Desirable difficulties

As we continue exploring what helps and what hinders learning, and how we can structure our practices in a way that leads to actual improvements, we'll look here at the concept of desirable difficulties. 

I discussed desirable difficulties a bit in the first blog of the semester. As a reminder, cognitive psychologist Robert Bjork coined the phrase to describe tasks that require a considerable but desirable amount of effort, which improves long-term performance. (Lynn Helding has further explored the concept and applied it to the work musicians do.) In voice, we may consider desirable difficulties as exercises that take you just beyond what you are capable of doing. If we only practice the skills that we have already mastered (those skills which, for us, are in the "automatic stage" of motor learning) then we are not building skill. We are just solidifying those skills, which is also important. 

So, what could desirable difficulties look like in our practice sessions? Here is one example: 

Let's say you are trying to increase your vocal agility in order to sing passages of fast-moving notes, like riffs. First, remove any distractions that may compete for your attention. As discussed in the first two blogs of the semester, effort and undivided attention are needed for learning to occur. 

Second, decide on a pattern and a vowel, like singing a 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1 scale on an "ah." Sing through it a few times while giving specific attention to what you feel, noticing where you are physically engaged and where you are released. 

Third, sing the exercise again but following along with a metronome set to a comfortable pace (there are lots of free metronome apps you can download). Gradually, increase the tempo. Sing five or six repetitions at each new tempo. Continue checking in with where you feel engaged and where you feel released. Be intentional about maintaining freedom at the places where you are prone to adding unnecessary tension (the jaw, the neck, etc.). 

Lastly, continue increasing the speed until you get to a point where you can get through some of the repetitions cleanly but others are not as clean. Or maybe some of the passage is clean (maybe just the ascending part) but the whole thing is not yet spot on. Notice the metronome marking where this happens. This is just beyond the edge of your capabilities and is your new "desirable difficulty." 

As you come back to agility work in successive practice sessions, make sure that you work back up to that same metronome marking. If you practice this regularly, with focus and attention, you should start to see some improvement. Once you do, you can increase the speed again to the point where you are sometimes clean and sometimes not. That will then become your new desirable difficulty to work toward. 

Of course, then you can try the same thing on different vowels or on a different pattern (a nine-note scale, a riff pattern like 1-2-3-5-6-5-3-2-1, etc.). Keep a record of how far you get each time so that you can continue to measure your progress. If you do this consistently for a couple of weeks and don't see progress, bring that exercise to your lesson or to class and we can troubleshoot together. 

Since our bodies naturally fluctuate from day to day (and at different times throughout the day), you may feel progress on some days and not feel any progress on other days. By using an external device like a metronome, however, you will get consistent, objective feedback and will be working toward a set standard. This will take the guesswork out of the process since you will know exactly what progress you are making. 

A little creative thought can help you develop your own exercises designed to increase your range, develop greater dynamic capabilities, expand your ability to sustain long breath phrases, or any of the other vocal goals you set for yourselves in week one of the semester. 

For your comments this week, look back at one of your week one goals and discuss how you can introduce systematic desirable difficulties into your practice. 

Now go practice.

Paying attention and spending time

It feels like everyone and everything is vying for our attention these days. Our eyes and ears are constantly barraged with competing signs, signals, and advertisements trying to pull our focus off of what we're intending to do so that we'll engage with something else. Most of the time, it's because a company wants us to notice their product so that we'll throw our hard-earned cash their way. In many ways, then, it can be financially costly to allow our attention to wander. But it may cost us even more than that. 

Professor Lynn Helding reminds us in her book that there is a reason we use the phrase "pay attention." It costs us our focus, our brain space, our time, and our emotional capital. When we "spend" our time paying attention to something, we are essentially investing in that thing. Therefore, when we are attempting to focus on a task and then find ourselves being distracted, we may be inadvertently and complacently investing our attention in something we don't actually value. 

The good news is that the ability to focus our attention is something we can train through practice. And it is crucial that we all practice this skill. One reason is that distractions hinder our ability to learn. Another reason is that we are in a profession that is built on the assumption that people will pay money to sit in a dark room for a few hours at a time in order to watch a play or a musical. If our society loses its collective ability to do this, we're all out of jobs! 

Even though we can train our ability to pay attention, the bad news (once again, a la Lynn Helding) is that our attention is easily hijacked. And guess what tool is able to hijack our attention more than any other? Our phones (big surprise). Those brightly-colored apps, the way the phone is just slightly too big to fit in our pockets (so we have to keep it in our hands), the Pavlovian notification sounds that cause us to unconsciously reach for the device—they're all designed to attract and keep our attention. 

