Traversing the Tenuous Terrains of Music Education and Community Music Therapy

Jesse Rathgeber, Jon M. Stapleton, Robby McCoubrey, MT-BC, Shelby E. Hall, Erin Dixon, & David
Stringham

Who is a music educator? What do they do? Who is a music therapist? What is their role? In this session,
a board-certified music therapist, a community music learning facilitator and arts administrator, an
in-service music educator working with students diagnosed with cognitive disabilities, a pre-service music
educator earning a minor in Music and Human Services, and two university music professors trouble
these roles and practices. While current discourse in the United States positions music therapy and music
education as discrete disciplines, we argue that shared history and consistent overlaps in shared purpose
among practitioners in both groups suggest a need for frameworks guiding practices in
spaces/situations/settings that are not neatly defined as music education, community music, or music
therapy opportunities. We use community music therapy (Ruud, 2004; Stige, Ansdell, Elefant, &
Pavlicevic, 2010; Stige & Pavlicevic, 2004) as a theoretic framework to consider how music education
and music therapy practitioners—often seemingly at odds with one another—might form meaningful
collaborations and partnerships to engage communities in/with/through learning and making music. We
provide individual snapshots of our practices to articulate ways in which we transverse hard and soft
boundaries—experienced, perceived, and institutionalized—between fields. We conclude by imagining
therapeutic music learning and educative music therapy practices that embrace ambiguity in the service of
engaging all persons in/with/through music.

Keywords:​ music education, music therapy, community music therapy, disciplinary boundaries,
interdisciplinary collaboration, ambiguity

Words of speech: between 2700 and 3100

Color codes:
Dave
Jesse
Jon
Erin
Shelby
Robby
Intro (500 words)

Welcome and thank you for being here to journey with us. Today, we trouble a few “things.” We ask:

- What is music education? What is music therapy?

To answer these questions, we might find discrete definitions informed by professional organizations,
such as those here in the United States such as NAfME or AMTA and their standards of practice. From
the perspective of these professional organizations, it would appear that certification or licensure are the
mark of professional identity and that these credentials dictate the practices one can enact, and in turn, the
terrains in which we may/can/ought to travel. As a licensed music educator, venturing into ​therapeutic
terrains might leave someone on the receiving end of accusations that my work might be “dangerous,”
“potentially unsafe,” or trod into “the domain of music therapy,” clear heresy!

[advance slide]

(slide 2)

In addition to considering definitions, perhaps we might also consider identities and practices.

So, who is a music educator? What does she do? In what ways is her work not only educational, but also
therapeutic?

Who is a music therapist? What does he do? In what ways is his work not only therapeutic, but also
educative?

[advance slide]

(slide 3) Licensed music educators are most commonly thought of as persons with whom students achieve
musical goals. In K-12 settings, instruction, assessment, and achievement are often measured at the group
level; for example, through choirs, orchestras, and bands. Music educators earn licensure from a state in
which they seek to practice; accordingly, requirements vary.

The American Music Therapy Association defines music therapy as “​clinical and evidence-based use of
music interventions to accomplish individualized goals within a therapeutic relationship by a credentialed
professional who has completed an approved music therapy program.” By this definition, then a music
therapist is one who holds an MT-BC credential, and in some states, holds a required license to practice.

In professional literature, the point of collaboration for music educators and music therapists is
“consultation.” A music educator might consult with a music therapist for advice about a specific student
or class. A particular student might be referred to a music therapist for services (if they are available).

[advance slide]
Jesse (slide 4): The boundaries of what ​is​ music education, what ​is​ music therapy, and how music
educators and music therapists might collaborate are additionally confounded by the overlapping work of
community music and community music therapy practitioners, whose practices often emerge through
doing, rather than being dictated by credentials:

● Both CM and CMT provide critical lenses to consider music learning and musical health practices
● The scholars addressing CM and CMT note the complex, systems-based, contextually-conscious
nature of practices.
● Centrality of community as a goal and site for musical engagement.
● CM and CMT have deep activistic tendencies, often seeking to grow socially just and equitable
practices, values, and structures through musical engagement.
● Address the interplay of different relationships, guided by the intentional goals of facilitators
and/or the individual, social, or political desires and/or needs of the participants.

