The Quarter Rest = The Best Rhythm of All
I am the least conflict-loving, fight-picking person that I know. I don’t want to argue. I don’t (often) feel the need to prove I’m right. (OK, my husband and three kids would likely disagree with that statement.) But in all honesty, I rarely rock the boat…except when it comes to a specific rhythm in the world of music: the quarter rest. This will be the battle I’m willing to engage in. I will die on this hill.
MUSIC TEACHERS THAT TEACH THAT A QUARTER REST SAYS, “Shhh…” This one’s for you: I politely, and with love and respect, BEG of you: STOP THE MADNESS!! Quarter rests say nothing. For one beat, there is silence. Not shhh…SILENCE. (See, when I feel strongly enough about something, I will rock the boat!) Also, for those that argue that the littlest learners need to say “Shhh” as a placeholder, you’re wrong. Sorry, not sorry. Teaching the littlest kiddos is my jam. I’ve taught two year olds this concept. They’re capable, I promise!
Anyway, why do I care so much? Well, this innocent little rhythm – often seen as a nothing, a placeholder, a pause – has become ridiculously significant to me.
It has become symbolic for me – representing my entire music teacher and life journey as a musician, honestly. I shan’t go into all the details, but let’s just say, it hasn’t been easy. Imposter syndrome, anyone? Depsite seeming confident, I can definitely be queen of the imposters.
It probably started way back, when my kindergarten teacher told my mom that out of all the kids in the class, I was the worst singer and that I “couldn’t match pitch while singing Happy Birthday.” For the record, not every kindergartener is matching pitch perfectly. (Gimme a break!) Second of all, I still – TO THIS DAY! – struggle with singing that song because everybody starts it off on a different pitch!
Fast forward to my college days when I was juggling being a double major in Music – playing the flute and singing – and French. The flute professor was, by far, one of the most rude, condescending, cold, cruel, and essentially verbally and emotionally abusive humans with whom I’ve ever had to interact. He told me that I would never amount to anything as a musician and certainly wouldn’t cut it as a music teacher…
So, here we are, 22+ years later, teaching music with a Master’s in Elementary Education, music and choral endorsements, and 14+ years running an early childhood music business. And yet…
I still question if I’m good enough. I had to fight really hard to get my foot in the door of the big district I’ve taught in for six years. I had to prove that I actually can do this. (But can I?!) There are a bajillion music teachers more talented than I am. They know more, can sing better, play the piano, guitar, ukulele, and so many instruments exceptionally well. But…
I’ve had some ah-ha moments, and they came in the shape of a little, seemingly insignificant musical rhythm—the quarter rest.
I started teaching my kiddos in class that this quarter rest, this little squiggle-wiggle (as I often call it), is “A BEAUTIFUL, BLISSFUL BEAT OF (silence).” And we mouth the word silence. I also teach that it’s “a moment to breathe.” I always pause after we talk about it so that we can all feel it – that beautiful, blissful beat of nothing, of rest and breath. I always pause after we talk about it so that we can all feel it – that beautiful, blissful beat of nothing, of rest and breath.
As a flute player (and singer), these quarter rests – are fast and fleeting and sometimes few and far-between. We don’t get to savor them. Which is why I want to start trying. It started to really hit me: I need more moments of pause. I need to take more moments to breathe. I need to experience the beautiful, blissful beats of silence that exist around us – if we only stop to experience them.
Silence for just one moment. Breathe.
