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Mapping how students conceptualize ancillary movements in instrumental music performance MacLennan, Donald Scott 2015

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MAPPING HOW STUDENTS CONCEPTUALIZE ANCILLARY MOVEMENTS IN INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PERFORMANCE  by  Donald Scott MacLennan  BMus, The University of British Columbia, 1988 BEd, The University of British Columbia, 1992 MMus, Sam Houston State University, 2010  A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY  in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES (Curriculum Studies)  THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)   February 2015  © Donald Scott MacLennan, 2015  ii  Abstract  Music theorists have emphasized the intellectual, disembodied mind throughout music education’s history in Western culture extending back to the time of the ancient Greeks. Additionally, Regelski (2009) notes that the dominant and residual view of music curriculum involves the contemplation of music for its own sake (i.e., autonomous “works”) instead of experiencing it through action. Yet pioneering advocates for movement in music education, including Jaques-Dalcroze, Orff, Kodály, and Suzuki, all affirmed and emphasized the centrality of the body in music making and learning. Present-day instrumental music teachers’ proclivity toward teaching to the minds of their students (marginalizing physical action) seems incongruous with the views of these pioneers, especially when one considers the prevalence of movement and dance in contemporary popular music culture.  When instrumental music teachers focus on teaching to the minds of their students, they ignore the importance of the students’ ancillary movements, those physical movements not directly involved in the production of sound (e.g., leaning forward, swaying side to side). Research on the importance of ancillary movements in the experiences of adolescent students studying instrumental music is sorely lacking. I thus undertook a two-month study utilizing a phenomenographic approach, which involves identifying and describing the varied conceptions of a phenomenon held by the members of a group collectively, not individual conceptions. I used interviews and student journals to map the different conceptions 24 adolescent instrumental music students have of ancillary movements.  iii  I found that ancillary movements reflect students’ degree of engagement with music-making and that these movements hold important meanings for them. Participants’ statements suggested that students become more engaged with music they are performing when they 1) are given freedom to make their own natural ancillary movements, 2) feel confident with their music skills (i.e., balance between challenge and skills), 3) do not feel self conscious about what others might think, and 4) discover that their teachers support ancillary movements. Moreover, students’ descriptions of their conceptions revealed increasingly complex understandings of ancillary movements, suggesting ways in which educators might develop more embodied approaches to teaching instrumental music.   iv  Preface  This dissertation is an original intellectual product of the author, Donald Scott MacLennan. UBC BREB Certificate number H13-02468 covered the fieldwork reported in Chapter 4.  v  Table of contents Abstract ........................................................................................................................................... ii	  Preface ............................................................................................................................................ iv	  Table of contents ............................................................................................................................ v	  List of figures .................................................................................................................................. x	  Acknowledgements ........................................................................................................................ xi	  Dedication .................................................................................................................................... xiii	  Chapter 1: Introduction ................................................................................................................ 1	  1.1	   Introduction .................................................................................................................... 1	  1.2	   Statement of problem ..................................................................................................... 2	  1.3	   Personal background ...................................................................................................... 6	  1.4	   Theoretical perspective .................................................................................................. 9	  1.4.1	   Music education’s value ....................................................................................................... 9	  1.4.2	   Body/Mind debate and physical movement ....................................................................... 14	  1.4.3	   Body/Mind in education research ....................................................................................... 18	  1.4.4	   Body/Mind and physical movement in music education since 1890 ................................. 20	  1.4.5	   Transformation and identity making in embodied engagement with music ....................... 25	  1.4.6	   Conceptions (experiences, understanding, and meaning) ................................................... 26	  1.5	   Contribution to the field ............................................................................................... 27	  1.6	   Specific research questions .......................................................................................... 29	  1.7	   Delimitations of the study ............................................................................................ 30	  1.8	   Overview of dissertation .............................................................................................. 31	  Chapter 2: Literature review ...................................................................................................... 34	  2.1	   Introduction .................................................................................................................. 34	  vi  2.2	   Movement and music education .................................................................................. 35	  2.3	   Physical metaphor ........................................................................................................ 37	  2.4	   Expression and communication ................................................................................... 39	  2.5	   Movement as instructional technique to improve musicianship .................................. 43	  2.6	   Engaging students ........................................................................................................ 44	  2.7	   Studies of student’s conceptions (perceptions) ............................................................ 48	  2.8	   Lack of music studies ................................................................................................... 53	  Chapter 3: Methodology ............................................................................................................ 55	  3.1	   Introduction .................................................................................................................. 55	  3.2	   Epistemology and its relation to the chosen methodology .......................................... 55	  3.2.1	   Phenomenography .............................................................................................................. 58	  3.2.2	   Variation theory .................................................................................................................. 61	  3.2.3	   Phenomenography, variation theory, and challenges to both ............................................. 62	  3.3	   Data collection methods ............................................................................................... 64	  3.3.1	   Interviewing ........................................................................................................................ 65	  3.3.2	   Journaling/blogging ............................................................................................................ 67	  3.4	   Participants and ethical considerations ........................................................................ 68	  3.5	   Data collection ............................................................................................................. 70	  3.6	   Data analysis ................................................................................................................ 74	  Chapter 4: Findings .................................................................................................................... 81	  4.1	   Introduction .................................................................................................................. 81	  4.2	   Categories of description of the different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by high school age adolescents ................................................................ 82	  4.2.1	   Students’ conceptions of the ancillary movements of others (performers they observe) and their connection with the music performed by others. .................................................................... 90	  4.2.1.1	   Extrinsic technical: Beats and rhythms (level 1). Students’ observations .................. 90	  vii  4.2.1.2	   Extrinsic technical: Music elements (level 2). Students’ observations ....................... 92	  4.2.1.3	   Extrinsic meaning: Musical meaning (level 3). Students’ observations ..................... 93	  4.2.1.4	   Extrinsic meaning: Communicating (level 4). Students’ observations ....................... 95	  4.2.1.5	   Intrinsic meaning: Expressive meaning (level 5). Students’ observations ................. 98	  4.2.2	   Students’ conceptions of their own ancillary movements and their engagement in music learning. ......................................................................................................................................... 102	  4.2.2.1	   Extrinsic technical: Beats and rhythm (level 1). Student’s engagement .................. 102	  4.2.2.2	   Extrinsic technical: Musical elements (level 2). Student’s engagement ................... 104	  4.2.2.3	   Extrinsic meaning: Musical meaning (level 3). Student’s engagement .................... 107	  4.2.2.4	   Extrinsic meaning: Communicating and moving in community (level 4). Students’ engagement ............................................................................................................................... 109	  4.2.2.5	   Intrinsic meaning: Expressive meaning (level 5). Students’ engagement ................ 112	  4.2.3	   Students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of their musical expression ......... 115	  4.2.3.1	   Extrinsic technical: Expressing beats and rhythms (level 1). Students’ expression . 116	  4.2.3.2	   Extrinsic technical: Expressing music elements (level 2). Students’ expression ..... 117	  4.2.3.3	   Extrinsic meaning: Expressing musical meaning (level 3). Students’ expression .... 119	  4.2.3.4	   Extrinsic meaning: Communicating and moving in community (level 4). Students’ expression ................................................................................................................................. 120	  4.2.3.5	   Intrinsic meaning: Expressive meaning (level 5). Students’ expression .................. 121	  4.3	   Other important themes revealed by students during data collection ........................ 127	  4.3.1	   Natural movements versus choreographed movements ................................................... 129	  4.3.2	   Multitasking: “What? ... You want me to think about moving, too?” .............................. 133	  4.3.3	   When confident with their music ability, students will move more, leading to a greater experience with the music being performed .................................................................................. 139	  4.3.4	   Self-conscious concerns about moving. Limiting movement to be safe .......................... 141	  4.3.5	   If the teacher talks about movement, students would move less ...................................... 146	  4.3.6	   Movement in performance makes students less nervous and more focused .................... 147	  viii  4.3.7	   Ineffable nature of musical experience: What can they describe and what is difficult for them to put into words? ................................................................................................................. 149	  4.4	   Summary of the data .................................................................................................. 152	  Chapter 5: Discussion, implications, and recommendations ................................................... 154	  5.1	   Introduction ................................................................................................................ 154	  5.2	   Discussion of findings ................................................................................................ 159	  5.2.1	   Importance of ancillary movement to adolescent performers .......................................... 159	  5.2.2	   Importance of the outcome space to conversation ............................................................ 161	  5.2.3	   Importance of the AMS to conversation ............................................................................ 163	  5.2.4	   Pedagogical challenges to incorporating ancillary/expressive movement in music education ........................................................................................................................................ 165	  5.2.4.1	   Flow and the optimal experience .............................................................................. 165	  5.3	   Implications and suggestions ..................................................................................... 168	  5.3.1	   Music expression: When should expressive movement be introduced? .......................... 176	  5.3.2	   The musical consequences of teacher directives that discourage movement ................... 178	  5.3.3	   Present day pedagogy of physical movement ................................................................... 180	  5.4	   Limitations ................................................................................................................. 187	  5.5	   Recommendations for future research ....................................................................... 189	  5.6	   Conclusions ................................................................................................................ 192	  Bibliography ............................................................................................................................... 195	  Appendices .................................................................................................................................. 217	  Appendix A Letter of first contact with Vancouver School Board ................................. 217	  Appendix B Vancouver School Board approval ............................................................. 219	  Appendix C Letter to school principals to request permission to do research ................ 220	  Appendix D Letter to parents/guardians requesting consent for their child’s participation in study ............................................................................................................................ 222	  ix  Appendix E Letter to students requesting assent for their participation in study ........... 225	  Appendix F Interview script ........................................................................................... 228	  Appendix G Instructions for participants during the month of journaling/blogging ...... 230	  Appendix H Questions and comments sent to participants during the month of journaling/blogging ......................................................................................................... 231	      x  List of figures  Figure 4.1 Levels of complexity of understanding of ancillary movements .................... 89	  Figure 4.2 Outcome space for students’ conceptions of the ancillary movements of others (i.e., performers they observe) and their connection with the music they perform ........ 101	  Figure 4.3 Outcome space for students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and their engagement in music learning ................................................................................ 115	  Figure 4.4 Outcome space for students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of their musical expression .................................................................................................. 125	  Figure 4.5 Final outcome space of different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by the participants in this study ......................................................... 127	  Figure 4.6 Ancillary movement spectrum (AMS) ........................................................... 129	  Figure 5.1 Conditions for flow ........................................................................................ 167	      xi  Acknowledgements  I would like to acknowledge and show appreciation to the many people who have supported me over the course of this study. First and foremost, I would like to thank my advisor and committee chairperson Dr. Scott Goble for his countless hours of dedication to this work, not only as a role model to me as a researcher, but for intellectually challenging me throughout this entire process. His encouragement, knowledge, and editing support throughout the dissertation process were priceless.  Thank you to Dr. Sandra Matheson who graciously shared her expertise in qualitative research and specifically for suggesting phenomenography as my research methodology. Her guidance was always extremely helpful and thought provoking. I thank Dr. Susan Gerofsky, whose research interests of gesture, movement, sound, and dance in teaching mathematics encouraged me to examine my own conceptions of embodiment and music education. Their feedback and guidance as committee members throughout the entire research and dissertation process was greatly appreciated.  Thank you to all the students involved in this study that gave of their time to participate. Their invaluable participation in this research project allowed me to gain greater insight into the life experiences of these adolescents. I hope our conversations have given them much to contemplate and that their musical experiences continue to engage them in many new and rewarding ways. Thank you to the teachers who gave generously of their time to allow me to talk with their classes. I am indebted to them for their incredible support throughout my fieldwork. Thank you to the Vancouver School District, superintendent, school xii  principals, and all school personnel for allowing me access to their students and facilities. Without their generosity this study would not have been possible. Thank you to Dr. Lisa Loutzenheiser and Dr. Don Krug for their support and guidance through my doctoral seminar classes at the beginning of this degree. Their support gave my doctoral comrades and me a strong foundation to search for new understandings in our various research interests. To my doctoral comrades, I thank you for being there throughout this process and for contributing so substantially to one of the richest periods of my life. Special thanks to Anita Prest for her input, suggestions, and support during her busy studies. Finally, thank you to my friends and colleagues who have encouraged me with their warm wishes throughout my studies. This process was definitely a journey of a lifetime! xiii  Dedication  To my loving wife Nancy and our two beautiful children, Keira and Liam: You are the world to me. Thank you for all your patience, love, and continual support throughout this whole process. I could not have done this without you! To my amazing parents, Mom and Dad (Peggy and Don). You have always been there for me since the day I was born. You have been wonderful role models of unconditional love and have helped me find my faith in God, the most powerful presence in my life. Thank you for all your love and support! To my incredibly gifted siblings and their families: Dawn, John, Dan, and David. I have always looked up to all of you and your amazing accomplishments, but mostly I respect and admire your remarkable character. You have shown me what it means to be the best I can be while keeping a balanced life. I could not be prouder to belong to any other family than this one.  1  Chapter 1: Introduction  1.1 Introduction As a performing musician, I have come to realize that when I concentrate on how the music I am playing makes me want to move, I am able to engage in music-making at a more rewarding, deeper level. In other words, not only does physical movement help me express what I am feeling or interpret what I conceive the music is communicating to me, it also helps me focus on the process of music-making and transcend the distracting technical demands and performance anxiety that often impede music performance. As well, my movements connect me with fellow musicians, in time-specific here and now occurrences, who are also moving to the music in their own ways. During my 22 years of teaching music, I have observed that students’ ancillary movements do more than just enhance their performances visually — they reflect their degree of engagement with the music. I use the terms engage and engagement to denote the establishment of a meaningful contact or connection with a person or phenomenon. According to Cadoz (1988), there are two types of physical movements/gestures used by musicians: 1) instrumental movements, those that play a direct role in the production of sound (e.g., breathing in and blowing out air, hand and arm movement of individual keys or a bow), and 2) ancillary movements, those not directly involved in the production of sound (e.g., leaning forward, swaying side to side). This second type, ancillary movements, is the focus of this study. As well, it is important to understand that it is the participants’ conceptions of ancillary movements that I studied and not the ancillary movements 2  phenomenon. As students actively engage their physical bodies in making music, I speculate that they are acquiring new musical meanings.  1.2 Statement of problem In my experience, within the vast majority of instrumental band and orchestral classes across North America, ancillary movement is rarely considered to be important, if it is even considered at all. For my discussion, movement is not a change of position as some dictionaries describe, since movement has no position. As Sheets-Johnstone (2010) asserts, “Only objects have positions and, when they move, they change position. Movement is the change itself, the dynamic happening, and needs to be phenomenologically analysed and properly understood as such” (p. 121). As well, movement’s distinctive qualitative character derives from its creation of its own space, time, and force (its waxings and wanings, amplitudes and constrictions).  In contrast to an embodied approach to music, which I believe to be an integral part of the musical experience that should be employed in schools, music teachers have emphasized the intellectual, disembodied mind throughout music education’s history in Western culture extending back to the time of the ancient Greeks (Bowman, 2004; Bowman & Powell, 2007). Westerlund and Juntunen (2005) have critiqued the ubiquitous Cartesian perspective found in music education, stating, “music is viewed as patterns of permanent, ideational structures to be cognized, rather than something to be done, felt, or experienced. In this view, we do not experience in and through music, but rather, cognize it ‘out there’” (p. 113). Music education has been extensively received as a matter of cognitive understanding or a special intelligence (Gardner, 1983), not as involving an 3  inseparable unity of body-mind, as contended by Dewey (1925/1958). Dewey argued that experience is both intellectual and physical, involving the integrated participation of the body and the mind. Moreover, the kind of experience one has depends upon the interaction between thinking and doing, and although an experience may be regarded as primarily one (mind) or the other (body), it is a result of both.   The intentionality of instrumental music (band and/or orchestra) educators to teach the mind, as if it is a separate entity, has stemmed from the pervasive influence of the perspective of René Descartes in Western education, as well as what Regelski calls the dominant and residual view of curriculum as music-appreciation-as-connoisseurship (MAAC). MAAC is a byproduct of the socialization of teachers into the speculative assumptions of orthodox aesthetic theory by their university or conservatory studies. As Regelski (2009) states:  According to this model, knowledge ‘about’ music (including that gained through performance) is believed (claimed) to be needed in order to promote ‘understanding’ and thus warranted ‘appreciation’ that is properly manifested through ‘disinterested’ contemplation of music for its own sake (i.e., to autonomous ‘works’). (italics in original, p. 70)   Because of this, action and doing through the body is marginalized, if not eradicated entirely.  Within Western culture, radical, pioneering advocates for movement in education, such as Emile Jaques-Dalcroze, Carl Orff, Zoltan Kodály, and Shin’ichi Suzuki, all affirmed and emphasized the centrality of the body in music making and learning (Choksy, Abramson, Gillespie, Woods, & York, 2001; Landis & Carder, 1990; Yun, 4  2011). The new praxial philosophies of music education that emerged at the end of the 20th century stress the importance of action, doings-in-action, and knowing-through-action in musical learning and knowing (Alperson, 1991; Bowman, 1998, 2000, 2004; Elliott, 1995; Juntunen, 2004; Juntunen & Hyvonen, 2004; Juntunen & Westerlund, 2001; Regelski, 1996, 1998; Westerlund, 2003). Although ancillary movement is not encouraged or taught in the majority of instrumental music classes today, some music educators in Western society have made strong arguments for its inclusion in effective instruction. Researchers (Bailey, 2007; Boyle, 1970; Dalby, 2005; McCoy, 1986; Skoog, 2004; Weikart, Boardman, & Bryant, 2004) suggest that by implementing physical movement into the classroom setting, music students can attain greater understanding of abstract music concepts such as rhythm and articulation.  While I applaud the work of researchers who have emphasized the importance of embodiment and an embodied approach to music education, I question why none have thought to ask students what such movements mean to them. Throughout my discussion, embodiment will be defined as the “integration of the physical or biological body and the phenomenal experiential body” and “reflection in which body and mind have been brought together” (Varela, Thompson, & Rosch, 1992, p. 27). A thorough search of the Proquest Dissertations and Theses database and music education journals of the past 30 years (searching for research on ancillary movement, physical movement, kinesthetics, kinesthesia, movement education, motion, embodiment, conceptions, and perceptions) revealed that no study has investigated students’ conceptions of ancillary movements. I argue that music, movement, and dance, which have become prevalent in today’s popular 5  music culture, have also become increasingly significant to students’ conceptions of what music is.   Therefore, the focus of this study was to develop a greater understanding of students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements in performance and to inform teachers about students’ conceptions of a phenomenon that may have notable meaning to the students they teach. The results of this research led to the creation of a taxonomy (categories of description) of students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements. For clarification, the term taxonomy is used in its analytic sense as a strategy to recognize connections between categories, not unlike a taxonomy of animals. The relations between the categories, as well as the categories themselves, provide the outcome space that emerges out of the variations and similarities found in the students’ understanding of the phenomenon (Martin & Booth, 1997). Ling and Marton (2012) stress the goal of distinguishing variation, writing, “a learner seeing something in a new way likely understands and deals with it differently, and hopefully, in a more powerful way” (p. 9).  By categorizing students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and the relations to their engagement in learning, this research helps inform new teaching strategies and techniques that allow for more variation in students’ ways of learning. For example, teachers will have greater understanding of what ancillary movements mean to students and how these meanings engage students in music-making. For clarification, my use of music-making will be synonymous with what Elliott (1995) describes as musicing (a contraction of music-making). Elliott (1995) asserts that music is a four-dimensional concept consisting of “a tetrad of complimentary dimensions involving: 1) a doer, 2) some kind of doing, 3) something done, and 4) the complete context in which doers do 6  what they do” (p. 40). The musical doers are musicers, the musical doing is musicing, and the musical something done is music. Therefore, musicing can include performing, improvising, composing, arranging, and/or conducting music. If music students have been encouraged to attend primarily to the intellect in the development of musicianship and tacitly discouraged from reflecting on the role of the body in performance, what are their conceptions of the body’s role in music-making, as well as in other aspects of their lives?   The value of music, according to Regelski, is found in understanding its use in human agency. “The mindfulness and intentionality that distinguishes ‘action’ from reactive, habitual, or mindless behavior and activity, then, is a key to understanding music, and points to its values” (Regelski, 1996, p. 26). I expect that the results of my research will add greatly to the discourse surrounding the importance and value of learning through the body and help teachers consider the increased use of (and decrease in intentional elimination of) ancillary movements in their classes. Transformation of pedagogical practices, of teachers’ and students’ conceptions of the body, and of self and social awareness of one’s means of expression, would all be byproducts of this research. Moreover, this research will lead to a reflective awareness of the body that comprehends the body’s role in enhancing knowledge, improving active performance, and increasing the pleasures of living.   1.3 Personal background  I have been moved by music ever since I can remember. The abstract understandings and meanings that we associate with music and musical experiences are 7  not adequately served by verbal language. The ineffable character of music and the various ways we experience it have long been an interest of mine, especially since I began teaching music in 1991 in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. I began my career teaching elementary band and strings students for six years before moving to the secondary school where I have taught concert band, jazz band, choir, music composition, and symphony classes ever since. I have held leadership roles as Department Head of Fine Arts at Lord Byng Secondary School in Vancouver and Chair of the British Columbia Music Educators’ Association annual conference in October 2006. I have worked with over 17 different student teachers throughout my career and have enjoyed being a teacher’s assistant for two Music Education courses at the University of British Columbia. My interest in teacher education has influenced my desire to seek further education and attempt to incorporate new ideas into my professional practice.   After 15 years of teaching, I decided to pursue further study in conducting, the art of expressing, communicating, and facilitating music through physical movements. Effective music conductors must find ways of representing the music they hear, feel, and sense in their bodies and communicate it to their ensembles. The creative potential and challenge of this practice has motivated my thoughts and actions throughout my own professional development as both a teacher and a musician. I have danced to music that I felt I could not stand still to, and I have noticed how my children moved naturally to music before they could walk.    In my own teaching experience, I realized there was a need for more conversation about the importance of ancillary movements in the lives of students when my high school Senior Jazz Band performed at neighbouring elementary schools. We performed 8  music that would make the young audience members want to move, especially the primary grade students. I suggest this music from the rich backgrounds of Jazz, Funk, Rock, Pop, and Latin communicated movement and moving in community with the audience. Unfortunately, the elementary teachers of these young students, out of concern for keeping their students under control, stopped their students from moving with gestures and whispers of, “Sit still!” The social pressure for audience members to act as passive listeners as a sign of respect for musicians becomes a possible excuse for teachers to retain power over their students by limiting and controlling their need to express and understand an experience of music-making where what we come to know is far greater than words can describe. Even when I suggested to the audience that they could move with the music if they felt the need, the older students were much less likely to do so. I believe they had learned greater self-control over their bodies and would not allow themselves to move freely. I also suggest their lack of movement was due to self-conscious concerns of being ridiculed because they would appear different from their non-moving peers. After discussions with the elementary teachers in these schools, it occurred to me that their students were not given regular opportunities to move in community; therefore, the students were limited in their self-expression, and they became less engaged in their music-making.   As mentioned above, I have observed numerous students moving with the music they perform during my 22 years of teaching. I have also had conversations with teacher colleagues who have told me that they discourage any movement in performance that is not needed by students to play their instruments due to what the teachers believe to be the visual distraction such movement causes. What need do students have for these ancillary 9  movements? How might students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements help inform teachers about how students learn and experience music?  How might they potentially encourage teachers to re-examine the role of the body and movement in the process of music-making?  1.4 Theoretical perspective 1.4.1 Music education’s value  Since the turn of the 21st century, praxial philosophers of music education have highlighted the importance of action, doings-in-action, and knowing-through-action in musical learning and knowing (Alperson, 1991; Bowman, 1998, 2000, 2004; Elliott, 1995; Juntunen, 2004; Juntunen & Hyvonen, 2004; Juntunen & Westerlund, 2001; Regelski, 1996, 1998; Westerlund, 2003). They have challenged the aesthetic philosophy held by many music educators, which focuses on the object music as a form of art, as well as conceptions of music education as the education of feeling. Susanne Langer (1942, 1957), Leonard Meyer (1956), and Bennett Reimer (1970) were major advocates of aesthetic theory, according to which consideration of feeling was central. Langer (1957) proclaimed: “All art work [is] the creation of perceptible forms expressive of human feeling” (p. 80), also asserting that “Music is a tonal analogue of emotive life” (p. 27). Meyer (1956) noted the rich similarities between life experience and musical experiences and observed that much of one’s emotional response to music, though habitual and hence seemingly automatic and natural, is actually learned (p. 17). Reimer (1970) specifically espoused aesthetic education in music education through the use of good music (limited primarily to expressive Western Art music) in all areas of music education. In doing so, Reimer argued that students develop greater sensitivity to the 10  elements of music by being given opportunities to feel the expressive qualities of music, which can inform greater understanding of the nature of human feeling.   These aesthetic theories involving musical perception or reception continue to dominate music education discourses to the present day, despite the raising of concerns from educators seeking to justify their musical practices based primarily on performance, not reception. As Bowman and Powell (2007) state:  Because the doctrines of aesthetic education were both theoretically inconsistent and a poor fit for the instructional practices they sought to justify, attention turned toward new philosophical orientations, rooted not in reception but rather in musical action, performance, and artistry (p. 1091).   The theoretical shift of perspective from feeling to praxis first envisioned by Philip Alperson (1991) attempts “to understand [music] in terms of the variety of meaning and values evidenced in actual practice in particular cultures” (p. 233). Praxis, as delineated by Goble (2010), “signified knowledge that takes into account the sorts of reasoning and critical thinking necessary for getting ‘right results’ for the benefit of people in a given domain or situation” (p. 237).   Following Alperson’s shift toward praxial music education, a former graduate student of Reimer, David Elliott (1995), advanced a new music philosophy for music education in his book Music Matters, which critiques music education as aesthetic education and promotes musicing (music-making) as a human praxis. The primary aim of Elliott’s praxial philosophy is found in self-growth and self-knowledge derived from thinking and knowing-in-action, as well as the musical enjoyment and unique emotional experience found in practice through flow. Elliott advocates Csikszentmihalyi’s (1990) 11  concept of flow (a feeling of being in the zone or in the groove), which is achieved by a focused mental absorption into a task while finding a balance between the challenge of the task and one’s skill. The likelihood of a flow experience occurring is greatest when both the challenge and skill level are high. According to Elliott, when musicers’ (the ones participating in the music-making) level of musicianship matches the challenge-levels of the music they interact with, the central values of musicing and listening are realized. Self growth, self knowledge, and raised self esteem are all consequences of developing musicianship and undertaking appropriate challenges in music-making and music listening and therefore should be the responsibility of music educators.  For Regelski (1996), “music is ‘a doing’ guided by phronesis (practical wisdom: ‘reflection in action’) for ‘right results’ in human terms” (p. 24). Regelski considers praxis to be constituted of doings-in-action, involving the type of practice that one would associate with a professional field in which a practitioner (e.g., lawyer, dentist, doctor) sets up a practice. A praxial view of music completely incorporates what a music practice is good for when considering what is good music as well as the situatedness of the music-making. Situatedness is derived from the purposes and specific human context, understood and valued, for which music is made. Therefore, praxial philosophy acknowledges the value of a musical practice according to its relation to life and the specific conditions of its use. Regelski criticizes a structure-of-discipline curriculum model, evident in traditional teaching methods, based on a disciplined focus on the next concert and the practice of techniques, music reading, and literature from instrumental method books. Regelski (2002) calls this norm of performance instruction methodolatry and asserts that it in effect becomes the curriculum. As a result, Regelski (2009) asserts 12  that a field of school music has been created where music teachers perform their ensembles, positioning ensembles, directors, students, and programs in a form of comparatition (informal competition) where social status is the goal more than musical learning. Therefore, Regelski (2009) argues:  Given the sacrialized status of ‘good’ music that teachers hold near and dear, curriculum and instruction based on MAAC thus amounts in effect to a conversion attempt for redeeming students’ (and society’s) musical virtues and values by supplanting (or, only a little more benignly, supplementing) ‘their’ music with ‘school music’ (p. 72).    Conversely, Regelski envisions his praxial view of curriculum as meeting socially relevant values and needs. In Regelski’s view, the value of music education praxis is centrally found in the tangible pragmatic difference it makes to individuals and society. Regelski advocates replacing MAAC and structure-of-the-discipline models with a new curriculum of and for praxis that focuses on promoting students’ habits of praxis. These habits of praxis or action habits are “fully mindful and rational reflective processes where intentions, goals, and needs are guiding values and thus serve as the criteria by which action is evaluated mindfully” (2009, p. 80). Through the promotion of different kinds of amateuring, a praxis-based curriculum includes more than just performance; it may also include music-making in a multiplicity of musics from around the world. Amateuring is musicking (musicing or music-making) for the love of it. Furthermore, a praxis-based school music interacts with contemporary life through the development of a versatile general musicianship that can provide many kinds of musicking. Regelski (2009) elucidates the main curricular question facing school music educators as concerning  13  ... whether it is ‘the music’ that is being served—that is perpetuated for its own sake—or whether music (in the sense of a conceptual category that includes many musics) and, hence, music education exist to serve the various social needs that bring both into existence in the first place (p. 78).  Bowman also supports the praxial turn away from music education as aesthetic education, but he disagrees with what he regards as Elliott’s disembodied and abstract accounting of action. Bowman urges consideration of music as a special kind of celebration of the somatic/corporeal moment in human cognition. This perspective of embodiment champions the body’s ability to learn through movement and action, thus enabling a bodily way of knowing music. For Bowman, the importance of knowing-in-action and the inseparable role of the body in this action are paramount in describing the act of performing and listening to music.   Westerlund and Juntunen share Bowman’s concerns with the marginalization of the role of the human body in praxial philosophies of Elliott and others. Westerlund and Juntunen (2005) espouse: “Instead of building up unnecessary demarcations between bodily pleasures and more intellectual enjoyments – between various senses, intellects, or art forms – the relational body-mind in action should be the nexus of music education” (p. 120). I predicate my inquiry on the same philosophical lens that Bowman, Juntunen, and Westerlund choose for the importance of music and music education in the lives of students, advocating for the inseparability of the body/mind.   14  1.4.2 Body/Mind debate and physical movement  To help contextualize my discussion of physical movement, let me begin by analyzing the debate involving the bifurcation of the mind and body. The dualism of mind and body in Western thought can be traced back to the ancient Greeks and the writings of Plato. Platonism in educational thought elevates and privileges the mind or intellect over the body and separates reason and emotion metaphors in their formalization and application. Peters (2004) posits: This dualism historically has developed as an instrument of ‘othering:’ of separating boys from girls, reason from emotion, minorities from the dominant culture, and classes from each other ... and remains one of the most trenchant and resistant problems of education in postmodernity (p. 14).   