Dear Colleagues,

At a recent residency in the Midwest, I was caught red-handed (or more accurately, "red-kneed") by a feisty eighth grade violinist.

It was the first day, and many of the students were sitting slumped down in their chairs, or had their legs crossed, or their shoulders hunched over. I asked them my standard question: were they aware of the messages they were sending when they sat like that? This question usually produces blank looks, so I gave an example of what I meant.

Asking their conductor to introduce me again, I walked out of the rehearsal room, then returned, looking at my watch, then at the clock on the wall, then at my cell to see if I had any messages. With a sigh, I turned off the phone, plopped down into the conductor's chair, looked at my watch again, and said, "So what're you working on?"

The students got the messages loud and clear: I didn't care; I didn't want to be there; It was just a "kiddies gig" to me; I was just doing it for the money.

After asking their conductor to introduce me one final time, I then made a different kind of entrance. Bounding into the room wreathed in smiles, I jumped into the chair, placed my score and pencil on the stand with purpose, and beamed at the students as I bubbled, "Let's start with the Mozart!"

The young musicians got those messages, too: I was glad to be there, cared enough to be prepared, and loved what I was doing.

Not only did they get the messages; they also understood how the different messages made them feel.

I then asked about the messages they were sending themselves. While puzzled again (after all, who thinks about such things?) they were, nevertheless, closely attentive since they knew that this bizarre line of questioning had to do with them, personally. And nothing attracts their attention so powerfully.

"What messages do those crossed legs tell you? Be alert and listen carefully?" I asked. I suggested that their legs were saying, instead, " Yo! You up there! Relax! Take it easy! Don't work hard - it's only music!" And because our unconscious always says, "Yes." that's how they'll be.

The next question was, "Does hunching down tell your mind that your answer to the conductor's question is worth listening to...and you'll probably be right?" Followed by, "When you slump down in your chair, aren't you telling yourself that you're not so important, and that it doesn't really matter if you're there or not?"

The minds they left outside the rehearsal room now started working. Backs straightened (even without my saying the "P" word - Posture), and legs uncrossed. Asking the same question throughout the rehearsal - "Are you sending yourselves the right message?" brought backs and legs that had reverted...into an aware position quickly. Certainly more quickly than if I had barked, "Sit up!" "Uncross your legs!"

Now straighter, more attentive, and more involved because the rehearsal was focused on them rather than the music, they played far better than if I corrected ensemble, intonation, and rhythm.

They had understood the vital concept: we were rehearsing attention, rather than the music.

I was relaxed, happy, and feeling good about it all, but couldn't ignore the feisty violinist who raised his hand while we were playing...and wouldn't put it down. Eventually, I stopped and asked what was the matter. He could barely contain his pleasure at pointing out that I had crossed my legs!

What could I do but thank him for pointing out my unconsciousness, and apologize for sending the message, "Do what I say, not what I do." Fortunately, it was a nice moment that brought us all closer, and actually empowered the students so they played even better!

If we send mixed messages consistently, our credibility and effectiveness are subtly (but very effectively) undermined. Concentration, involvement, and performance are compromised, an ensemble is unlikely to realize its potential, and its conductor will rarely understand why.

Let's be careful about the messages that we're sending our ensembles. And since we may not always have a feisty violinist, alto sax player, or soprano in our group to remind us, why not consider asking our ensemble to help us out - what a brave, empowering act that would be!

Common mixed messages to guard against include the conductor asking the ensemble to:

• watch, but his/her own eyes are mostly on the score;
• mark their parts, but beginning to conduct before everyone has... or not marking his/her own part;
• play or sing a stronger forte in a soft voice, or a softer piano in a loud voice;
• play or sing more expressively in a voice that lacks enthusiasm;
• play or sing a certain dynamic, but not repeating the passage until it is;
• listen to each other more carefully, but not taking the time to answer students' (relevant) questions seriously;
  and, of course,
• Asking the ensemble to sit up straight, but the conductor's legs are crossed!