So how on earth are you supposed to get serious practicing done when you have such a distracting little machine on your person at all times? 

Turn it off. 

Don't just silence it. Don't just set it to airplane mode. Turn. It. Off. Give yourself a fighting chance by eliminating the temptation entirely. In the last blog, we identified cognitive effort as one of the prerequisites for learning. Another word for cognitive effort is concentration. Concentration is easily broken by distraction. You will have greater concentration (i.e., greater ability for sustained cognitive effort) (i.e., greater opportunity for true learning to occur) when you eliminate distractions. 

Your attention is valuable. It's not just valuable because lots of people, products, and companies want it. It's valuable because what you choose to give your attention to is an indication of what YOU value. Spend it wisely. 

Now go practice. 

Prerequisites for Learning

Welcome (back)! Here we go...

Last year, I wrote a blog about the Prerequisites for Advanced Singing, where I identified four elements that I feel are necessary for moving past the beginning levels of singing. 

In this blog, we'll explore what may be considered the prerequisites for learning, as outlined by Prof. Lynn Helding of the University of Southern California. Helding is a pioneer in bringing cognitive research and motor learning theories into the way we teach singing. She has written a hugely influential book, called The Musician's Mind, that I have quoted in previous blogs. In her estimation, there are four components that should be present if true learning is to occur: volition, desire, effort, and sleep. 

Volition essentially means that it is your choice to participate. You are the one choosing to take voice lessons, you are choosing to practice, you are choosing to do what is necessary to improve. If you are only studying singing because it's a requirement of your major or because some authority figure is making you do it, you are not likely to learn much. 

Desire means that you truly want to improve. That may seem obvious—who doesn't want to be a better singer? But, do you want it enough to actually practice? If not, then you have a dream, not a desire. I dream of being a great pianist, but I don't desire to sit my butt on a piano bench to practice for hours a day. The famously witty Oscar Wilde once said, “To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.” I wouldn't exactly call that desire. 

Effort is also a necessary component. To put it bluntly, if something is easy, you’re probably not learning. Going through the motions of vocal exercises may keep your voice conditioned, but it is not going to lead to added skill. Let me be clear, we're talking here about mental effort, not about extraneous muscle engagement. Helding builds on cognitive psychologist Robert Bjork's idea of "desirable difficulties," which are described as tasks that require a considerable but desirable amount of effort, thereby improving long-term performance. Your singing regimen should include some tasks that you already perform well (the repetition of which will continue to solidify those skills) and lots of other tasks that you are just on the edge of being able to perform, or perform consistently (which will keep you stretching your abilities). 

Sleep is the last prerequisite necessary in order for learning to occur. In a previous blog about the importance of sleep, I admitted that it may not be helpful to lecture students about getting enough sleep when many of you have class all day, rehearsals or work all evening, and THEN you're expected to do homework, write papers, oh, and just live your life! Still, sleep is crucial for both health and for learning. In her book, Helding presents various theories that suggest sleep makes us more able to pay attention, encourages "synaptic pruning" (essentially cleaning the brain of weak neuronal connections so the stronger connections can thrive), and helps short-term memories become long-term memories (also called "memory consolidation," which is the cognitive term for actual learning). (The Musician's Mind, p.84-86)

As we kick off the semester, you may consider briefly going through this checklist each time you practice. Remind yourself that you are choosing to sing, that you genuinely want to get better, and that you are willing to challenge yourself in order to improve. Then commit to giving your body, mind, and voice the proper sleep needed to flourish and excel. 

In the comments below, type two or three goals you have for your singing this semester and this school year. You may want to consult this blog and this blog as reminders of what to keep in mind when establishing effective goals.

I'm so happy to be back at it and am looking forward to working with all of you. Let's have a great year!

Now go practice. 

Keep moving

Earlier this year, when I was out skiing, I saw this sign at the top of one of the lifts:

This hard-to-miss announcement serves as a reminder to quickly unload from the lift and move out of the way, since there is probably another chair full of skiers or snowboarders coming up right behind you. No one wants to be the reason they have to pause the entire lift because you couldn't get out of the way fast enough (been there—embarrassing). 

Given my penchant for searching for deeper meaning in the mundane, I wondered if this sign could be "a sign" of something more. 