Some scholars have asserted that mind-body dualism has origins in the theological doctrines of the religious institutions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Goble (2010) notes: “These institutions hold that the spirit, soul, or “mind” of every individual human being is unique, separate from the body, and eternal in life and death” (p. 22). According to Taylor (1989a), Protestant views of this dualism proclaim the “lived experiences of the passions” teach nothing, and only mislead us. Accordingly, human flesh (the body) developed a bad reputation, since it was seen as corruptible, where as spirit (the mind) was incorruptible. Influenced by Plato’s philosophy, the dualities of soul against the body and eternal against the changing led to a general disembodiment of experience in relation to knowledge in Western culture.  René Descartes reinforced these dualities and advanced a specifically modern version of the mind-body bifurcation. Descartes’ philosophy involved a distinct 15  separation of mind and body according to which the nature of the mind, a thinking entity, was completely different than the body, an extended non-thinking entity that takes up space. Descartes (1641/1996) propounded, “... I understand the mind to be a complete thing, which doubts, understands, wills, and so on, even though I deny that it has any of the attributes which are contained in the idea of a body” (p. 108). Arguments that Descartes used to advance mind-body dualism strongly influenced later philosophers and have impacted the way the body is conceptualized in the dominant Western epistemological tradition. Haraway (1988) succinctly critiques this as “the god trick of seeing everything from nowhere” (p. 581). Levin (1988) refers to the Cartesian mechanical eye that observes the world outside and distances itself from the flesh of the world (p. 106). Further, rationality and confidence are reached through the power of cogito (or the mind) by separating and disengaging our selves from the material world (p. 141). Descartes’ famous statement “Cogito ergo sum” (“I think, therefore I am”) places knowledge as the correct representation of things and separates it from the so-called nonintellectual senses of touching, seeing, tasting, hearing and smelling.   Philosophers from diverse backgrounds have raised serious concerns involving the possibility of a strict separation between objective knowledge and subjective values. For example, Apple (1993), a neo-Marxist, contends that knowledge is never just objective but is always laden with specific social interests. Pragmatists, such as Biesta (1992, 1994), assert that the domains of knowledge and values are thoroughly social, implying that both should be understood as intersubjective. Alternatively, Biesta and Miedema (2002) advocate for a transformative conception of education that acknowledges the foremost duty of the teacher and school as the pedagogical task. By 16  emphasizing the role of the learner in the process of education, this pedagogical task is concerned with the whole child and the whole sense of identity of the student. Even though Descartes’ dualism has become ingrained within Western culture, it has been challenged by: Merleau-Ponty (1962, 1989); Damasio (1994); Lakoff and Johnson (1999); Shusterman (2008); and Varela, Thompson, and Rosch (1992).   Merleau-Ponty (1962) posits the body as the primary mode of knowing and asserts that what is known via bodily experience, such as physical movements, while often incapable of being expressed in words, is known more directly than any exclusively intellectual knowledge. In his Phenomenology of Perception (1962), Merleau-Ponty critiques Cartesian intellectualism, asserting that all attainments of science and all theoretical thinking are founded through primordial experiences reached through our bodily contact with the world (being-in-the-world through the body). Merleau-Ponty asserts that the body can never be regarded as an object since one can never separate oneself from it. Therefore, one’s lived experience of one’s body contradicts the disconnection of subject from object and mind from body (Merleau-Ponty, 1962: 27–9, 82, 144, 206, 430).   Pragmatist philosopher Richard Shusterman (2008) focuses on the living, feeling, sentient, purposive body—the soma—as the organizing core of experience (p. xii). His book, Body Consciousness, advances his new interdisciplinary field somaesthetics, where bodily practices are examined, refined, and reflectively followed in disciplined ways. Somaesthetics is a form of reflective bodily awareness that contemplates the body’s role in enhancing knowledge, improving active performance, and increasing the pleasures of living. Shusterman (2000) states: “Somaesthetics is devoted to the critical ameliorative 17  study of one’s experience and use of one’s body as a locus of sensory-aesthetic appreciation and creative self-fashioning” (p. 138). In addition to physical movement through bodily practices, it is the reflective body consciousness or “mindfulness and somaesthetics” that Shusterman promotes “while building upon its extraordinary valuable insights about the profound inter-reliance, the inextricable relatedness, of the human body” (Bowman, 2010, p. 4). Shusterman advocates for pragmatic somaesthetic methods like Feldenkrais, yoga, and tai chi. For example, the Feldenkrais method uses gentle movement sequences to focus direct attention on enhancing physical movement and mental functioning by improving posture, flexibility, and coordination. He applauds the musical methods of Jaques-Dalcroze, Graybill (1990), and Pierce (2007) that introduce a non-habitual way of somatically relating to music. Shusterman (2010) observes:  Thus, one is led to hear the music with fresh interest provoked by the disengagement of routine, habitual response and the positing of new challenges of response. Such new interests, new challenges, and new orientations of response serve to deepen and redirect our attention so that we can enlarge our understanding of the music (p. 105). According to this view, a mindful, whole body response leads to greater music understanding and meaning-making in a student’s development of self and self-awareness through somaesthetic practice. The concept of whole-bodied musical expression and use of physical movement that I used in this study is informed by Merleau-Ponty’s (1989) phenomenology of perception (knowing the world through the body) and Shusterman’s (2008) somaesthetics. 18  1.4.3 Body/Mind in education research  Physical movement is observable in Canadian schools as an integral part of a child’s overall education, encouraged primarily through Physical Education and, where available, Dance. Unfortunately, movement in other classes is usually discouraged due to limitation in physical space (restricted by desks and chairs) and the need to socialize students into becoming quiet, well-disciplined listeners. But by discouraging the use of physical movement in the majority of classrooms, educators may also limit the ways students learn and internalize abstract concepts. Griss (1994) advocates creative movement as a language for learning, which encompasses all areas of curriculum and increases comprehension. She states:  Interpreting a concept through physical means helps children ... to grasp, internalize, and maintain abstract information. ... [Students] are learning through their own creations [movements]. The combination of discipline and imagination is an invaluable foundation for creative thinking. Encouraging children to work both alone and with others, to give and to take, to evaluate and to edit, to feel and to think, proves to be empowering to students, and ultimately, therefore, to teachers (p. 78).   Educators, influenced by the dominant Western philosophy rooted in Cartesian dualism (that there is an objective world of meanings and facts that students need to master in order to properly develop in society), have largely restricted educational practices. Many proponents of formal education have embraced Cartesian philosophy by developing mathematical, scientific, linguistic, and artistic understanding almost entirely within a cognitive realm. Within a Cartesian perspective, the teacher’s task is to transfer 19  this objective knowledge to the next generation, thereby separating and marginalizing the pedagogical task from the centralized instructional task. Paechter (2004) illuminates some of the prominent consequences:   Cartesian dualism has left a heavy legacy in terms of how we think about ourselves, so that we treat humans as minds within bodies rather than mind/body unities. Related to this is a dualism that is embedded in how we think of children in schools; we focus on the soundness of the mind, with the sound body treated as an afterthought (p. 309).  Dewey’s strong advocacy for an embodied perspective in education is evident in his insistence that the body and mind be envisioned as an indivisible entity. He contended that he did “not know of anything so disastrously affected by the traditions of separation and isolation as is this particular theme of body-mind” (Dewey, 1983b, p. 27). Campbell (1991) credits Dewey and the progressive movement in education as having provided the strongest support for including rhythmic movement in curricula design during the first half of the 20th century. Campbell (1991) writes, “The progressivists, many of whom associated themselves both with Dewey’s philosophy and with social activism, supported rhythmic activities as part of the total development of the child” (p. 14). Recognizing that all organisms are shaped by their environment and that human environment is profoundly social, Dewey asserted that the level of body-mind unity is contingent on social conditions. Furthermore, the integration of mind-body in action is the most practical pursuit we can ask of our civilization and one that requires social construction along with individual efforts to attain greater unity in practice. He rejected authoritarian methods of education and championed experiential learning or learning-by-doing. Moreover, Dewey 20  (1938/1986) posited that without knowledge of the “psycho-physical life,” education is “mis-education.”   Wright (2000) elucidates the importance of physical movement within school curricula while raising concerns about the dominant discourses of the body in Western society that emphasize “the body as a physical and biological given.” Using methods of post-structural analysis informed by critical and feminist perspectives, Wright examines how certain constructions of the body have become naturalized and why certain meanings that are produced and reproduced are employed and valued. Acknowledging Western and English-speaking societies’ taken for granted Cartesian mind/body split, Wright notes that we (Western society) have no language to talk about the body differently. Wright suggests examining Eastern thought where, as Yuasa (1987) states, “the mind-body has generally been viewed from the start as a single system” (Yuasa, 1987, as cited in Wright, 2000, p. 37).   1.4.4 Body/Mind and physical movement in music education since 1890 In the 1890s, Emile Jaques-Dalcroze, a newly hired professor of harmony at the Conservatory of Geneva, recognized significant insufficiencies in his students’ musical responses as well as their general music education. He noticed that even though students were advanced technically, they were weak in musical listening and expression due to having been subjected to methods of training that focused on the thinking mind alone. Through analyzing his students, Jaques-Dalcroze came to believe the deficits of musicianship observable in physical movements were caused by disharmony between the functions of the mind and the body. Jaques-Dalcroze (1921/1980) maintained that 21  rhythmic musical sensations “call for the muscular and nervous response of the whole organism” (p. viii) and that “defects in musical rhythmic expression are invariably results of physical defects in the musician” (p. 40). According to Jaques-Dalcroze (1935), real musicianship involves more than only knowing how to play your instrument well: a musician is a person “who knows how to show all the phenomena of music with the whole of his individuality” (p. 3). It is through physical movement that children should be taught to know themselves, to become aware of their own personalities and to develop their temperaments (Jaques-Dalcroze, 1921/1980, p. ix).   Juntunen’s philosophical perspective has been greatly influenced by the philosophies of both Jacques-Dalcroze and Merleau-Ponty. She agrees with Merleau-Ponty’s argument that the body is the primary way of knowing, which supports the specific empirical findings of Jaques-Dalcroze; she argues that what can be known via bodily experience, while often incapable of being expressed in words, is known at a deeper level. “However, the discussion in music education on embodiment and on the bodily roots of musical knowing has been relatively limited” (Juntunen, 2004, p. 16). For Juntunen, pre-reflective knowing is represented in body movement and “can be understood as physical metaphor in the process of musical understanding from the concrete doing/musicing to the abstract and/or conceptual” (Juntunen & Hyvonen, 2004, p. 199). Juntunen and Hyvonen (2004) relate the practice of music-making and knowing to an important attribute of musical embodiment found in physical metaphor, a concept based on Lakoff and Johnson’s (1980, 1999) theory of embodied metaphor. Lakoff and Johnson contend that cognition is indivisible and conditional upon bodily experiences and that metaphor provides the bond between the abstract, conceptual domain and the 22  concrete, bodily domain. Lakoff and Johnson (1980) state, “[W]e typically conceptualize the non-physical in terms of the physical—that is, we conceptualize the less clearly delineated in terms of the more clearly delineated” (p. 58). In other words, the understanding of the abstract (non-physical) is possible only in terms of the body (physical), and what begins as a physical experience can be developed into an abstract concept. Accordingly, Juntunen and Hyvonen (2004) stress: “Even though bodily activities and abstract concepts represent two different experiential domains, it is possible that bodily movement can be used to express physically what exists temporally in the music studied” (p. 205). Juntunen acknowledges that bodily knowing cannot replace conceptual knowledge and vice versa. Each compliments the other through interaction. As Merleau-Ponty (1962) posited, the “reflection does not itself grasp its full significance unless it refers to the unreflective fund of experience that it presupposes” (p. 242). Thus, the basis for conceptual, reflective knowledge should be found in students’ embodied experiences through physical movement.  Bowman has written extensively on musical embodiment and the role that the body plays in knowing (Bowman, 2000, 2004, 2010; Bowman & Powell, 2007). “Part of the importance of music, I want to argue—one of the reasons it truly ‘matters’—is its potential to help us recover the material/corporeal moment of consciousness in which body and mind co-originate” (Bowman, 2000, p. 46). Since teaching and learning is frequently conceptual, non-experiential, as well as occurring on an abstract level, Bowman asserts that bodily knowing is regularly ignored in place of advanced reasoning of the intellect. “The body is an inextricable, constitutive element in music cognition” (Bowman, 2000, p. 48). “The argument for music and the arts has been that just as reason 23  reigns supreme in the rational realm of logic, the arts are superior in the realm of feeling and emotion, domains that lie outside and therefore elude propositional meanings” (Bowman, 2004, p. 31). Bowman critiques this dominant cognitivist view which reduces music’s meanings as non-discursive, functioning like language to “represent aspects of reality that otherwise would elude us: to render the world clearer, more comprehensible, more compatible with cognitive ideals of control and certainty” (p. 35).  In contrast to cognitivist theories, Bowman puts forward the idea of embodied accounts, where human conceptual capacities arise from sensorimotor actions and experiences. In our contextually situated bodies, human conceptual, sensory, and motor processes have co-evolved reinforcing neural connections that indissolubly link one’s senses and motor systems. An enactive approach of taking embodiment in music into account is not about representing, but about acting and agency. The term enactive denotes “that cognition is not the representation of a pre-given world by a pre-given mind but is rather the enactment of a world and a mind on the basis of a history of the variety of actions that a being in the world performs” (Varela, Thompson, & Rosch, 1992, p. 9). Bowman (2004) clarifies: “On an enactive embodied account of human cognition, mind, culture, body, and action partake each of the other, co-constructing the only ‘realities’ available to human experience” (p. 37). Therefore, Bowman (2004) states: “Music is a valuable cognitive resource not because of what it teaches us about the disembodied metaphysical realm of feeling, but what it shows us about the profoundly embodied and socioculturally situated character of all human knowing and being” (p. 31).  Along with Juntunen and Bowman, Walker (2000) also holds a theory of embodied musical knowing and meaning informed by Johnson’s (1990) concept of “the 24  body in the mind.” “In an embodied theory of music cognition, ... musical knowledge and meaning would be based, not on mental constructions of tonal-rhythmic patterns, but on covert representations of the physical experience of music” (Walker, 2000, p. 33-34). When trying to describe music, musicians use language full of physical metaphors, such as phrase length, light tone, heavy accents, flowing melodies. As well, our concept of tempo is entirely dependent on our previous physical experiences of speed. “Words and music, however, are not always a comfortable mix. When ‘objective’ language fails us, we are most often driven to metaphor, and when metaphoric language fails, we are then driven to gesture” (Walker, 2000, p. 34). She asserts that by promoting an embodied theory of music cognition and meaning, music education scholars will advance a theory much more in keeping with present scholarship in other fields. If music cognition and meaning is founded in motor patterns, movement metaphors, and spatial concepts, instead of in sounds, scores, mental events, or tonal-rhythmic-patterns, then, Walker notes, much of how we address research and our pedagogical practices should be re-examined. Humankind has used music in communally situated contexts for various functions throughout history. Walker (2000) states that ethnomusicologists, having studied the world’s music cultures, discovered that Western music culture’s explicit separation of audience/performer or music/movement is far from being universal. Music and movement are so inextricably linked that in many cultures there is just one word for both music and dance.   25  1.4.5 Transformation and identity making in embodied engagement with music  Stubley’s phenomenologically oriented perspective emphasizes bodily knowing in both performance (Stubley, 1995, 1998) and listening (Stubley, 1999). Although one can see knowing-through-action within Stubley’s philosophy, her thoughts might be more succinctly described as identity-making-in-play. Stubley is primarily concerned with musical process. Her central aim is to elucidate the profundity of issues that musicians manipulate during performance, as well as the way these issues relate to their personal and collective identities. For Stubley, the developmental process of the musician holds transformative powers of musical performance, where the identities of musicians and music co-evolve in a temporal field. Stubley (1995) states, “the evolving performance is the product of two intricately interwoven strands of constructive activity bound by a moral or ethical tension. ... [S]elf-identity is generated through a simultaneous awareness of difference from and connection with the other” (p. 64). The processual journey through musical performance involves the physical, psychological, and the social; the musician is engaged in a journey for symbiotic tuning of body, mind, instrument, sound, and musical actions. It is important to note that the social is more than the context, since it is an integral ingredient in both the music-making and what is made. Through this perspective, the performance entails being together where what is performed is more than just the music and never music alone. Stubley (1998) asserts: Learning to perform, ... while requiring correct notes and technical facility, is ultimately a matter of learning to experience the self as an identity in the making, of learning to reach out and create a playful space in which the self is open to the possibilities of the other (p. 101). 26  Therefore, within a praxial philosophy of doings and knowing-through-action, the physical body is fundamental for musical meaning and self-identity to co-originate our understandings and meanings of self and others.    1.4.6 Conceptions (experiences, understanding, and meaning)  Moving away from movement for a moment, I examine conceptions and how this term has been viewed as well as its importance in education research. Conceptions are not independent entities. Conceptions exist exclusively as acts of consciousness and are concerned with the qualities of human/world relations (Dahlin, 1994). Reid (1999) states: The variety of ways that we, as individuals, come to understand a phenomenon is related to our prior experience and knowledge (from all sources); our current perception of the phenomenon (which is reinforced by previous experience); and by our personal ability to reflect on the experience. The phenomenon has no meaning other than that which is placed upon it by our thinking and reflection (p. 48).   Although researchers have differed in their understanding and description of the term conception (Bowden, 2000), Marton and Booth (1997) have defined conception as “a way of experiencing something.” Further, a conception is “the unit of description” (Marton & Pong, 2005, p. 335). For the sake of clarity, I suggest that it is possible that an individual’s experience of a phenomenon may generate a personal understanding of that phenomenon. If so, experience is deemed to be a way of perceiving, reflecting on, and understanding a phenomenon. Moreover, it is helpful for me to clarify my use of the terms conception and perception. To perceive is to become aware of something directly 27  through the senses, whereas to conceive is to form an idea or abstraction of a way of experiencing something.  The importance of studying students’ conceptions is that it targets the ways in which the students themselves understand a phenomenon, which provides a basis for the enhancement of quality student learning. Prosser and Trigwell (1999) state, “Students who are able to see relations between elements of their understanding in a subject and are aware of how that understanding and those relationships can be applied in new and abstract contexts have a higher quality learning outcome than students who cannot” (p. 4). In researching the ways students themselves understand and engage in learning, researchers are able to provide a better experiential foundation to support students’ learning. Therefore, education scholars (Biggs, 1999; Prosser & Trigwell, 1999; Ramsden, 1992; Reid, 2001) have called for an exploration of conceptions of instrumental learning as an area of study, which helps foster environments that may encourage student learning to develop.  1.5 Contribution to the field  Music is aurally iconic of physical movement. Conductors regularly discuss rising and falling phrases, creation and resolution of tensions, and variations in tempo, all of which depend conceptually on students’ previous physical experiences. As a means to justify music’s place in public education and give it curricular prestige, music’s cognitive value has been promoted. The assumption that learning is about transmitting and acquiring knowledge has led to advocacy for music education that asserts “music makes one smarter,” “music is a kind of intelligence,” and “music advances spatial reasoning.” 28  Unfortunately, this advocacy, which matches the common ideological assumptions regarding the nature of knowledge and the goals of education, are predicated on “deeply-flawed notions about mind, cognition, and intelligence” (Bowman, 2004, p. 33). Since Gardner’s (1983) inclusion of a “musical intelligence” within his multiple-intelligence theory, most music educators have advanced music’s status and perceived value in education as an intelligence, but they have continued to promote music as what Bowman (2004) calls “the cognitive construct it has always been: abstract, mental, cerebral, disembodied” (p. 29). The dominant epistemological perspectives held by educators who continually disregard non-linguistic behavior, experience, and cognition limit students’ musical practices by reducing their cognition to rational thought processes that omit sensation and agency, while forwarding critical thinking, problem solving, and deductive reasoning. Bowman (2004) states, “Since [the superiority of reason] is granted without challenge, it remains for musical undertakings to show that they are mindful or at least mind-like—albeit in realms less than, or other than, rational” (p. 31).   The emergent praxial perspectives in music education, which focus attention on action, knowing-through-action, and action learning, are seen as a progressive step for musical embodiment, according to Bowman, Westerlund, and Juntunen. All three scholars also caution against a cognitive approach that limits the role of the body in music-making. Westerlund and Juntunen (2005) argue that “the body is not only an instrument through which thinking takes place; the body can be taken as a conscious and explicit object of transformation” (p. 113). Numerous general music approaches, such as those of Orff, Kodály, and Dalcroze, have encouraged movement instruction as a primary step in the comprehensive process of learning music (Choksy, Abramson, Gillespie, & 29  Woods, 2001). Unfortunately, as Yun (2011) asserts, “The instrumental music program, however, has not ordinarily stressed this form of basic kinesthetic learning. Instrumental instructors often assume that students have developed elementary rhythmic ability before the age of instrumental ensemble participation” (p. 414-5). By mapping the ways students’ conceptualize ancillary movements in the instrumental music classroom, educators will have greater understanding and meaning of what ancillary movement is for the students they teach.   1.6 Specific research questions    Since I am interested in studying students’ engagement with music through ancillary movements, understanding their conceptions of these ancillary movements and the meanings associated with them is central to my research.  In this research, I take a relational view to address my main question:  What are the different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by high school age adolescents in Vancouver, Canada, in 2014? Rather than trying to link certain conceptions to a particular gender, culture, or socioeconomic group, I have chosen heterogeneous groupings in order to ensure representation from a wide section of the overall adolescent population. My secondary questions are: 1. What is the relationship between students’ conceptions of their ancillary movement and their engagement in music learning?  2. What is the importance of these ancillary movements to their connection with the music performed? 30  3. What is the relationship between students’ ancillary movement and their conceptions of musical expression?  1.7 Delimitations of the study    This research is limited to describing the differences in students’ conceptions of the ancillary movement phenomenon in a group of 24 (10 males and 14 females) instrumental music students from grades eight to twelve, with different cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds, in three separate high schools in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Even though I will discuss individual students’ conceptions, this study does not seek to describe individual students’ conceptions, but instead establishes categories of description as its main purpose through the use of phenomenography. Phenomenography examines how people experience and conceptualize a specific situation or phenomenon (Marton & Booth, 1997). As a reaction against, and an alternative to, dominant positivistic, behavioristic, and quantitative research, phenomenography entails a non-dualistic ontology: “There is not a real world ‘out there’ and a subjective world ‘in here.’ The world (as experienced) is not constructed by the learner, nor is it imposed upon her; it is constituted as an internal relation between them” (Marton & Booth, 1997, p. 13). Therefore, the external research view is replaced by an attempt to address the research question from the perspective of the research participants themselves. In Entwistle’s (1997) article on phenomenography and conceptions, he points out that higher education is generally intent on encouraging the development of conceptual understanding in students. Therefore, a method which so vividly portrays differing conceptualizations, such as phenomenography, must have direct relevance to 31  teaching and learning. I expand on my description of phenomenography as my chosen methodology in Chapter 3.   The length of this study was limited to two months during one school year, which allowed sufficient time for interviews and one month of student blogging. Since I examined students’ conceptions at a given point in time, it was important to gather this information over a brief period. Participants were encouraged to blog after a playing session (practice or performance) 3-4 times per week, for one month (a total of approximately 12-16 entries per student).  1.8 Overview of dissertation  In Chapter 1, I introduced the problem of the ubiquitous intentionality of instrumental music educators to teach the mind, as if it were a separate entity, and that action and doing through the body are marginalized, if not eradicated entirely. I argued that, despite the prevalence of music, movement, and dance in today’s popular music culture and its increasing significance to adolescents’ conceptions of what music is, no one has previously thought to ask students what ancillary movements mean to them.   In Chapter 2, I review the relevant literature on various facets of movement and their importance in music education and explore research on students’ and teachers’ conceptions of different phenomena in music education. I recognize the lack of research reported in music education research journals on students’ conceptions in general, and I make suggestions about what might be gained by studying students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements in performance.  32   In Chapter 3, I explicate phenomenography and examine variation theory and its link to the phenomenographic approach to research. I explain variation theory and its main tenet that one cannot know what something is, without knowing what it is not. Moreover, variation theory recognizes that two individuals perceive a phenomenon differently, due to the inclusion of context as part of the individual’s experience (Tan, 2009). Then, I describe the data that I gathered and the collection methods I used, and I report how the data was analyzed.   In Chapter 4, I present what I learned using a phenomenographic approach, along with new themes that emerged through data analysis. I discuss how I collected and analyzed the data as well as reexamine each of the three secondary questions and the main research question. Next, I recognize challenges that students described as limiting their ancillary movements and end the chapter by examining how some of the students’ experiences of music and movement were ineffable.  In Chapter 5, I discuss my findings, the implications of what I have learned, and make some recommendations to improve student musicianship and increase the effectiveness of pedagogical practices presently used. I review pedagogical challenges to incorporating ancillary/expressive movements in music education and incorporate the theories of Csikszentmihalyi (1990), Bloom (1985), Ericsson et al. (1993), Shanker (2013), and Regelski (2009) into this conversation. I explore when it might be most effective to introduce expressive movements in an instrumental music class and examine pedagogical practices that may limit or negatively influence students’ experiences with physical movement and the valued meaning these movements have in students’ music-33  making. Finally, I explain the limitations of this research and recommend future research to build on this study.    34  Chapter 2: Literature review  2.1 Introduction  In Chapter 1, I discussed the pervasiveness of Cartesian mind-body dualism within Western philosophy and how it has been challenged by such notable scholars as Merleau-Ponty (1962, 1989), Damasio (1994), Lakoff & Johnson (1999), Shusterman (2008), and Varela, Thompson, and Rosch (1992). Other scholars (Bowman, 2000, 2004, 2010; Juntunen, 2004; Walker, 2000) have stressed the inseparable unity of the mind-body in co-originating meaning through the new praxial philosophies in music education of action and knowing-through-action, and have called for an increased inclusion of the body in our understanding and practices. Having explicated the importance of the body in knowing, I followed by discussing the importance of researching students’ conceptions and the call by education scholars (Biggs, 1999; Prosser & Trigwell, 1999; Ramsden, 1992; Reid, 2001) for an exploration of conceptions of instrumental learning as an area of study, one which helps foster the development of environments that enable student learning to improve.   Researchers have acknowledged the importance of movement in education, but they have not considered the importance of movement to the students involved. Researchers have documented the importance of body movement on performance ratings, communication, and fluidity. They have even identified what parts of the moving body visually affect expression the most. They have illuminated a connection between physical movement and increased self-esteem and have shown an increase in student engagement after the implementation of physical movement activities. Researchers have studied 35  students’ conceptions of different aspects of their music education but have ignored one of the primary ways they communicate with music, through physical movements.   In this chapter, I review the relevant literature on various facets of movement and its importance in music education and explore research on students’ conceptions of music phenomena in education. I begin by analyzing research that illuminates the effects of movement strategies in music education and the benefits received by students and explore what is missing from the research literature. What arguments have scholars presented in dissertations and major music education journals in the past 30 years to support the use of movement in music education pedagogy? Next, I analyze studies regarding students’ and/or teachers’ conceptions of their experiences and understandings concerning phenomena in education. I ask: According to dissertations and major education journals in the past 30 years, what do researchers have to say about music students’ conceptions in music education? I conclude the chapter by acknowledging the lack of research reported in music education research journals on students’ conceptions in music education, and I make suggestions about what might be gained by studying students’ conceptions of their movement in performance.   2.2  Movement and music education   So, why is movement instruction important in the development of student musicians? Movement is a natural part of children’s lives and it can be observed as a major response to music. Even at the age of six months, infants respond to music using unsynchronized whole body movement (Moog, 1976). By approximately two years of age, children’s arm and leg movements begin to show synchronization with music. As 36  Zimmerman (1984) suggests, movement and music appear to be synonymous to children. Moreover, movement is one of the primary ways that children communicate, especially prior to language development. Hannaford (1995) notes that children utilize movement to learn how to respond, explore, listen and interpret since it activates and integrates connections in the brain.     To help contextualize the use of physical movement in music education, let me revisit Jaques-Dalcroze (briefly mentioned in Chapter 1), a seminal figure in the development of pedagogy of physical movement (Abramson, 1980; Campbell, 1991; Findlay, 1971; Juntunen, 2004; Juntunen & Hyvonen, 2004; Juntunen & Westerlund, 2001; Seitz, 2005; Walker, 2000). Jaques-Dalcroze wrote of the holistic benefits of incorporating the body into music learning, but his ideas have been generally ignored by the vast majority of educators (Westerlund & Juntunen, 2005). This is supported by what O’Connor (1987) discovered as the tendency for music teachers to emphasize the visual in learning. As I discussed in Chapter 1, Cartesian philosophy has dominated education discourse to the extent that Paechter (2004) calls it “a heavy legacy in terms of how we think about ourselves, so that we treat humans as minds within bodies rather than mind/body unities” (p. 309).  Despite the absence of Jaques-Dalcroze’s practices in the majority of today’s classrooms, his theory of music embodiment has had a profound influence on modern music education scholarship, especially in regards to illuminating the relationship between music and movement through kinesthetic training. Kinesthetic and kinesthesia come from the Greek kinema: motion, plus ethesia: sensing. In the writing of Jaques-Dalcroze, we find one such theory that resonates with many scholars.  37  [T]he first step in a child’s education is to teach him [sic] to know himself, to accustom him to life and to awaken in him sensations, feelings and emotions, before giving him the power of describing them. ... [U]nfortunately, [y]oung people are taught to play the compositions of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin and Liszt, before they have developed the faculty of being moved by them (Jaques-Dalcroze, 1913/2010, p. 16-17).   Abramson (1980), an enthusiastic supporter of Jaques-Dalcroze, asserts that the primary principle of Jaques-Dalcroze’s philosophy is that sound can be rendered into motion and motion can be rendered into sound. In the practice of developing musical skills, Jaques-Dalcroze rehearsed movements first in the physical body, followed by imagining the same kinesthetic motion only in one’s mind (inner motion), without physical motion. Through these techniques, a physical awareness of the body’s relationship with sound is developed. Memory banks of aural, visual, and kinesthetic images are developed for future recall by the students when engaging in music-making. Therefore, Jaques-Dalcroze’s pedagogy helps students connect mental images with experienced kinesthetic images to create a whole body understanding of music through movement.    2.3 Physical metaphor  In Juntunen and Hyvonen’s (2004) study of Jaques-Dalcroze’s Eurhythmics, they expanded on his theory of whole body understanding of music through movement. Juntunen and Hyvonen argued that the primary way of knowing occurs through the body and they related the practice of musicing and knowing with an important attribute of 38  musical embodiment found in physical metaphor, a concept based on Lakoff and Johnson’s (1980, 1999) theory of embodied metaphor from cognitive psychology (as mentioned in Chapter 1). Juntunen and Hyvonen discussed how body movement could facilitate musical knowing through bridging the abstract with the concrete, and they challenged educators to reconsider the meaning of bodily knowing in education in general. They concluded by stating:  Bodily knowing is a non-linguistic and non-prepositional style of cognition and cannot be articulated in the same way as conceptual knowing, yet it is not therefore either deniable or less important. Rather, it forms the basis of all knowing, without which conceptual knowing remains mechanical and thin. Although it may be difficult for some to acknowledge, bodily involvement and awareness can serve as educational tools for meaningful experiences and, consequently, for more embodied learning (Juntunen & Hyvonen, 2004, p. 211).  Wis (1993) researched and built a theoretical foundation for the use of movement strategies in the secondary school choral classroom. She examined the role of the body in the choral rehearsal environment by borrowing from Lakoff and Johnson's (1980) theory of physical metaphor and Polanyi’s (1969) epistemology of tacit knowing. According to Polanyi, tacit knowing is a bodily based, culturally inflected knowing that one can feel, but cannot describe in full. Wis observed two master choral teachers, Timothy Haskett and Rodney Eichenberger, using movement activities to warm up their singers and to resolve problems in the rehearsal of the repertoire. Wis noted that students were more committed to the rehearsal when they were engaged with movement activities. Moreover, Wis found that gesture/movement is more easily understood than verbal explanations and 39  that the students are more expressive in their performance of music in concert. Her research helps link the ideas of physical metaphor and tacit knowing with the abstract musical concepts. Unfortunately, Wis only interviewed the teachers and did not interview the students to try and gain a greater understanding of what these movements meant to them. As well, her study has not been attempted in the context of instrumental ensembles where music stands and chairs are the norm and larger physical motions are more challenging to implement within the confined space of the rehearsal setting.  I would like to emphasize the connection that first Wis (1993), and then Juntunen and Hyvonen (2004), made to physical metaphor in music. The concept of physical metaphor allows for a new way, even a new language, to describe the abstract character of music, which is integral to our conversations in both expression and communication.  2.4 Expression and communication  Expression is primarily about communication. A performer’s movements, both instrumental and ancillary, express something to the audience and, I believe, to oneself. My interest in what this type of communication (movement) means to the performer is central to my research. As mentioned in Chapter 1, one of my secondary questions is: What is the relationship between students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of musical expression? In examining expression through movement, researchers have studied body mapping, musician-to-audience communication, visual perception of physical movement, the influence of these perceptions on the audience, and how certain movements can communicate specific emotions. The research, however, is missing an examination of student conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance.  40   While studying one aspect of expression through physical movement, Woodward (2009) employed narrative to supply a theoretical foundation for teaching practices that involved teaching movement to musicians. She gave a practical example of body mapping, encouraging the reader to experience arm movement through a self-reflective awareness of the arm’s interconnectedness to the surrounding skeletal features (i.e., shoulder, collarbone). By interconnecting the narratives of neuroscience, phenomenology, anthropology, and ethnomusicology, Woodward effectively furnished a framework for contemplating and discussing the importance of embodiment and movement in music education. Her action research study demonstrated that training movement through the practice of body mapping enhances musical performance with fluidity and expressiveness. Whereas the quality of the music is vital in performance, it is only one part of our goal in music education. Woodward’s (2009) study applies to the performance aspect but fails to address how body mapping enhances our students’ understanding of their expression through movement.  Broughton and Stevens (2009) investigated the assumption that visual body movement plays a role in musician-to-audience communication in marimba performance. Forty-eight participant observers (24 trained and 24 untrained) rated auditory-only and auditory-visual presentations of 20th-century solo marimba excerpts for perceived expressiveness and interest. Two performers (a male and female) gave performances using either projected public performance expression or deadpan minimal expressive features. Results from this study showed that “expressive body movement plays an important role in the communication between marimba performer and audience – a role relevant for both performers and educators” (p. 137). This investigation reveals how 41  expression through movement enhances the experience for both the performer and the audience but again, the performer’s understanding of movement is absent.  