When I started my musical journey I would write little songs while driving in the back seat of the car. I drove across the US and Canada twice as a child with my father. This was before any modern entertainment or seat belts for that matter. I looked out the window, listened to the AM radio, sang little tunes and waited for the next hotel or road side meal. I remember writing a song to the moon and I remember my dad buying me a brand new yoyo at a truck stop. 

The next stop on my musical journey was taking piano lessons with my sister Katie. She had a studio in our house with her brand new grand piano and she had a small cadre of young students. I remember the Thompson piano books with the little gnomes and even at 6 years old I knew my sister was giving me amazing expert accompaniment to my little two black note songs. I enjoyed the piano, but my sister could tell the instrument itself didn’t speak to me and I was much more interested in the nylon string guitar my dad played.

Although I continued piano playing my sister wisely shifted my lessons to early music, chordal accompaniments and composition. I basically started writing songs using the piano as my accompanying instrument and I started my first guitar lessons with my dad. My dad was used to teaching college level students so he started me on songs with 4 and 5 chords and full C, F and G chords at age 8 or 9. I would have a much different approach now with my students and I have guitars that fit their little hands. I wasn’t deterred at all by this approach and was quickly making my way with the guitar.

My journey took an unexpected turn when my sister’s band needed a drummer. I began playing drums professionally for her band at age 14. When I graduated early from high school I went back to my true passion of playing the guitar, but I always had a drum set for the occasional gig.

My journey took me to the University of Southern California where I studied classical guitar with James Smith and William Kanengiser. On the very first day of school I befriended a French guitarist named Clare Delerue. She had just started learning the theorbo and played a piece for me. I was so taken with the instrument that I immediately checked out a lute from the school instrument library and started lessons in lute and voice. I followed the muses through lute, voice, clawhammer banjo, electric guitar, Irish drums, Renaissance Guitar, Baroque Guitar and Fiddle. 

Often when students start an instrument they are unprepared or rather their parents are unprepared for the idea that music is a journey. At the beginning of the journey the parents imagine their house filled with beautiful music and their little protege gracefully leaping through each and every level of an instrument to mastery of said instrument. They aren’t ready for their students to struggle, get frustrated, fail and change instruments like you change your shoes. In other words the unsuspecting music student and parents don’t really understand what the journey could look like. 

That’s the beauty of a journey. You don’t know what to expect and you never know how it will turn out. It can be harrowing, but also amazingly beautiful. Everyone experiences their music making in a completely unique way. We all come to instruments and our voices with a sense of discovery and wonder. How we practice, perform, share and teach music comes in many colors. I happen to think the challenges are worth it and every day I sit down and play music it’s a gift.

I’ve been preparing quietly for these changes over the past few years, but it still feels surreal to be at the moment of actually leaping. And so I’ve been thinking about this new blog. What should I write about here? What does it mean to have been a musician and teacher for so many years? How has it shaped my life—and how has it touched the lives of my students? At a time when so many educators are leaving the profession, I find myself wondering why. And equally, why not me? I know I’ll continue teaching in some form, and I feel certain I’ll keep mentoring younger teachers.

One phrase I hear often is: “It’s not my job.” Usually it comes from teachers stretched thin, asked to take on roles that go far beyond instruction: parent, disciplinarian, social worker, counselor, even police. As a music teacher I’ve done all of that and more—comforting crying children, cleaning up messes, breaking up fights, calling for help when a student fainted, running code yellow drills, chasing kids bolting toward the street, soothing fears, and strategizing ways to manage severe anxiety—all while teaching guitar and leading songs.

But sometimes I wonder—what if it is our job? What if caring for our students’ and families’ well-being is more important than whether they become good musicians? I don’t think we have much choice. Without a foundation of social-emotional stability, health, and trust, a child doesn’t stand a chance at learning an instrument—or math, or science.

As music teachers, we hold a unique perspective. We see our students in moments of vulnerability and creativity, and in those moments we can help them learn how to navigate the world. In these last few weeks of teaching public school music, I want to keep that front and center. Because ultimately, whether a student becomes a great musician is up to them—the inspiration and dedication have to come from within. What I can give is something beyond finger positions and note names. I hope my students leave knowing they matter, that this world needs them, and that life is worth every adventure—even the ones they can’t yet imagine.

Many music curriculums center around the idea of building a “musical family.” In the Suzuki method, for example, parents often take lessons alongside their children, learning a shared set of tunes to create a rich, musical environment at home and with peers. Programs like Suzuki, Music for Young Children, and Kodály (to name a few) offer extensive guidance on structured music practice for young learners.

However, one area that remains underdeveloped is musical play—self-directed, exploratory music-making—particularly for elementary-aged children.

In my K–2 music classroom, I’ve been incorporating a distinctly Montessori-inspired approach to independent musical work, with remarkable results. When students are given the opportunity to choose their own musical activities—working independently or in small groups—I’m able to observe and assess a wide range of musical skills that might otherwise go unnoticed in a traditional rehearsal or performance-based setting.

A Foundation of Movement and Music

At the beginning of the school year, I follow my Big as the World lesson plans, which emphasize music and movement. These include singing, movement activities, and work on foundational musical concepts. I also introduce music theory through hands-on manipulatives, storytelling, rhythm instruments, keyboarding, xylophones, and ukuleles.

Once students are familiar with these materials, we use them for centers.

What a Centers Day Looks Like

A typical class might have four centers—such as ukulele, keyboard, music theory, and either storytelling or coloring. Other rotating choices include a “Rock Band” station, percussion, or mallet instruments. Students are placed in small groups and rotate through the centers, choosing how they engage with the material.

One of the most surprising outcomes has been in the area of singing. Students who might hesitate to sing during whole-group activities often gain confidence in the center setting. I once witnessed an EC (Exceptional Child separate setting) student—who had never sung aloud in class—pick up a ukulele, strum open strings, and confidently sing the chorus to “Dream On” by Aerosmith. The freedom to choose familiar materials inspired him to find his voice and after that he felt confident to sing solos like “Magic Carpet” in front of a class with a microphone. 

A Truly Montessori Approach

In some classes, I’m able to offer a completely student-directed experience. Students freely choose their activities and move between centers without direct instruction. I observe them leading peers, using conducting gestures to indicate tempo and dynamics, and even improvising lyrics. One group used a sea creature mat to act out “Oh Row the Salty Waves,” adding their own storytelling elements to the song.

Students also compose their own rhythms using stuffed animals, popsicle sticks, and counters—later transferring those rhythms to paper. One student even created a drawing called The Great Musical Mountains (inspired by our nearby Great Smoky Mountains), assigning a unique note value to each peak.

Musical Expression Beyond Performance

These moments reveal the depth of musical understanding that might never surface in a more traditional, teacher-led setting. By offering choice and encouraging self-direction, students explore music in a way that aligns with both Montessori principles and the natural, joyful musical play that happens within a musical family.

Music Resources by Hazel Ketchum

Big as the World

https://open.spotify.com/album/4RN2C1LsEPvqoP7chy9e72?si=6SEE0efkRNel6AoOwebQcw

Say Darlin Say

https://open.spotify.com/album/3XRcyLZtU3qmLdv3oTFCnY?si=tGg0xxtTRiWrdyZkcpcysQ