"Trust is the glue of life."
-Stephen R. Covey
We can all recognize the inherent value in following through with stated plans. We can trust those who fulfill their promises, while we lose confidence in those who don't. However, sometimes the prospect of a better outcome than originally conceived, or the perceived dangers of our current trajectory, can tempt us to change horses midstream. In this type of scenario, isn't it in everyone's best interest to alter the plan, with the goal of the immediate short-term payoff?
The answer is no. When you don't follow through, even for sound reasons, you damage your own credibility.
At the beginning of your tenure with an ensemble, the choristers can base their trust on your title alone. As weeks and months go by, however, you either build that trust or erode it, depending on the extent to which your words align with your actions.
**
KRISHAN: I had an experience with my church choir one year involving Daniel Kantor's "Night of Silence / Silent Night" arrangement. It was my first semester with the ensemble, and building trust was paramount at that stage in our relationship. We had been rehearsing this arrangement for weeks, and we agreed on a very specific format for how the verses would be split between the men and the women of the choir. During our first Christmas Eve liturgy, the congregation spontaneously began singing along with "Silent Night" when we got to the point in Kantor's arrangement where the melody is prominent. After that first liturgy, a chorister asked me: "Wouldn't it make sense to reconfigure our arrangement for the next liturgy since the congregation is singing along so enthusiastically to the Silent Night melody? Perhaps we should sing all 3 verses of Silent Night, instead of just the one?" I recognized that this was indeed an excellent idea. I nevertheless rejected it.
In rehearsal, I had diligently prepared my choir to perform the arrangement in a very specific way. Regardless of the potential benefits, to change what we had rehearsed would be equivalent to not doing what I said I was going to do. In making the decision not to change the arrangement, I had to reconcile with the fact that the liturgy may very well have been more vibrant and participatory had we incorporated this simple last-minute change. Nevertheless, I felt strongly that I needed to prioritize the trust-building process over immediate artistic benefit at that point; I needed the ensemble to be able to rely on the fact that the performance would match the rehearsal.
KIRSTEN: In the second year of a high school chamber choir that I had recently founded, I programmed Jaako Mäntyjärvi's setting of Double, Double, Toil and Trouble. Excited that I now had enough tenor and bass participant to rehearse four-part men's divisi, I introduced the piece with enthusiasm to my young choir. They quickly fell in love with it, and began working diligently through the difficult, changing harmonic structure and asymmetrical meters.
After rehearsing the piece for many weeks, I began to feel discouraged and frustrated at the fact that it simply wasn't coming together. I made the decision that rehearsal time would be most effective spent elsewhere, and I ultimately ended up cutting the piece from the program entirely. Many of my students were furstrated by my decision, feeling that their hard work on a piece that they had grown to love was wasted.
I had excellent reasons for making this decision. I wanted to ensure that my choir performed at their best. Had I allowed this piece to be performed, the caliber of performance would not match the rest of the program. The rehearsal tie that I had saved by cutting Double, Double, Toil and Trouble resulted in a higher level performance overall.
However, in retrospect, I now believe that the best decision would have been to follow through with my original programming, even if it had involved a weak spot on the program. When I came to this decsision, there were still several weeks left until concert time; it's quite possible that in the span of those few weeks the piece would hav ecome together well enough for performance. Regardless of whether it did or didn't, by changing the game plan after devoting significant rehearsal time to the piece, I diminished the choir's ability to invest in my programming. My actions communicated to them that when a piece of music is too challenging, there is always the option of quitting. Although I had sound reason for making that decision, it ultimately misrepresented my core values.
**
We challenge you in this new year to take a big-picture view of the relationship that you'd like to build with your ensemble. The long-term growth of your ensemble is inextricably linked to their ability to invest in your consistency.
-Stephen R. Covey
We can all recognize the inherent value in following through with stated plans. We can trust those who fulfill their promises, while we lose confidence in those who don't. However, sometimes the prospect of a better outcome than originally conceived, or the perceived dangers of our current trajectory, can tempt us to change horses midstream. In this type of scenario, isn't it in everyone's best interest to alter the plan, with the goal of the immediate short-term payoff?
The answer is no. When you don't follow through, even for sound reasons, you damage your own credibility.
At the beginning of your tenure with an ensemble, the choristers can base their trust on your title alone. As weeks and months go by, however, you either build that trust or erode it, depending on the extent to which your words align with your actions.
**
KRISHAN: I had an experience with my church choir one year involving Daniel Kantor's "Night of Silence / Silent Night" arrangement. It was my first semester with the ensemble, and building trust was paramount at that stage in our relationship. We had been rehearsing this arrangement for weeks, and we agreed on a very specific format for how the verses would be split between the men and the women of the choir. During our first Christmas Eve liturgy, the congregation spontaneously began singing along with "Silent Night" when we got to the point in Kantor's arrangement where the melody is prominent. After that first liturgy, a chorister asked me: "Wouldn't it make sense to reconfigure our arrangement for the next liturgy since the congregation is singing along so enthusiastically to the Silent Night melody? Perhaps we should sing all 3 verses of Silent Night, instead of just the one?" I recognized that this was indeed an excellent idea. I nevertheless rejected it.
In rehearsal, I had diligently prepared my choir to perform the arrangement in a very specific way. Regardless of the potential benefits, to change what we had rehearsed would be equivalent to not doing what I said I was going to do. In making the decision not to change the arrangement, I had to reconcile with the fact that the liturgy may very well have been more vibrant and participatory had we incorporated this simple last-minute change. Nevertheless, I felt strongly that I needed to prioritize the trust-building process over immediate artistic benefit at that point; I needed the ensemble to be able to rely on the fact that the performance would match the rehearsal.
KIRSTEN: In the second year of a high school chamber choir that I had recently founded, I programmed Jaako Mäntyjärvi's setting of Double, Double, Toil and Trouble. Excited that I now had enough tenor and bass participant to rehearse four-part men's divisi, I introduced the piece with enthusiasm to my young choir. They quickly fell in love with it, and began working diligently through the difficult, changing harmonic structure and asymmetrical meters.
After rehearsing the piece for many weeks, I began to feel discouraged and frustrated at the fact that it simply wasn't coming together. I made the decision that rehearsal time would be most effective spent elsewhere, and I ultimately ended up cutting the piece from the program entirely. Many of my students were furstrated by my decision, feeling that their hard work on a piece that they had grown to love was wasted.
I had excellent reasons for making this decision. I wanted to ensure that my choir performed at their best. Had I allowed this piece to be performed, the caliber of performance would not match the rest of the program. The rehearsal tie that I had saved by cutting Double, Double, Toil and Trouble resulted in a higher level performance overall.
However, in retrospect, I now believe that the best decision would have been to follow through with my original programming, even if it had involved a weak spot on the program. When I came to this decsision, there were still several weeks left until concert time; it's quite possible that in the span of those few weeks the piece would hav ecome together well enough for performance. Regardless of whether it did or didn't, by changing the game plan after devoting significant rehearsal time to the piece, I diminished the choir's ability to invest in my programming. My actions communicated to them that when a piece of music is too challenging, there is always the option of quitting. Although I had sound reason for making that decision, it ultimately misrepresented my core values.
**
We challenge you in this new year to take a big-picture view of the relationship that you'd like to build with your ensemble. The long-term growth of your ensemble is inextricably linked to their ability to invest in your consistency.
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