Juchniewicz (2008) studied the influence of physical movement on listeners’ perception of musical performance. He had participants (N = 112) rate a professional pianist performing with a recorded musical excerpt (control variable) under three physical movement conditions: no movement, head and facial movement, and full body movement. His results indicated that the pianist’s physical movements significantly increased participants’ ratings of the performances. Furthermore, as the pianist’s physical movements increased, so did the participants’ ratings of phrasing, dynamics, rubato, and overall musical performance. This study shows the importance of expression through movement but emphasizes a concern for the audience experience.  The educator’s primary concern for the student experience, however, is overlooked.  Davidson has done an immense amount of work in studying the visual perception of physical movement in music performance. In a case study of a single piano player, Davidson (2007) used observational analysis to illuminate qualitative similarities and differences of a participant’s varying performances of a Beethoven bagatelle. She borrowed Guile’s (2000) application of Laban contemporary dance notation – Labanotation – (see Laban, 1960, 1975) to explore potential observation and movement coding methods. Davidson was able to identify particular movement shapes used by the performer that are specifically expressive locations within the context of the whole performance. Through observational analysis, Davidson stated, “the upper torso provided the best indicator of expressive intention” and “amplitude (of movement) is perhaps the single most important determinant of the three expressive intentions studied (without 42  expression, normal expression, and exaggerated expression)” (p. 385-386). Davidson’s research has greatly added to the understanding and mapping of the expressiveness of the performer’s body, yet her findings are based on observations alone, without the insight of the performer.  Researchers have also shown that musicians’ movements can visually convey structural and expressive information (Juslin, 2003; Vines, Krumhansl, Wanderley, & Levitin, 2006), influence musical intelligibility (Thompson, Graham, & Russo, 2005), and influence perceived tone duration (Schultz & Lipscomb, 2007). Dahl and Friberg (2007) studied how certain body parts convey specific emotions. Wallbott (1998) contended that underlying emotions are discernible through the recognition of emotionally associated body movements. According to Todd (1999) and Clarke (2005), sounds can evoke certain kinds of motion expectations. Clarke (2005) posits that it is possible that music can generate a mental representation of fictional motions of a virtual performer just as sound in the everyday world is able to specify movement characteristics of its source. Clarke’s (2005) study concurs with previous discussions of physical metaphor, tacit knowing, and Jaques-Dalcroze’s idea of creating memory banks of aural, visual, and kinesthetic images for future recall. Characteristics of physical movement are recognized as a form of communication that is meaningful for both performer and observer. The question that I asked in my research is: What importance do these movements have for students?  Nusseck and Wanderley (2009) investigated the contribution of ancillary movements on the perception of musical performance using kinematic displays of four clarinetists. Kinematics is the branch of mechanics concerned with the motion of objects 43  without reference to the forces that cause the motion. Participants were asked to rate specific music-related dimensions of the performance and the clarinet performer. Nusseck and Wanderley (2009) suggested that expressive performer movements in musical performances represent implied levels of communication and can contain certain characteristics and meanings of embodied human expressivity. As well, the authors added that: “Specific musical attitudes can be sufficiently communicated through body motion, and they seem to be located in the overall, holistic motion patterns of the player rather than particular individual body behaviors” (p. 351). As with Juchniewicz’s research, the results of this study confirm the importance of movement in conveying meaning to an audience. It is unclear whether the performer acted out the feeling or embodied the meaning in his or her performance. I suggest that further investigation into the conceptions of the performer, which I have done with my research and explain in the following chapters, supplies educators with greater understanding of their students. Moreover, my research findings may help educators in designing or adapting lessons to suit the needs of student performers, in terms of their learning and engagement in music-making.  2.5 Movement as instructional technique to improve musicianship  Music educators have used instructional techniques that incorporate movement primarily to improve certain aspects of musicianship. Generally referred to in music education research literature as rhythmic movement, movement instruction is designed to facilitate students’ physical awareness and enable their performance of the abstract musical concepts in musical notation (i.e., meter and/or rhythmic symbols). Researchers 44  suggest that music students can attain greater understanding of the abstract music concepts such as rhythm and articulation by implementing physical movement into rehearsal activities (Bailey, 2007; Boyle, 1970; Dalby, 2005; McCoy, 1986; Skoog, 2004; Weikart, Boardman, & Bryant, 2004; O’Leary, 2010). Taylor (1989b) and Martinovic-Trejgut’s (2010) studies indicated that body movement could positively affect musical memory retention in elementary school age students. According to Jost (2011), Garner (2009), and Peterson (2000), when students engage with music visually, aurally, and kinesthetically, they obtain greater understanding of music concepts. As well, research studies involving students’ engagement with physical movement show evidence of students’ focus and understanding of the dynamics and flow of the music (Bailey, 2007; Chen, 2007; Larsen, 2008; Montgomery, 1997). Yet, no one has thought to ask the students about their understanding of their own movements. What these researchers have failed to consider is: What is beyond the data of test scores and observations? How do the students conceive of their different experiences with and without movement exercises? Is the students’ understandings of the importance of movement actually important to the students’ development? I will return to this point later in this chapter, but next, I examine if physical movement increases students’ engagement in music-making.  2.6 Engaging students  As mentioned in Chapter 1, one of my secondary questions is: What is the relationship between students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and their engagement in music learning? Sandberg (2009) investigated the effects of music and physical movement activities on attention and engagement in a first grade classroom. A 45  mixed-method approach was employed, using a quantitative component to measure student progress and a qualitative component based on field notes and interviews to measure teacher implementation. Behavioral observations were made using the BASC-2 time sampling form for intervals of 30-second durations where behaviors were recorded as either adaptive (listening to the teacher, responding positively with the lesson) or problematic (inattention, inappropriate vocalization, or aggression). The Behavior Assessment System for Children, Second Edition (Reynolds & Kamphaus, 2004) is a behavior assessment instrument that provides a 30-second point time sampling protocol. Part B, time sampling, was used in Sandberg’s study. A second observer was utilized and an inter-rater reliability of 92% was established. Results indicated that there was an observed increase in attention and engagement for the student participants after music and movement activities (singing, dancing, crossing the midline activities, chanting, finger plays, and rhyming). Students’ adaptive behaviors increased while attention and problem behavior decreased. As well, the teacher reported an improved classroom atmosphere for all students. Similar studies support these findings as well, involving student engagement within the classroom (Jost, 2011; Garner, 2009; Peterson, 2000; Manganello, 2011). Moreover, Allcock and Bridges (1991), Bailey (2007), and Larsen (2008) all noted that, within a rehearsal, movement activities are more than positive, engaging, musical experiences; they are socially dynamic ones as well.  The main difference in Thornton’s (2010) study — asking participants what movement in music means to them — and my research intentions was his use of adult participants instead of adolescents. Thornton interviewed three adults and found that they closely associated music with movement and dance. Participants stated that movement 46  could be an expression of what they were feeling and that music engagement provides a form of expression in response to music heard or created. Physical movement was an integral part of their engagement with music. As well, the interviewees struggled to articulate the meaning they garnered from their active musical engagement, but considered both the “sense of fulfillment” and the “connection to their humanity” to benefit their lives as a whole. This study adds to our understanding of people’s ideas of movement and music but it involved only three participants who were not adolescent age. The strength of emotion and conviction found in the three adults’ comments regarding their engagement with the music, however, should be noted.   I was interested to find that out of all the studies on physical movement that I have examined, the study that comes closest to investigating similar questions to my research is not in music or education. If we assume that playing a musical instrument is similar to playing a controller operated computer game, then researchers Bianchi-Berthouze, Kim, and Patel’s (2007) research is pertinent to my study. They asked, “Does body movement affect the player engagement experience?” and “Can body movement as an interaction modality affect or change the quality of user experience?” They explored the use of full-body controllers, which have recently become a regular feature in the gaming industry. In their experiment, they asked participants (N=18, randomly chosen and placed into two groups) to play Guitar Hero, a music game for PlayStation. The first group was taught to use the controller solely with the hands, while the second group was shown the extra tilt sensor in the neck of the guitar that was affected by upper body movements. The participants were fitted with a lightweight (6 kg) exoskeleton (GIPSY made by Animazoo) on their upper body, arms and head, to provide angular 47  measurements for each of the upper body joints, as well as being videotaped with a motion capture system. After playing, participants were assessed using a gaming engagement questionnaire and data suggested by the motion analysis. In analyzing the role played by the game controller in the engagement level of the participant, Bianchi-Berthouze, Kim, and Patel performed a paired t-test on the engagement scores of the participants in each condition. The test revealed that players in the second group returned significantly higher engagement scores (t = 3.659, p < .001). This finding was corroborated by an analysis of the video recordings of the players. Moreover, the second group showed expressions of a higher level of arousal and positive experience, such as expressions of excitement. Bianchi-Berthouze (2010) linked these findings to Slater, Steed, McCarthy, and Maringelli (1998) who observed in their study (which involved a participant walking in a virtual environment) that “when participants are asked to move within the virtual environment in a way that is related to the task they have to accomplish or to the world they have entered, their sense of virtual reality experience is enhanced” (p. 3). I would like to highlight the researchers interest in the participants’ sense of their experience. The researchers clearly linked student engagement with their perception of their movements, a relationship that I examined in my research.  In summary, movement engages students in a positive way with the experience of music-making. Although no music study has asked its participants, Does body movement affect the player’s engagement experience?, I stress a need for researchers to find the answers to these relevant questions for music education. Bianchi-Berthouze, Kim, and Patel (2007) asked, Can body movement as an interaction modality affect or change the quality of user experience? Is this not a valuable question for music education researchers 48  to ask as well? Answers to these questions, and other similar ones, will help inform teachers about what is meaningful to music students and further help educators increase engagement in students’ learning and music experiences.  2.7 Studies of student’s conceptions (perceptions)  Why should we care about students’ conceptions? What makes them important? The study of conceptions offers a powerful insight for researchers and practitioners of education into the many ways people conceive of teaching and learning (Biggs, 1989; Ramsden, 1993; Laurillard, 1994). As Trigwell and Prosser (1996) argue, insights from the research of students’ and teachers’ conceptions can bring about a totally new conception of teaching. That being said, only a small number of studies in music education concern conceptions. Next, I examine research, noted in dissertations and major education journals in the past 30 years, incorporating music students’ conceptions.  Even though there is a small number (< 20) of such studies concerning music, music education, and conception, the largest proportion examined student teachers’ conceptions. These studies involved student teachers’ conceptions of musicality (Brändström, 1999), creativity in music (Crow, 2008; Kokotsaki, 2012), and effective teaching practices (Brewer, 2009; Bautista, Echeverría, & Pozo, 2010). Within music education, students’ and teachers’ conceptions have also been studied. Burnard (2004) explored a video-based research approach to the investigation of pupil-teacher reflections on what constitutes learning and identified an apparent disjunction between them. She suggested exploring what music teachers and pupils implicitly know and think about learning in order to recognize the role of multiple perspectives and to enhance the pupils’ 49  roles as critical agents in their own learning. This study recognizes the importance of allowing students to become reflective practitioners through analyzing their own conceptions of learning music.   López, Pozo, and Bautista’s (2009) investigation of the conceptions held by basic level conservatory students (N = 12) aged 8 – 12 was about what they thought of cello teachers and how different teaching strategies could improve their learning skills. Participants were asked to respond to three different videos of a girl who had made a pitch mistake in her cello lesson. Each video involved the teacher reacting to the girl’s mistake in one of three ways. The three examples of teaching ranged from direct teaching (teacher-centred) to constructive teaching (student-centred). Participants were then asked to choose both the best and worst ways of teaching. Structured interviews were used to collect data involving questions for the five different grade levels of students (8-12). The authors concluded: “It seems that children come with constructive ideas to the music lessons, but, when they receive instruction, these ideas disappear gradually” (p. 321). Their findings are important to show how students’ conceptions may change as they get older and have more experiences with music performance. Also, it is interesting to consider the value students ascribe to the different teaching practices they observe. For example, how might students view a teacher who encourages a more student-centred approach of examining ancillary movements?   In a study of contrasting results, Oller, Pérez-Echeverría, and Scheuer (2011) analyzed the conceptions that Spanish woodwind students have about learning to play an instrument and the best ways to teach it. After using a multiple-choice questionnaire with sixty-eight woodwind students from three different grades, they noticed a relationship 50  among participants’ level of instruction, their ages, and the conceptions they held about learning and teaching an instrument. Results showed “a complex conception about instrumental teaching and learning, similar to the constructive view developed in the educational and psychological fields” to be associated with the higher-grade students, while lower-grade students held a “realistic and direct conception” (p. 55). The authors called for further research to analyze the relationship between the conceptions and the actual processes and results of instrumental teaching and learning. My research helps build on Oller, Pérez-Echeverría, and Scheuer’s work by examining the relationship between students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and their engagement with learning.  Students’ conceptions have also been studied through an ethnographic approach. Thompson (2001) researched how high school students interact with and construct meaning from their experiences with music. She stated, “… it is vital that we recognize [music’s] importance in students’ lives” (p. 144). Utilizing ethnographic research techniques, Thompson explored the individual and educational confluences of musical beliefs in the worlds of senior high school students in England (N = 35) and British Columbia (N = 33), Canada. Results from interviews, observations, and document analysis illuminated the relationship between the human-centric focus of music education practices in British Columbia and the more entrenched artistic (music-centric) traditions in the British educational system that promote specialization in a field before high school graduation. She concluded by suggesting that music educators and scholars should consider how literal (music-centric) and rhetorical (human-centric) conceptions of music education could be broadened in order that learners' conceptions of music might be 51  simultaneously engaged and challenged. The implications of Thompson’s research are to encourage both music-centric and human-centric conceptions of music, thus giving educators and students greater awareness of the different ways students learn. My research goals are related to those proposed by Thompson. By increasing our understanding of what movement means to students, educators and students could obtain a greater understanding of the different ways students learn. Through this greater understanding of diversity in learning and meaning, new ways of teaching would be developed and encouraged.  The intent of Cape’s (2012) multiple-case study was to investigate what music students in three high schools in Winnipeg, Canada perceived as most meaningful about their participation. By exploring the role that context played in shaping students’ perceptions, she sought potential principles underlying their meaning and value in instrumental ensembles. Cape used the word perceptions, although within the context she established she should have used conceptions to be precise. Cape seeks to find students meaning and understanding, which goes beyond mere perception. Data were collected through six months of in-depth, semi-structured interviews and observations with seventeen students from three different music ensembles as well as their music teachers and school principals. Cape found that “Students valued opportunities to achieve, to form and strengthen relationships, to construct identities as individuals and group members, to express themselves and communicate with others, and to engage with and through music” (p. ii). In her conclusions, Cape acknowledged the lack of research regarding what students value and find meaningful about their participation in instrumental music education. Important questions about the ways that meaningful musical engagement 52  might extend beyond the boundaries of school were raised through her study. Her research contributes to the development of greater understanding of student perspectives sorely needed in ongoing conversations concerning the relevance of music education in students’ lives. My research attempts to fill this gap, identified by Cape in her research.  In Reid’s (1999) dissertation, she examined through a phenomenographic lens the ways musicians and their students experienced the teaching and learning of music at a tertiary level and the ways musicians experienced the professional music world. The participants were selected from the faculty and student body of an Australian school of music with the intention of finding maximum variation in the ways that instrumental teachers give meaning to and understand their experience of teaching and learning instrumental/vocal music. She found that the musicians’ and student musicians’ experience of the world of professional music may have been related to their experience of teaching and learning music, or what she calls Music Entity. Her research is noteworthy since she not only categorized these students’ and teachers’ conceptions, but also through four case studies, described the relations found between individual teachers’ experience of teaching and learning and those of their students. The use of these categories of description and the methodology Reid chose, phenomenography, will be examined in greater detail in the following chapter.  Each of the studies I have chosen represents an addition to greater knowledge within the field of music education. My primary critique of the conception studies is that only Reid was able to elucidate the different ways students conceived of a phenomenon. Reid’s main concerns were: 1) the participants’ content of thinking, 2) what was perceived and thought about, and 3) identifying and describing individuals’ conceptions 53  of a phenomenon as faithfully as possible through statements about people’s ideas about the world. The importance of this will be discussed in detail in Chapter 3 when examining phenomenographers’ second-order perspective.   Also, the researchers in four of the ten conception studies discussed in this chapter used a questionnaire as a data collection instrument. The use of questionnaires as the main data collection method limited the researchers’ ability to clarify participants’ responses and allow for greater variety than just the predetermined questions on the questionnaire. This is why I chose to use an open-ended, semi-structured interview process as described in Chapter 3.   2.8 Lack of music studies  As evidenced from the research, physical movement activity greatly impacts the musical experience for students and contributes in a positive way to music education. This body of research acknowledges the importance of movement in education but does not expand to consider the importance of movement to the students involved. Therefore, one should ask: What are the different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by high school age adolescents in Vancouver, Canada, in 2014?   Music education researchers have investigated people’s conceptions regarding musicality, creativity in music, effective teaching practices, interaction and meaningfulness of participation in music, and the ways musicians and their students experience the teaching and learning of music. Again, no one asks about students’ conceptions of movement, something shown to have importance and educational value.  54   In a new praxial philosophical perspective in music education held by Regelski (1996), he states educators should be concerned with “getting ‘right results’ for the benefit of people in a given domain or situation. For Regelski (1996), “music is ‘a doing’ guided by phronesis (practical wisdom: “reflection in action”) for “right results.” Therefore, I suggest that increased mindfulness and awareness of physical movements, as Shusterman (2008) has advocated through somaesthetics, may lead all music-makers to increased engagement, expression, transformation, and understanding of musical experience guided by a greater phronesis. Is it not important, then, to try and understand the different ways people conceive of something as representative, communicative, and physically engaging as movement in the process of music-making? The additional knowledge gained through this research allows students to contemplate, reflect, and obtain a greater understanding of what movement means to others, as well as to themselves.  55  Chapter 3: Methodology  3.1 Introduction  In this chapter, I present phenomenography, the methodology I used to answer my research questions about students’ conceptions of the movements they make that are ancillary to their playing of a musical instrument. As well, I examine variation theory and its link to the phenomenographic approach to research. Following this, I discuss the process utilized for selecting the participants involved in this research. Next, I describe the data collection methods that were used during this two-month study. Finally, I report how the data were analyzed and address ethical considerations in my research.  3.2 Epistemology and its relation to the chosen methodology  Within instrumental music education, research is usually aimed at the auditory, where performance becomes the product and evidence of learning (Barry & McArthur, 1994; Gabrielsson, 2003; Hewitt, 2001; Palmer, 1997). Unfortunately, this type of research primarily emphasizes the documentation of teaching and learning behaviours that do not necessarily reflect the different ways students understand what they are doing. Denzin and Lincoln (1994) recommend that the researcher’s choice of methodology should be guided by the aims of the research. Previous investigations of teachers’ and/or students’ conceptions of various phenomena have often used quantitative methods to test specific hypotheses about observed differences in teachers’ and/or students’ attitudes to these phenomena, or have elicited teachers’ implicit theories about a phenomenon using pre-existing lists of descriptors. In my research, I have sought to discover and describe 56  the various ways that adolescent students in three high schools in Vancouver, Canada conceptualize ancillary movements. I have not been interested in finding out about ancillary movement itself or in testing a pre-determined hypothesis regarding the different ways ancillary movement is understood. My interest has been in gaining a greater understanding of the ways students experience, think about, or conceptualize ancillary movements. My research aims to enter the students’ life-world and understand the various meanings they ascribe to the concept of ancillary movement in the performance of music.  As a constructivist whose theoretical perspective is chiefly informed by Merleau-Ponty’s (1989) phenomenology of perception (knowing the world through the body) and Shusterman’s (2008) somaesthetics, I have chosen phenomenography as the methodology due to its second-order perspective of studying conceptions. The notions of first-order and second-order perspectives come from first-order logic and higher-order logic where there are predicates having predicates or functions as arguments, or where one or both of the predicate quantifiers or function quantifiers are permitted (Mendelson, 1964, p. 56). Whereas first-order logic quantifies only the variables that span over individuals, second-order logic also quantifies over relations. Second-order logic refers to logics with two (or three) types where one type is comprised of the objects of interest and the second is either sets of those objects or functions on those objects (or both, in the three type case). For example, second order arithmetic has two types: the numbers and the sets of numbers. C. S. Peirce originated the term second-order logic when predicate logic, with its most similar notation to the modern form, was introduced to the mathematical community (Putnam 1982).  57   Within research in education, questions are regularly posed regarding topics. For example: Why do some children have greater success than others in school? This first-order perspective, most commonly utilized by researchers, is used to describe various aspects of the world and make statements about them. The answers to these sorts of questions are statements about reality. Marton and Svensson (1979) have challenged traditional research’s first-order perspective about learning, which takes the researcher’s perspective as the point of departure, and attempted to observe the learner’s world from the researcher’s perspective. As an alternative to the first-order perspective of formulating questions, Säljö (1981) instead asked: What do people think about why some children succeed better than others in school?   In this second-order perspective, Marton (1981) argues for phenomenography as a “mapping of the hidden world of human conception” and as a specialization separate from the domains of phenomenology and psychology. Marton (1986) states: “Phenomenography is not an offspring of phenomenology” (p. 37). Phenomenology’s principal interest involves the relations that exist between human beings and the world around them, their life-world. Marton (1986) asserts: “Phenomenographers do not make statements about the world as such, but about people’s conceptions of the world” (p. 32). Therefore, in the second-order perspective, phenomenography is primarily concerned with the content of thinking, of what is perceived and thought about, and with identifying and describing individuals’ conceptions of a phenomenon as faithfully as possible through statements about people’s ideas about the world (or about their experience of it). Through this approach, learning is seen as relational, occurring through an interaction 58  between student, the content of learning material, and the overall learning environment (Biggs, 1993).   3.2.1 Phenomenography  The term phenomenography, first used by Marton (1981), originated from the Greek terms phainemenon (appearance) and graphein (description) and means the “description of things as they appear to us” (Marton & Fai, 1999, p. 1). Marton (1986) states: “Phenomenography is a research method adapted for mapping the qualitatively different ways in which people experience, conceptualise, perceive, and understand various aspects of, and phenomena in, the world around them” (p. 31). In Marton’s early phenomenographic studies, he found that “students understood the very same text materials in a number of qualitatively different ways” that could be logically categorized (Marton, 1986, p. 36). Consequently, phenomenographers contend that a finite number of variations describe any particular phenomenon whose structure is not affected by the subjects’ experiences (Marton, 1986). Akerlind (2005) states, “phenomenographic research has been described as variation in human meaning, understanding, conceptions (Marton, 1981) or, more recently, awareness of ways of experiencing a particular phenomenon” (Marton & Booth, 1997) (cited in Akerlind, 2005, p. 322).   It is important to note that even though each person has an individual understanding or conception of a phenomenon, the phenomenographer’s analysis is based on the understanding and experience of the group as a whole, not on the individual. These individual experiences are viewed in relation to the backdrop of others sharing in the same phenomenon with the purpose of recognizing the variation in experiences of the 59  whole group. Through a phenomenographic approach, qualitative differences in individuals’ experiences of their reality are identified and described. As well, Marton and Svensson (1979) propounded the learner’s perspective on learning as the desired point of departure: In this perspective, the world as experienced by him [sic] becomes visible. His experience of the world is a relation between him and his world. Instead of two independent descriptions (of the student on one hand and of his world on the other) and an assumed relationship between the two, we have one description, which is of a relational character (p. 472).    Phenomenographers do not aim to separate the phenomenon from related experiences described by the subjects (Marton & Booth, 1997). During phenomenographic data analysis, the different ways of understanding that emerge are not constituted independently, but are viewed in relation to one another. Marton and Booth (1997) state:  In our view, learning proceeds, as a rule, from undifferentiated and poorly integrated understanding of the whole to an increased differentiation and integration of the whole and its parts. Thus, learning does not proceed as much from parts to wholes as from wholes to parts, and from wholes to wholes. To put it very simply, in order to learn about something you have to have some idea of what it is you are learning about (p. vii). The different ways of understanding are usually ordered in terms of inclusivity of awareness (structure of awareness), where more inclusive ways also represent more complex ways of understanding the phenomenon. Marton has described 60  phenomenography as proposing structures of awareness (Marton & Booth, 1997). Moreover, the complex ways of understanding the phenomenon are indicated by an increasing breadth of awareness of different features of the phenomenon. One of the epistemological assumptions underlying phenomenography is that structural relationships among ways of experiencing can be identified. Categories are defined by their qualitative differences from one another and reported in order of complexity and inclusivity, thus providing clarification of the relationships between different ways of experiencing a single phenomenon. The primary goal of the phenomenographer is explicating the structure of awareness, usually defined through categories of description, which illustrate variation within a whole group’s experience of a phenomenon. As Bowden (1996) states, “a particular category of description is always developed in terms of its relation to the other categories of description obtained from a number of people” (p. 64).  Webster-Wright (2009) confirms that phenomenography is a holistic approach, as opposed to an atomistic approach, because it brings together broad experiences and honours the variations among participants rather than focusing on the consistencies or single aspects of experience. Webster-Wright reminds us: “Vygotsky highlighted the problem of atomistic approaches in studying learning, stressing that experience needs to be considered in its full complexity, although various aspects may be foregrounded for different purposes” (p. 714).  Phenomenography and variation theory work together to help identify the variance of meaning of an object of learning. Marton and Booth (1997) argued that the object of learning does not need to precede the experience of it. There is a relationship between the individual and the object of learning that spans experience. Seeing 61  something in a different way allows for variation in understanding, which then leads to what had been focused upon becoming the object of learning.   3.2.2 Variation theory  The basic idea of variation theory is that one cannot know what something is without knowing what it is not. Within variation theory, meanings do not originate primarily from sameness, but from difference, with sameness performing a secondary role. As well, variation theory acknowledges that two individuals perceive a phenomenon differently, which Tan (2009) argues is due to the inclusion of context as part of the individual’s experience. Variation theory is based on studies of learning, which, in many cases, have utilized a phenomenographic approach where the focus for researchers studying learning is not on the subject being taught but on the variation among learners and within a single learner.   Gurwitsch (1964) has been highly influential to the development of variation theory by asserting that an individual can be peripherally aware of much without focusing on it. Marton and Booth (1997) have borrowed from Gurwitsch three specific components of variation theory: thematic field, theme, and margin. Each component is entwined together in a constantly changing relationship that is dependent on an individual’s focus. The thematic field is the context in which relationships take place. The theme involves what is considered relevant at a given moment, the object of focal awareness. Gurwitsch (1964) asserts: “For any items to appear relevant to one another, they must appear in the context” (p. 341). It is impossible to experience anything in total isolation since our experiences are always embedded in context. As well, a theme may be 62  considered relevant at one moment, but soon be replaced by a new, more relevant theme within a thematic field at the next moment. Gurwitsch (1964) states: “Relevancy thus does not become manifest except in and through the experience of context ... the context denoting unity of a specific nature, relevancy denoting the principle underlying that unity” (p. 342). Gurwitsch (1964) described the irrelevant data that are co-present with the theme as being on the margin of awareness. For example, during a student’s music performance (theme), a school bell that he or she may have focused on the first time she or he heard it may, with daily repetition, recede into the background (to the margin) of that person’s consciousness concerning the music performance.  3.2.3 Phenomenography, variation theory, and challenges to both  The phenomenographic approach in tandem with variation theory is best suited to this study because of its non-dualistic reflective nature. Moreover, variation theory augments phenomenography by moving from descriptive to theoretical assumptions about the way a concept is experienced (Åkerlind, 2005; Tan, 2009).   Bruce (2006) and Harris (2011) assert that variation theory has overcome many of its initial challenges, mostly due to troubles in understanding the various writings. Bruce (2006) recommends a focus on learning that can inflate experiences and awareness so there is a broader thematic field from which to draw. Harris (2011) critiqued the phenomenographical approach to study conceptions by reviewing 56 different studies and explicated some inconsistencies in use. These inconsistencies were a result of misinterpretations of the theoretical grounding of the terms used in phenomenography, as well as the outdated use of definitions that had been revised. Therefore, in this study, to 63  address the inconsistency concerns raised by Harris, I use terms defined and developed by Marton and Booth (1997).  Marton addresses the concern that different researchers will not reliably identify the same set of categories of description in the same data and identifies two related issues. The first issue involves the process of discovery, while the second issue is whether a category is recognizable by others once the initial researcher has pronounced it to them. It is reasonable to expect agreement in the second instance but not the first. Marton (1986) states:  The original finding of categories of descriptions is a form of discovery, and discoveries do not have to be replicable. On the other hand, once the categories have been determined, it must be possible to reach a high degree of intersubjective agreement concerning their presence or absence if other researchers are to be able to use them (p. 147).  Within music education research, very few studies have used phenomenography, but it is important to note that music students’ conceptions have rarely been examined. As mentioned in Chapter 2, the most prevalent phenomenographic work with students has been by Anna Reid (Reid, 1997, 1999, 2001; Reid & Davies, 2003; Reid & Solomonides, 2007) in Australia, but she has more recently switched away from music education research to undertake studies on professional learning (Reid, 2011; Reid et al., 2011). In contrast to music education, other disciplines have used phenomenography in numerous studies, describing differences in the ways that students understand diverse subject areas (Alexandersson, 1994; Entwistle & Marton, 1994; Crawford et al, 1994; Petocz & Reid, 2001).  64  3.3 Data collection methods The data collection methods chosen for this study included interviews and student journaling on an online blog. In phenomenography, interviewing is the primary and often only method used, but I included journaling to allow the participants opportunities during the month following the interview to return to a performance space and clarify their conceptions. I recognized that I was studying co-originating mind-body conceptions where language might have been difficult to readily grasp (if not impossible); therefore, I decided to increase the participants’ chances to contemplate their ancillary movements. I suggest this extra opportunity for students to write in their journals immediately after performing yielded greater insight into the students’ conceptions of the object of study (ancillary movements), which might have initially had an ineffable quality for many of them.   From the three Vancouver high schools involved in the study, 270 students were invited to take part, and 45 returned signed permission forms. From this group, I chose 24 students, eight from each school. The selection criteria for the 24 participants were designed to ensure representation from a cross-section of the overall adolescent population. To aid this process, I chose three schools located in different communities of Vancouver (Westside-affluent, Eastside-middle-income, and Inner City) in an attempt to include participants of different socioeconomic status (SES); 10 male and 14 female students from these schools (more females applied); three grade 8s, six grade 9s, four grade 10s, five grade 11s, and six grade 12s. The instrumental music classes that these students were enrolled in consisted of concert band, jazz band, orchestra, and drum line. Most of the various traditional string and band instruments played in school band and 65  orchestra programs were represented. Although all students in the study sample were Canadian, the ethnic backgrounds of the group included representatives from Asian, Southeast Asian, Latin American, and European countries. As explicated previously in this chapter, the phenomenographic approach is employed to discern the qualitatively different ways in which a phenomenon can be understood. The data are analyzed and categories of variation are determined, which are further examined into inter-related levels that represent the relationships among the categories. Finally, these inter-related levels are graphically represented in a format that phenomenographers refer to as an outcome space.   3.3.1 Interviewing Marton (1986) explains data collection through the kinds of conversations that occur during a phenomenographic interview:  [W]e [use] questions that are as open-ended as possible in order to let the subjects choose the dimensions of the question they want to answer. The dimensions they choose are an important source of data because they reveal an aspect of the individual’s relevant structure. Furthermore, though we have a set of questions at the start of the interview, different interviews may follow somewhat different courses (p. 42).   So, to help qualify a response or elicit further elaboration, interviewees were requested to explain their meaning further by being asked questions such as: “Would you explain that further?” “What do you mean by that?” “Is there anything else you would like to say about this problem?” (Bowden et al. 1992). Thus, through discussion, interviewees were 66  encouraged to expose their ways of understanding a phenomenon and their relationship to the phenomenon.   Within the phenomenographic interview procedure, relationality was the primary concern, since the intent of the research is not to come to an understanding of the phenomenon being examined, but, instead, the relation between the subject and that phenomenon. Bowden (2005) advocates for three practices to ensure consistency of focus on relationality in a phenomenographic interview:  (1) Always use an identical opening scenario for every interview within any phenomenographic study. (2) With one exception, never make any further substantive input into the interviews except to refer interviewees to issues they have introduced themselves, in order to get more complete explanations. The only exception is when further input is planned for a particular stage in every interview in the set. (3) The only evidence used in developing categories of description is that contained within the transcripts (p. 12).   