I’m learning, albeit slowly, to be gentle with myself and to give leeway to those things that might ordinarily cause irritation. Learners with whom I have spoken are doing the same. Sadly, there is a caveat, because not all things are good. Perhaps where I falter is in my attitude toward our nation’s leadership, something that the honors college students rail against vociferously. Where an act against humanity has been committed (denying there was a problem which ultimately cost human lives), I want to find it somewhere in my heart to be kind and to model generosity. Interrogating ill feelings amidst a crisis is not my strong suit; yet, I am called to be generous toward the lowest among us even if only as an exercise in self-preservation. The students, by the by, are seemingly less generous, and I don’t blame them. Perhaps like La Musica in Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo (1607), I too will be able to make peaceful every troubled heart (tranquilo ogni turbato core) in how or where I model generosity.

When we reunite in the same coffeeshops, bars, meeting halls, classrooms, rehearsal rooms, and performance venues, we will be changed. Our lives, somehow, will be different. Our individual and collective experiences of the Corona-cation will inform our teaching and learning practices. More importantly, the virus era will shape our humanness and how we interact (or not) with each to another. Waxing optimistic, I suspect that appreciation, thankfulness, thoughtfulness, and generosity will be amplified, and these attributes will surround us like the many speakers in Stockhausen’s work Expo (Osaka World Expo, 1970). Perhaps each good thing will not only surround us, I hope that each may indwell us. That we will be those sounds: appreciation, thankfulness, thoughtfulness, and generosity. Now that, my friends, sounds like a “good thing.”


Gabriel Langfur Lecturer in Music, Bass Trombone

This week we have been making a lot of lemonade. Once again, I am inspired and amazed by my students, and the Biggest Bear Given (BU trombonists will understand!) goes to sophomore bass trombone performance major Ryan Shaw. Ryan began work over the last two weeks on one of the most difficult orchestral excerpts in our audition repertoire, Respighi’s Fountains of Rome. He was particularly inspired by a Youtube video from the stand of Mike Szabo, bass trombonist of the Melbourne Symphony. As it happens, Mike studied with Ray Premru at Oberlin immediately after I did, and we have been in occasional contact over the years as his career has taken him around the world. So I wrote him and asked if he would give us a masterclass over Zoom. Wednesday evening – Thursday morning his time – we held that class, and in addition to our current trombone studio, we opened it up to alumni, as well as the classes of recent BU graduates Dr. Elisabeth Shafer at the University of Akron and Dr. Brittany Lasch at Bowling Green State University. Of course, Ryan played for the class, as well as current students Kar-Chun (Tommy) Chiu and Billy Sheahan and alumnus Dan Vaitkus. Current student Adam Hanna submitted a video for critique during the class, and Alek Mansouri received written comments on a video submitted ahead of time. I believe at one point we had more than 40 people in virtual attendance.

As if that weren’t enough, this week Ryan also approached Professor Lucas and I with an idea inspired by a pop-up convention of mentalists that he attended a couple of weekends ago on Facebook Live (Ryan also aspires to be a professional magician). Together we have set the wheels in motion to organize a trombone conference that will take place entirely online. As of this writing, five world-class clinicians have already enthusiastically agreed to donate their time and expertise, and we are expecting to hear back from several more any minute. Stay tuned for more details!


Brita Heimarck Associate Professor of Music, Musicology & Ethnomusicology

I have settled in to online teaching and look forward to each gathering with ease. Today my Balinese music ensemble will enter new creative ground as we attempt to continue our music making and group composition online. Through creative pursuits with garage band (new for me!) I will record the Balinese gender parts from our new composition and leave portions for each person to introduce their own story related to the coronavirus situations they have heard about or experienced directly. Instead of a new composition accompanying footage concerning the issues of climate change, I will ask them today if they would rather accompany original stories related to the current health crisis and responses. This will be the most relevant project we can put together and a welcome musical storytelling. My HUB course continues with zeal and they will soon submit their research papers and prepare to give research presentations via zoom. Now I have to make sure that each student can share their own screen for their research presentations as they take turns during our regular zoom classes. Life has changed dramatically, yet there is an eerie calm as we all endeavor to do our best. Good luck finishing up the semester everyone!!!