The high school where I taught for six years has a very successful football program. Every year they go deep in the playoffs and, three times during my years there, they won state championships. One of my former teacher colleagues would always congratulate the team members he had in class after their title runs, telling them that they had accomplished something that few people get to experience. Then he would say to them, "Please, please don't make this the highlight of your life." 

In the moment, those comments could seem to be disparaging the team's achievements. His intention, however, was to guard these students against believing that any future accomplishments that do not receive as much praise or hoopla must be less important. In my experience, the most meaningful accomplishments often receive very little recognition. 

Those of you who are graduating soon have had an unusual (to say the least) ending to your collegiate career. It would be easy to look back and feel that you were cheated out of the "college experience" you were seeking. I believe that feeling, which is understandable, is partly because society has put so much pressure on making these years "the best years of your life." 

Honestly, the big lie in that expectation is that there is no one way you are "supposed" to do college. You have not had a lesser college experience if you had to work full-time in order to pay for school. Or if you lived at home. Or if the people you met here don't turn out to be lifelong friends. Or even if you had to take 14 months of online classes. That may have made your experience more exhausting, more taxing, or more challenging, but it doesn't invalidate what you gained during this time and it does not devalue your diploma. 

One of my main advisors during my doctoral studies once told me, "The only thing that earning a doctorate proves is that you are capable of taking on a long, arduous task and seeing it through to the finish." At the time, I didn't feel like that was the most robust endorsement of my decision to spend all of that time and money earning another degree. But, to a certain extent, he was exactly right. One of the most important things I learned during those years is that I AM capable of taking on long, arduous tasks and seeing them through to the finish. That's a skill I have definitely put into practice over the 12 years since I graduated (and a skill I have absolutely needed over the last 14 months). Knowing that I have accomplished difficult things in the past certainly helps me believe that I can make it through any current challenges. 

Going back to that ski lift, one thing I eventually picked up on is that when you get to the top, if you lean forward just enough on the chair, you get a little boost of momentum that can propel you forward. If you are sitting too far back, you just sort of plop on the ground and then you have to work a lot harder to get going. 

Seniors, before much longer, you'll be getting off the lift. You will have faced a long and arduous task that was made even more difficult due to the pandemic. You have persevered. You may not feel like you have thrived, but you have endured and you have made it to the finish. I promise, you will need those skills again in the future. 

It has been an honor to have been part of your journey at the University of Utah. Current circumstances may mean that there will be less fanfare this year than graduations typically receive. Nevertheless, I am celebrating your achievements and hope they will serve as a boost into whatever you choose to do next. 

Do not stop here. Keep moving. 

Love,

-brian

Motivation: The Power of Praise

When I was a beginning voice teacher, some of my mentors and colleagues warned me to look out for students who only want to be told over and over again how great they are. These students, they said, grew up in the everyone-gets-a-trophy era where they supposedly learned to take any vocal corrections as personal affronts and have become addicted to praise. 

Memories like these and my ongoing explorations of how cognitive science has been informing how we teach voice have caused me lately to reevaluate the word "praise." Having just passed Easter, my immediate thought is to put the word in a religious context where it is often paired as "praise and worship." Although similar, these words are actually defined quite differently. 

Most definitions of "worship" relate to reverence or homage paid to a deity or higher power. We may have deep respect for some of our fellow humans, but we generally don't worship each other. Formal definitions of "praise," however, list some combination of synonyms we use to direct our admiration, commendation, laudation, or adulation toward another person. Intriguingly, of the several definitions of "praise" that I found, every one of them included one word in particular: approval. When we offer someone praise, we are essentially offering them our approval. 

So, let's define approval. According to Oxford Languages, approval is the belief that someone or something is good or acceptable. I think there's a lot to unpack in this definition as it relates to our singing.

For years now, I've been trying to avoid using words like "good" and "bad" in my teaching, although I still catch myself saying them sometimes. I just don't like how they are so tinged with judgment. When it comes to training singers, so many people equate "good" singing with a beautiful sound. But often, in musical theatre, the most expressive or appropriate sound for a given situation may not be particularly beautiful (depending, of course, on how we decide to define "beautiful"). From a technical standpoint, I prefer to focus on whether or not someone's singing is free, efficient, or low-effort rather than "good." In this regard, we can also consider classifying singing as successful or unsuccessful if we simply ask, "Did I accomplish what I was trying to do?" In this case, even unsuccessful singing can still be beautiful and expressive. But if we are trying to measure progress in singing technique, we can benefit from focusing on how consistently we are accomplishing what we are intending.