In a controlled, planned interview process, the interviewer introduces certain issues/topics at given stages in the interview and avoids any new, non-planned inputs by the interviewer. Explained another way, a normal conversation between two people involves an interchange of ideas where both participants may rethink and adapt concepts during the conversation. Phenomenographers must not re-conceptualize the phenomenon and add this input into the interview, since doing so would alter the information shared with other interviewees. The interviewee must be allowed to define what is pertinent to the phenomenon, while the interviewer encourages the interviewee to be as explicit and comprehensive as possible. 67    Therefore, I used an open-ended interview protocol (Bowden, 2005; Dortins, 2002) in a semi-structured interview at the beginning of the study period. I attempted to facilitate an effective phenomenographic interview by: 1) using open-ended questions rather than yes/no questions, 2) avoiding the use of multiple questions, 3) restating answers to avoid over interpreting, and 4) avoiding why questions. My interview script can be found in the Appendix. Here is an example of questions I asked in the interview: • How do you define music? • When do you feel the most engaged in performing? • How do you know when a performer is deeply engaged in performing music? • How do you know when you are deeply engaged in performing music? • When you watch a musical performance, what might be the reasons the performer displays movement?  • What do you think of when you watch someone displaying movement when s/he performs? …or when you play? • As a performer, how do you know that you are expressing your feelings/thoughts?  • What is your understanding of expressive movement?  3.3.2 Journaling/blogging  At the end of the initial interview, students were assigned the task of writing after each performance/practice session (3 or 4 times a week), for one month, in a confidential journal/blog about their conceptions of their ancillary movements and their engagement with the music. Students who completed the study were given a $50 gift card from iTunes as a thank you for their contribution. I was able to regularly view participants’ comments 68  and the content of their posts throughout the one-month time span. Furthermore, I was able to ask follow-up questions (the same question to all participants), informed by participants’ responses to help clarify their conceptions. Each participant’s blog entries received feedback such as: “Thank you for your comments and for participating in this important study.” If a participant had not completed his or her 3 entries for the week, he or she received an e-mail stating: “Please remember to write down your ideas in the blog. Your input is crucial to this research. Thank you for your participation.”  This reflective practice was a means of self-examination for participants, which involved contemplating what had happened in practice in an effort to illuminate participants’ conceptions of their own movement. As Blake (2005) states: “Some of the benefits of reflective practice include discovering meaning, making connections between experiences and the classroom, … and development of critical thinking” (p. 1). According to Boud (2001), journal writing is both a product and a process that helps us “capture an experience, record an event, explore our feelings, or make sense of what we know” (p. 9). For Gillis (2001), journaling is “a method of promoting exploration and facilitating reflection on learning and new experiences within the context in which the learning unfolds” (p. 49). Moreover, since journal writing can focus students’ awareness on personal development of reflective practice (Schön, 1983, 1987), students’ ability to analyze their own learning and put learning into practice can be facilitated.   3.4 Participants and ethical considerations   Music students in instrumental music classes (band or orchestra) at three different Vancouver high schools were invited to participate in this study. After recruitment 69  meetings were held with possible participants, a group of student participants (N=24, 8 students per school) were chosen by myself from those who had returned signed consent and assent forms. The number of participants (N = 24) was based on recommendations by Dunkin (2000), who notes that phenomenographers have found “that twenty to twenty-five potential interviews [interviewees] were preferred, allowing for some of those to be discarded because of breaches of interview protocol or other failures” (p. 143-144). For Trigwell (1994) and Morse (1994), 15 to 20 interviewees are sufficient for the saturation of categories to be obtained. I told potential students in my recruitment speech and through the consent and assent forms that if they agreed to participate in the study, at any time, he or she would be given the opportunity to end his or her involvement with the study simply by contacting me. All 24 participants finished the study.   I was mindful of the ethical ramifications of my methods and actions throughout this research process. To safeguard students’ privacy, pseudonyms were used for all the participants in the study. All documents were identified only by code number, stored securely in a locked filing cabinet, were not released to anyone outside the study, and accessed only by myself. Primarily, it was important that I did not ask leading questions when seeking to verify participants’ answers. I attempted to bracket my way of conceptualizing movement in performance and strove to view with neutral eyes what such movement means to these participants. I was aware that my own past experiences created a lens with which I viewed and interacted with the world and that my lens might have limited what I sought to observe, what I believe I observed, and how I interpreted my observations. My lens might have hindered my understanding of participants’ experiences of movement as well as their descriptions of engagement with the music. I 70  needed to give detailed descriptions of participants’ experiences in response to open-ended questioning while being conscious of my taken-for-granted assumptions that might have clouded my perceptions and conceptions of the data I collected.  3.5 Data collection Data for this study came from two sources: one interview with each of the 24 participants and their blog journal entries. Interviews lasted 25 to 35 minutes and were conducted solely by myself in an effort to maintain consistency, giving me the opportunity to achieve a higher degree of accuracy in representing student responses in a semi-structured environment. I began each interview by thanking the participant for being a part of my study and telling him/her that I was interested in his/her genuine ideas about physical movements in performances. I talked about and defined the two different types of movements performers make, instrumental and ancillary, and mentioned that it was the ancillary movements that I was most interested in studying. I explained that there were no right answers, just honest individual experiences, and that I was looking to describe the variety of ways that students experience ancillary movements. I encouraged the participants to answer honestly without trying to tell me what they thought I might like to hear. I stated that I would be recording the conversation in order that I could make an accurate account of what we discussed and that their responses would be kept strictly confidential through the use of pseudonyms. As well, I told them that I did not foresee asking any questions that would make them feel awkward or uncomfortable, but if for any reason they did feel uncomfortable, they did not have to answer the question.  71  I purposefully did not use the term expressive movements in the interview until the participant used the term expressive or expression. I chose the term ancillary so that the connotation of the term expressive was not present until the participant incorporated it into our discussions. If I had chosen the term expressive instead of ancillary, I believe the participants’ ability to fully describe their meanings of ancillary movements might be limited to participants just restating that expressive movements were expressive. Moreover, I did not introduce the term gesture into the interview and used it only if the participant added it to our conversation. I was aware of the multiple ways that musical gestures may be categorized (e.g., Jensenius, Wanderley, Godøy, & Leman, 2009), but purposefully chose not to study phenomenologically different types of gestures. I believe that by introducing the multiplicity of ways that gestures and expressions could be interpreted into our conversation, I would possibly lead participants to answer in my words and not theirs. Therefore, I began the interview by using and defining the term ancillary movements and allowed participants to integrate other terms such as expressive and gesture if they introduced them into our discussion.  The 24 interviews were conducted at the participants’ schools over a two-week period at the end of January 2014. Each interview was recorded using two separate devices (an iPod using Voice Memo and an iPad using Recording Pro) to ensure that a quality recording was obtained. The first interview question served to provide me with an understanding of the participants’ music background, after which I asked the participants how they defined music. I found that the participants became immediately engaged in the interview, answering questions with apparent confidence.  72  Besides being asked a series of questions, students also observed on my laptop computer video footage of instrumentalists performing on stage as well as video footage of themselves or other classmates. This video footage was used at three different stages of the interview when, in each instance, the participants were given one to two minutes to observe the video without me attempting to engage them in any discussion (see interview format in the Appendix). I chose video footage to help elicit a response from the students regarding their conceptions of the ancillary movements of others as well as their own ancillary movements.  The first video segment was of clarinet soloist Sharon Kam and the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra under the musical direction of Manfred Honeck, performing Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A, K. 622. In this video, Sharon Kam displays a large amount of ancillary movement, while the orchestra, seen behind her, displays a lesser amount. I chose this footage because of its representation of the classical music genre that many of the participants of my study were familiar playing. (I use the Oxford dictionary’s definition of the term classical music to represent serious music following long-established principles rather than a folk, jazz, or popular tradition.) I believe this first video, from the musical genre in which these participants regularly performed, was helpful in eliciting responses to questions such as: Why were these performers moving? As well, the video provided opportunities for the participants to comment on the different amounts of ancillary movements on display from the soloist and the rest of the orchestra.  The Grammy winning Song of the Year in 2008, Viva la Vida by Coldplay, was chosen for the second video segment because it was from the genre of popular music, as well as the variety in ancillary movements shown by the different performers in the band. 73  All but one of the participants had seen the video before. I wanted students to contemplate ancillary movements in a genre of music that they might be more engaged, comfortable, or familiar with, as well as being different from what they would perform in their school music (Regelski, 2009). By observing performers’ ancillary movements in different genres, participants were given opportunities to compare the importance and meanings of these movements.  The third video segment was video footage recorded by their teacher of their winter concert or in-class final performance, playing what Regelski (2009) would call school music and not their music (p. 72). After the participants had been given the opportunity to discuss their conceptions of the observed ancillary movements of others and what meanings they held for the participants, I wanted them to consider their own ancillary movements in performance. Also, since it was a recent performance, it allowed for discussion of how they remembered their overall experience of this performance and how it might relate to the movements they had made during it.  I conducted all 24 interviews before doing any analysis so that I minimized the danger that the later interviews were altered, either explicitly or perhaps unconsciously due to any new information I had learned in previous interviews. After each interview was completed, I reminded each participant that I wanted her or him to blog for a month, allowing each one an opportunity to further consider what ancillary movements meant to her or him. While the participants blogged for four weeks, I transcribed the interviews myself. The common weekly questions that I assigned during this month of blogging were informed by what I had discovered through the interviews and what I believed would help clarify their conceptions of ancillary movements. (See Appendix.) 74  I encouraged all participants to write about their experiences with ancillary movements after they had played their instrument(s) in a class or private practice session. Moreover, I suggested that they contemplate some of the questions I asked in the initial interview as well as some new ones informed by some of their responses. Participants made blog entries on a WordPress blog that I created where they could view only their own entries. Each participant was assigned a pseudonym to protect his or her identity and chose a password that would allow only his or her admission to the website. Students unfamiliar with using a blog were given the option of sending their entries directly to my secure e-mail address. During the month of blogging, I sent the participants weekly messages thanking them for their responses and encouraging them to consider new questions. Out of the 24 student participants, two students did not write any entries, but the other 22 ranged from 1 to 13 entries over the month. Also, when the students were discussing their teachers, I have used the pseudonym Mr. C. (None of the teacher’s last names started with the letter C.)  3.6 Data analysis  Data analysis in phenomenography is a form of iterative content analysis similar to many other interpretive research approaches. Phenomenographic data analysis requires a researcher to establish an understanding of the data, which recognizes the variation in the data and the undeniable influence of the researcher’s prior knowledge of the phenomenon in the analysis process (Burns, 1994; Marton & Booth, 1997; Cope, 2000).   As mentioned above, during the month after the initial interviews, the journal/blogs were analyzed to help inform me of possible questions I could ask to further 75  clarify participants’ responses and allow them the opportunity to fully describe their experiences of ancillary movement. Akerlind (2005) posits: “Consequently, the researcher aims to constitute not just a set of different meanings, but a logically inclusive structure relating the different meanings” (p. 323). Therefore, it is crucial that the collected data be focused on the object of study, and that the categories of description determined by the researcher always remain close to the data and the object of study. Moreover, Marton and Booth (1997) posit a relationship between people’s experiences of a specific situation and their actions in the situation:  To make sense of how people handle problems, situations, the world, we have to understand the way in which they experience the problems, the situations, the world that they are handling or in relation to the way they are acting. Accordingly, a capacity for acting in a certain way reflects a capacity of experiencing something in a certain way. The latter does not cause the former, but they are logically intertwined. You cannot act other than in relation to the world as you experience it (p. 111).   The results of a phenomenographic study lead to logically related categories, or categories of description, to be employed in facilitating the understanding of concrete cases of human functioning. The intention of categorizing the data is to reduce it to a more limited form while still retaining the essence and salience of all the data. These categories cannot be stated before the research has begun, unlike most research methods which have a preconceived terminology used to describe observations. For example, a psychologist might use Maslow's hierarchy of needs to categorize motivations of participants in a study. By contrast, a phenomenographer understands the usefulness of a 76  limited number of categories such as Maslow’s, but the uniqueness of each phenomenographic study demands that categories can only be determined after looking at the research as a whole. The phenomenographer is thus given room to suggest and classify previously unspecified ways in which people think. As Marton (1986) argues, “Because the different forms of thought are usually described in terms of categories, categories and organized systems of categories are the most important component of phenomenographic research” (p. 34). Once a set of categories is established, the categories and the relationships between them supply the structure of the outcome space for the research.   Phenomenographic researchers aspire to discover the range of meanings within a participant group, as a group, not the range of meanings for each individual within the group. For example, no individual interview transcript can be interpreted outside the context of the group of transcripts or meanings as a whole, in relation to similarities and differences from other transcripts or meanings (Akerlind, 2005). For this research, I adopted Marton and Booth’s (1997) criteria for deciding the quality of the phenomenographic outcome space: • That each category in the outcome space discloses something characteristic about a way of understanding the phenomenon; • That the categories are logically related to one another, a relationship that is frequently hierarchical, typically as increasing levels where some conceptions are more inclusive or complex than others; and  • That the outcomes are parsimonious, representing the critical variation in experience observed in the data, in as few categories as possible (p. 125).  77  Marton and Booth (1997) use the term hierarchy, which is a common practice of many phenomenographers. I acknowledge the challenges, social costs, and authoritarianism sometimes associated with using the term hierarchy, which could be read to suggest that a research participant at one level is superior to one at another level. In my study, I do not choose to imply explicitly or implicitly that such a higher ranking exists. Therefore, as mentioned in Chapter 1, I have created a taxonomy, used in its analytic sense as a strategy to recognize connections between categories not unlike a taxonomy of animals. This taxonomy, based on descriptive categories, uses levels of complexity of understanding to help depict the differences, without privileging one level over another.   After the month of blogging, I finished transcribing the interviews and began a thorough analysis of the interview transcripts and blog entries involving qualitative coding that emerged through a reiterative process of re-reading and combining similar codes. My attention shifted from the individual interviews, from which the students’ responses were taken, to the meaning embedded in the responses themselves. I gathered the students’ responses into a pool of meanings where the data identifying participants were discarded. I initially had over 50 codes of student responses (quotes), which, through subsequent readings, I was able to combine into 20 to 25 codes. For example, I originally had two separate codes for lack of movement shows poor expression in performance and movement is a strong factor for musical expression. On further analysis, I combined these two codes into one due to their likeness. I felt that if students stated movement was a strong factor in musical expression that this was similar with student discussions about a lack of movement leads to a poor expressive performance. Through 78  this process, I was able to create a smaller number of codes as well as eliminate some that had no importance to my research questions (e.g., traditions of specific styles of movement and movement that displays the history of music).  Marton (1986) explains how each quote has two contexts in relation to which it has been interpreted: 1) the original interview where it was acquired, and 2) the pool of meanings to which it belongs. As Marton (1986) asserts: The interpretation is an interactive procedure which reverberates between these two contexts … As a result of the interpretive work, utterances are brought together into categories on the basis of their similarities … In concrete terms, the process looks like this: Quotes are sorted into piles, borderline cases are examined, and eventually the criterion attributes for each group are made explicit (p. 42).   Within phenomenographic research, there are contrasting opinions when examining a specific issue on whether to consider the whole transcript (Bowden, 1994a, 1994b; Prosser, 1994) or to choose smaller excerpts believed to represent particular meanings (Svensson & Theman, 1983; Marton, 1986). Bowden’s argument for a contextualized within the whole transcript approach advances the idea that the whole transcript should be viewed and treated as a set of interrelated meanings, which are best understood in relation to one another. Moreover, this perspective views the decontextualized from the whole transcript approach as risky and possibly dangerous due to lessening of consideration of the context of the quotes and possibly the researcher’s conceptualized meaning. Those who argue for the decontextualized from the whole transcript approach (Svensson & Theman, 1983; Marton, 1986) agree that considering 79  the larger context is important when interpreting and choosing excerpts from transcripts, but view emphasizing the whole transcript as dangerous since the contextualized within the whole transcript approach may encourage an analytic focus on the individual participant’s transcript instead of the overall group as a collective. I adopted Svensson & Theman’s (1983) and Marton’s (1986) decontextualized from the whole transcript approach for this reason. Further, I chose this approach because I anticipated that the contextualized approach to analysis might reduce the clarity of the main aspects of meaning that I was searching for, since the meaning that the phenomenon had for the participant could vary during the course of the interview.   Continuing with this decontextualized from the whole transcript approach, I revisited my three secondary research questions and looked for a way to group student responses into an initial set of categories. I formed a set of categories that I sensed encompassed my conceptions of what the students were trying to say. Next, I returned to the pool of meanings, adjusted the categories, and cycled between the categories and the pool of meanings until I believed I had a stable set of categories. I repeated this process in relation to all three of the secondary questions guiding my research, also discovering that some of the data coded would need to be discussed separately as other themes.   Two of the three secondary questions guiding my research and discussed in Chapter 1 were adapted slightly due to my recognition after data analysis that the first two questions were too similar. Therefore, I changed the wording so that one question dealt with students’ conceptions of the ancillary movements of others, while the other question involved students’ conceptions of their own ancillary movements. Through differentiating between their own movements and the movements of others, greater 80  opportunities for dialogue became possible (i.e., comparing and contrasting the observed and the experienced ancillary movements). I also reversed the order of the first two questions because I thought it would be more beneficial to discuss the two questions regarding students’ conceptions of their own ancillary movements one after the other due to their similarity. Here are the revised secondary questions: 1. What is the relationship between students’ conceptions of the observed ancillary movements of others to the students’ connection with the music performed by others? 2. What is the relationship between students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and their engagement in music learning?  3. What is the relationship between students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of musical expression?  In Chapter 4, I illuminate my research findings having utilized a phenomenographic approach and explain how participants’ responses allowed me to create a final outcome space. This outcome space along with other themes that I discovered through data analysis help to answer my main research question as well as give greater context to the discussions, implications, and recommendations that follow in Chapter 5. 81  Chapter 4: Findings Movement brings life to what a musician is playing. It’s like reading out of a book. If a reader reads in a monotone-like manner, it’s very dull and boring. If a musician just plays notes out of a page, there is no life. But, with dynamics and movement, there is a purpose for every note, and it becomes very beautiful. (Christina, J)  4.1 Introduction  In order to better understand the ways students conceptualize ancillary movement, this research began with the question: What are the different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by high school age adolescents in Vancouver, Canada, in 2014? I answered the question using a phenomenographic approach consisting of semi-structured interviews and participant blogging over a one-month period. As mentioned in Chapter 3, pseudonyms were used for all the participants, and I made note at the end of a quote whether each response came during the interview (e.g., Harry, wp.11514; pseudonym and word count placement) or if it was a journal entry from the blog (e.g., Phyllis, J; pseudonym and “J” for journal). The findings illuminated in this chapter will be discussed at greater length in Chapter 5, along with implications and recommendations I have for practice and future research.   82  4.2 Categories of description of the different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by high school age adolescents  I categorized students’ conceptions of ancillary movements in instrumental music performance to form a structure that is distinguished through logically related elements, as well as the variation between categories. This structure allows for an examination of how the different components of the categories relate to one another and how they relate to the whole. As Reid (1999) states:  The referential dimension seeks not to define the variation between parts and a whole, but seeks to describe the various ways categories are internally related to one another. This involves understanding the variation in meaning that is ascribed to certain aspects within the categories (p. 76).  By examining the structural and referential dimensions, which are woven together, greater clarity of conception of understanding of the components of the categories is possible.   Through the data analysis described previously, I was aware of Reid’s (1999) findings from her study of conceptions of teaching and learning instrumental and vocal music, but I was adamant that I would attempt to discover the categories of description in my study without being influenced by her findings. That being said, the similarities between our results could not be ignored or dismissed and there is a likeness between the categories I developed and those suggested by Reid. She also created an organizational structure called the Music Entity, on which she expanded into the Professional Entity in subsequent papers. Reid (1999) states: “The Music Entity is a way of describing musicians’ (and student musicians’) experience of the world through which participants 83  are aware of both what it is to know and understand music and to be a musician" (p. 70). Unfortunately, her suggestion that this structure of awareness is transferable to other phenomena comes into conflict with one of the tenets of phenomenography, which is, as Akerlind (2005) asserts, “the importance of attempting, as far as possible, to maintain an open mind during the analysis, minimizing any predetermined views or too rapid foreclosure in views about the nature of the categories of description” (p. 323). In her writing, the Music Entity and Professional Entity both act as predetermined categories of description for new phenomena that she explores, which is incongruous with the methodology of phenomenography previously stated.  The categories of description that I have developed for my three secondary questions have been informed by Reid’s (1999) terminology for three qualitatively different levels: 1) Extrinsic Technical, 2) Extrinsic Meaning, and 3) Intrinsic Meaning. These three levels make up the basic categories of description I have used in examining each of the three secondary questions in this study. Next, I present the categories I have developed from my analysis of the data followed by a more thorough explication of the categories and the connections between them.   The categories of description reflect five levels of complexity of students’ conceptions of ancillary movements:   Extrinsic Technical    Beats and Rhythms (level 1)     Music Elements (level 2)   Extrinsic Meaning    Music Meaning (level 3)  84     Communicating (level 4)  Intrinsic Meaning    Expressive Meaning (level 5)     I chose to use the term extrinsic to describe components of music-making that are literally outside of the student. In the Extrinsic Technical level, ancillary movement is understood as a technical means related to learning, experiencing, and/or facilitating music performance. Describing this level, Reid (1999) states: Music is understood as a series of technical and notational elements that are joined together physically on an instrument. Music is created through a physical act where instrumental/musicological components are prescribed by external forces rather than being interpreted or created from within the participant (p. 71).  I expanded each of the two extrinsic categories into two more levels of increasing complexity of understanding; the extra categories allow for greater description of the differences in conceptions held by the 24 students.   Students at the first level, which I named Extrinsic Technical: Beats and Rhythms, use ancillary movements to understand beats and rhythms found in the music and, through their use, help themselves to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument. Students describing this type of movement did not report any other use or need for ancillary movements other than to distinguish beats and rhythms in the music. Students at the second extrinsic technical level discussed music elements beyond beats and rhythms, such as dynamics, phrasing, style, and articulation. I named this level Extrinsic Technical: Music Elements, since students at this level used ancillary 85  movements to understand music elements such as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, and other stylistic elements and through their use enable themselves to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument. This second level builds on the discussion of beats and rhythms by including other music elements.    At the Extrinsic Meaning level, a more complex view of music-making is evident where the student’s focus becomes the inherent meaning of the music through the realization of meaningful musical sound for communication. The attention is still given to the extrinsic meaning of the music as object, outside of the student, while the ancillary movements, along with the instrumental and technical elements of music-making, are embodied as a means to realize the music’s meaning. As I mentioned in Chapter 1, music as object refers to the conception that music is a thing, a piece of art as realized in aesthetic philosophy, as opposed to music being a form of praxis, a doing. At this level, the student considers the technical elements of music-making only as the mechanics of playing and as secondary to the meaning ascribed to the music. The Extrinsic Meaning category describes the understanding that music has a meaning that is unique and specific to it. Musicians illuminate this meaning and perform or communicate it to their audience.   Christina, whose comments revealed her orientation toward Extrinsic Meaning, contemplated her movements and the meaning within the music: I think the type of movement you make when you are playing goes with the type of music you are playing. If someone were to play sad music, you wouldn’t see the musician smiling and making dance-like movements. The motion a musician would make in this case would be very slow and solemn (Christina, J). 86   I expanded Extrinsic Meaning into two levels as well. The first, which becomes level three in the overall structure of the categories of description, involves the conceived inherent meaning of the music performed. Level three is named Extrinsic Meaning: Music Meaning where ancillary movements are used to express the inherent meaning of the music (as object). Students whose comments I categorized as being at level three regard the music’s meaning as preexisting and believe the performer’s duty is to find and experience it. The main difference between level three and level four is the performer’s need to communicate this meaning to others. I have called level four Extrinsic Meaning: Communicating, where ancillary movements are used to communicate the inherent meaning of the music (as object) to the audience or other performers in community. As an example, Josephine discussed in the interview the effect that her teacher’s movements had on the students and their connection with the music:  I've noticed that when like the conductor conducts, it's like different movements, because when we do different songs (say we’re doing a Latin song or whatever), sometimes Mr. C will conduct, but other times he'll just stand there and nod his head and enjoy the music, and then the same way in concert band, like sometimes you just cannot like this (gesturing) and then other times like this (gesturing), and I think that that [affects] the way that we move because since he's connecting with the music and he's connecting with us like influencing the way we are connecting with the music as well (Josephine, wp.17254). Josephine’s comments illustrate her potent connection with the music through mimicking the ancillary movements of others. The meaning she ascribes to the music is enhanced through these communicative movements.  87   Students whose comments I categorized at the final level, Intrinsic Meaning, regard music as what Reid (1999) describes as “a vehicle for expressing personal artistic truths” (p. 73). The extrinsic elements of instrumental technique and inherent music meaning are still contained in this view of music, but the added intrinsic, personal interpretation and meaning of the performer is expressed through the vehicle of the music as well. Therefore, the intrinsic meaning of music is understood through the lens of a musician’s own personal meaning making, his or her view of the world from his or her experiences with music, and his or her reinterpretation of the extrinsic meaning of the music. The technical/mechanical aspects of playing an instrument are subsumed in the interpretive process, and the musician’s own artistic truth is envisioned through his or her own understanding of the world. At the core of Intrinsic Meaning is the creation and expression of the performer’s artistic truth. Level five, Intrinsic Meaning: Expressive Meaning, represents ancillary movement occurring as a means of self-expression where the music-making becomes a vehicle for expression/communication with others or just oneself. Here are two examples: In Jazz [Jazz Band class] this week I really used my movement to show my own personal expression in my music and the way I play it. When I have had solos this week in jazz, I have really shown movement, and moving gives me more to my solo and it helps me build my solo (Steven, J). The movement that I make when I play is all related to how I want to express the music. The more movement, or rather the more upper body movement I make, I want to show and feel the tension and feeling of the pieces that I play. I feel that with any movement that I make it is for a reason, whether to show dynamic or 88  expression of a piece or to show how I am feeling while I play a certain song or certain section or excerpt of a song. When I move to play it is for myself; 1000 people could be watching or 1 person could be watching and it would be the same movement in the way that I interpret every note that I play. I find that the movements that I make are vital to the way I play the piece. And if I am not feeling the music, then I don’t think that I will make great music; I will only make ‘okay’ music (Steven, J).  In these two excerpts, Steven described intrinsic meaning by referring to “personal expression,” and he revealed a sense of ownership “in my music.” He spoke of “how I want to express the music” and “the way that I interpret every note that I play.” It is also important to note that Steven linked his movements with the quality of music he will be able to perform: Without movement, he “will only make ‘okay’ music.”  Figure 4.1 illustrates how each successive level (from 1 to 5) encompasses the ideas of the previous level and expands through greater complexity of understanding of ancillary movements.  89  Figure 4.1 Levels of complexity of understanding of ancillary movements                   In the next section of this chapter, I explicate the different ways students conceptualize ancillary movements according to the three secondary questions previously asked. This structure and the three sets of categories form what phenomenographers refer to as the outcome space and will convey the structure of awareness that this group of adolescents has regarding their conceptions of their ancillary movements. After 90  describing the results of the three secondary questions, I then look at other important ideas students raised in our discussions that they find important in their use and experience of ancillary movements.   The first set of categories I created describes the importance of the ancillary movements of others (i.e., performers they observe) to the students’ connection with the music performed by others. Primarily, how do students experience the ancillary movements of the performers they observe? The second set of categories examines students’ conceptions of their own ancillary movements and their engagement in music learning. The third set of categories details the relationship between students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of musical expression, or, stated another way, how students believe their ancillary movements affect others.  4.2.1 Students’ conceptions of the ancillary movements of others (performers they observe) and their connection with the music performed by others.  Students experience ancillary movements primarily in one of two ways: either through observing others as an audience member or through moving in their own performance. This first set of categories I created illuminates the first way, through observing the ancillary movements of others and the effect these ancillary movements have on this study’s participants.   4.2.1.1 Extrinsic technical: Beats and rhythms (level 1). Students’ observations  Students at the first level view ancillary movements of performers as a way to show, express, and experience the beats and rhythms of the music being performed. 91  Moving to the beat is emphasized in their discussions, and rhythm is seen as the primary way of describing the music and ancillary movements observed. I see movement to help people with counting, just in general. Like one of the basic ones could be like foot tapping. I guess I could count that as movement, but ... Things like that, those kind of movements I see very often because they help with your performance (Harry, wp.11514).  Well definitely like things like tapping their feet, nodding their heads, and like it's on their face, like they're looking at the conductor with interest and like they’re moving in a way like in some ways it's like they're almost dancing (Josephine, wp.4253).  One part of the interview involved the participant watching a two-minute video of professional clarinetist Sharon Kam displaying a large amount of ancillary movement while playing Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto (K. 622), first movement (Allegro). The participant was then asked, “Why do you think she is moving like that?”  Maybe its because of the beat and the rhythm … Well, like how she played each note like do do do (gesturing) while the cello played something she moves, and then while the violin plays she does a little… (gestures like he’s playing violin) (Keith, wp.4125).  When asked if the clarinetist was displaying ancillary movements for herself, the audience, or both:  I think that for the most part, 90% of it is for her, so that she can maybe feel the music more (gesturing beats), but it could also be that some of the audience don't have musical background, so they can start to see where the bar begins and so like 92  beat one maybe … so they can get a sense of the time and stuff ... (Annie, wp.9333).  In each excerpt, the beat or rhythm is the primary reason someone would display ancillary movements during performance. This category forms the basic level within my five categories of description.  4.2.1.2 Extrinsic technical: Music elements (level 2). Students’ observations  Students’ conceptions of observed ancillary movements move beyond representing just beat and rhythm to include other technical elements of music such as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, sound/tone quality, and other stylistic concerns of the music. Students at this level used ancillary movements to understand these music elements and through their use allow a performer to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument.  In this example, Lawrence linked movements with articulation: The shorter and the shorter she (Sharon Kam) plays, the shorter moves she does and the part with the long notes, she moves slower (gesturing) and with those high ones like that tick tick it's like I think she's following the patterns of the music (Lawrence, wp.7815).  For Rachel and Phyllis, movement represented the phrasing and shape of the music. Rachel said: “She's [Sharon Kam] moving like to the shape of the phrase. She's moving like her face muscles because she knows what she needs to do to get the high note” (Rachel, wp.5556). Phyllis agreed:  93   I think it's just like … I think, for example, there are shapes to the music, there is like highs and lows and like loud and softs, and so she's [Sharon Kam] moving around … I notice she's always moving in circles so her elbows like every time she gets a higher note or soft note, her elbows actually move upwards (Phyllis, wp.3121).  Steven considered movement to be mostly representational of the dynamics in the music. He also noted that it seems unnatural to stand still: “By making her [Sharon Kam] body movements, it's the volume she's playing at when there's a dynamic change, she'll move to help her ... I don't know. It seems kind of unnatural to stand still to play” (Steven, wp.4894).  Each of these students described a common level of understanding observed in the ancillary movements of others even though they may have been concentrating on just one or two of those elements. Their focus on the music elements of performance places their comments clearly in the Extrinsic Technical: Music Elements category at level two.     4.2.1.3 Extrinsic meaning: Musical meaning (level 3). Students’ observations  In this third category, students understand the ancillary movements of performers as a way to express the inherent meaning of the music where the performer wishes to represent what music is. Discussion of music elements is present but the concept that the music (object) has a meaning to be conveyed is added to this conception of what the ancillary movements represent. Harry believed:   Judging by the way she [Sharon Kam] is moving and what part she is playing, it feels like her movement reflects the music itself. When it's smooth phrasing and 94  legato, she's moving in circular smooth motions, her body's swaying in like a rotation, and when there are fast staccato passages, she's jumping around a bit, her head is shaking in like a rigid format, so I guess she's using her body to help her express what the music is trying to express (Harry, wp.7965).  