Michelle LaCourse Associate Professor of Music, Viola; Chair, Performance & Applied Studies; Chair, Strings

Balancing Acknowledgement and Hope—My teaching focuses a lot on balance (rather than holding or gripping). We balance the viola over the fulcrum of the shoulder-rest. We balance our stance to accommodate raised arms and an instrument that are all off on odd angles in front of us. We balance the bow in our right hand, and constantly rebalance the left hand as those fingers, hand, and arm travel around the fingerboard. We balance technical and musical development, “problem-solving practicing” and “performance practicing”, and we constantly try to balance sleep, having fun, healthy lifestyle choices, school, outside work, and all else that proves that “you are your instrument”. I balance doses of disciplinarian with my more comfortable “mommy-nurturer” approach to my students. And now my students and I sometimes discuss how we can balance our responses to this pandemic crisis and the overwhelming unavoidable disruptions to all of our lives.

Musical and technical progress continues from one lesson to the next, more “light-bulb moments” bring smiles to both me and my students (even dealing with distorted Zoom sound and crazy rescheduling), and we all seem to thrive on the focus and purpose that our continuing work brings to our days. After all, unless one of us would otherwise be developing a vaccine or a safe and surefire cure, or donning a Superman suit and making time go back to before all of this happened by reversing the earth’s rotation (in Superman-world physics), we’re all better served by continuing our work together. Yes, I do look for silver linings – I’m the one who puts this quote on my studio door when Boston gets a big nor’easter: “If you choose not to find joy in the snow, you will have less joy in your life but still the same amount of snow.” – Anonymous. But I’m no unrealistically upbeat Pollyanna. Beyond the inevitable exhaustion from dealing with Zoom and scheduling and rescheduling, and from concern for the well-being of my students, there’ve been plenty of times when I wake up and just feel like spending all day curled up with chocolates and a good book. I also know it’s important to acknowledge the horrible seriousness of what the world is facing right now, and to feel the whole spectrum of our individual emotions. I found the following article to be helpful, especially when naming some of those feelings was initially so elusive: “That Discomfort You’re Feeling Is Grief”—Scott Berinato, Harvard Business Review 

At the same time, even Eeyore said “It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine.” And so I get up, get dressed (though I confess to leggings and bare feet below the Zoom screen most days), and figure out how to best focus the day’s energy and help my students along their journeys too. “Choose to be optimistic, it feels better.”―the Dalai Lama. A friend recently posted this question on FaceBook: “Just curious – What gives you hope?” My answer: “Compassionate people, real scientists, the dedication of so many selfless healthcare workers, intelligent leaders who are ignoring misinformation, friends, my students, nature, four-legged companions, and of course music….” And then I look at the magnolia tree in my front yard and it makes me smile as it embraces spring.


Richard Cornell Professor of Music, Composition and Music Theory

Making the best of a bad situation—I greatly admire those students who are self-reliant, highly motivated, and creatively inspired. Their imagination will see them through, they are keeping up with the work, and they will return strong. Those are the resilient ones. I worry deeply, though, about those students who are encountering difficulties. There are resources to which they no longer have easy access. Not every score they need is on IMSLP, not every book they need is online. Our daily face-to-face encounters, particularly with our students, are complex, rich, and vitally necessary. And while the use of Zoom, etc. is becoming routine, we cannot allow ourselves to accept that as a “new normal.” We work in an artform that requires our full bandwidth—acoustically and in human terms. Our presence and availability as counselors and advisors are most critical to those students who are having difficulties. For some students, this current dislocation is a spur to develop that independence of action necessary for both art and scholarship, and they will be the resilient ones. For others this is coming at a bad time, affecting their morale and their progress. I worry about those who are flailing. For students who have fallen short of a milestone, who are encountering a barrier (perhaps for the first time), who need to have a quiet but possibly difficult conversation, even our live presence is sometimes inadequate. Trying to push a box of tissues through the small pipe of Zoom, etc. is immensely frustrating. And even those tissues are now in short supply.


Lynn Eustis Associate Professor of Music, Voice; Director of Graduate Studies

This week began with news reports that it would be the “hardest and saddest” so far.  The further we get into this crisis, the more energy it takes to maintain a healthy emotional state. Singing is an intensely personal activity, so it can be particularly difficult to do when one is experiencing anxiety, fear, or other stressors. I felt the need to give my students a little extra support and understanding this week. If they were unable to sing on a given day, so be it.  One of my students spoke of tents being erected in her neighborhood to handle overflow from Manhattan and a constant whirr of helicopters overhead. Others were deeply worried about family members, especially those working in health care. Normal seems a long way off right now.