Be that as it may, what if, when we are singing, we are seeking approval in the form of being "acceptable," as the definition says? Acceptable could just mean "good enough," as in, "Was that good?" "No, but it was acceptable." Some days, depending on what challenges we are facing, acceptable might actually be quite an accomplishment. By this definition, however, acceptable may just be a lower version of "good" and can be similarly difficult to accurately assess. 

But I also think that sometimes when we are seeking approval for our singing, we're not just seeking to be acceptable. Rather, we are seeking to be accepted. In other words, we're seeking belonging. 

Belonging, of course, is a deep human need. And I would imagine that singing and theatre have helped us all find communities in which we sense we belong, feel valued, and are recognized for who we are. I would argue that those are all "good" things. 

However, we should also consider this quote from my colleague Prof. Jeremy Sortore at Utah Valley University. He once wrote: 

"Therapy is a great idea. Acting is not therapy. Both of these things have great value, but they should not be confused for one another. If you’re exasperated by preparation and only interested in performance, you might be using acting as therapy."

Now read that quote again and replace the word "acting" with "singing." 

So here's what this comes down to (if you will allow my amateur psychologizing to go on for just a bit longer!). When we are singing, it is natural for us to seek approval. We all want and need approval insofar as we all need to feel accepted and we all need to feel that we are good. 

But hopefully you can feel that you are good and worthy of being accepted because you are good and you are worthy of being accepted. Period. This has nothing to do with how you sing; it has everything to do with who you are and the right you have to exist and to be valued. 

Let's return once more to the definition of approval, but this time I'm going to italicize different words: approval is the belief that someone or something is good or acceptable. 

Consider this: When you are seeking approval for your singing, which is natural and healthy, are you wanting to believe that your singing is good and acceptable or that you are good and acceptable? Because sometimes I think we interpret praise (or the lack thereof) of our singing as praise (or the lack thereof) of our selves. 

Praise of our singing can be an important part of our training—we all need it from time to time. Praise helps us know we are improving and that what we are doing is effective. Praise also helps us know whether we are meeting a standard of success by earning the approval of our teachers, our peers, and our audiences, and that we are meeting our own performance benchmarks, which can be a useful indication as to whether or not we are on track in building a career. 

Seeking this kind of praise may just mean you are driven to meet the expectations necessary for success. But, as a mentor once told me, "You are not your voice." If you are seeking external approval to validate your own self-worth, there may never be enough praise to meet that need.  

The good news, however, is that even on days when your singing feels like it's not earning anyone's seal of approval, you can still know that the person doing the singing is already good and accepted and that those traits can exist independent of any vocal sounds you are able to create.

Praise be. 

Now go practice. 

Motivation: Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive

A few years ago, a new student was joining my studio and, in our first lesson together, we were deciding which elements of her training should be our first areas of focus. To help identify this, I asked, "What are the aspects of your singing that you love the most?" She seemed confused and asked for clarification. I said, "Well, what do you think you do really well vocally? What parts of your voice do you feel really good about?" She paused for a minute and said, "I guess I don't really know. No one has ever asked me that before." 

To be honest, her answer shocked me. And then it made me sad. This student had been studying singing most of her life and had even completed a musical theatre degree, but no one had ever asked her what she likes about her voice. The more I thought about it, however, the less and less surprised I was. 

I think there is a culture in musical theatre training that perpetuates the belief that you aren't getting your money's worth unless you are being constantly barraged with critiques and criticisms. Instructors may pass out a compliment here and there, but we've been made to think that the real work gets done when we are zeroing in on your flaws rather than building on your successes. 

There are a couple of problems with this. First, it can be discouraging and demoralizing to students if all they ever hear are criticisms. Like the student above, it can give the impression that someone's singing is mostly "wrong," when it may actually be quite proficient. Second, it's just bad pedagogy. 

My friend and colleague at the National Center for Voice and Speech, Dr. Lynn Maxfield, wrote an article for the Journal of Singing in 2019 titled "Incorporating Motivation Into Your Model of Motor Learning." In the article, he commented on the instruction (feedback) that teachers give to their students during voice lessons. He writes, 

"Feedback should focus on summarizing the successes of the learner, rather than drawing attention to failures. While this seems elementary on the surface, I would wager that most of us are listening to our singers with an ear to identifying and correcting what is going wrong. All too often, we then verbalize that list of what is going wrong back to our students as our primary mode of feedback." 