In this excerpt, Oliver described how “the feeling of the music” is “portrayed” by movement: I think it just means that they [his ensemble] are very into the music, that if you put them into a room... In a sense, they’re just moving into the music and it just flows, it's not jagged, it's not right in-your-face, and the movements are going up and down like a wave. Sometimes it helps with movement because it portrays the feeling of the music (Oliver, wp.9834).  Christina added to this when describing her expectations of the movement shown by a performer, commenting on whether ancillary movements would vary in different genres and styles of music:  Yes, slightly, like in classical. I've seen Mozart ... Mozart's a very elegant sound because Mozart is very elegant. Even if you feel sadness or happiness in Mozart's music, you feel it in an elegant way. If I were to go to another thing like let's say Coldplay, like Viva la vita, it's going to be like, “Oh no, I'm going to die because like I used to rule the world but now it's gone” sort of thing, more like that crash and burn feeling … So I find in Mozart, it's like a bit of a different character to portray the same thing (Christina, wp.10927).   For Phyllis, the observed ancillary movements of the performer were easy to explain: “I think she's [Sharon Kam] just really involved, and she's imagining the music 95  instead of just playing it” (Phyllis, wp.3510). The performer is “imagining” the music (object) and portraying its meaning through movement.  4.2.1.4 Extrinsic meaning: Communicating (level 4). Students’ observations  Students at this fourth level view ancillary movements to communicate the inherent meaning of the music (as object) to the audience or another performer. The additional gradation evident in level 4 involves the student’s description of a performer using ancillary movements to help communicate with someone else (i.e., an accompanist, another member of the ensemble, and/or the audience). Vincent stated: I think her [Sharon Kam’s] playing is very beautiful and amazing. Her body moving is like, actually, in the music; it's kind of in the music; it's like the top to the bottom; it's totally, be a part of it for the audience (Vincent, wp.4701). In other examples, students referred to the performer telling the music’s story:  I think to give an emotion. I also notice that through her [Sharon Kam’s] eyes it's like she's telling a story about what the piece has to do with. She's just really engaged like it's like her movements are so big it's kind of hard not to notice. I've never ever really seen anything like that before. I thought it was really cool … yeah (Deborah, wp.3576). She seems to really enjoy showing her passion. I also see like the performers behind her, and they're like smiling and really into it too. I can also see like this character, this really playful character there, going on little adventures and stuff. I just like looking at this, every time I look at classical music I always think of Bugs Bunny and what he’s doing at that moment (Christina, wp.8293). 96   Well to me it kind of felt like she [Sharon Kam] was giving a speech or trying to say something with a lot of emotion for the audience so if she was talking she would probably move her arms and gesture when she's trying to convey something with really, really a lot of emphasis, so I think she's kind of like doing that with the music as well. And she gets to a part that's saying something really strong she's like moving more, and also by doing that she's kind of playing the music with her whole body too. It's kind of effecting [sic] [the] sound (Josephine, wp.4725).  This is a powerful statement from Josephine, suggesting that the clarinetist through using her whole body to play the music was “affecting [the] sound,” such that the sound is changed by her whole body involvement. Josephine also noticed that the performer’s movements were related to her appreciation of the music the clarinetist was playing:   [W]hen I was learning piano my teacher had to teach me like how to move so that it would look good to the audience. I think it has to do with showing the audience that she likes what she's doing (Josephine, wp.5556). Therefore, the clarinetist also communicates that she enjoys what she is doing through her movements. Yvonne stated: “It's like she [Sharon Kam] wants to send to people that this is a really exciting song and she can show it to them by moving” (Yvonne, wp.2846).  Students also discussed moving with a performer in sympathy where there is an interaction and/or imitation of ancillary movements between the performer and the audience. Josephine commented on this after observing the clarinetist: Well, probably in the past I would've felt more awkward about it, like I wouldn't really understand, but now like I kind of know a little bit more about music, and 97  I've had some more experience like with performing ... But now if I was like watching that [i.e.,Sharon Kam playing], I would want to like mimic her subconsciously like moving with her and then same thing kind of like with the music getting in your whole body; it makes me feel the same way even though like I'm not playing it (Josephine, wp.6388).  Josephine connected with the performer by “mimicking” her movements mentally, which allowed her as an audience member to sympathetically “feel the same way” as the performer.   In a small ensemble setting, Harry noted a connection with his classmate’s solo and his own subconscious, sympathetic movement: Even though I was sitting on a chair during Combo rehearsal, I felt myself subconsciously moving rhythmically along to the music that we were playing. While I listened to my classmate's opening solo, I found myself tapping my hand and bobbing my head along to his solo. While I'm not sure as to why this is, I feel it is probably due to the environment that Combo sets ... It's a much more relaxed and "fun" environment as we the students govern our own times ourselves (Harry, J).  These students have said that movement may affect sound, it shows a performers enjoyment, and it allows the audience to experience sympathetically the performer’s movements through consciously or subconsciously mimicking the performer’s experiences and emotions in music-making.  98  4.2.1.5 Intrinsic meaning: Expressive meaning (level 5). Students’ observations  Students at the Intrinsic Meaning level view ancillary movements as a means of self-expression, where the music-making becomes a vehicle for expression/communication with others or just oneself, and the personal expression and meaning of the performer is evident to the observer. The students use vivid words like “sharing their emotions,” “expressing their thoughts and emotions,” and “being in their ‘own world’” to describe the connection students observe between the performer and the music which is used as a vehicle to perform, converse, and obtain greater personal understanding. An example of this is Christina’s statement: I believe that it is natural for humans to move their bodies when they are expressing their thoughts or emotions. Sometimes we make hand gestures as we speak to make a point, so that our message will come across not only in words, but also through action. The same goes with music. Body movement helps bring life to what a musician is playing. It also shows that a musician is sure of what he or she is playing (Christina, J). Christina’s comments reveal the concept that the visual is an important part of the performance and that music-making is not sound alone. After watching the video of clarinetist Sharon Kam, Queenie noted: She's really ... she seems to be really into [the music]. She's playing like she wants to tell a story or whatever and there's a point to her music that she's trying to get across to the audience … For the notes that she's trying to bring out, she moves her body more than for the quieter or lower notes, she's more into herself (laughs) (Queenie, wp.5335). 99  Queenie’s statement implies the Intrinsic Meaning category since she mentions, “there’s a point to her [the performer’s] music,” not the music. Moreover, she is asserting that the performer is trying to communicate her meaning to an audience and that her movement displays how she’s “more into herself.” The music-making with movement becomes a vehicle for her self-expression of her music.  Vincent described the observed ancillary movements as a “body language.”  “The body languages, like she’s sharing her emotions, she's playing music as like her speaking language, it's more to show what she has in her mind I think and her understanding of the music that she is playing” (Vincent, wp.4220). Vincent stressed “her understanding of the music” as well as “sharing her emotions” of the music.  The phrase “in his or her own world” was used by some of the participants when describing the connection they observed between a performer and the music he or she played. Paul described a classmate who exhibited this connection: There is one person that I like to quote. I’m not going to say his name but like he has a bass in class like always and you can tell that he is always engaged by his movements and in his face and all that stuff he does, how he listens and how he like walks around with his headphones and like playing. It takes a while to kind of snap him out of that moment that he is in (Paul, wp.4817). I suggest that the connection Paul describes between his classmate and the classmate’s music-making includes Paul’s world of understanding and meaning, where ancillary movements and emotion are combined into what appears to be a unified connection of performer, music, and his or her own meaning and understanding.  100   Zara talked about the music taking over the performer’s body, as he or she appeared to be in “another world:” I think I can tell when somebody's really into it when it seems, when they're not physically there, but they seem like they're in another world and just enjoying the music and letting the music come to them and take over their body (Zara, wp.5026). Queenie also described how she has observed and felt a sense that nothing else matters but the connection with music-making: People get very involved, and they rock back and forth. I do that sometimes when I'm playing ... And it's like nothing else matters, they’re just so in tune with what they are playing you can really notice it, because it doesn't matter what else is going on around them (Queenie, wp.3581).  Betty built on the depth of this connection when she explained how some performers are so emotionally connected with their music-making that “they’ll even be crying and so emotional.”  Everyone kind of expresses [connection with the music] differently. You can just see it in their face I guess, and their body language. Sometimes when you're singing, you can hear it in their voice or if they're playing the piano, you can hear it in the dynamic they use and the way they lean in and lean out. Often they will like close their eyes and just be taking it in. Sometimes they'll even be crying and so emotional (Betty, wp.3266).  In summary, I have organized into five categories, increasing levels of complexity of understanding of students’ conceptions regarding the ancillary movements of others 101  (i.e., performers they observe) and their connections with the music they perform. The chart below displays the outcome space determined by the differences in conceptions of the group of 24 students.  Figure 4.2 Outcome space for students’ conceptions of the ancillary movements of others (i.e., performers they observe) and their connection with the music they perform   Students’ conceptions of the ancillary movements of others (i.e., performers they observe) and their connection with the music they perform  Extrinsic Technical: Beats and rhythms (level 1): Ancillary movements are used to understand beats and rhythms found in the music and through their use allow a performer to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument.  Music elements (level 2): Ancillary movements are used to understand music elements such as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, and other stylistic elements and through their use allow a performer to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument.  Extrinsic Meaning: Musical Meaning (level 3): Ancillary movements are used to express the inherent meaning of the music (as object).  Communicating (level 4): Ancillary movements are used to communicate the inherent meaning of the music (as object) to the audience.  Intrinsic Meaning: Expressive meaning (level 5): Ancillary movements occur as a means of self- expression where the music-making becomes a vehicle for expression and communication with others or just oneself.  102   4.2.2 Students’ conceptions of their own ancillary movements and their engagement in music learning.  As previously indicated, students experience ancillary movements primarily in one of two ways: either through observing others as an audience member or through moving in their own performance. This second set of categories that I created concerns the second way, i.e., through experiencing their own ancillary movements and specifically the effect these ancillary movements have on their own engagement in music-making.   4.2.2.1 Extrinsic technical: Beats and rhythm (level 1). Student’s engagement  In this second set of categories, Extrinsic Technical: Beats and Rhythms is the first level where students’ ancillary movements are used to understand beats and rhythms found in the music and, through their use, allow the students to obtain greater technical fluency on their instruments.   Xavier expressed a dependence on ancillary movements so that he did not get lost in the music: Yesterday while practicing I was playing the bass drum. Normally, I would keep time while I'm nodding [my] head, but there was this one part where I would always lose count. This part of the song I didn't know too well and haven't practiced much on it. For some reason, I noticed that I would always stop my head in that area; I lost my time. Nodding my head and keeping the time were related. I couldn't do one without the other (Xavier, J). 103  The student related the ancillary movements he made with an essential element of music-making, “keeping time.” The movement is considered important enough that “keeping time” is dependent on the ancillary movements (i.e., his head nodding). When I asked him how he knew he was deeply engaged in performing music, he answered: “When my feet move, because when my feet move I know that I'm in rhythm” (Xavier, wp.3444).  Deborah, too, viewed her ancillary movements (i.e., foot tapping) as being done primarily for the purpose of time keeping: Like, your body just goes with it like even if you’re just tapping your foot or … or like you’re swaying your body to the side, or you're like bobbing your head when you play. I think a lot of it has to do about keeping time, and that helps you a lot (Deborah, wp.10563).  Harry mentioned the feel of the music, but he related it to timing, entries, and maintaining a steady beat: I definitely feel that, for myself, a person who is very used to their instrument, ancillary movements can help in understanding or playing the music the right [way] feel easier. Today in combo, in one of our faster swing tunes, the transitions weren't always together, so our group worked on those with the timing and unison entries. Once we got it right once, it was much easier to continually play it correctly when I used some small motion that went along with the "feel" to make myself come in on time. The motion I used was a simple, fast, but short leaning forward motion. Also in concert band, when coming in with a 16th note passage on the off beat, it was easier to come in on time when I had an ancillary 104  movement to come with it. … I found ancillary movements to help with timing and rhythm (Harry, J).  For Yvonne, ancillary movements allowed her to experience and learn the rhythmic aspects of the music to a greater extent: “Maybe the ancillary movements I make allow me [to learn] the music quicker because by tapping it makes the music easier and by swaying it makes the half or whole notes easier” (Yvonne, J).  Lawrence regularly expressed himself through movement in the interview by gesturing while he spoke: “What influences me to move when I play the drums is really the song and the beat that I start feeling like, oh yeah (gestures playing beats). I don't really need to dance” (Lawrence, wp.15896). My impression of Lawrence was someone who constantly “danced” to express himself through his movements. He was also the participant who struggled the most to express himself through words but would constantly be moving (gesturing, standing, miming, mimicking) to represent the meaning he gave to what we were discussing. I examine later in this chapter how students’ experiences of music and movement were sometimes ineffable.  4.2.2.2 Extrinsic technical: Musical elements (level 2). Student’s engagement  Students make ancillary movements to help them understand musical elements such as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, and other stylistic elements and, through their use, enable themselves to obtain greater technical fluency on their instruments. These movements help them to engage with the music at this second technical level.  In the following excerpts from transcriptions of their interviews and blogs, students explained how they engage with music through ancillary movements. Nancy 105  stated: “I just kinda move to whatever. If it's kind of silent, it’s just small movements, and if it's loud, maybe big movements and usually … and if it's slow, then just slow movements” (Nancy, wp.10432). Rachel said: “I move with the phrase. I position myself to get ready for a high note, for [a] difficult phrase or for … like a long phrase [or] something like that” (Rachel, wp.9117). Harry mentioned musical inflections and dynamic changes: “When I do play in the piece, I tend to sway a bit while watching the conductor move with the time … These movements aren't crucial, but they do make inflections and dynamic changes feel more natural” (Harry, J). So, students at this level use ancillary movements to engage with musical elements such as dynamic contrast, different musical inflections, and phrasing.  During the students’ month of blogging, I asked them, “Do you think that the ancillary movements you make allow you to learn the music quicker or at a deeper level?” Josephine answered: I definitely think ancillary movements help me learn music! … For example, today in band we were working on several pieces that had very difficult, short articulations. One thing that really helped me get the hang of the patterns of short notes versus long notes was when Mr. C described the short notes with a punching motion. When I was playing the song, I pictured the articulation pattern as a series of waves and punches. As I played, I nodded my head or tapped my foot, which helped me place the articulation in the right place, and with intensity and a strong attack. Also, I do think I’m a kinetic learner, so doing the movements at the right time and connecting the rhythm with actions helps me a lot in getting the feel of the song (Josephine, J). 106  Josephine described effective teaching techniques that her teacher uses to connect her past experiences of physical movements such as “punching motions” to help her form new conceptions of note lengths. She described herself as a “kinetic learner” who benefits from these techniques that incorporate linking abstract music-making with physical movement to create new conceptions.   Annie discussed in her blog how she moves when playing different articulations: “I also noticed that in this Sonata, I had a few parts where I just repeat the phrase twice … I swayed slightly the first time, synchronizing my body with the first beat, third beat, and the releases and articulation” (Annie, J). In the interview, Annie mentioned that she is dependent on moving to play louder dynamics:  I sit beside a clarinet player and a flute player. They both don't move that much, but I move anyways, because I realize that as I'm playing the oboe, it's really hard for me to make myself play quieter, and if I don't move, I just go louder. I need to like . . . move (Annie, wp.13300).  Regarding tone quality, Annie suggested:  It's just something I learned in grade 7, and I just do it anyways cause we were doing breathing exercises and my teacher was “I see some of you swaying.” It's a good thing. Your air finds its way up to your lungs and you can use more of it. I just do it now.  … I also noticed today, in piano class, and I’m not sure if this movement is ancillary, but for some odd reason, I actually played using my entire body, as my piano teacher likes it. She didn’t say anything, but I noticed myself doing it, even when sight-reading. It’s helping me with my tone quality (Annie, wp.14854). 107   Phyllis added this: “Movements influence the quality of your sound. By having a certain movement [you] can make your music have more shape. Maybe you can sway and move broadly that might help you play louder” (Phyllis, J).  Each of these students saw ancillary movements as a useful way to understand musical elements and went beyond just beats and rhythms (level 1) to incorporate such elements as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, and other stylistic elements.   4.2.2.3 Extrinsic meaning: Musical meaning (level 3). Student’s engagement  This category includes students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements used to express the inherent meaning of the music (as object). In this excerpt from Zara’s blog, she noted her engagement with the music through her movements:   A couple of my friends and I had a sectional (music practice) during a free block that we had. When I was playing, I didn’t feel or notice any movement in myself. This is most likely the case because I was not concentrating on the music or thinking about the music. I literally moved my fingers on my instrument and made sound through it. I looked around [at] my friends and [it was] almost like looking at a reflection, they were not moving but simply playing notes, just like myself. Personally, I think I have to be thinking about the music in order to become engaged in it. If no thoughts come to my mind about the piece, I won’t be able to make connections to it or make movement (Zara, J). Zara indicated that she needs to think about the music (and its meaning to her) or she cannot make connections with it. Her engagement with the music is dependent on having 108  “thoughts about the music” and she will move to the music only if she concentrates on those thoughts.  Walter knows he’s engaged with the music at specific times: “I would be mostly like moving my body kind of. If it was like up-beat tempo, I would be always be like tapping my feet [gesturing with foot while his body rocks back and forth], and I would be thinking about what to visualize while I'm playing the music” (Walter, wp.4437). I suggest that, for Walter, visualizing the music’s meaning is congruent with the movements he makes when engaging with the music.  Josephine proposed that if one allows the music to move your whole body instead of just hearing “it in your head,” you could experience the music differently and become “really into the music.” Josephine remarked:  What I mean is like, when you hear music that is kind of nice and flowing, we like … you just hear it in your head, the sound just kind of moves around in your head. But then if you kind of let it move your whole body and then you're like really into the music, you're not just thinking about it (Josephine, wp.5862).  Rachel wrote about the “everyday occurrence” of ancillary movements in her music-making. She also equated body movement with acquiring a better understanding of the music (object) in music-making:  Tapping my foot is an everyday occurrence for me whether if I'm listening to music or playing in band class. And while I do those ancillary movements, I tend to smile because the music is just that great to listen to. I guess [making] the movements is a build up of getting your body to connect with the music and better understanding of how intense music can get (Rachel, J). 109   Georgina wrote in her blog about considering “what the composer is trying to convey” and that freely moving with the music is instinctive:  Ancillary movements definitely make me think about the tone and feeling of the music, and what the composer is trying to convey. Letting my body move freely along with the music is instinctive; when I consider my movement and think about what the overall feeling is, I forge a stronger connection to the music based on my personal reaction (Georgina, J). Again, a student stated that a stronger connection or greater engagement with the music is partially a result of his or her ancillary movements.   4.2.2.4 Extrinsic meaning: Communicating and moving in community (level 4). Students’ engagement  In level 4, students’ ancillary movements are used to communicate the inherent meaning of the music (as object) to the audience or to other performers in community. Christina talked about feeling the music in her music ensemble setting: We feel it as a group, but if it's just like one person moving in the group it's kind of awkward, yeah, because everyone else is kind of like “oh well if I'm moving I look silly,” because I'm right in the front, right, moving my whole body. I try to move to a point that it helps the rest of the group, and then if I move to the pulse, it helps me, too (Christina, wp.14855). Christina portrayed her desire to communicate to the rest of the group through movement and how this helps not only herself, but also the rest of the group. Moreover, she also allowed the other students to feel less self conscious about their movements since she was 110  modeling movement for them and that it is okay to move. As a leader in her ensemble, she models movement as a primary way of communicating with others and their audience. Christina went on to discuss the differences in movements when one is playing with an accompanist, leading a quartet, and performing in her larger ensemble:  [For a quartet,] … I move more so I try to express myself more going in [cueing] because I don't count them, and I just motion them in cause it's not just like me. And I try to feel the music more because it's not just me, I have to kind of pass on the vibe from here to here to here to here … [For solo work,] that's when I'm told to move more [by my teacher], but when it's just the two of us [her accompanist and herself], I've been told she can see if it's such a slight thing she's right behind me. She can see me, so I guess it depends if you're performing with a quartet or with a whole orchestra, you have to remember about the people involved, so it's like theater from a little studio or to an opera house, you have to show yourself at the same amount of energy, it’s just different if it's [a] smaller group or a bigger group, yeah (Christina, wp.18301). For Christina, her ancillary movements are used for communicating in community: cueing, mentoring movement, as well as displaying the appropriate amount energy needed in different settings.   Josephine spoke about the importance of music-making in community and how movements can help connect people with each other:  I think it has to do a lot with who you have around you and the way they're moving, like, if you were in a club and everybody wants to dance and you’re dancing, … I would definitely want to jump up-and-down. But, if it was like with 111  the jazz band or it was just in my room and it was just me, I don't really know if it would change that much … Because you want to connect with other people and the music, right? … and that's what it's kinda for, eh? (Josephine, wp.8089). Connecting with other people and the music (as object) through communicative body movements is “what it’s kinda” all about for Josephine.   For Oliver, it takes a group of people moving together in community to make music:  The [performer] has to put on a good show, because then it really shows, because people don't want notes but music. It’s like, you can have people play notes, but it takes a group of people to make music by moving to it. If the group is not one, it's just notes. If you focus on it [movement], it makes music (Oliver, wp.6688).  Lawrence referred to a communal sense of a happy “wow” experience while he constantly moved during our discussion to a beat that was in his whole body. He did not use the word movement, but he displayed it and modeled it as he spoke with me. “[W]hen you're performing, you see a lot of people watching you, that part where you're just happy and people are like ‘wow’ this is great, and I'm just going to keep doing my best” (Lawrence, wp.3010). Tara also used “wow” for describing a community music-making experience through movement:  You get to look around and think “Wow, oh yeah, we’re all in this together,” kind of a thing, and that's what I like, especially when I'm playing in the rhythm section, because you know you have the piano person moving around and of course the drummer is moving a lot. And then I get to like kinda stomp my foot or 112  something and do whatever the heck I want to do with them, and it feels like a little party going on (Tara, wp.11895). Zara indicated: Sometimes the vibe from others can sometimes influence you. So, if everyone's having a good time you … you most likely would be having a good time, too. If everybody's moving around and dancing around, I would want to dance around, because probably it's enjoyable and fun, and that's why they're moving (Zara, wp.12715).  Moving in community was a topic that the students describing this level like to discuss. They became more animated and spoke about “wow,” “amazing,” and “happy” experiences all linked through movement. Having said that, they still did not describe any personal meaning in these movements as the students did in the examples that follow, which are characteristic of the next level, Intrinsic Meaning.  4.2.2.5 Intrinsic meaning: Expressive meaning (level 5). Students’ engagement  In this fifth category, students’ ancillary movements are used as a means of self-expression, where the music-making becomes a vehicle for expression/communication with others or just oneself. Students mentioned being “invested in the piece emotionally,” “connecting to our inner self,” “in my own little world,” “zoned out from your surroundings,” and “being one with the music,” while others said, “I lose sense of the environment.” In the following examples, students engage with their music-making experience in a full body way, creating their own meaning of what the music-making experience is for them.   113   Yvonne spoke of being “so into it:”  When you're blocking everything, like when you're so into it even if a person is … bothering you, it doesn't matter, you keep going because you're just so into it … You were zoned out from your surroundings. You're just so into it (Yvonne, wp.2152).  Phyllis’s statement agreed with Yvonne: “[W]hen you're really involved in the music you don't really notice the audience or the band around you” (Phyllis, wp.3688).  I asked students, “If I were to watch you when you were deeply engaged in performing music, what might I see?” The students’ sense of being “in their own world” or special environment was regularly mentioned. Steven indicated: “I think you might see quite a bit of movement and eyes closed, more focused on the sound and not what's on the page. I don't know, I think you might think I'm in my own little world” (Steven, wp.4473).   Queenie addressed how she knew she was deeply engaged with the music, indicating that there does not have to be an audience for her to be completely engaged in music-making:  For me it is truly when I lose myself. I love that aspect about music. How nothing else in the world matters. You may rock your body back or forth in the climax of the piece or not at all. When you truly enjoy music, I do not feel like you need an audience because you can enjoy it alone as well (Queenie, J). Deborah added: “My mind just really escapes me, and I'm not thinking about anything else. I just let my fingers and body move, and I trust my paper and myself when I'm 114  engaged” (Deborah, J). For Lawrence, deep engagement comes through connection and imitation of visualizing himself moving as a member of one of his favorite groups: I close my eyes and I start thinking of myself doing that [performing] live. And everyone's watching you and, you're playing for Lincoln Park Numb. I'm playing Clocks, and I'm moving [constantly gesturing with his whole body swaying] … [You] start getting into the song and you’re singing, you're ignoring everything else literally, and in your head you're performing in front of a live audience, your friends, and everyone (Lawrence, wp.5920).  One of the most powerful statements about the engagement created through ancillary movements came from Paul in his journal. He asserted: “I feel that without it [ancillary movement] we wouldn’t be connecting to our inner self, because if we don’t connect to our inner self we start to forget how we became what we are today or what we are” (Paul, J).   In the chart below, I have displayed the outcome space for this set of categories. As a reminder, in phenomenographic research, the outcome space is used to illustrate the different categories of description found by the researcher.     115  Figure 4.3 Outcome space for students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and their engagement in music learning   4.2.3 Students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of their musical expression  During the interview, I asked students to conceptualize their musical expression through the use of ancillary movements. In the third set of categories, I describe how students conceptualize their musical expression as a result of ancillary movements. This Students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements  and their engagement in music learning  Extrinsic Technical: Beats, rhythm (level 1): Ancillary movements are used to understand beats and rhythms found in the music and through their use allow the student to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument.   Elements (level 2): Ancillary movements are used to understand musical   elements such as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, and other stylistic   elements and through their use allow the student to obtain greater    technical fluency on his or her instrument.  Extrinsic Meaning: Musical Meaning (level 3): Ancillary movements are used to express the inherent meaning of the music (as object).  Communicating and Moving in Community (level 4): Ancillary movements are used to communicate the inherent meaning of the music (as object) to the audience or other performers in community.  Intrinsic Meaning Expressive meaning (level 5): Ancillary movements occur as a means of self-expression where the music-making becomes a vehicle for expression and communication with others or just oneself.    116  third set of categories is similar to the second, as they both describe the students’ own movements (unlike the first set which described what they observed in others’ performances). What separates this from the second set of categories is that I specifically examine students’ conceptions of their own ancillary movements and the effects they believe these ancillary movements have on their audience.   4.2.3.1 Extrinsic technical: Expressing beats and rhythms (level 1). Students’ expression  Students at the first level conceptualize ancillary movements to express beats and rhythms found in the music and through their use allow them to obtain greater technical fluency on their instrument. Betty noted: “What I do is express my enjoyment during the sections where I don't have to play. I'll move to the beats being played by the snares, basses, and cymbals and do my best to show how much fun I'm having” (Betty, J). Annie also discussed moving with the beat:  [I]f you have a fast song, you just move quicker or depending on which beat you want to emphasize. For slow songs, it's like big movements and for fast songs it's like little movements, but the amount is still the same (Annie, wp.7060). Both of these students discussed how they “express” or “emphasize” their music-making through movement, which primarily involves moving to the beat. In this next example, Yvonne described the tempo of the music, slow or fast. If I play slow … music, what I do is sway really slow so that I'll get used to the music I am playing. However, if I play a really [up] beat music, what I do is tap my toes. The ancillary movements I make is [sic] related to my musical 117  expression because I do slow movements if it is slow music, but if it is fast then I tap my toes. Because by swaying slowly it means that the song is slow music and [by] tapping my toes or stomping my foot … it means … that I’m playing fast music (Yvonne, J). Yvonne primarily uses her ancillary movements to express the tempo and beats of the music. Without Yvonne discussing any other music element, such as dynamics or phrasing, I have categorized her excerpt at the first level.  4.2.3.2 Extrinsic technical: Expressing music elements (level 2). Students’ expression  At Extrinsic Technical level 2, ancillary movements are used to express musical elements such as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, and other stylistic elements, and through their use they allow the student to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument.   Steven discussed movement to show dynamic contrast as well as keeping time: I realized during some whole ensemble playing I used my movement to show dynamic contrast during our playing, I also used my movement to show the alto saxes in my section where to come in and where to breathe. The type of movement I was using was tapping my feet and more or less copying the conductor with upper body and saxophone movement. I do not know how much they really followed me, but we were together (Steven, J).  Annie stated that her ancillary movements help produce a good tone and express dynamics and articulations:  118  While practicing piano, I realized that a lot of the movement I do was partially because my piano teacher had always told [me to use] my entire arm and body to play the keys, so as to produce a good tone. Even when I play scales and techniques, my arms move quite a bit because I was taught to lift my entire arm to play the ‘pulse’ of the scale correctly. And I’ve also noticed that although I said that I think movement has nothing to do with the tempo or genre of music, I found that I was swaying more at the legato parts of piece. I think this is because I tend to try to mimic the dynamics and, mainly, the articulation. This goes for oboe as well. I tend to move to imitate the hand of the conductor, not a lot, but a little. I found that it actually helps to produce better dynamics and such, making it easier for me to concentrate on other things, like my notes, and less on the articulation (Annie, J).  Mary illuminated the importance of movements to her musical expression, especially in changing dynamics: I noticed that I move [my] upper body up and down while I play the music. I go up and down, sort of like lightly nodding your head, just because it feels a little easier to change dynamics, but I don’t see many people who [haven’t] had [as] much experience with the flute as me do that. I feel these movements are important to your musical expression because when you learn to do this you get a more better understanding of dynamic changes and how it effects your music and the way you play it (Mary, J). Mary wrote about her musical expression through her movements but the music’s meaning or her own personal meaning of the music was still absent from her journal 119  entry, which limits this conception to level 2. As with the other examples in this level, comments were limited to discussion of ancillary movements used to express musical elements such as dynamics, tone, articulation, and other stylistic expression.  4.2.3.3 Extrinsic meaning: Expressing musical meaning (level 3). Students’ expression  In this third category, students’ ancillary movements are used to express the inherent meaning of the music (as object). Christina described in her interview and journal entry “portraying the character of the piece” as well as being “in character:” [W]hen I play … I think of myself as a character, ’cause like I've taken theatre, and what I was taught in theatre is when you're “in character” or whether like I'm portraying a character or I'm portraying the character of the music, I relate it to music. You cannot snap out of character on stage and go “Oh no, I'm scared,” you must stay in character throughout the whole entire thing, and then panic afterward; it's fine (laughs) (Christina, wp.14299).  Later, in her journal writing Christina noted:  When I play music, I try to show expression through my body as well as through the sound my violin makes. I realized that even the smallest movements in my body [can] have a big impact on the sound that comes out of my instrument. It helps with the character of the piece (Christina, J). Christina discussed the character of the music, but did not talk about her interpretation of the music. She performs “the character of the music,” not her own character through the vehicle of the music as in level 5.  120   Harry wrote that his ancillary movements would be determined by expressing “what the music should be like:” I think that musical expression is definitely evident in the movements that I make. For example, if I was playing a sweet melody, I would move in a far more gentler manner than say if I were playing an intense or harsh passage. In the latter, my movements tend to be more jerky and crisp. These movements are quite important to my musical expression, because they help set the tone in my mind of the piece of music. The reverse is also true; having a certain idea in mind of what the music should be like determines the way my body moves (Harry, J). As well, Harry did not mention communicating his expression to an audience; therefore his journal entry is in level 3.  4.2.3.4 Extrinsic meaning: Communicating and moving in community (level 4). Students’ expression  Students at level 4 describe the ancillary movements they make to communicate the inherent meaning of the music (as object) to the audience or other performers in community. Students’ discussed “what the music’s trying to express” and “trying to tell a story.”  In the interview, Harry described his movements as “trying to do movements that show what the music’s trying to express,” as well as his consideration that “it would be more interesting for the audience.”  I feel that expressive movement, if I was to describe it to someone, it would be any movement that you're doing while you're performing to further enhance your 121  performance, whether it be for the audience or for yourself. So, for example, foot tapping that would be for yourself so you can count better, swaying your body and trying to do movements that show what the music’s trying to express. I would feel that would be for both ways because that would help you convey your music better, and it would be more interesting for the audience as well (Harry, wp.15010).  In this excerpt, Queenie stated that it “depends on the music” for the types of movements you would make while “trying to tell a story,” communicating it to the audience:  Dance and like music are kind of the same thing, because you're trying to tell a story with your body or your instrument, it doesn't really matter which, and you're trying to get your point across as you’re trying to tell a story. The movement helps express the feelings that you're trying to convey to the audience. And if you're angry and dance, the movements may be sharper.  Or fluid if you're happy; depends on the music (Queenie, wp.10998).  She mentioned that the movement helps express “the feelings,” not necessarily “her feelings,” about “a story,” not “her story.” Therefore, I have included this quote in this level and not level 5.  4.2.3.5 Intrinsic meaning: Expressive meaning (level 5). Students’ expression In level 5, students view their ancillary movements as a means of self-expression, where the music-making becomes a vehicle for expression and communication with others or just oneself. Students in this category make statements like “I express my 122  feelings,” “your movements are expressing your emotions,” “their movements show their understanding of the piece of music,” and “to help people around you feel what you are feeling.”  