The admissions cycle goes on, however, even when the world is closed. This week brought a flurry of Zoom meetings with accepted students ahead of the April 15 graduate deadline to commit. I have, of course, done lessons with prospective students via FaceTime before, but it felt different when the whole day was happening remotely. I was inspired by the bravery I saw in these young singers, all of whom are graduating from their current programs without experiencing all of the culminating activities. Their excitement about our program gave me a renewed sense of hope for our return in the fall.

During this time of virtual life, things seemed to work best when I adapted the content to match its altered delivery. Our studio class listening projects sparked in-depth conversations about music, singing, and art that might not have happened in the regular format, in which the performances themselves take up more of the time. In the applied lessons, I had to forgo collaborative issues entirely. The best work was done in other important areas such as pitch, rhythm, and  tuning, and language/style. Surprisingly, the video format actually helped the students who lack kinesthetic awareness. They were able to address body mapping issues in a much more immediate way. The international students also appreciated having the English transcript down the side on the recording. Sometimes my students just wanted to talk, which was fine too.

We have been reminded of how adaptable we can be, and must be, when we have far less control over our circumstances than we thought. While this is not a lesson any of us wanted to learn, there is value in having our complacency tested. I know that I will be overjoyed to be back in my studio at our beloved CFA whenever that becomes possible again. And it will.


Bayla Keyes Associate Professor of Music, Violin

In these terrifying times in which so many people are gravely ill or dying or dead, I have watched my students and taken inspiration from their bravery and perseverance—flying across the world to return home, but having to quarantine alone in a tiny bare room in China or Taiwan or Korea to make their final degree recital tapes; returning to their families to confront death and loss, still having to finish their classes online; and bearing up under the relentless sweep of this pandemic, believing that the world will survive and continue in some form, knowing that it will be their charge to bring life back to life.

Today in studio class, after hearing three fine live student performances on Zoom, I talked to my students about the role of music in my own life—how listening to Messiaen’s Theme and Variations brought out the tears that are always waiting behind my eyes right now, but hearing one of my students play the Beethoven Spring Sonata comforted me far more than words.  I talked about how many people before us have had to go through horrific wars and plagues, and yet life found a way to go on. I spoke of how we, and most especially the young people, will be the ones to rebuild the world and find the way forward, and we have to take strength from knowing that we shall do this relatively soon. We who survive will find joy again, and the music we make will comfort and enliven those who hear it.

Lastly, I spoke of how we as artists will be—must be—particularly sensitive to the pain of this time. As much as humanly possible, we need to allow ourselves to feel our emotions so that we can transmute and express them later. We will believe sometimes that we cannot bear the burden. We cannot help but be tired from the weight of our sorrow, so we must be exceptionally gentle to ourselves and the people we love. We must promise to give ourselves space to grieve even as we never lose sight of our hopes and dreams for each other and for the future.


Emily Ranii Academic Program Head, BU Summer Theatre Institute, Lecturer, Opera Institute

Four weeks in to online learning and we are all Zoom experts, or think we are, at the very least. So much so, that students have started to drift into class late again. That first week, we had students tuning in to test their Zoomability 15-30 minutes before class. Now, it is back to the trickle-in effect that is the hallmark of in-person classes. Perhaps there is comfort in some things being, in the words of David Byrne, “same as it ever was.”

This week I learned how essential guest visits are to the remote learning experience. For their weekly Met Opera Stream, Allison asked the students to watch two operas based on historical events–Dialogues of the Carmelites and Nixon in China. Then, she had the brilliant idea to invite Sharon Daniels to visit our class to talk about her experiences on the original production of Nixon in China as well as her stay with the Carmelite nuns in preparation for a production of Dialogues. Sharon graciously agreed. We all know guest visits add a certain buoyancy to the in-person classroom experience, but there is something about the relentless sameness of a quarantined world that sends the reception of a guest visit over the top. Not to mention Sharon’s infinite insight into these two works. I found even myself turning into the eager student asking questions in our all-too-brief session.

I aimed to pay Sharon’s generosity forward later in the week in my own guest visit to Clay Hopper’s Directing 1 class over in the School of Theatre. Geography is no longer a barrier here, only time. Here’s to a world in which we all drop in to each other’s classes, teaching for and learning from each other.