He points out that one of the more popular vocal pedagogy books when he and I were in school is called The Diagnosis and Correction of Vocal Faults. It's no wonder so many teachers feel it is their primary job just to call attention to "faults." But this approach is particularly useless if teachers do not also offer "corrections" by outlining a process toward improvement, complete with measurable goals that will indicate whether or not students are on the right path of skill development. 

Critique without correction is not education. 

Imagine if you took your car into the shop and the mechanic gave you a long list of things that aren't working with the vehicle, but when you asked about repairs you were told, "I'm just here to point out what's broken. You'll have to figure out how to fix it yourself." 

But focusing on what's broken may not be all that beneficial, anyway. As Maxfield describes, several studies indicate that learning improves when teachers focus their instruction on positive outcomes while reducing their feedback following poor outcomes. In other words, students learn better when teachers reinforce their positive attempts rather than pointing out their failed attempts. In one of those studies, positive feedback not only improved learning, but also served to increase the students' confidence and decrease their anxiety. 

It's logical to assume that this approach can work in your practice sessions, as well. Do you tend to pursue what is working or do you dwell on what is not working? If you try something five times and only get the intended result once, do you pick apart the negative attempts or do you focus on recreating the one that went well? 

As it says in Johnny Mercer and Harold Arlen's famous song, studio teachers may facilitate learning when we "accentuate the positive." Students may never entirely "eliminate the negative," but they may make more progress if they can shift their focus in a way that allows them to "latch on to the affirmative." 

Now go practice. 

Deficiency Motivation vs Growth Motivation ("It's supposed to be hard.")

There is one more motivation-related theme found in Basics of Vocal Pedagogy by Clifton Ware that I'd like to bring up. Ware discusses humanist psychologist Abraham Maslow's theory that there are two kinds of motivation: motivation to satisfy a deficiency and motivation towards growth. Ware writes, 

"In deficiency motivation individuals seek to restore their physical and/or psychological equilibrium, while in growth motivation individuals seek to surpass what they have been and done in the past." (27)

These motivations then inspire actions that are tension-reducing or tension-increasing. As one author describes, "Deficiency motivation is an aversive state of tension that makes the person seek the goals that will fulfill the need, and thus reduce the tension."

The opposite occurs, however, in growth motivation. As Ware writes, "Growth-motivated persons usually welcome uncertainty, increased stress, and even pain to reach worthwhile goals in the process of fulfilling their potential." (27)

Of course, in singing training, one of the primary goals is to build efficiency in part by reducing unnecessary tension. But the kind of pain, stress, and tension Ware describes as part of growth-motivation are the natural "growing pains" of learning and skill development. This may include the discomfort of regularly extending the mental effort and concentration needed to master a skill. It may be the disappointment of prioritizing daily practice when there are other things you'd rather be doing. It also means leaning into the psychological stress of performing in front of others. 

Despite the negative-sounding name, deficiency motivation is not at all a bad thing. I would imagine we have all used singing as a way to restore "physical and/or psychological equilibrium." In fact, I would guess that's what led most of us to pursue vocal studies—because singing, in many ways, allows us to feel most ourselves, brings us comfort, and sets us right again. To be honest, many of us who have given our lives to the serious study of the voice probably don't use singing for that purpose often enough. 

Ware points this out, as well. As he says, "Singing for enjoyment is as valid as any motivation, especially if musical activity makes one's life more whole." On the other hand, he continues, "the realization of one's highest potential in any endeavor will require an inquisitive nature and openness to new experiences, ideas, emotions, and missions...Those who have serious vocal aspirations are typically oriented more toward growth-motivation objectives." (27)

A couple of blogs ago, as a way to find motivation, we entertained asking ourselves the questions, "Do I really want this?" and "Am I willing, TODAY, to do the work that will lead me to become a more skilled and expressive singer, even if I don't see those results immediately?" 

Based on Maslow's theories, we may go even further and ask, "Am I willing to welcome uncertainty, increased stress, and discomfort in order to reach my goals and fulfill my potential?"

One of the greatest baseball movies of all time is A League of Their Own (that's not my opinion—that's just fact), which chronicles the beginning of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. In one of the movie's most iconic scenes, catcher Dottie Hinson (Geena Davis) is considering quitting the team, believing that the demands of the sport have become too hard. Coach Jimmie Dugan (Tom Hanks) tells her, "It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great."

We all know that achieving greatness is not easy. But it takes a higher level of commitment to truly embrace the difficult aspects of the process, knowing that what is hard is what helps make us great. 

Now go practice. 

Dottie (Geena) and Jimmy (Tom)