For Zara, “emotion is related to movement,” and her emotions and movements were linked to her feelings of happiness or sadness in the music she plays. If you think of like emotion and you're playing a really sad piece, and then they said, “Put more emotion into it” and I would think about why it's sad and then … I think emotion is related to movement. So, if you're happy, then you would probably be happy moving (gestures), and if you were sad, swaying (gestures) and doing sad movements (Zara, wp.13916).  Phyllis stated in both the interview and her journal entries that the understanding of a song is up to the performer, and he or she will move to express his or her understanding of the music. In the interview she said: “[I]f you are playing a slow sad song, you wouldn't be jumping around or something … so basically your movements are expressing your emotions” (Phyllis, wp.4125). Later in her journal entries she reiterated her conception: I think the movements you make while playing will display your expressions. Everyone have [sic] their own understanding of the song and their own unique style of playing, and their movements show their understanding of the piece of music. Furthermore, your movement displays your feelings about the song. I think from the movements you can see what sort of song the player is playing even without listening to their actual playing (Phyllis, J). 123  In another journal entry, Phyllis even noticed that her beginning stance affected her performance:  Your movements really can [affect] the overall [mood] of the [music]. As I was preparing for my violin exam, I realized I start playing from a different stance for each different song. I think your movement even at the very beginning before you even begin to play the song can show your feelings and [affect] your performance or practice (Phyllis, J).  Earlier in level 3, Extrinsic Meaning: Expressing Musical Meaning, I quoted a statement of Christina, who discussed portraying the character of the music. In a later part of her interview, she expanded the complexity of her conception to include her personal meaning of music-making and how she tries to convey this meaning to her audience. Christina stated: Well, movement, I feel that if you’re being the music and if you're really into it, you really feel it, then you're expressing the music and you're moving with the music. But if you're moving with the music, then it makes it all worthwhile ’cause you make the audience feel what you are feeling through your movement (Christina, wp.15587).  In suggesting that her movements may cause the audience to feel what she’s feeling, Christina revealed that her conception of ancillary movements was clearly in Intrinsic Meaning level 5. Her movements make her music-making “all worthwhile” for herself and her audience. It is important to observe that students’ conceptions changed when answering different questions throughout the interview and that this was a possibility by using a decontextualized from the whole transcript approach recommended 124  by Svensson & Theman (1983) and Marton (1986). Since the meaning that the phenomenon had for the participants varied during the course of the interview, the decontextualized from the whole transcript approach allowed me to identify with clarity the main aspects of meaning that I was searching for in constructing the outcome space.  The outcome space for the third question is found below: What is the relationship between students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of musical expression?    125  Figure 4.4 Outcome space for students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of their musical expression   In the first part of this chapter, I explained the different categories of description that I created that are associated with my three secondary questions. I presented examples at each level of increasing complexity of understanding, which were then illustrated in the three outcome spaces, one for each question. Even though the three secondary questions have been categorized in a similar manner, it is important to note the Students’ ancillary movements and their conceptions of their musical expression  Extrinsic Technical: Expressing the beats, rhythm (level 1): Ancillary movements are used to express beats and rhythms found in the music and through their use allow the student to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument.  Expressing the music elements (level 2): Ancillary movements are used to express musical elements such as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, and other stylistic elements and through their use allow the student to obtain greater technical fluency on his or her instrument.  Extrinsic Meaning: Expressing Musical Meaning (level 3): Ancillary movements are used to express the inherent meaning of the music (as object).  Communicating (level 4): Ancillary movements are used to communicate the inherent meaning of the music (as object) to the audience or other performers in community.  Intrinsic Meaning Expressive meaning (level 5): Ancillary movements occur as a means of self-expression where the music-making becomes a vehicle for expression and communication with others or just oneself.     126  differences and similarities between what students observe about other performers’ ancillary movements and how they conceptualize their own movements.  Across all three sets of categories, the five levels of complexity of understanding were very similar. I discovered the biggest difference in level 4, Extrinsic meaning: Communicating, where students talked about their own experiences of playing in community and how important ancillary movements in community are in their music-making. This was not evident when they commented on their observations of performers’ ancillary movements in the first set of categories.  By categorizing the students’ answers to the three secondary questions, consistent differences appeared in all three sets of categories. I discovered that the consistency of responses across the three sets of categories, which involved different contexts posed by each of the three secondary questions, could be combined into the following outcome space, helping to answer my main research question: What are the different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by high school age adolescents in Vancouver, Canada, in 2014?    127  Figure 4.5 Final outcome space of different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by the participants in this study    4.3 Other important themes revealed by students during data collection  When I began this research, I expected that the discovery of the final outcome space provided by the categories of description would be the most intriguing result. I analyzed the overall data and looked for codes depicting different degrees of complexity The different conceptions of ancillary movements  in music performance held by adolescents  Extrinsic Technical: Beats and rhythms (level 1): Ancillary movements are used to understand and/or express beats and rhythms found in the music and through their use allow a performer to obtain greater technical facility on his or her instrument.  Music elements (level 2): Ancillary movements are used to understand and/or express music elements such as dynamics, phrasing, articulation, and other stylistic elements and through their use allow a performer to obtain greater technical facility on his or her instrument.  Extrinsic Meaning: Musical Meaning (level 3): Ancillary movements are used to understand and/or express the inherent meaning of the music (as object).  Communicating (level 4): Ancillary movements are used to communicate the inherent meaning of the music (as object) to the audience or other performers in community.  Intrinsic Meaning Expressive meaning (level 5): Ancillary movements occur as a means of self-expression where the music-making becomes a vehicle for expression and communication with others or just oneself. 128  of understanding in students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements regarding their connection, engagement, and expression in music-making involved in the three secondary questions. Interestingly, I discovered codes in the initial data analysis that were not specifically involved in answering the three secondary questions previously discussed. I still believe that the outcome space created to be very useful, but I grew to wonder whether these other important themes might end up being more thought provoking for future discussion and hold greater implications for current practice.   Although all of the students said they valued ancillary movements, several of them did express challenges in using them. The remaining data involved students’ conceived challenges of using and discussing ancillary movements in performance. These data have ramifications for talking about ancillary movements with students and raise questions about pedagogical practices involving physical movement used currently in music classrooms. Here are the seven themes: 1) Natural movement versus choreographed movement and the Ancillary Movement Spectrum; 2) Multitasking, having to think about moving; 3) When confident, students will move more; 4) Self-conscious concerns about moving, limiting movement to be safe; 5) If the teacher talks about movement, the students would move less; 6) Movement in performance makes students less nervous and more focused; and 7) The ineffable nature of music: What can students describe and what is difficult for them? These seven themes, along with the outcome space provided in the earlier part of this chapter, together offer greater understanding of the meaning of ancillary movements in the lives of adolescents.   129  4.3.1 Natural movements versus choreographed movements  In this section, I introduce the Ancillary Movement Spectrum (AMS), according to which students’ conceptions of their motivations for ancillary movements can be categorized. Through my discussions with the 24 students, I mapped out the following descriptive chart to represent the diversity in their conceptions. The spectrum ranges from unconscious-natural movements to choreographed movements, and I have centralized conscious-natural movements between the two poles. By illuminating where a student’s conceptions of his or her motivations for ancillary movements occur on the AMS, greater context is established for the discussion of ancillary movements in general.    Figure 4.6 Ancillary Movement Spectrum (AMS) Ancillary Movement Spectrum (AMS) Unconscious-Natural        Conscious-Natural            Choreographed  Movements     Movements        Movements    At the right side of the AMS, choreographed describes calculated, planned, and controlled ancillary movements. These movements do not happen naturally, but are initiated by the performer as a sequence of steps and moves for a performance. Choreographed movements begin as designed sequences of technical requirements that the performers need to learn for their music-making. For example, marching bands and drum lines synchronize and plan routines for the band members to perform together. The students interviewed believed these movements to be awkward and superficial. They 130  spoke about moving to choreographed movements and how they seemed forced suggesting that they lacked personal meaning. Betty explained: When we were learning to march, like a marching line for example, we had to be very still and move our legs at the exact same time and make our steps [the same] and stay the same distance, very robotic; it very much depends on the situation. [The experience was] … awkward (Betty, wp.10450). Annie spoke about the artificial experience of choreographed movements: “I think that sometimes people just do the choreographed moves, but it's not as special as it's not coming from inside them” (Annie, wp.18641).   Zara discussed the difference of being forced to move, as opposed to just being encouraged:  I cannot say that I enjoy the fact of forced movement ... If I was forced to move, I can guarantee that I would definitely not be happy or willing to move since the movements that I would be making wouldn’t be real to me but forced. However, with encouragement, I think it would help me to move more. I would feel more comfortable about moving, knowing that movement is wanted rather than opposed (Zara, J). If Zara were forced to use choreographed movements, the movements would not “feel real” to her and would be less genuine with what she feels is a valuable music-making experience. Therefore, her meaning of music-making would be lessened. The AMS gives greater context to discussions of ancillary movements, which reflect the kinds of movements (natural to choreographed) experienced by musicians in music-making. I suggest that Zara’s comfort with ancillary movements would be best located in the 131  middle of the AMS in the conscious-natural area, which denotes ancillary movements that require a conscious effort to initiate, combined with a freedom to let the body/mind go and move as it feels it “should” or “needs to.” An example would involve guided encouragement to move but in a way that students feel is right for them, not necessarily synchronized with someone else. I consider this to be what Zara described in the above statement when she spoke of her preference for encouragement and freedom to move instead of being forced to move.   Vincent noticed a lack of connection between expression and intentional (choreographed) movements, and he seems to agree with Zara. He wrote: I tried to involve the movements into my play, but I couldn’t really relate the intentional movements to my expression, which actually even affected my tone (the bad way). Therefore, movements shouldn’t be done on purpose, but naturally. There’s a huge difference between encouragement from the teacher and the demands. Ancillary movements are natural, which means that demands would change the reason and meaning of the movements (Vincent, J). For Vincent, the meaning of the ancillary movements is changed in a negative way if they are required. But if he were encouraged to make his own natural movements, the derived meaning would be more favorable. Also, Vincent discussed his conscious effort to use natural (personal choice) movement. I think that natural movements are of major importance to these students, since it gives them freedom to move in their own comfortable way.  For the left side of the AMS, ancillary movements happen naturally and without thought. Students talk about these unconscious-natural movements as “just occurring” 132  when they are “really into the music.” In some instances, to talk about these unconscious-natural movements would be adding to the multitasking of the performer and might distract the performer from what he or she is doing. Betty stated:  Normally, it [ancillary movement] happens without thinking, like when you're speaking you have expression in your voice it just happens ... it’s expression … you don't really think about what happens to your body when you're moving; it's just how you feel. If you feel happy, your movements will be more happy. If you feel mad, they will be more like angry and sharp (Betty, wp.7643). Georgina’s conception of ancillary movements also falls into the unconscious-natural category:  When you like really feel the music through your body, you want to express it, whether you're playing an instrument or not doesn't really affect it. So I guess I really figured out why the performers are moving so much, since when I was younger, I would watch these videos and aspire to be like them, but I was always wondering: [Why] are they moving so much? It's not really connected to the music. Now I kind of realized that when you feel the music through your body you would want to move. It's a natural thing. It would be unnatural to try to stop it, to curb it (Georgina, wp.13096).  I propose that by identifying where a student falls on the AMS, teachers can better help that student discuss the use of ancillary movements in his or her music-making. By having greater understanding of where each student’s conceptions fall on the AMS, teachers can best help their students individually through an appropriate amount of encouragement to discover what level of ancillary movement might have greater value to 133  each student. In the next section I discuss the largest concern students had about using ancillary movements in performance, namely multitasking.  4.3.2 Multitasking: “What? ... You want me to think about moving, too?”  By introducing ancillary movements into students’ awareness of what they were doing, it increased the amount of multitasking that some of the students felt they needed to do. Betty explained what it was like to be asked to move while playing: We try. We're struggling with it just because we have to focus too much on [moving], that it's hard. It's hard to move and focus on drumming at the same time. You do try, though. It's difficult, though … It's a lot harder than you would think. … It's a difficult multitask (Betty, wp.8085). I use Betty’s descriptor “multitask” to help categorize what were similar assertions from other students of being overwhelmed with too much to consider at any one time. Even though they seemed challenged by multitasking, students explained how incorporating ancillary movements into their practice might cause negative results when they are first learning new music. Versions of the statement “We are too focused on trying to get the right notes and the rhythms and everything right” appeared in the majority of the students’ responses to their movement or lack of movement when watching themselves or their classmates perform.   Deborah agreed with Betty: I can't move when I play the drums; it's really hard for me. I’m just so focused on getting it right sort of thing. It's just really hard, and I get kind of confused when I move sort of … kind of like easing into it, and like I kind of do my own thing and 134  Mr. C kind of pushes me a lot … But I know that's what he wants, and it will look better if I sort of move kind of thing. If like the whole drum line is moving it's good, but if like the whole drum line is moving and I'm not, it's awkward (Deborah, wp.7874).  It became clear that these students judged that ancillary movements are limited by the amount of multitasking a performer has to do. If one’s conscious thought was consumed with just getting the notes right, then how can he or she consider moving too? Lawrence suggested: “When you're learning, you’re focused on something, and you're not really thinking about moving … When you're learning, you have to focus on not getting anything wrong” (Lawrence, wp.11497).  In the last part of each interview, the students were shown a video of themselves and/or their peers playing in a performance. I specifically chose a final performance so the students would know this was not just a sight-reading session or the first few days of new music learning. I then asked the students: “How much does the ensemble you are playing in move?” Here are some of their responses: I think as a whole we don't really move that much extra because we are too focused on trying to get the right notes and the rhythms and everything right … I guess like during concerts we’re not really that . . . the music isn't our main focus which is kind of bad (Georgina, wp.9313). In Georgina’s response, she pointed out that her main focus in concerts is not the music, but the right notes and rhythms, which she acknowledges as “kind of bad.” She definitely valued focusing on the music over just getting the right notes, but was disappointed the group was not moving more.  135   Keith and Zara shared these concerns:   So, we don't really move that much because I think that we are all like students, and we’re not really focused into music fully like we are like focusing on exams and like tests and stuff. It's like we’re not always 110% there. I think that's why we’re not always moving there that much (Keith, wp.6616). Zara stated, “I guess everybody's too focused on making the music sound good or trying to play their part properly” (Zara, wp.12143).  In each interview, students valued the need for ancillary movements in the performance they were watching and observed that, without ancillary movements, the performance quality was less then ideal. Tara had a typical reply to illustrate this point when asked successively what she thought about when 1) watching her ensemble perform and 2) their lack of movement:  I think that maybe if I was sitting in the audience, I might think that perhaps they weren't really into the music and that … there are little movements and expression that comes out from little movements, like you don't have to be jumping up-and-down like Coldplay, but there can be like little movements, like how you breathe or like how you lift your head or something like that. But I think that yeah … as an audience member, I would think that they weren't that into the music (Tara, wp.10482).  Nancy acknowledged the lack of movement when learning new music as well, but stressed that “moving is important” once you know it. She suggested: “At the beginning when you're just learning about the music it's, it's okay, but later when you know the 136  music better then moving is important. You then just know the music, and you get into it straightaway” (Nancy, wp.8228).  Several questions emerge from these comments. How much of the placement of a student’s focus is due to the student’s lack of confidence in his or her ability and the amount of rehearsal time teachers use to discuss notes and rhythms instead of musical expression, music meaning, and personal meaning? Do teachers choose music for their ensembles that is too demanding and does not allow room for students’ to consider musical expression through ancillary movements? Moreover, what percentage of home practice time do teachers encourage students, explicitly or implicitly, to direct their focus on the right notes compared to musical and personal expression?   In the journal entries, students reiterated their concerns about having so much to consider when learning the music that their ancillary movements would be lessened or eliminated. In Josephine’s entry, she clearly described how movement “might be distracting” when learning technically demanding skills, such as memorizing scales. During my playing testing today in band, Mr. C was helping people with a lot of individual problems like playing certain tricky parts or [remembering] the slide positions for a certain scale. I think when it comes to something like memorizing scales, something that is very static and technical, ancillary motion might not necessarily help and might actually hinder learning. I think this is probably because when you are memorizing something it’s much more of a mental thing, and although something kinetic can be helpful … when memorizing scales and slide positions it is better in some cases to focus solely on numbers, progressions. 137  In these cases “getting into the music” by moving a lot might be distracting (Josephine, J). For Josephine, dividing her focus between technical demands and ancillary movements “might actually hinder learning.” These comments suggest that there is a time to consider moving, but not in the initial stages of learning the highly technical aspects of playing an instrument. Kevin built on this idea, stating that by becoming more familiar with the music, “knowing the background,” one’s body will be able to express the music.  Each class, we have a sight-reading part and a practice part during class. During the sight-reading part of class (which is the first 25-30 minutes of class), you can easily see the differences between the practice part and the sight-reading part. During sight-reading, you can see that other peers do not move as much, and their facial expressions is [sic] different. They do not tend to move and enjoy our music as much if we are not familiar with the new piece. When the teacher tells us to have a run through of the new piece of music, many students will sometimes frown or curl their eye [brows] or even swear at the music for not getting the E-flat. As we get to know the piece of music and know the background of the music, we would know what to think in our minds and express that in our body as the music progresses (Kevin, J).  Steven shared the concern about being expected to move and not being able to move before one knows the music: When I play a new piece it is really hard to try and move and play, because I don’t know how the piece goes or what kind of shape I want to make while I play. Once I have developed a sense of how the piece is supposed to be played, I take it into 138  my own hands to shape how I want to play it, and that is how I take the music to a new deeper level with my own ancillary movements. Being able to feel the piece makes it easier to play, and the easier it is to play, the faster I learn the piece. Once I know my part, I can take it that next step further and really dig deeper into what to play (Steven, J).  Vincent agreed with Steven that a performer needs to begin by developing a good understanding of the music before ancillary movements should be considered. For Vincent, ancillary movements are a byproduct of having a deeper understanding of the music.   I think it should be an opposite way. Learning the music at a deeper level can provide the ancillary movements. My opinion is that I can’t obey to do some particular movements, because all the ancillary movements are “out of control.” Only a deep understanding of the music can lead to the movements. For example, if you don’t even understand the song you’re playing, you will only focus on the bars and tones. My brain can’t provide more space for the ancillary movements of the song. I think it actually explains why young performers will do much less ancillary movements than the professional. Young kids can’t understand the song well and their lack of technique, which limits their movements, but professional musicians are different not only due to the high technique and confidence but also the well understanding of the song they’re playing. Overall, a deeper level of music learning leads to the ancillary movements (Vincent, J). Vincent presented an important understanding of ancillary movements. He suggested that the ancillary movements appear naturally, “out of [his] control,” and that an increased 139  understanding of the music, resulting from a greater experience with music-making, will allow movements to occur. I propose that the movements that Vincent described were unconscious-natural movements at the far left end of the AMS. With this conception, ancillary movements appear naturally as a result of the performer being highly engaged and technically fluent in the music-making process. As well, Vincent mentioned how a performer’s confidence was important to the amount of ancillary movement displayed. He was not alone in asserting the importance of a performer’s confidence, as I show in the following section.  4.3.3 When confident with their music ability, students will move more, leading to a greater experience with the music being performed It is not difficult to consider that confidence in one’s ability to realize a goal may reflect someone’s degree of understanding of the goal. However, it could be argued that one’s over-confidence may lead to apathy and a lack of focus and/or engagement with a phenomenon. I understood the students’ references to confidence as one that would be defined as a feeling of self-assurance emerging from one’s appreciation of one’s own abilities and not to the extent of being over-confident and apathetic. In the following statements, students report a strong connection between a performer’s confidence in his or her music-making abilities and the amount of ancillary movement used. Harry stated: I think that movement comes when you have the technicality down, and being honest and whatnot. If you're learning music from high school alone, usually even that easiest music is going to take a little while before you get all the notes down. So, I don't think that most of the musicians would have the skill to be able to play, 140  not thinking about the music, and still be able to move around a lot (Harry, wp.10947).  Later, in his journal, Harry wrote about his confidence and moving: “While we played I noticed myself moving a fair bit to the songs that I now know fairly well, and I do think that it was partly from understanding the pieces so well” (Harry, J). Christina mentioned that movement could display one’s confidence to the audience: “Body movement helps bring life to what a musician is playing. It also shows that a musician is sure of what he or she is playing” (Christina, J). Zara described needing to feel “comfortable” with her playing abilities before she could notice herself moving:  [I]f the piece is difficult or outside my playing abilities, even if I do like the piece/part, I will not be making any movement since I will be too focused on trying to correctly play the piece than to think or interpret the music. As long as I am “comfortable” playing the piece I will notice movement in myself (Zara, J). Zara’s comfort comes from her confidence in her playing abilities. Nancy needed to get “the hang” of the music first before she could move: “What I notice is that I don’t move very much when I don’t know the music or when I’m just learning, but I do move later on when I get the hang of it” (Nancy, J).   For these students, having confidence in their abilities to play the technical aspects of the music allows them to include ancillary movements into their playing. Without this confidence, they would not feel comfortable enough to move while performing.  141  4.3.4 Self-conscious concerns about moving: Limiting movement to be safe Closely related to the topic of confidence is a student’s self-conscious awareness of how she or he may be regarded by others while performing music. During the interview, I asked: “Do you feel self-conscious about moving when you perform?” I followed that question with: “Would you be worried what others might think of you and your movements?” Here are some of the students’ responses: I have experienced that … you know somebody beside me moves too much and then my teacher in a master class would say, “Why are you ... ? Don't do that,” sort of thing. I actually find a lot of the time in the [group I play in outside of school], most people generally don't move more ... Yeah, I guess we all feel a little self-conscious about our movements, as we don't want anyone thinking any less of us for something that we don't necessarily have to do. You know it's like it's not life or death, you know, “I must move when I play.” And so if I could avoid it, if it will make somebody think better of me, somehow then I would rather do that than to risk to make them think that what I am doing I am not taking seriously (Tara, wp.15967). Tara was specifically talking about consciously limiting her ancillary movements to be safe from ridicule. She later added in her journal: “Particularly in an orchestral setting, I usually feel too self-conscious to move with the fear that someone may think less of my playing because I look ‘ridiculous’” (Tara, J). Tara associated ancillary movements with the possibility of embarrassment. Her alternative was to be safe and not risk being thought of as superficial by holding still, since ancillary movements were not “something 142  that we … necessarily have to do.” Yet, Tara also noted the affect positive comments had on her ancillary movements:  I think it depends on how self-conscious I feel when I'm playing … because if I just messed up terribly, I’ll stop moving, I won't move anymore, but if I'm playing and I'm doing really well and someone has complimented me on my sound—“Oh it sounds so good. What a lovely solo” —then of course I'm going to start to move more as it's the positive that brings it back, and I feel I have the right to move (Tara, wp.18722). In this excerpt, Tara linked how much she moves with how confident she feels. Moreover, she stated earlier that ancillary movements were “something that we don't necessarily have to do,” yet she later asserts that “of course I'm going to start to move more … and I feel I have the right to move.” This is a strong statement about her need to move even though she feels concern about displaying movement, which she fears might have a negative affect on others.  In each interview, I also asked students, “Has anyone ever told you not to move?” In the vast majority of cases the reply was “No.” Vincent answered: “No … it would be really mean to say that, ‘Don't move’” (Vincent, wp.9636). For the few that did say yes, the affect it had on them was to increase their self-consciousness about moving, as seen in Tara’s comments previously mentioned, and to decrease any positive attachment to possible ancillary movements.   For Josephine, she wished she had more of her peers moving with her so that she did not feel so self-conscious. She wrote in her blog:  143  [D]uring a performance I feel self conscious, no matter what others are doing. But it would be really cool if everybody in our band [were] obviously very into the music because it would make me feel very connected. The problem with movement in a band is you often feel like you are the only one doing it, you stick out. Last year there was a saxophone player who sat in front of me, and she was very expressive with her arms while she played; you could see she was really enjoying her instrument. But lots of people were making fun of her, and even though I don’t really remember, I’m sure I was one of them because I remember thinking that she stuck out so much, it was unfortunately actually funny. I know it was mean, but that’s just the way teenagers feel, I guess. I don’t think we are comfortable enough with ourselves – physically, socially, and emotionally – to really be that open and vulnerable around “friends” who are really just acquaintances who you know will take the first chance they can to judge you. So, to be the only one doing that feels like you are trying to talk to somebody who is really not interested in the conversation. But if by some miracle everybody freely expressed themselves [sic] physically – including in a performance – I think it would be an amazing musical experience, and you would be able to show the audience that everyone who is playing loves what they are doing. In that case, yes, I would definitely move around a lot more and enjoy the music a lot more (Josephine, J). Josephine clearly acknowledged the social pressures that limit expression within the instrumental classroom and how movement can show a vulnerable part of oneself to others. As well, she mentioned that it would take “a miracle” for everybody to freely 144  express himself or herself physically, but “it would be an amazing musical experience.” Another important point in Josephine’s statement was her admission that she joined in the disrespect for her classmate’s expressive movements, probably because teenagers feel uncomfortable with themselves. Therefore, a classroom rehearsal environment of mutual understanding of expression is vital to fostering teenagers’ willingness to become more vulnerable to their peers through self-expression. Zara’s comments add to this as well. She wrote this in her journal: If the people around me were moving, I feel that this environment would influence me to move as well. I would definitely feel more comfortable moving if everybody around me was moving. For example, if everybody was still and I was the only person moving, I would feel self-conscious about my movements. I wouldn’t force myself to stop, but I would feel awkward being the only one moving. I think being in an environment where everybody is moving is similar to laughing when somebody around you starts to laugh. Watching somebody that is across from me might spark my brain to move my body or possibly inspire [me to] move (Zara, J). The crucial point in Zara’s response was that in an environment that encourages movement, she would “move more,” yet she would feel awkward if she was the only one moving in an environment where everyone else was still. Therefore, I suggest that teachers who do not help encourage their classes to move could have some of their students, who would like to move or who just move naturally, become too self-conscious to move. This might limit the students’ own music experience by eliminating their ancillary movements so that they would not feel that their peers might ridicule them.  145   It was also interesting to note that in some cases the students viewed the type of ensemble and style of music to be the main factors influencing their ancillary movements. When I asked Walter: So, do you feel self-conscious about moving? Would you ever be worried about what others might think of your movements? He made his response with consideration for the style of music he would be playing: Walter: Not in jazz band because the mood is really right, and it's kind of dancing and stuff. Myself: But in concert band...? Walter: In concert band, I just sit down and play trombone. Myself: So you do feel self-conscious about not wanting to move? Walter: Yeah, no one else is moving so… Myself: So you won't move? Walter: I won't move (Walter, wp.8794). Walter regarded the jazz band as a comfortable place to move because of the mood and environment created in the jazz band space. By contrast, in the concert band, no one else moves, so he feels self-conscious and would not move. How might the concert band environment become more conducive to ancillary movements that seem more welcomed in the jazz band classes?   To conclude this section, I want to stress that even though these students felt pressure from their peers not to move, I sensed they also felt disappointed about limiting their own expression. Perhaps the best example of this was Christina who recognized the awkwardness of moving while others do not move, but who also acknowledged that performers may have a responsibility to their audience. Christina observed: “Yes, I 146  believe that the more people move, the less awkward it would feel. When people move together, they feel less self-conscious, and it’s about the music. How can you move an audience if you won’t move yourself?” (Christina, J).  4.3.5 If the teacher talks about movement, students would move less  At one point in the interview, I asked: “If you and the rest of your class were encouraged to move by your teacher when you play, do you think that you would feel more comfortable about showing more movement in performance?” Here are two of the responses: If my band teacher told us to move, I think I would move less, because before, it would seem like he didn’t notice, but if [he] mentions it, it would seem like he IS (emphasis in original) looking, and that unnerves me. …It’s counter-psychology, perhaps. … I’d feel like I’m the only one moving, because once a teacher mentions something, it always stays in the back of [my] mind, so I’d actually be thinking about it, and noticing if the people around me are doing it. If they’re not, it’s scary. If they are, it’s still scary, because they could be looking back at me to make sure I’m doing it too, and that just gives me people fright (Annie, J). I believe I might be more reluctant to move when requested by a teacher. You might look around and see other people moving, but I feel more awkward and therefore unnatural if someone were to point out the way I’m moving (Phyllis, J). In both of these cases, the students spoke of curtailing their movements if attention was drawn to them. Adolescent peer acceptance is very important to each of these students, and ancillary movements are viewed as a possible avenue to ridicule.  147   In the next excerpt, Josephine described a potential way for her teacher to encourage ancillary movements. If Mr. C mentioned [ancillary movements] in passing, or as general advice like “This term you guys should allow yourself to move to the music,” that might be beneficial to everyone. However, if he were to say, for example, “Let’s play that again but try to move your body,” I would feel much more self-conscious. When I was younger, my piano teacher was trying to teach me how you should move your arms and your body during a recital so it looks like your whole body is playing the music, and not just your fingers. I just remember feeling extremely self-conscious and embarrassed, and I hated it (Josephine, J). Josephine’s advice for how teachers might discuss ancillary movements with their students agrees with previous students’ suggestions that movement should not be mandated.   4.3.6 Movement in performance makes students less nervous and more focused  In performance, after the technical challenges have been minimized due to hours of practice, expression is the main goal. Students spoke about how they were able to engage with the music through ancillary movements, which allowed them to be less nervous and more connected with their music-making. Tara talked about reducing her anxiety: I do find it's a funny kind of thing that before I go into an audition or into a concert or anything and I'm going to be put on the spot, I like to dance a little bit, do my own little movements, only when I’m alone. Heaven forbid anybody else 148  should be in the room with me (laughs), you know, do my own little dancing things, move around, because you know it's very important for me to move, because if I just stand there, it will show that my knees are shaking. I can't have that because I would much rather walk around when I am performing (Tara, wp.17754). For Christina, moving helped her get rid of her butterflies: I found that when I'm practicing with the piano at my other music school, sometimes I also found that I had like this feeling of butterflies … when I'm very nervous, but then when I start playing the music and then I move along to it … My mom says you looked so relaxed. “You look like you were right into it, and I can totally feel what you were portraying,” so that's what I like to do also (Christina, wp.16917).  For Nancy, the movements of her friends in the ensemble during a performance reduced her performance anxiety on stage. Moreover, “it feels amazing” to move with the crowd and not care about how you look. You can appear “silly” with everyone else.  I usually have stage fright, but when I'm in a group with my friends [and they] are just kind of playing, I feel like it's just us having fun and it's okay if we move and be silly. It's just being silly, but when I'm all by myself I just usually stand still playing so …  So, when you're in that crowd, you just start moving … and it's just our way of being silly … It feels amazing, it feels happy (Nancy, wp.3178). Yvonne’s movements made her more comfortable and relaxed: It is important for me because it makes the music I am playing so relax[ed], and if I do movements I wouldn’t feel so nervous or pressured to play perfect music. 149  These movements make me feel so comfortable, and it makes my mind so focused into the music and not care about [anything else]. Because if I feel pressure or nervous, I would tense up, but if I do some of my movements it would relax me (Yvonne, J).   All of these students professed that ancillary movements have a positive effect for them, allowing them to feel less nervous and more focused on music-making. As I mentioned in Chapter 1, this is one of the primary benefits that I have noticed ancillary movements have on my music-making.   4.3.7 Ineffable nature of musical experience: What can they describe and what is difficult for them to put into words?  As mentioned previously, before embarking on the interviews, I believed that it might be difficult for the students to find appropriate words to describe their conceptions of ancillary movements and what meanings they held for them. In fact, it was indeed easiest for the students to describe the more technical aspects of music-making in clear verbal statements, but when we discussed what sort of meaning movement held for them and their interpretations of the movements of others, the students would pause, gesture with their bodies, and struggle to find words. In each of these cases, I was convinced the students understood the question and had an answer, but words would fail them. Lawrence was the best example of this. He constantly moved throughout the interview and would even stand and act out parts with his body when he became emotionally connected with an answer, especially when the answers were involved with what 150  something deeply meant to him. Here he discussed how he knew when a performer was deeply engaged in music-making:  They're raising their hands up like they’re really… (gesturing, like pleading, while he stood up). The mood, it's like it just really takes you away. It's the way that they look when you're looking at them … it's just so hard to explain… it's like when someone … it's just so hard to explain (Lawrence, wp.4032). Later I asked him: Can you talk more about the kind of movement that a performer who was deeply engaged in the music would be making? He responded: Lawrence: Like for drummers they’re like usually and (gestures, moves like playing drums) then like they're moving the body and (gestures) and anything ... And then like probably they’re sweating and then feeling it and yeah and …there is da da da (gestures)... You know Coldplay's Clocks, hey? Have you seen the video? Myself: Yes I have. Lawrence: So it's like na na na NNN NNN (gestures), and then it's like normal.  