The Power Of Demystification

Demystification is an ironically long, complex and, yes, mystifying word given that its aim is to do the complete opposite, i.e. make something less complicated and more approachable. In terms particularly of set works, demystifying the texts you`re working with can be the difference between students engaging with the material (maybe even developing an appreciation for it, however grudging) and dismissing it as completely beyond their comprehension.

While, as a languages teacher, I have often come across this when approaching literary texts, I have found this to be especially acute when approaching music and musical pieces. Parents, educators and students alike will know full well how, shall we say, particular teenagers` musical tastes can be, if not how central it can be to their developing sense of identity.

As someone who went through both their own teenage years and GCSE and A-level music classes not all that long ago, I`ve seen as well how their reluctance to engage with music they don`t really "get" - whether it`s Beethoven, Boulez or the Beatles - is rarely mollified by exhortations such as, "But it`s a classic, you can`t not like it!" or "But it`s essential to your understanding as a musician!".

Or, perhaps worst of all, "Well, you have to know it for the exam, so - tough.'

Bottom line: if they can`t find their own way in, they`re less likely to respond to a difficult piece in a manner that goes much beyond learning any criteria by heart that may crop up or gain marks in the exam. I`ve seen this in particular with mid- or late twentieth-century compositions, whose experimental nature often goes far beyond students` musical knowledge and familiarity.

Yet classroom teachers often don`t have the time to delve as deeply into pieces as perhaps they might feel is necessary& timetables and learning objectives are so rigidly planned that spending too long on one set work risks the whole class falling behind for the rest of the term. While I`m aware of how much of a luxury this is for me as a 1-to-1 tutor, it`s also something that makes my work especially rewarding, as I can develop this "ground-up" understanding that breaks a piece or text down into parts that the student can then put back together.

I remember, for instance, discussing Kaija Saariaho`s Petals for solo cello and electronics with an A-level music group: a beautiful piece, but somewhat impenetrable (even with a score) if you can`t perceive or pick up what it`s doing and how it works as a composition. My students said as much, telling me at the outset how much they had hated studying it and how much it sounded to them like meaningless noise.

With the time, however, to talk through Saariaho`s use of electronics and extended techniques to transform the single instrument into a vast and resonant soundscape, and how these were in fact variations on the older compositional techniques with which they were more familiar, it gradually - and visibly - began to make more sense. While I can`t necessarily say I converted them to the cause, I like to think I at least helped to raise their appreciation of the piece or, if nothing else, to lower their antipathy towards it.

What I`ve found is that enabling this kind of "building blocks"-style understanding, even to a very basic extent, can provide students with essential context and help them join the dots between the pieces or texts they are studying and the content they are required to learn and regurgitate in order to discuss it. While it may not necessarily gain extra marks in the exam, what it does do is give the student a sense of confidence in what they`re writing and arguing, knowing that this is a conclusion they`ve &reached and understood by themselves.