Justin D. Casinghino Lecturer in Music, Composition and Music Theory

I miss teaching in a classroom. I’ve always believed that a large part of effective teaching was performance, striving to deliver the material in a way that was as engaging and fun as it was informative. I love to use the whole teaching space, and I cherish full-class discussions, where ideas and perspectives I might never have thought of blossom. For me, this is such an integral part of what teaching is. What I have found over these four weeks is that our current remote teaching situation is an adequate means of educating in an emergency situation, but it is no replacement for sharing a space with a class—being and learning together. With that said, there are many positives that I will pull from this. It did deliver many new perspectives. For one-on-one meetings it actually offered an intimate and effective way to work on students’ papers and recording projects. I think many students felt a level of particular comfort to be in their own space as we worked on individual projects. I had already been offering some meetings in this fashion, and I could foresee expanding that. For certain questions, being able to connect in this way is certainly better than just email responses until the next time we can meet in person. I also think the videos I’ve made will continue to be helpful content, and I’ve discovered new resources to share with students. It has been a sometimes stressful, but also interesting experiment. I believe I’ve grown from it—but I can’t wait to back in a room full of students again, to engage them all and be able to look at the whole group at once, not seeing each students’ eyes pointing toward their camera. I can’t wait to be back in the room where we can learn and grow together—that is what I truly love about what we all do.

In other news, I was crushed to learn this week that BU’s summer programs, which includes the Boston University Tanglewood Institute, will not be running this summer. Of course I understand, but it’s sad that its coming to fruition. I would be in my fourteenth summer at BUTI, serving as the Director of the Electroacoustic Composition Workshop and the Young Artists’ Composition Program. The artistry and talent of our young students never fails to amaze and inspire me. I crave my time there in the summers: what I feel I receive from working with the students, the comradery of my fellow faculty, and the time there with my family, the only place my four daughters have ever spent a summer! I will miss it dearly and look forward to again being in a room with those students as well. Until then, I will finish out this semester in the best manner possible, making the most of it for my students by remembering that the truly important thing right now is that they feel they haven’t missed much in all of this. Then—I will joyfully await returning back to a classroom!


Gregory Melchor-Barz Director, School of Music; Professor of Music, Musicology/Ethnomusicology

Week Four! How did we get to this point? This not where many of us (faculty, students, staff) thought we would be as we enter the final few weeks of the spring semester. As I was grabbing the mail yesterday, I saw my elderly neighbor decorate an outdoor tree with plastic Easter eggs. I waved to her and shouted out, “Nice tree.” She paused before replying and finally she shouted back at me, “Happy Passover.” We both smiled and gave each other the thumbs-up sign. Human contact! A small victory.

I know we will all be back together again. But we will have changed, won’t we? What will it be like sitting in the Concert Hall listening to Rob Patterson play his clarinet LIVE? What will it be like listening to Eric Ruske teaching his students in the Marshall Room LIVE? What will it feel like to sit down at a table next to Michelle LaCourse in the Director’s Advisory Council LIVE? What will it feel like to bump into half the Composition faculty and Sharon Daniels LIVE at HoJo’s (or BoJo’s or BoPi’s or whatever that pizza place is called?! What will it feel like? It’ll feel grand. And…it’ll feel strange, won’t it?

I crave the day when I don’t send out URLs with musical links and then have faculty send me musical links in return. I crave the day when hallway conversations take the place of blog entries. I crave the day when we forget just what secret ingredient William Lumpkin puts into his quarantinis. But (yes, there’s always a but), I have connected in meaningful ways with many people—faculty and staff—during the past four weeks. We have gone through this experience (and we will continue to go through this experience) TOGETHER. What has clearly been confirmed for me is how much we all rely on the talent of our senior staff—Laura, Jill, Barb, Chris, Mike, Oshin—and their teams to not just “get us through” this experience, but more importantly to demonstrate how to do so with class and efficiency. I cannot get through my days—as most of you know—without the talents of Cami. We all rely on Gil, Ben, Megan, Meredith, Mary, Alex, Sharif, Xiaodan, and Danny. We ARE a great School of Music because of their talents, their commitment, and certainly their passion. So, while I crave the future, I also fully realize that these past weeks have allowed me to feel gratitude for the people in my life, the colleagues/friends, who believe in the CFA SoM, who continue to laugh at my dad jokes, and who want to want to make the world a better place through music.

 

  • Share this story

Share

School of Music Faculty Reflections: Remote Teaching, Week 4