And then it's na na NNN (gestures), and then the drummer comes in and the guitars on NNN (gestures).  And then he starts moving his head this way and that way and … and that's why you can… you can tell that person, that person's into that and then everybody then just comes right and then … (Lawrence, wp.5150). Lawrence constantly used movements to help describe what he was talking about and he viewed music as doing the same thing. I felt I could sense what Lawrence was saying through his demonstrative answers, even though the transcribed text alone looks confused. He struggled for his own right word and would hum and ha while constantly 151  moving. The transcript for large amounts of his interview did not contain many full sentences, but his gestures displayed his understanding of the various topics we discussed. Lawrence was able to communicate his meaning through his full body responses, and I could understand his deep connection with the music experiences he was trying to relate to me. Moreover, he effectively communicated his passion and meaning to me through his demonstrative gestures.     I asked Vincent: “How do you know when you watch performers that they are deeply engaged in the music?” He responded: It's really hard to describe it. When somebody's totally focused on it, you can see it like in the performance, like his or her passion, you can see it. But actually I think it's more emotional, you can't describe it, but you can feel it (Vincent, wp.3114).  Walter responded to my question by saying that he would know if a performer was deeply engaged with the music by how they moved.  So, I asked: And can you describe how they would move to the music? Walter stated: “Umm … well I'm going to say that ... well, let's say if it's fast moving jazz music, they'll probably be moving like that (gestures) while moving around … I'm sorry I can't really say…” (Walter, wp.3784). I believe he knew resolutely if a performer was deeply engaged or not, but his words failed him. It was not that Walter did not know the answer; it was more that he could not put it into words.  For Oliver, the observed connection between performer, music, and audience was just as ineffable as it was for the students quoted above. 152  Oliver: I said I think… it really… it's like the momentum, it's the wave away, the way they are moving to the music. They're leaning towards the music, and they're playing loud, leaning back if they’re soft. It's kind of hard to see when you're very far away, but you can tell that they're into it like the way that I'm into video games. Myself: Can you try to explain how you can tell? Oliver: I think it’s just translating the music. It's kind of hard to explain. See … there, you know … I don't know how to exactly explain it. Some things just can't be explained (Oliver, wp.3820).  4.4 Summary of the data  I began this chapter by explicating my three sets of categories of descriptions associated with the three secondary research questions I posed in Chapter 1. Each set of categories consisted of five increasing levels of complexity of understanding depicting students’ conceptualizations of their ancillary movements and the movements of others. The five levels are: 1) Extrinsic Technical, Beats and Rhythms; 2) Extrinsic Technical, Music Elements; 3) Extrinsic Meaning, Music Meaning; 4) Extrinsic Meaning, Communicating; and 5) Intrinsic Meaning, Expressive Meaning. I presented the outcome space for each of the secondary questions and briefly discussed the differences and similarities between them. I then created a final outcome space (Figure 4.5), generated from the results of the other three outcome spaces to help answer my main question. Following the first section of the chapter, I illuminated other important themes that arose upon analysis of the data. Challenges that limit students’ ancillary movements were 153  considered, such as: the amount of multitasking required, the confidence level of the performer, and self-conscious concerns about moving. As well, I proposed the Ancillary Movement Spectrum (AMS) as a new way to help classify students’ conceptualizations of ancillary movements and concluded by examining the ineffable nature of abstract concepts like music and movement.   In summary, all of the participants stated that they felt that ancillary movements were important to music-making, but a few of them said that if they were told to move, it would have the opposite effect and cause them to move less or not at all due to concerns of being too self conscious or overloaded through multitasking. Others suggested that ancillary movements are just a byproduct of knowing the music and being confident in performing it, so why draw attention to them? Therefore, one of the most important topics for discussion in Chapter 5 is this: How can educators encourage students to use ancillary movements, which all of this study’s participants value, without causing the students to become too self-conscious or overloaded through multitasking?   154  Chapter 5: Discussion, implications, and recommendations  5.1 Introduction  Through this study, I aim to improve student musicianship and increase the effectiveness of pedagogical practices by 1) enhancing educator and student awareness of adolescent instrumentalists’ conceptualizations of their ancillary movements, and 2) stimulating dialogue amongst educators and students about physical movement and musical expression. I have targeted the ways in which instrumental (band and orchestra) music students themselves understand a phenomenon by studying their conceptions of ancillary movements in instrumental music performance, thus providing a basis for the enhancement of quality student learning. In researching the ways students themselves understand and engage in learning, researchers are able to provide a better experiential foundation to support students’ learning (Prosser and Trigwell, 1999). As well, this research has helped answer the call from education scholars (Biggs, 1999; Prosser & Trigwell, 1999; Ramsden, 1992; Reid, 2001) for an exploration of conceptions of instrumental learning as an area of study, which helps foster environments that may encourage student learning to develop. Using a phenomenographic approach, I identified the qualitatively different ways in which adolescents conceptualized ancillary movements in instrumental music performance. I compiled the collective experiences of these adolescents through interviews and student journals and then analyzed the data and created interrelated categories of increasing levels of complexity of understanding of ancillary movements that describe the ways adolescents experience ancillary movements.  155   In Chapter 1, I introduced the problem of the ubiquitous intentionality of instrumental music educators to teach the mind, as if it were a separate entity, and that action and doing through the body are marginalized, if not missing entirely. I argued that, despite the prevalence of music, movement, and dance in today’s popular music culture and its increasing significance to adolescents’ conceptions of what music is, no one has previously thought to ask students what ancillary movements mean to them. Therefore, I asked: What are the different conceptions of ancillary movements in music performance held by high school age adolescents in Vancouver, Canada, in 2014?   In Chapter 2, I reviewed the relevant literature on various facets of movement and its importance in music education and explored research on student teachers’ conceptions of musicality (Brändström, 1999), creativity in music (Crow, 2008; Kokotsaki, 2012), and effective teaching practices (Brewer, 2009; Bautista, Echeverría, & Pozo, 2010). I examined research that involved students’ and teachers’ conceptions of what constitutes learning (Burnard, 2004), how different teaching strategies could improve their learning skills (López, Pozo, & Bautista, 2009), how students learn to play an instrument and which is the best way to teach it (Oller, Pérez-Echeverría, & Scheuer, 2011), and how high school students interact with and construct meaning from their experiences with music (Thompson, 2001). I concluded the chapter by acknowledging the lack of research reported in music education research journals on students’ conceptions in general, and I made suggestions about what might be gained by studying students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements in performance.   In Chapter 3, I explained phenomenography and examined variation theory and its link to the phenomenographic approach to research. I chose phenomenography as the 156  methodology due to its second-order perspective of studying conceptions. In the second-order perspective, phenomenography is primarily concerned with the content of thinking, of what is perceived and thought about, and with identifying and describing individuals’ conceptions of a phenomenon as faithfully as possible through statements about people’s ideas about the world (or about their experience of it). Moreover, the phenomenographer’s analysis is based on the understanding and experience of the group as a whole, not on the individual. I discussed variation theory and its main tenet that one cannot know what something is, without knowing what it is not, and that variation theory recognizes that two individuals perceive a phenomenon differently, due to the inclusion of context as part of the individual’s experience (Tan, 2009). For researchers using variation theory, the focus in a study of learning is not on the subject being taught but on the variation among learners and within a single learner. Next, I described how phenomenographic inquiry involves collecting data through interviews in a method that permits interviewees to “choose the dimensions of the subject they want to answer” (Marton, 1986, p. 42). As a result, it allows information to surface that is not achievable through questionnaires. Through discussion, interviewees were encouraged to expose their ways of understanding a phenomenon and their relationship to the phenomenon.  Within the phenomenographic interview procedure, relationality is the primary concern, since the intent of the research is not to come to an understanding of the phenomenon being examined, but, instead, the relation between the subject and that phenomenon.  In Chapter 4, I presented what I learned from the interviews and student journals/blogs, along with new themes that emerged through data analysis. I analyzed the 157  interview transcripts and blog entries and organized the data through qualitative coding that emerged through a reiterative process of re-reading and combining similar codes. In addition, I adopted a decontextualized from the whole transcript approach and shifted my attention from the individual interviews, from which the students’ responses were taken, to the meaning embedded in the responses themselves. Proponents of the decontextualized from the whole transcript approach (Svensson & Theman, 1983 and Marton, 1986) view emphasizing the whole transcript as dangerous since the contextualized within the whole transcript approach may encourage an analytic focus on the individual participant’s transcript instead of the overall group as a collective. As I mentioned in Chapter 3, it is important to remember that even though each person has an individual understanding or conception of a phenomenon, the phenomenographer’s analysis is based on the understanding and experience of the group as a whole, not on the individual. These individual experiences are viewed in relation to the backdrop of others sharing in the same phenomenon with the purpose of recognizing the variation in experiences of the whole group. Also, the decontextualized from the whole transcript approach allows that the meaning that the phenomenon has for the participant may vary during the course of the interview.   The students’ responses were gathered into a pool of meanings where data that identified participants were discarded. I analyzed the pool of meanings and created categories of variation, which were further organized into inter-related levels, representing the relationships among the categories. I answered each of the three secondary questions by establishing categories of description consisting of five inter-related levels of complexity of understanding of ancillary movement. The three sets of 158  categories were then compared and shown to be highly similar in content. Then, I created a graphic, a final outcome space (Figure 4.5), to represent the answer to my research question that I derived from analyzing and categorizing the data I compiled by conducting this study.    In addition to the final outcome space, other important themes emerged as I analyzed the data. I created the Ancillary Movement Spectrum or AMS to help contextualize the participants’ conceptions about their motivations for ancillary movements. As well, I identified challenges that students described as limiting their ancillary movements, such as the amount of multitasking required, the confidence level of the performer, and self-conscious concerns about moving in performance. I ended by examining how some of the students’ experiences of music and movement were ineffable.  In this chapter, I will synthesize the material I introduced in the preceding chapters, discuss implications, and make recommendations based on what I learned in conducting this research. I will discuss the usefulness of my derived categories of description and the Ancillary Movement Spectrum that I created to provide an account of how students conceptualize their motivations for ancillary movements. I will also suggest answers to the following question: How can educators encourage students to use ancillary movements, which are valued by all of the participants in this study, without causing the students to become too self-conscious or overloaded through multitasking? I will review pedagogical challenges to incorporating ancillary/expressive movements in music education and integrate the theories of Csikszentmihalyi (1990), Shusterman (2008), Bloom (1985), Ericsson et al. (1993), Shanker (2013), and Regelski (2009) into this 159  discussion. I will explore when it might be most effective to introduce expressive movements in an instrumental music class and suggest how certain pedagogical practices may limit or negatively influence students’ experiences with physical movement and the valued meanings these movements have in students’ music-making. Finally, I will explain the limitations of this research and recommend future research to build on this study.   5.2 Discussion of findings  Various researchers (Bailey, 2007; Boyle, 1970; Dalby, 2005; McCoy, 1986; Skoog, 2004; Weikart, Boardman, Bryant, 2004, & O’Leary, 2010) have shown that directed movement utilized in music classes has been effective for teaching various abstract music concepts, yet it is not commonly observed in instrumental classes, such as band and orchestra classes (Yun, 2011). As O’Leary (2010) reports: “Instrumental music does not have the same emphasis on movement [that non-instrumental music classes do, such as choir classes], and there is relatively little research on the effects of incorporating movement into instrumental curriculum” (p. 102). I have attempted to address this lack of research about the effects of incorporating movement into instrumental music curriculum and to bring greater understanding to educators about adolescent instrumental music students’ experiences of ancillary movements in music-making.   5.2.1 Importance of ancillary movement to adolescent performers I found that 100% of the participants in the study valued ancillary movements in music performance and thought they had a positive effect on their experiences in music-160  making. For example, Eric stated: “I believe that ancillary movement is a strong factor in musical expression, and a part of musical expression depends on ancillary movement to enhance it” (Eric, J). Students varied in their conceptions of their motivations for ancillary movements (unconscious-natural to choreographed), as well as how using ancillary movements cause them extra challenges, but all of the participants stated that the benefits of moving outweighed the challenges. Moreover, some students mentioned that they had not previously discussed moving expressively but believed that conversations about movement should be happening in music classes. As an example, Tara said:  I do think it's really great that you're doing this study because people don't really talk about it [ancillary movement] very much and nobody tells you to move more when you're playing in classical, yet they tell you to be expressive, and it's really blurry and confusing. It's really something that no one has ever really talked to me about, not in my years of music, and so I think it's, somebody's finally making this a priority. Thanks for doing that (Tara, wp.19570).  Tara was not the only one who encouraged conversation about ancillary movements in music-making. Even when students expressed concerns about feeling self-conscious when moving, they still thought it to be important and felt that they would move more if fellow performers were moving around them. As well, some participants professed that ancillary movements have a positive effect, allowing them to feel less nervous and more focused on music-making. This may not be the case for all students, but it seems possible that if students were given opportunities to discover what meaning ancillary/expressive movements had for them, it might help them develop a greater 161  connection with their music-making and lessen performance anxiety and other unwanted stress. Furthermore, educators may be limiting students’ experiences by not discussing expressive movements with their students, allowing non-movement to become the default in their classes. By not having discussions with their students about expressive movements, I suggest educators lessen their students’ musical engagement and the overall value music-making has for their students. Participants in this study stated that ancillary movements had a positive effect on their music-making experiences by allowing them to engage with the music and their music-making community more completely than they would otherwise have done. Also, participants expressed that musicians who play without moving communicated the performer’s lack of confidence, lack of engagement with the music, and had a negative effect on how they valued the experience of music-making. As Steven asserted: “I think [your] body language has a lot to do with how [you] feel because if you are standing still, are you really enjoying the music?” (Steven, wp.4081).   5.2.2 Importance of the outcome space to conversation  By mapping the ways students’ conceptualize ancillary movements in the instrumental music class, I have supplied educators with information that may increase their understanding of the importance ancillary movements have for the students they teach. The five categories illustrated in the final outcome space (Figure 4.5) indicate the diverse ways that students experience these movements in music-making. Most educators know that there is not one way to teach all students, and that by researching the ways students themselves understand and engage in learning, they may be able to provide 162  instruction suitable to support each student’s learning. Through differentiated instruction, a set of strategies could be developed to help teachers meet individual students where they are at when they enter the music class and move them forward as far as possible in their educational journey. Based on the categories of description that I have proposed, researchers and educators can now ask: Do these levels of complexity of understanding in the final outcome space represent different stages in a student’s development as a music maker?  The final categories of description graphically represented in the final outcome space (Figure 4.5) and created from my research allow teachers and students to identify the different conceptions of ancillary movements found in music-making. As well, these categories of description may evoke discussion and increase somaesthetic (body awareness), so that individuals may begin by comparing their conceptions of ancillary movements in their music-making with the ancillary movements of others. I return to my discussion in Chapter 1 of Shusterman’s (2008) somaesthetics where bodily practices are examined, refined, and reflectively followed in disciplined ways. Pragmatic somaesthetic methods help form reflective bodily awareness that contemplates the body’s role in improving active performance and enhancing knowledge. By increasing students’ somaesthetic of what ancillary movements mean to them, this conversation may help stimulate their own experiences and understanding of music-making and possibly encourage students to move towards Intrinsic Meaning. Moreover, this conversation may help inform student understanding of the role of ancillary movements in the process of performance, that “is ultimately a matter of learning to experience the self as an identity in the making” (Stubley, 1995, p. 101). Therefore, I suggest that through a somaesthetic 163  approach to music expression through movement, students might develop greater understanding and meaning of music in their lives, as well as “[help] us recover the material/corporeal moment of consciousness in which body and mind co-originate” (Bowman, 2000, p. 46).  5.2.3 Importance of the AMS to conversation  In Chapter 4, I created the Ancillary Movement Spectrum to help illustrate the differences in students’ conceptualizations of their motivations for ancillary movements. I proposed that by identifying where a student’s conception falls in the AMS, teachers might better help students discuss the use of ancillary movements in their music-making. By establishing where a student’s conception falls in the AMS, teachers might assist their students in developing greater self-awareness of their own conceptions of their motivations for ancillary movements. I suggest that through somaesthetic contemplation of the expressive movements that performers make, musicians may attend to any greater meaning these movements have for them. With greater understanding of where each student’s conceptions fall on the AMS, teachers can encourage individual students to discover what kind of ancillary movements (choreographed to unconscious-natural) might have greatest meaning for him or her.  As noted in Chapter 4, ancillary movements that are, or appear to be, choreographed movements (on the right side of the AMS) are not generally well received by students who believe that these movements just add multitasking for them without a necessary return of value for their overall performance. Participants stated that, ideally, ancillary movements should occur as naturally as possible. For example, recall Vincent’s 164  statement from Chapter 4: “I tried to involve the movements into my play, but the intentional movements couldn’t really relate to my expression, which actually even affected my tone (the bad way). Therefore, movements shouldn’t be done on purpose, but naturally” (Vincent, J). I suggest that students value natural movements more than choreographed movements because of the freedom they have to move in their own comfortable way. Yet, Vincent shares a common concern that if demanded to move when he was overwhelmed by just playing the notes, that he would move less.   As students become more familiar with the music being performed and develop confidence in moving expressively, I suggest these movements will become more unconscious. I make this suggestion with the assumption that expressive movements can be taught like instrumental movements are. I refer back to Chapter 1 where I mentioned that there are two types of physical movements/gestures used by musicians: 1) instrumental movements are those that play a direct role in the production of sound (e.g., breathing in and blowing out air, hand and arm movement of individual keys or a bow), and 2) ancillary movements are not directly involved in the production of sound (e.g., leaning forward, swaying side to side). For example, orchestra teachers teach their students to move their bows to create a particular quality of sound and that through repetition and development of this skill, the specific instrumental movements associated with this quality of sound will become automatic and unconscious to the performer. The AMS adds to somaesthetic practice in music education by helping to contextualize the ancillary movement dialogue between teachers and students. Through identifying where each student’s conceptions fall on the AMS, teachers can determine the most effective way of helping the student realize what movements are best for them in their musical 165  expression and engagement. I will give examples of possible uses of the AMS in the recommendations section of this chapter.  5.2.4 Pedagogical challenges to incorporating ancillary/expressive movement in music education  In Chapter 4, I revealed the participants’ main challenges when incorporating ancillary movements in their music-making. Here are their top four concerns: 1) multitasking, having to think about moving; 2) if the teacher talks about movement, the students would move less; 3) if confident, students will move more, leading to a greater experience with the music being performed; and 4) self-conscious concerns about moving, limiting movement to be safe. Next, I will suggest an effective way to examine these challenges and possible ways of addressing them by examining the theories of Csikszentmihalyi (1990), Shusterman (2008), Bloom (1985), Ericsson et al. (1993), and Shanker (2013).  5.2.4.1 Flow and the optimal experience  If we assume that at any one time students have a limited capacity to think about multiple concepts, it seems possible that educators will overwhelm students to a greater extent by increasing the number of concepts they need to consider while playing. This requirement of additional multitasking may seriously distract the performer from music-making effectively by creating an imbalance between the challenge and the student’s skills. Therefore, what can educators due to maintain balance between challenge and skills to lead to optimal learning experiences for their students? One possibility occurred 166  to me after I discovered my final outcome space and I noticed a connection between the students’ conception at the Intrinsic Meaning level and Csikszentmihalyi’s (1990) flow theory.   In Chapter 1, I examined how Elliott (1995) promoted “musicing” (music-making) as a human praxis where the primary aim of his praxial philosophy is found in self-growth and self-knowledge derived from thinking and knowing-in-action as well as the musical enjoyment and unique emotional experience found in practice through flow. I also discussed reservations held by Bowman, Juntunen, and Westerlund (with which I concur) regarding Elliott’s (1995) marginalization of the role of the human body in his praxial philosophy. He may have marginalized the body because of his incomplete interpretation of Csikszentmihalyi’s (1990) concept of flow (a feeling of being in the zone or in the groove), which is achieved by a focused mental (my emphasis) absorption into a task while finding a balance between the challenge of the task and one’s skill. I suggest that a flow experience involves more than just Elliott’s concepts of mental absorption, but an absorption of the inseparable body/mind so that the ancillary movements of the performer are included in the experience. Also in Chapter 1, I discussed Shusterman’s (2008) somaesthetics, which focuses on the living, feeling, sentient, purposive body—the soma—as the organizing core of experience (p. xii). According to Shusterman, a mindful, whole body response leads to greater understanding and meaning making in a student’s development of self and self-awareness through somaesthetic practice. I suggest that the participants in my research were describing flow experiences, which included the body through movement in their music performances when they talked about “being in their own world.” Moreover, a flow experience may be connected to the ancillary movements 167  described by students that are motivated unconsciously and naturally as mentioned in the previous section when participants suggested movements “just happened.” The following graph shows how Csikszentmihalyi (1997) represented the ideal circumstances under which flow and optimal experiences occur.  Figure 5.1 Conditions for flow   When I asked Eric, “How do you know when you’re deeply engaged with the music?” he said:  For me, it would be basically when I lose sense of the environment. I feel like I'm by myself basically. Yeah, that's it. … So basically all sense of losing the environment would be for me ... losing track of time so ... Sometimes a piece of music is long and boring but sometimes when you're into the music, the music just 168  … finishes. Sometimes … because we are always moving ourselves, you know, we don't stand still for too long ... Music ... music ... I don't know... I really don't have an explanation for this ... I guess it's just how we roll. Maybe it could also be a way that we could bring more to ... be one with the music. Close to the music (Eric, wp.3490). Eric spoke of becoming “one with the music” and “close to the music” perhaps as one might become with another person in a valued relationship. I believe his experience of flow was very difficult for him to put into words, yet the experience held great meaning for Eric. Similar to how other students struggled with words when the discussion appeared to have greater meaning for them, it was harder for them to find words that could effectively sum up the overall meaning that these experiences held. Throughout the interview process I was reminded of what Walker (2000) asserts: “Words and music … are not always a comfortable mix. When ‘objective’ language fails us, we are most often driven to metaphor, and when metaphoric language fails, we are then driven to gesture” (p. 34). Gestures express meaning that in many cases cannot be shown in any other way, and they make up an important part of the meaning that music-making has for many of us. In the next section of this chapter, I will refer to the flow chart above, which helps to describe when ancillary movements are most probable.   5.3 Implications and suggestions  The students I interviewed told me that when they feel they know the music well, they are more likely to move. When the technical aspects of music-making consume the performer’s conscious thought, there is little to no consciousness left to consider 169  ancillary/expressive movements. Even students who felt they moved unconsciously/naturally noted that they move less if overwhelmed by challenges beyond their skill level. The difficulty of the music combined with having to concentrate on moving overwhelms the performer and the likelihood of a negative experience increases. This might explain why students noted that if their teachers talk about expressively moving with the music, before students are comfortable with the technical aspects of the music, students might become overloaded with multitasking and, as a result, might move less.  I suggest that expressive movements should be discussed only when the basic technical skills have been developed and students are able to consciously consider expressive movements in their music-making through somaesthetic practice. Students who primarily viewed ancillary movements from the Extrinsic Meaning (levels 3 and 4) or Intrinsic Meaning (level 5) perspective regularly described this major challenge and the adverse affects of this increase in multitasking. Yet, all participants suggested that everyone should move with expression when playing and that moving together in a group, when one is comfortable with his or her skill level in comparison with the challenge of the music, is important in music-making. For example, Tara talked about why expressive movements were important:  [F]or them [the audience] to know that there is expression in you, the fact that the music is so in you that you can't help but to move a little bit, and there's something great that happens in the music when you know it, you have to reflect that with a little bit of an arm movement or head movement or something or … especially when you’re in a group, moving (Tara, wp.12608). 170  Participants repeatedly stated that music without movement shows lack of engagement, poor self-confidence in one’s abilities, and decreased expression of the music’s meaning or one’s own personal meaning. These participants viewed movement as important in music-making as long as moving did not over-tax the performers’ capacity to consider it. Therefore, educators need to closely monitor the degree of multitasking their students are doing so that they may help facilitate discussion of expressive movements in their classes when it is most appropriate.   In Chapter 4, I asked this rhetorical question: Do teachers choose music for their ensembles that is too demanding, that does not allow room for students to consider musical expression through ancillary movements? In other words, what percentage of time is student focus directed to the right notes compared to musical and personal expression? Are the students playing music that challenges and consumes their conscious thought so much that anything extra, such as the increase multitasking of physical expression, becomes too much for them to consider? These are important questions for educators to consider when setting the challenges for their students and picking the repertoire for their ensembles. As we are reminded again by Regelski’s (2009) concern “whether it is ‘the music’ that is being served… or whether music and, hence, music education exist to serve the various social needs that bring both into existence in the first place” (p. 78). Are educators serving the individual needs of students, and, I would add, the development of the whole body/mind of each student, or are educators programming music that shows off their ensembles in what Regelski (2009) calls “comparitition” with other programs, where music is a product instead of music as a process?  171   So, if students value ancillary movements in their own and others’ performances yet are reluctant and possibly afraid to use them in their own music-making, how might educators incorporate expressive movement in their instrumental music classes? I suggest that teachers should begin by getting to know their students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and then create a safe environment within the classroom where students feel they can take risks without fear of being ridiculed. For example, Kevin wrote about the importance of feeling safer if everyone in class was encouraged to move: I do think that if the teacher encourages us to move in class [it] will definitely help toward more movement in concert too. I would feel less self-conscious about what others might think of your movements if they were being encouraged to move as well. It is a chain reaction, once you get the hang of it, you stick to it (Kevin, J). Moreover, I propose that ancillary/expressive movements should be experienced in a setting where multitasking is minimized as much as possible so that students can connect with their movements through music that already has great meaning to them. As Zara stated:  I think music is a funny thing for me because when I'm playing or singing music, my body actually moves for some reason, I'm not sure why, so it's interesting, and then I realize… and then I think I do that more with the songs I enjoy playing (Zara, wp.5547).   Students expressed concern that ancillary movements should not be taught along with other techniques that overload the conscious thought of the performer. For this reason, I suggest that discussion and experience of ancillary movements should take 172  place away from the instrument, separate from the worries of playing the right note at the right dynamic, with the correct articulation, tone colour, and phrasing. In his Eurhythmics, Jaques-Dalcroze (1935) intentionally used kinesthetic exercises without an instrument so that students can concentrate on incorporating their bodies in their music-making without the distraction of the external instrument. Other highly effective somaesthetic methods, such as Pierce’s (2007) Deepening musical performance through movement and Weikart, Boardman, and Bryant’s (2004) 75 ensemble warm-ups: Activities for bands, choirs, and orchestras, develop greater body awareness of physical/expressive movements away from the instrument. Both of these methods are very useful for facilitating experience of expressive movements through somaesthetic practice.   I suggest that educators help their students by encouraging them to begin with natural conscious movement, as in the middle of the AMS, and experience expressive movements in a comfortable, supportive learning environment. Through increasing students’ familiarity with the music being performed and ensuring an appropriate balance between their challenge and skill levels (as displayed in the flow graph), educators may be able to encourage students to move to the left of the AMS towards an unconscious natural movement response in their music-making.   The prospect of a flow experience happening is greatest when both the challenge and skill level are balanced and high. The biggest challenge for educators is that the conditions are most conducive for optimal learning when this balance is present for each student in his or her learning environment. Unfortunately, students are usually taught the same thing at the same time even though their skill levels may not be the same. On the 173  basis of my personal experiences as a teacher in the classroom, I suggest that the diversity in students’ skill levels found in music classes is greater than in the average academic class due to the funding issues of arts programs at present. Instrumental music classes involving multi-grade and multiple years of experience are commonplace in education. I suggest that dialogue involving expressive movements should primarily occur between individual students and the teacher, but not in the group setting, so that individual skill levels can be addressed. Students expressed feeling self-conscious about teachers discussing their movements in front of their classmates and how their reaction to this type of class discussion would lead to them feeling awkward, like they were being forced to move. As Phyllis stated:  I believe I might be more reluctant to move when requested by a teacher. You might look around and see other people moving but I [would] feel more awkward and therefore unnatural if someone were to point out the way I’m moving (Phyllis, wp.16029). I acknowledge the severe time constraints teachers are under and the necessity of teaching the whole ensemble at once, but just as assessment of students needs to occur on an individual basis, so should these conversations about an individual’s movements. Thus, I believe the data indicate that the students would benefit the most if these somaesthetic practices were implemented primarily through private instruction instead of in large group situations.   Even though I suggest that teacher and individual student discussion of expressive movement should be private, the whole class should still be given some opportunities to move together. Participants indicated how observing their teacher’s movements when the 174  teacher was conducting or performing an instrument for the class influenced them to think about moving themselves. Rachel said:  Mr. C, when he plays his clarinet, he closes his eyes when he's playing very passionate music. Really, you know he's focused you know he's memorized his music, that he knows everything that he supposed to do and everything that he can do he did (Rachel, wp.3960).  Rachel found her teacher’s expressiveness communicated his engagement, confidence, ability, and how passionate he was about performing. She was very animated when describing this experience of observing her teacher play, and it clearly had a positive effect on her music-making.   To begin a dialogue about the importance of ancillary/expressive movements, teachers could model expressive movement in their own performance or show videos of performers in varying styles of music modeling expressive movements. As Gibbs (2014) mentions, “the pedagogical strategy of modeling seems to be not only valuable but also indispensable in teaching musical expression” (p. 174). Participants discussed how they moved expressively with some of their favorite music videos outside of class and described the connection they experienced with this music-making. Lawrence spoke about such an experience:  Yeah you literally imagine yourself being that pro player being on the drums. It's really neat because it actually makes you feel like you're in that moment … also inspires you and makes you ... makes you want to do that again in the future (Lawrence, wp.2568). 175  I suggest this is where my categories of description could help in discussing the development of expressive movements. The outcome space and the increasing levels of complexity of understanding provided in my research are intended to inform educators in the development of pedagogy by encouraging students’ awareness of expressive movements in their overall development in becoming expert music makers. I recommend utilizing opportunities where students observe performers moving and reflect on how it affects a music-making experience. As interpretation skills develop through somaesthetic practice, instrumentalists can begin to perform more personalized, unique interpretations of ancillary/expressive movements that the participants in my study have said hold valued meaning for them and allow them to feel greater engagement in the music they play.   Guidance and instruction through a predictable course of increasing levels of understanding, preferably starting at a young age, is crucial for students’ development as experts (Bloom, 1985; Ericsson et al. 1993; Ericsson & Lehmann, 1996). Using what Ericsson et al. (1993) describes as deliberate practice, expertise is acquired by mastering increasingly complex and challenging sequences of motor activities that go just beyond the students’ current reliable level of performance. Ericsson et al. (1993) describes deliberate practice as training activities that are specifically designed, typically with the help of teachers and coaches, to go just beyond the student’s current reliable level of performance. Ericsson (2003) states: “The key challenge for aspiring expert performers is to avoid the arrested development associated with automaticity that is seen with everyday activities and instead acquire cognitive skills to support continued learning and improvement” (p. 113). My research supplies educators with increasing levels of complexity of understanding of students’ conceptions of ancillary movements through the 176  final outcome space and may help educators to facilitate deliberate practice for involving expressive movement activities for their students. Therefore, relying on my assumption that ancillary movements can be taught like instrumental movements, I suggest that educators use deliberate practice when developing pedagogy for teaching expressive movement in their instrumental music classes.  5.3.1 Music expression: When should expressive movement be introduced?  Keeping in mind the need to balance challenges and skills so that students do not feel overwhelmed, I suggest there are some important questions that educators might consider. They are: When does instruction regarding music expression begin in the process of music-making? For example, would it be appropriate to discuss how a musical phrase could be shaped before the student knows the correct fingerings of the notes involved in the phrase? Does acquiring the skill to control a change in dynamics on an instrument precede discussion of creating an expressive crescendo? I argue that students need to have moving experiences, like those suggested by Jaques-Dalcroze, before teachers can reasonably ask them to “be more expressive” in their movements. As mentioned in Chapter 2, Jaques-Dalcroze rehearsed movements first in the physical body, followed by imagining the same kinesthetic motion only in one’s mind (inner motion), without physical motion. Through these techniques, a physical awareness of the body’s relationship with sound is developed. Memory banks of aural, visual, and kinesthetic images are developed for future recall by the students when engaging in music-making. Therefore, Jaques-Dalcroze’s pedagogy helps students connect mental images with 177  experienced kinesthetic images to create a whole body understanding of music through movement.    