Ten years ago this month I started working at The Instrumentalist as an assistant editor. Over the years I’ve had four different job titles and eight different offices and learned a great deal. Here is a sampling of the wisdom I’ve gleaned.
Exceptional writing is difficult and rare. I have never considered myself much of a writer, but working at The Instrumentalist has given me the utmost respect for those who write well. Francis McBeth was one such master wordsmith, and I periodically go back to review what he has written. Editing is easier than writing, but I still have quite a bit more to learn about that, too.
Talent at photography is equally worthy of acclaim. Musicians are notoriously difficult to photograph; there are many ways a shot can be ruined, including taking a breath, looking down (which gives the illusion of closed eyes), and making a face in reaction to the music. We try to print only photos that a mother would be proud of.
Everybody likes doughnuts. When I started, two of the editors frequently commented how wonderful it would be if we had doughnuts every Friday. After about four months of hearing this, I brought doughnuts one Friday. This started a tradition that continues to this day, with everyone taking a turn.
Work expands to fill the amount of time you choose to put into it. There is always more work that can be done, and it is easy to get to the point where work consumes every waking moment. I hit this point two or three years ago and have learned the hard way that the world will not end if something waits until tomorrow morning.
A day with nothing to do is a rare and wonderful treat. Too often weekends and vacation days are consumed by errands, appointments, or home projects, so I make a point to clear my calendar entirely two or three times a year. I sleep late, take a nap, or see a movie – whatever I feel like. After ten years in Chicago I still have never been to the Field Museum to see Sue the tyrannosaur. I only recently learned she has a Twitter account (@SUEtheTrex).
Always read the instructions for technical equipment. It makes setting it up much easier. Even knowing where the instruction book is gives you a level of expertise that mere intuition cannot match. We have a temperamental printer with a penchant for spitting out too much paper, but because I read the instructions, this printer obeys me every time.
Software usually rewards those who try. When I do not know how to do something, I look at all the menu options until I find something that looks like it might be what I want. If it is not, the Undo command (control or command + z in almost every program) makes it go away. If trying random menu options fails, go to the help menu and type a few words related to what you want to do. I remember struggling to get Photoshop to make a white background in a photo of a stop sign transparent. None of the options I tried were helpful, but then I found the command itself under the Help menu. Why it was there is beyond me, but it proves that if you seek, you will find.
Animals are good at finding safe places. There is a beautiful courtyard, secluded from the rest of the world, in the center of our office building, and as I write, a mother robin is flying all over the courtyard seeking food for a recently hatched baby in a nest right outside my window. There is a pair of goldfinches considering nesting in our courtyard as well. Later this summer when the flowers are all in bloom, we will be visited by hummingbirds. As fall approaches the squirrel who likes to stash nuts in the corner near my office will return. Last October he showed up with a dinner roll, presumably obtained from the grocery store down the street. He stashed it in a bush but came back and took it away the next day. I suspect the squirrels have a friend on the inside at this store, because I occasionally see one carrying a doughnut or a candy bar down the street.
Music teachers are among the most generous and giving people on the planet. In preparing this issue I got to chat extensively with Mary Land and Linda McKnight, both of whom recognize the importance of sharing ideas with other educators and were eager to contribute their expertise to benefit others. This is what builds up the profession, and I consider it a privilege to help spread the knowledge accumulated by veteran teachers with each issue of this magazine.
In 1995 our publisher wrote, “At all times a small group of people have tried very hard to produce good magazines; not trying is the unforgivable sin.” These words still ring true, and our aim remains to make each new issue at least one percent better than the last. The past ten years have been hard work, but the long days (and nights) are worth it when an author reports how many compliments and follow-up questions an article received. Many thanks to all the wonderful people I have gotten to work with. Your experiences, ideas, and anecdotes make this magazine great.
