I am certainly not, in this forum, going to launch a proposition of a new philosophy of music education (I need more experience and time for that!) – though it is hard to escape our history in this area – but I will offer a ‘map’. Over the years, there has been some very robust debate about the philosophical underpinnings of music education, with, historically, a ‘muddying of the philosophical waters’ by those on opposite sides of the same ‘river’ – the ‘aesthetic’ and ‘praxial’.[i] Though I have engaged with both of these philosophical positions, and see value in each, there seems to be some trouble in the translation of them to coherent and concrete practices in the classroom. Elizabeth Gould[ii] suggests that the aesthetic and praxial philosophies do not connect with, or are responsive to, the everyday lives of music teachers:

They require ways of thinking and being that exclude the music educators they claim to address – not because practitioners are incapable of understanding them, but because the philosophies do not address problems of material life and cannot account for difference in perspectives and values.

Her criticism is founded upon the manner by which these philosophies deal with the concepts of the nature and value of art and musical experience; rather, music education philosophy, she argues, should be directed towards the lived realities of music education. To help us negotiate the ‘river’ and sail between the opposing ‘banks’, it is helpful, as Heidi Westerlund and Lauri Väkevä[iii] propose, to conceive philosophy as a ‘map’ that can be interpreted and explored in different ways:

a map is supposed to be practical and in coherence with empirical facts, but it is by no means a detailed picture… nor does it replace the actual experiences of travelling.

Such a ‘map’ can provide a platform upon which the implications of different options can be discussed in a way that teachers are able to justify their decisions. This view dually accounts for the theoretically abstract as well as the practical without suggesting universal or prioristic rationalisation. The strength of such a position acknowledges that it is unlikely that any practice can ever be based on one coherent set of assumptions and that music might best not rest on any one philosophical position, but rather interactions between them.

My entire doctoral thesis wrestled with this translation of philosophy to practice; the result is less ‘philosophy’ and more ‘map’ – particularly, a pedagogical ‘map’, ready for a variety of explorations dependent on teacher, year level, the content, skills and processes being taught, and time and place… This ‘map’ contains five ‘areas’ for us to explore: praxis, agency, authenticity, fluency and social construct within pedagogical and educative interactions. I have written of this before, though they now have a degree of ‘testing’ behind them; though my study is complete, the ‘map’ remains useful, it provides a basis for the continual rethinking and reframing of my pedagogical practices in my own classroom:

1. The first area is praxis – the ‘doing’ of music – which relates to the ways in which we promote action in In this area, pedagogies promote the investigation of music through practical experience with it.

2. The second area is agency, which encourages us to employ pedagogies that foster students’ freedom to explore music, and in doing so, generate a sense of ownership over their learning and the music itself.

3. The areas of praxis and agency need to meet within the area of authenticity of experience. Pedagogies that promote authentic interactions with music are important in terms of connectivity to lived musical experiences. My use of the term authenticity is bound in authentic processes – less so the context within which music is made/found, after all we’re in a school!

4. A further area is the promotion of musical fluency. Pedagogies that support fluency view music as both an aural and symbolic form, and our work in strengthening the interactions between intuitive and analytical musical knowledge afford deeper levels of understanding and communicative ability.

5. Lastly, the area of social construct refers to the manner in which our pedagogies are situated and value the ways in which musical knowledge and understanding is constructed and transmitted between people through social structures.

The discussion of each area above hints to their complex interrelationship. There is a considerable overlap of each area – they are cumulative, interconnected, and symbiotic in nature – and they do not exist in isolation, nor can they be worked with independently. I posit that it is within the central space created by the overlay of these areas that we may make music meaningful for our students. When our practice enlivens each of these areas simultaneously, it offers students the opportunity to locate personally meaningful musical encounters through engaging experiences. There is also a degree of flexibility within this central space, and practices may be positioned in a manner that, whilst attending to each, may feature some of the conditions more prominently than others, so that they are responsive to context and content.

Hopefully, we are adrift between the philosophical ‘banks’, negotiating the ‘music education river’ with a useful ‘map’. Well, at least I am…!

[i] Start with the philosophies of Bennett Reimer and David Elliott before embarking on the criticisms and support from others! See: Elliott, D. J. (1995). Music matters: A new philosophy of music education. New York: Oxford University Press; and: Reimer, B. (2003). A philosophy of music education: Advancing the Vision (3rd ed.). New Jersey: Prentice Hall.

[ii] Gould, E. (2004). Philosophy in music education: Relevance, re-vision, renewal. In L. R. Bartell (Ed.), Questioning the music education paradigm (pp. xii – xvi). Canada: Canadian Music Educators’ Association.

[iii] Westerlund, H., & Väkevä, L. (2011). Who needs theory anyway? The relationship between theory and practice of music education in a philosophical outlook. British Journal of Music Education, 28(1), 37-49.

Image: Mitja Miklav