In this study, participants repeatedly stated that ancillary movements are important to their connection and engagement in music-making even though they may be overly challenged and not able to include them in their performances. I recognize that by adding the visual-kinesthetic to students’ expression, educators might drastically increase students’ self-conscious concerns of fitting in with the other and increase their feelings of vulnerability. According to research (Berger, 1972; Sturken & Cartwright, 2001) the visual can be interpreted to hold a privileged status over the other senses. Sturken & Cartwright (2001) state: “Hearing and touching are important means of experience and communication, but our values, opinions, and beliefs have increasingly come to be shaped in powerful ways by the many forms of visual culture that we encounter in our day-to-day lives” (p. 1). Physical movements make one’s expression more visible to the other and add an increased chance of perceived judgment and ridicule. As mentioned in Chapter 4, students who felt too self-conscious about their movements were less likely to move expressively. Physical expression is personal and displays who one is to one’s peers, exposing an identity to those around her or him that some may feel is too vulnerable to expose. Therefore, I suggest educators need to create a supportive and accepting class environment where discussion of expression and expressive movements are valued by both the teacher and the students and that teachers only talk about their individual student’s movements privately with each student. Even though students feel self-conscious about expressing themselves in front of others, participants in this study stated that the experience of interacting with one another in community was highly 178  valued and one of the ways this occurred was through moving together in music-making.  As Josephine expressed her experience of music-making “has to do a lot with who you have around you and the way they're moving … Because you want to connect with other people and the music, right? … and that's what it's kinda for, eh?” (Josephine, wp.8089).  5.3.2 The musical consequences of teacher directives that discourage movement  When I initially became interested in studying students’ conceptions of ancillary movements in instrumental music performance, I regularly had conversations with teaching colleagues who said they told their students not to move. I remember one colleague stating that he talked to his students about the positive aspects of moving, but when “that clarinet player made those funny circular motions all the time when he was playing, I quickly put a stop to that.” Knowing the influence that a teacher’s comments have on his or her students, I was struck by the impact that such directives might have on impressionable adolescents who are deeply concerned with how they appear to others (especially how they appear to those they admire and whose opinions they highly valued). The students in the study indicated that when they were told not to move by their teachers, it had a negative effect on their music-making. Students spoke about being limited in musical thought and expression by being directed not to move. For example, Keith said:  I don't know, it [being told to stop moving] just kind of stopped me from musical thinking. While you’re playing you think, right? So when you’re playing, you tend to move around with the beat and stuff, but then she's like, “You’ve got to sit straight,” and it limits it (Keith, wp.10153). 179  Walter felt confined by not being allowed to move freely: I attend the Royal Canadian Air Cadets and when I play music, we are not allowed to use “musical expression” or “ancillary movement.” I feel sort of confined when I just stand there and play music, though I still feel the music (Walter, J). By not being allowed to expressively move and self regulate his movements, Walter had a negative experience just standing and playing music.   In recent literature on the human nervous system and self-regulation, Shanker (2013) discusses students’ biological need to self-regulate their autonomic nervous system, which controls many organs in the body, usually without their awareness. The two main parts of the automatic nervous system are the sympathetic nervous system (SNS, where adrenaline accelerates action) and the parasympathetic nervous system (PNS, where cortisol allows for slowing down and recovery), which, in a healthy state, self-regulate to a balanced state of homeostasis. Shanker (2013) argues that all educators need to help individual students develop self-regulatory skills that allow for maintaining optimal self-regulation in the classroom, which includes being able to move and not be forced to constantly sit still. I suggest somaesthetic practice in music education could help in students’ body awareness as it relates to their state of homeostasis and that some educators may need to develop greater understanding of students’ need to self-regulate through body movement. As Lillas and Turnbull (2009) state:     Alert processing sustains smooth functioning within the body, awareness of internal and external stimuli, attention to relevant information, a capacity for abrupt shifts or gradual changes of energy and emotion, and the capacity for 180  interpersonal engagement with expressions of joy. This state is the hallmark of awake regulation because it provides the optimal baseline for learning (p. 142).  I am not suggesting that students be given complete freedom to act any way they feel inspired to act, as I appreciate the need for order and control in often overcrowded classes. But, I do assert that dialogue needs to occur with students about the variety of ways that people experience movement and that expressing oneself through movement is a natural human response in conversation. To what degree does this kind of conversation happen in classes now? I have shown that these expressive movements hold great meaning for the students I interviewed and that in most cases, students state that the musical experience has less value without movement. How might we encourage an increase in dialogue about expressive movement in the lives of students so that they feel comfortable to express themselves musically while being respectful of the communities and various spaces they live in?   5.3.3 Present-day pedagogy of physical movement  As I stated in Chapter 2, Jaques-Dalcroze’s practices are absent in the majority of today’s instrumental music classes, even though his theory of music embodiment has had a profound influence on modern music education scholarship, especially in regards to illuminating the relationship between music and movement through kinesthetic training (Westerlund & Juntunen, 2005). Jaques-Dalcroze’s Eurhythmics effectively allows students to explore physical expression and meaning making and has been championed by numerous educational scholars (Abramson, 1980; Campbell, 1991; Findlay, 1971; Juntunen, 2004; Juntunen & Hyvonen, 2004; Juntunen & Westerlund, 2001; Seitz, 2005; 181  Walker, 2000). Jaques-Dalcroze’s Eurhythmics eliminated excessive intellectualizing and found a balance between thinking and moving while encouraging imagination through improvisation. In a Eurhythmics class, the movements a student makes are not motivated by training the body to communicate a choreographic picture to an audience. Instead, the real motivation is the communication of greater understanding back to the mover himself/herself. In my research, participants’ responses confirm that their meaning making is occurring through the ancillary movements they make and that greater meaning and understanding may develop through allowing them to improvise their own natural movements in performance. As mentioned in Chapter 4, Phyllis stated:  Everyone have [sic] their own understanding of the song and their own unique style of playing, and their movements show their understanding of the piece of music. Furthermore, your movement displays your feelings about the song. I think from the movements you can see what sort of song the player is playing even without listening to their actual playing (Phyllis, J). I suggest that Jaques-Dalcroze’s Eurhythmics be encouraged within all music classes through somaesthetic practice, including instrumental ensembles. More specifically, I suggest teachers find ways to work with students, primarily on an individual basis, to explore physical expression at their own level of understanding rather than address movement only through whole class activities. By working with students individually, their self-conscious concerns of being judged or ridiculed by their peers could be lessened, thus allowing them to feel more comfortable expressing themselves.  Today, music educators incorporate movement mainly to facilitate the learning of certain aspects of musicianship. For example, rhythmic movement is used in the 182  development of students’ physical awareness of abstract musical concepts in music notation (e.g., meter and/or rhythmic symbols). The ancillary movements most noticeable in this rhythmic teaching would be foot tapping to feel the beat and rhythmic exercises, such as clapping rhythms. These exercises are usually done without an instrument, and movement is at what I suggest is the Extrinsic Technical level. The participants in this study found kinesthetic exercises very effective for developing physical awareness of abstract musical concepts and stressed the importance of doing them away from their instruments.   Without encouraging the natural development and inclusion of expressive movements in instrumental music classes, educators help sustain the ubiquitous intentionality of teaching the mind leading to greater separation between body and mind in music-making. As I discussed in Chapter 1, Bowman (2004) forwards the idea of  “embodied accounts,” where human conceptual capacities arise from sensorimotor actions and experiences. In our contextually situated bodies, human conceptual, sensory, and motor processes have co-evolved, reinforcing neural connections that indissolubly link one’s senses and motor systems. I suggest educators in their dialogue illuminate these links with their students through intentionally acknowledging embodied accounts. Furthermore, an “enactive”1 approach of taking embodiment in music into account, as argued by Bowman (2004), is not about representing, but about acting and agency. Bowman (2004) states, “On an enactive embodied account of human cognition, mind,                                                 1 The term enactive denotes “that cognition is not the representation of a pre-given world by a pre-given mind but is rather the enactment of a world and a mind on the basis of a history of the variety of actions that a being in the world performs” (p. 9). Varela, F. J., Thompson, E., & Rosch, E. (1992). The Embodied Mind: Cognitive Science and Human Experience. 183  culture, body, and action partake each of the other, co-constructing the only ‘realities’ available to human experience” (p. 37). Using an enactive approach like somaesthetics might be an effective means to incorporate the body/mind in music classes with educators providing the agency for which this may happen.   As well, the importance of including ancillary movements at a young age in exercises that are not overly taxing on the students’ concentration and multitasking could allow students to have greater experiences with moving expressively. Harry made a point related to this in his journal:  I wish that this (being taught to move) would've been the case for my introduction into music because I now feel as if I'm at a disadvantage for not being comfortable moving to help express my musical emotions and perhaps further how I play musically (Harry, J).  I also propose that somaesthetics needs to be incorporated into teacher education programs so that the role of the body in learning and experiencing is part of the process of becoming a music teacher. Pragmatic somaesthetic methods could be introduced, where student teachers can experience learning and understanding without privileging the perceived superiority of the mind, but through “the critical ameliorative study of one’s experience and use of one’s body as a locus of sensory-aesthetic appreciation and creative self-fashioning” (Shusterman, 2008, p. 138).   As well, I suggest that encouraging somaesthetic practice in non-music classes may be beneficial to students understanding and meaning in various subject areas. Encouraging physical movement experiences has been shown to be effective for teaching other abstract concepts besides those commonly found in music classes. The use of dance 184  and creative/physical movement in the non-dance classroom has been successfully implemented for many years (Skoning, 2008). For instance, Kim (1995) integrates movement activities into particular science, social studies, math, and language arts units at different elementary school levels and describes why and how to enhance the curriculum by making movement part of the teaching routine. Nilges and Gallavan (1998) suggest a four-stage framework for teachers to use that integrates creative dance into the social studies curriculum. Their four stages are illustrated through an example of a sample dance about tornadoes that complements a thematic social studies unit about the impact of weather and natural disasters upon people and their environments. In a language arts class, Smith’s (2002) study involved children using dance and physical movement to narrate stories they had read or to imitate animals they had learned about. Through these movement exercises, children gained awareness and control of their bodies, as well as greater understanding of concepts such as shape and rhythm.  Susan Gerofsky (2010) advocates for using gesture, movement, and vocal sound within the mathematics classroom to examine mathematically relevant features of the graphs of polynomial functions. Through her empirical observations of students’ spontaneous gesture types of these graphs, Gerofsky found a number of practical binaries (proximal/distal, being the graph/seeing the graph, within sight/within reach). Gerofsky borrows from gesture studies literature and the work of McNeill (1992), involving his two identified viewpoints observable through gesture: “character viewpoint” (C-VPT) and “observer viewpoint” (O-VPT). If students are portraying an action-filled story, they may represent the action through gesture as if they are separated from the action and seeing it from a distance (O-PVT) or their gestures may represent being a character in the 185  thick of the action themselves (C-VPT). She states, “These binaries inform an analysis of videotaped gestural and interview data and appear to predict teachers’ assessments of student mathematical engagement and understanding with great accuracy” (p. 321). Moreover, Gerofsky applauds the findings of Goldin-Meadow & Beilock (2010) when she indicates: “People who have physical experience of performing particular activities will process visual/auditory references to those activities with different neuronal areas of the brain than those who have not had such experiences” (p. 326). As a result, students’ physical experience of their environment permits them to perceive and discriminate with greater efficacy in that area of activity, which may lead them to tacit understanding of new concepts.   Matthews (1998) used narrative to describe his own fifth-grade experiences in the science class of a teacher who understood the power of embodied action. He and his fellow classmates were regularly encouraged to interact with “as many of [their] senses as possible in examining objects” and “put [their] sentient bodies to the task of conducting experiments” (p. 238). Matthew asserts that “The embodied approach to learning is seriously, ambitiously playful. The young of all intelligent species learn to grow into their adult roles through play and imitative experimentation” (p. 238). Physical movement in play is the personal embodiment of one’s imagination and through play one gains “the ability to transform oneself into what one wants to become.” Matthew eloquently concludes: When children encounter enlightened teaching that respects and fosters embodied knowing, they are more likely to achieve a successful and fulfilling coming-of-186  age, discovering within themselves a passion for learning that they are able to apply toward the realization of their rich potentials (p. 242). Skoning (2010) states that in many accounts of the integration of physical movement in other classrooms, “researchers reported that students demonstrated increased understanding, improved behavior in the classroom, and better attitudes toward school” (p. 170). Moreover, Theodorakou and Zervas (2003) and Meekums (2008) have noted an increase in students’ self-esteem, emotional expression and self-regulation, and social function when dance and physical movement is incorporated into classroom teaching strategies.  My study adds to this body of research that illuminates the importance of physical movement in students’ understanding and meaning through developing experiences of moving in their various subject areas. I call on all educators to examine their own personal epistemological perspectives and consider how a reconceptualization of their philosophies of education could affect the way they teach as well as illuminate those whom it serves. Borrowing from Eastern thoughts (Yuasa, 1987) inseparable mind-body unity, I suggest an embodied approach in education should be forwarded through action, doings, and knowing-through-the-body as praxis. Praxial education, and the variations in its merit forwarded by Alperson, Elliott, Regelski, Bowman, and others, can help inform the philosophy and pedagogy of educators of today and, possibly and more importantly, of tomorrow.  187  5.4 Limitations  I acknowledge that the findings of this research are based on the responses of only 24 participants and that these findings offer cautious generalizations and conclusions about adolescent instrumental music students in other locations around the world. I have subjectively interpreted these findings, while attempting to limit my biases regarding my conceptions of the importance of ancillary movements in music-making. Moreover, I recognize that ancillary movements have great personal meaning in my own music-making and that my performance would be far less rewarding if I were told to sit still or not to move while performing. My experience may have limited the discussion and implications that I contemplated in this study.  As I noted, the groups’ experiences of ancillary movements varied greatly, but it is interesting that no students held the belief that ancillary movements served no purpose. That being said, one challenge I faced when recruiting students arose because of the Behavioral Research Ethics Board (BREB) reviewers’ stipulation that I explicitly tell the prospective participants what I was planning to study. I originally planned on referring to my research involving “instrumental performance practices,” where I would organize interviews that would begin without specifically mentioning physical movement. Unfortunately this was not permitted; therefore, I recruited students by describing ancillary movements and my interest in them.   Since participants volunteered to take part in this study after hearing my recruitment speech, it is possible only those students who had an interest in ancillary movements and felt that ancillary movements held important meaning to them returned their permission forms. I explained that I was interested in their genuine ideas about 188  conceptions of the importance of these movements in their performances, and I encouraged the participants to answer honestly without trying to just tell me what they thought I might like to hear. I speculate that some of the participants may have chosen to answer the questions in an attempt to please me, as the interviewer, by trying to guess what I wanted them to say. I explained that there were no right answers, just honest individual experiences, and that I was looking to describe the variety of ways that students experience ancillary movements. After interviewing all 24 students, I did sense that one of the students came prepared to tell me about her ancillary movements before I had even asked her about them. I believe her answers were consistent with what she blogged throughout the month, but it was a little unsettling when she began the interview by unloading her ideas without being specifically asked about movements.   In my experience of teaching adolescents for the past 17 years, I have found that many adolescents want to be accepted by the normal group and not singled out as being too different. Therefore, some of the participants’ answers may have been influenced by what they thought an average adolescent might say instead of what they truly believed, in an attempt to conform.   Some students exhibited difficulty with describing music and its meanings.  This difficulty may have limited their ability to communicate their honest conceptions. They used gestures and examples of similar conceptions to help explain their answers, but, in this process, I was left to interpret their meanings through my own biased lens.  189  5.5 Recommendations for future research  Further research on the conceptualization and importance of ancillary movements in music-making could include action research studies examining the effects of using pedagogy developed from the presented outcome space and Ancillary Movement Spectrum. Also, new research that expands the sample size and involves participants from various regions around the world would allow researchers to see how universal the presented outcome space is.   This study did not include students from the marching band tradition where choreography is regularly used in performance practice. Future researchers might explore whether there is a difference between the ways students in a marching band value choreographed movements as compared to students in a concert band. How does one’s music culture limit or encourage expressive movement in performance? In the interviews, I asked students about their previous dance experience and how dance instruction may have influenced their conceptions of ancillary movements. The findings showed a wide variety of opinions about the importance of their current use of ancillary movements, ranging from “dance experiences were highly influential” to “not influential at all.” I suggest more research should be done involving observations of performers from dance and non-dance backgrounds that might include a survey of the audience’s interpretation of the performers’ expressive movements.   In Chapter 4, I mentioned that when students felt more confident with their playing skills, they thought they would move more. It would be worthwhile to study whether students who feel confident about their playing ability exhibit greater amounts of observable ancillary movements. This might help researchers verify connections between 190  students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and their confidence level while playing. By analyzing the students’ conceptions of what they are doing compared to what is observable to others, researchers might obtain greater understanding of the connection between students’ confidence levels and the amount of ancillary movement they exhibit. Is there a causal relationship between a student’s confidence and the ways they move?  The content of the final outcome space also raises the question: Does this set of categories describe a series of developmental stages in the cognitive development of adolescents? I do openly state that this question is beyond the boundaries I initially set for this study, but I would encourage future researchers to examine this prospect. I suggest that this is a possibility, since I observed that some students seemed to move through the categories (or levels) as the study progressed from the interview through the month of blogging. As I discussed in Chapter 4, I specifically chose to take a decontextualized from the whole transcript approach analyzing data to create the presented outcome space, giving a holistic description of what this group of adolescents conceived ancillary movements mean to them. When I examined the data through a contextualized within the whole transcript approach, there were some signs that the levels might reflect developmental stages in adolescents’ cognitive development. For example, Mary wrote how her ideas about performers’ movements had changed during the short length of this study: One of my hobbies is to go on YouTube and look at people play[ing] instruments. And while I was looking at this person play the piano I couldn’t see his face (he wasn’t showing it because of personal things I think), but you could really tell he was enjoying whatever he was doing without the facial expressions. So now that I 191  think of it, maybe it’s not just the facial expression that creates the feeling. After I have participated in this program I feel like I have observed more things about people when people play an instrument (Mary, J). Walter found it difficult to describe his experiences with ancillary movements in his interview, and he exhibited a level of complexity of understanding at the third level, Extrinsic Meaning; Music Meaning, where ancillary movements are used to express the inherent meaning of the music (as object). Walter described his movements when he was deeply engaged with the music: “I close my eyes and I really think about... I think about the music... I think of what it kind of means” (Walter, wp.4045). Students at level three regard the music’s meaning as pre-existing and believe the performer’s duty is to find and experience it. Later, in his blogging, Walter stated: When I play with musical expression, I prefer to move around because it helps me get “in the mood” with the music surrounding me. Unfortunately, I can’t find the words to describe how it feels, but it would be something like “pleasureful [sic] or peace of mind” (Walter, J). In this statement, Walter described using ancillary movements to help him “get in the mood” to find “peace of mind.” Moving with the music became a vehicle for him to connect with himself in a pleasurable, peaceful way. This description clearly places Walter at the Intrinsic Meaning: Expressive Meaning, level 5. A longitudinal study that incorporated a contextualized within the whole transcript approach could allow us to determine if developmental stages exist that correspond to the outcome space I forwarded. New research might ask: Do the differences in students’ answers (i.e., the 192  levels) correlate with their ages, the amount of time they spend in school music classes, taking lessons, or with something else?  As well, a longitudinal study on the long-term effects of somaesthetic practice on a group of music students through their grade school years would be very beneficial to researchers overall understanding of the importance of expressive movements. One could ask how somaesthetic practice influences the way music-making is valued by the participants.  5.6 Conclusions  In this study, I answered the main research question by taking a phenomenographic approach. I analyzed data from interviews with music students and their journal entries to create categories describing their various conceptions of ancillary movement in instrumental music performance. Students’ responses to interview questions and their journal entries informed the creation of the Ancillary Movement Spectrum, which I propose might be used to help contextualize how students conceive of ancillary movements’ motivations. Through the use of both the outcome space and the AMS, teachers may develop a greater understanding and context for their future dialogue with students about musical expression and movement. I have advanced the call for the inclusion of the body/mind in the pedagogical practices of instrumental classes and encouraged the use of somaesthetics in music education. The work of Jaques-Dalcroze has been instrumental in the development of movement curriculum and pedagogy in music education; however, the ubiquitous privileging of the mind over the body in 193  instrumental music education has led to its sporadic use in the classes of the students I interviewed. I assert that this needs to change.  I envision an increase in student engagement in music-making through adapting pedagogy to include the diversity in students’ conceptions of movement in performance. Based on my analysis of the students’ interviews and journaling blogs, I propose that an increase in student engagement with the music being performed is likely to occur when the following four conditions are present:  1. The teacher gives students freedom to make their own natural ancillary movements. Participants stated that they valued natural movements more than choreographed movements because choreographed movements felt artificial, awkward, and forced. Also, if teachers told students not to move, some students felt like it would diminish the quality of their music-making experience.  2. The student feels confident with his or her music skills (balance between challenge and skills). Repeatedly, participants spoke of how they would move more if they knew their music well and were not worried about making mistakes. They also discussed how movement in a player’s performance shows his or her confidence.   3. The student does not feel self conscious about what others might think of his or her movements. Participants indicated they did not want to be singled out in front of their class and said they would move less if their teacher publicly acknowledged their movements. But, if their peers were moving beside them and they felt comfortable playing with a musical group, they would move more and value the music-making experience to a greater extent.  194  4. The student discovers that her or his teacher supports using ancillary movements in performance. In the interviews, participants spoke about the importance of having conversations about expressive movements in class, about teachers displaying expressive movements for their students, and how, if their teacher(s) did not discuss expressive movements in class, students would feel less likely to move. Participants also mentioned that if they were encouraged (not demanded) to move by their teacher, when they were not too self-conscious or overwhelmed, they would move more.   Not only did participants believe that ancillary movements added to their music-making in a positive way, but these movements allowed them to connect with others in community in what I suggest Stubley (1995) was describing when she wrote that one’s “self-identity is generated through a simultaneous awareness of difference from and connection with the other” (p. 64). 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Reston, VA: Music Educators National Conference. 217  Appendices  Appendix A  Letter of first contact with Vancouver School Board October 11, 2013            VSB Research Committee Vancouver School Board 1580 West Broadway Vancouver, BC V6J 5K8  Dear VSB Research Committee members   I am presently completing requirement for the Ph.D. degree in Curriculum Studies with specialization in Music Education in the Faculty of Graduate Studies, Department of Curriculum and Pedagogy at UBC.  For my dissertation study, I plan to conduct research in music classes in three Vancouver secondary schools. I am writing today to ask if you would be willing to allow me to conduct my research in the Vancouver School District. I have taught with the VSB since 1991 and do not plan on approaching any of the schools I have taught at in the past or present. Currently, I am a full-time music teacher at Lord Byng Secondary School (since 1997).  The title of my research project is Mapping How Students’ Conceptualize Ancillary Movement in Instrumental Music Performance. Specifically, I plan to conduct research on adolescent students’ conceptions of their physical (ancillary) movements in instrumental music performance and the relations these movements have to their engagement in learning. There are two types of physical movements/gestures used by musicians: (1) “Instrumental movements” are those that play a direct role in the production of sound (e.g. breathing in and blowing out air, hand and arm movement of individual keys or a bow). (2) “Ancillary movements” are those not directly involved in the production of sound (e.g. leaning forward, swaying side to side). The second type, ancillary movement/gesture, is the focus of my research.   This two-month study involves researching the differences in student’s conceptions of their own ancillary movements.  The study will include a group of 24 (12 males and 12 females) instrumental music students in grades eight to twelve, with different cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds, in three separate high schools in Vancouver. I will conduct 8 individual personal interviews (approximately 45 minutes in length) with instrumental music students at each of the three schools over a two-week period during January and February 2014. At the conclusion of the interviews, students will be assigned the task of writing weekly (outside of class time), for one month in an e-journal/blog about their conceptions of their ancillary movement and their engagement with music.   If you allow me to do my research in Vancouver, I will contact three secondary school principals to see if they would support this study. If approved by the principal, I will go to the school and talk with the music teacher about visiting his or her instrumental music classes to recruit student participants. Parental/Guardian consent and student assent 218  forms will be distributed to interested students and, from the returned forms, I will choose eight students to interview.   To safeguard students’ privacy, their names will not be mentioned in the study. All documents will be identified only by code number, stored securely in a locked filing cabinet, and accessed only by my supervisor or me. Documents will not be released to anyone outside the study. A student may choose to end his/her involvement with the study at any time simply by contacting me.   As mentioned, the purpose of the study is to develop a greater understanding of students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements in music performance and to inform teachers about students’ conceptions, which may have implications for the way they teach. The results of this research will lead to the creation of a taxonomy of students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements. By categorizing students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and the relations to their engagement in learning, this research may suggest new teaching strategies and techniques that will allow for variations in students’ ways of learning. For example, teachers will have greater understanding of what ancillary movements mean to students and how these meanings support their music-making.   I have applied to the Behavioural Research Ethics Board at UBC for their approval of this study and they are currently considering it. I will pass on their answer as soon as I hear back from them in late October.  Please contact me with any questions or concerns you may have about this study and how it might impact your school. My address is:___________________________. My phone number is _____________. My e-mail address is _____________________.  If you have additional questions concerning this study, you are welcome to contact the Behavioural Research Ethics Board at UBC: Office of Research Services Suite 102, 6190 Agronomy Rd. Vancouver, BC V6T 1Z3 (604) 827-5112  Thank you for your consideration,     D. Scott MacLennan PhD Candidate in Curriculum Studies (Music Education)   219  Appendix B  Vancouver School Board approval     220  Appendix C  Letter to school principals to request permission to do research  Date            Principal  Vancouver Secondary School Vancouver, BC Postal Code  Dear [principal’s name],   I am presently completing requirement for the Ph.D. degree in Curriculum Studies with specialization in Music Education in the Faculty of Graduate Studies, Department of Curriculum and Pedagogy at UBC.  For my dissertation study, I plan to conduct research in music classes in three Vancouver secondary schools.  I am writing today to ask if you would be willing to allow me to conduct part of the study at _________ Secondary School.  The title of my research project is Mapping How Students’ Conceptualize Ancillary Movement in Instrumental Music Performance. Specifically, I plan to conduct research on adolescent students’ conceptions of their physical (ancillary) movements in instrumental music performance and the relations these movements have to their engagement in learning. There are two types of physical movements/gestures used by musicians: (1) “Instrumental movements” are those that play a direct role in the production of sound (e.g. breathing in and blowing out air, hand and arm movement of individual keys or a bow). (2) “Ancillary movements” are those not directly involved in the production of sound (e.g. leaning forward, swaying side to side). The second type, ancillary movement/gesture, is the focus of my research.   This two-month study involves researching the differences in student’s conceptions of their own ancillary movements.  The study will include a group of 24 (12 males and 12 females) instrumental music students in grades eight to twelve, with different cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds, in three separate high schools in Vancouver. I will conduct 8 individual personal interviews (approximately 45 minutes in length) with instrumental music students at each of the three schools over a two-week period during January and February 2014. At the conclusion of the interviews, students will be assigned the task of writing weekly (outside of class time), for one month in an e-journal/blog about their conceptions of their ancillary movement and their engagement with music.   If you choose to have your school take part in this study, I will come to the school and talk with your music teacher about visiting his or her instrumental music classes to recruit student participants. Parental/Guardian consent and student assent forms will be distributed to interested students and, from the returned forms, I will choose eight students to interview.   To safeguard students’ privacy, their names will not be mentioned in the study. All documents will be identified only by code number, stored securely in a locked filing cabinet, and accessed only by my supervisor or me. Documents will not be released to 221  anyone outside the study. A student may choose to end his/her involvement with the study at any time simply by contacting me.   As mentioned, the purpose of the study is to develop a greater understanding of students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements in music performance and to inform teachers about students’ conceptions, which may have implications for the way they teach. The results of this research will lead to the creation of a taxonomy of students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements. By categorizing students’ conceptions of their ancillary movements and the relations to their engagement in learning, this research may suggest new teaching strategies and techniques that will allow for variations in students’ ways of learning. For example, teachers will have greater understanding of what ancillary movements mean to students and how these meanings support their music-making.   Please contact me with any questions or concerns you may have about this study and how it might impact your school. My address is:___________________________. My phone number is _____________. My e-mail address is _____________________.  If you have additional questions concerning this study, you are welcome to contact the Behavioural Research Ethics Board at UBC: Office of Research Services Suite 102, 6190 Agronomy Rd. Vancouver, BC V6T 1Z3 (604) 827-5112  Thank you for your consideration,      D. Scott MacLennan, PhD Candidate in Curriculum Studies (Music Education)    222  Appendix D  Letter to parents/guardians requesting consent for their child’s participation in study  223  224     225  Appendix E  Letter to students requesting assent for their participation in study  226   227    228  Appendix F  Interview script  Interview Script  I will use an open-ended interview protocol (Bowden, 2005; Dortins, 2002)2 in a semi-structured interview. I will facilitate an effective phenomenographic interview by: 1) using open-ended questions rather than yes/no questions, 2) avoiding the use of multiple questions, 3) restating answers to avoid over interpreting, and 4) avoiding “why” questions.   Here are the questions to be asked in the interview: • How do you define “music”? • When do you feel the most engaged in performing? • How do you know when a performer is “deeply” engaged in performing music? • How do you know when you are deeply engaged in performing music?  Show video clip (one minute) of clarinetist performing Mozart’s clarinet concerto http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecvEBZqOKeA • When you watch a musical performance, what might be the reasons the performer displays movement?  • What do you think of when you watch someone displaying movement when s/he performs? Is she making those movements for herself, the audience, or for both?  Show video clip (one minute) of the rock group Coldplay performing Viva la Vida http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvgZkm1xWPE  • Does the genre of the music (Classical, Rock, R & B, Hip Hop, Punk, etc…) matter to the amount or size of movement shown by a performer? • As a performer, how do you know that you are expressing your feelings/thoughts?   Show a video clip of the participant in his/her school winter music concert video taped by his/her music teacher.3                                                 2 Dortins, E. (2002). Reflections on phenomenographic process: Interview, transcription and analysis. Quality Conversations: Research and Development in Higher Education, 25, 207–213.  Bowden, J. A. (2005). Reflections on the phenomenographic team research process. In J. Bowden & P. Green (Eds.). Doing Developmental Phenomenography. Melbourne: RMIT University Press 3 Music groups were recorded for play back in class. It would not be unusual for a teacher to video his/her ensemble’s performance for later analysis by the group or teacher in class. This video would not be used by the researcher outside of the interview sessions and would be left with the music teacher who originally video recorded the students. 229  • What do you think of when you watch yourself displaying movement when you perform? • What is your understanding of expressive movement? • Did someone talk to you about movement? Ex. tapping your foot or swaying to the music? • What have you been taught about moving? • Are there any final comments you would like to add about what moving to music means to you?  230  Appendix G  Instructions for participants during the month of journaling/blogging   231  Appendix H  Questions and comments sent to participants during the month of journaling/blogging  Journal questions:  Week 1: After performing your instrument, consider the questions asked during the interview and listed on the instruction sheet (describing the process for blogging for the month) given to you at the end of the interview.   Week 2: How are the ancillary movements you make or don’t make related to your musical expression? Is your musical expression visible in any ancillary movements you make? How important are these movements to your musical expression?  Week 3: Thank you again, for taking part in this study. Here is this week’s question to consider: Do you think that the ancillary movements you make allow you to learn the music quicker or at a deeper level?  Week 4: Here are the final questions I will have you think about during this last week of my study. Please give them some thought and feel free to add any final comments about ancillary movements. If you and the rest of your class were encouraged to move by your teacher when you play, do you think that you would feel more comfortable about showing more movement in performance? Would you feel less self conscious about what others might think of your movements if they were being encouraged to move as well?  Final comment: Dear ______________; Thank you for your input. As mentioned at the end of our interview session, I would have you blog until the end of February. I am writing to tell you that I am finished collecting your answers and that you no longer need to send me your thoughts. I will drop by your school tomorrow and leave your gift card along with a thank you note with your teacher. Thanks again. I hope this has been of use for you and that you have gained greater awareness of the role of ancillary movement in your music making.  Best wishes, Scott MacLennan   

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