Surely, the time is nigh.
At some point, we’re going to run out of music. The chords, progressions, riffs, beats, and melodies will all be used up. There won’t be silence, per se, but we’ll have heard the last new music meant for our ears. I suppose, then, we’ll just start over.
The funny thing about music is its slavery to itself. Everything is derivative, each generation owing to another’s brilliance and transcendence. Barguments over the greatest bands ever pay homage to those whose imprint is timeless (Stones, Zeppelin, Beatles) and to those who changed the course of the industry (Queen, Pearl Jam, Wu Tang Clan). Those same conversations often spill over into nostalgia and reverie, the kind that gives you goosebumps and puts you squarely in the arena with the people closest to you when you saw that band live.
We pine for the days when and for the kind-of-frontman who, and then we put on our favorite tracks, on whatever device is nearest to us, and disappear with the music. But we don’t think about the music ending. We don’t perspire as a fictional use by date approaches. We don’t throw our hands up and prepare for the silence.
We keep listening.
Because the music isn’t going to die.
Neither is public education.
The cyclical nature of music is mirrored by the cyclical nature of education. Combining a perpetual been-there-done-that old guard with a have-you-tried-this-new-thing-called excitement, each field provides a significant and momentous choice: accept that change is coming or deny its existence.
From Twitter to Flipgrid, Buncee to Ted-Ed, our newest teachers are experiencing and changing education in ways many of us couldn’t have imagined as recently as ten years ago.
Connected educators need only to pick up their phone or open their laptop to access relevant, real-time PD.
Children around the world are meeting and learning with and from each other through Skype or Flipgrid.
Professors are building social media into their pre-service teaching curriculum.
Leadership programs are espousing the importance of self-care and social-emotional learning.
So whether you’re dusting off that old 8-track or scrolling through the new releases on Spotify, the music will always be there, simultaneously changing and remaining the same.
Just like us.