Dave (slide 5):

Returning to the slide we saw just a moment ago, we acknowledge that there are situations that are clearly music
therapy (for example, working with Congresswoman Gabby Giffords to help her regain her speech after surviving a
bullet wound to the brain) and those that clearly fall within the domain of music education (for example, directing 84
middle school students performing Robert W. Smith’s “Encanto”). Many other situations are less clear; they expose a
“no person’s land” in which neither profession clearly operates.

Jesse (slide 6)

Based on our lived experience and the critical calls of CM and CMT, we provide a different analytic tool
by which to consider the complex and muddy practices that may be an educative AND therapeutic “no
person’s land,” calling attention to the ambiguity of disciplinary action and identities enacted in the
tenuous terrains we traverse together. This “framework” employs systems theory (e.g. Bronfenbrenner,
1992; in MT G​ arred, 2001; Wood, 2016​) to consider four facets of musical relationships

● The facilitators, be they music therapists, music educators, arts admins, and their intentions or the
direction in which their knowledge and actions are catalyzed.
● The participants, who come with specific needs, assessed or otherwise, and desires that shape
action.
● The community or contextual-situatedness in which facilitators and participants engage, with its
values, perceptions, and norms, which may be drawn on, questioned, or impacted through
engagement.
● And the music, itself, as an activity and active role shaping interactions.

Through musical relationships, each dimension may become the driving force, the focus, or even the site
of music making, often which these things changing quickly as life is lived.

[advance slide]
Dave (slide 7): We are excited to have four panelists with us today, who are traversing hard and soft
boundaries—experienced, perceived, and institutionalized—between music education and music therapy.
We’ve asked them to frame their remarks around their perceptions of and experiences with musical
relationship shaped by intentions, desires & needs, context, and actions. Following their comments, we
will discuss themes that emerged, share some warnings from our own experiences, and invite you to join
us in examining considerations for advancing this conversation.

[advance slide] Our first panelist, Jon M. Stapleton, is director of Rocktown Music Collective, a nonprofit
organization that seeks to provide opportunities for music learning, performing, and teaching in the
Shenandoah Valley. Jon has presented on topics related to technology, media, and contemporary forms of
musical community at both national and international music education conferences.

My colleagues and I run Rocktown Music Collective in order to provide inclusive, culturally relevant
music learning opportunities to community members in the Shenandoah Valley. Engaged Musicking in
Inclusive Communities (EMIC) is a program centered on vernacular musicianship in small groups. The
EMIC groups I facilitate are offered to adults with disabilities. I help participants curate a repertoire of
songs, lead group improvisation, assist in implementing accommodations on various instruments, and
provide scaffolds that help participants write songs and produce arrangements.

The people in EMIC and I do not see these groups as music therapy. That is, we do not spend a lot of time
working toward clinical goals. But I also have trouble squaring EMIC against my professional music
education training. We do not identify long-term learning objectives or practice instrumental executive
skills. Instead, EMIC musicians often trace surprising learning trajectories. One woman has trouble
matching pitch with her voice, and improvises vocal beautiful harmonies. Another man can follow and
imitate pitches and phonemes by sight and sound faster than he can read lyric sheets. Rather than breaking
down music learning into a set of objectives that progresses linearly, it emerges organically. We
improvise together, practicing listening and responding to one another. We break down songs, making
them our own. We write songs together.

People I play music with in EMIC are also working on their own goals. Some of these goals might align
with those pursued in clinical settings; for example, one woman plays drums in a group, and is working
on interpreting social cues and conversation skills. Others have musical goals; a woman who plays guitar
in EMIC also sings in her church choir. She often tells stories about how these two experiences overlap
and resonate with one another. Another person takes private guitar lessons and applies them to EMIC’s
collaborative context.

There are many goals, values, and relationships at play in EMIC groups, and EMIC’s location on the
framework of musical relationships seem to change daily. I recently taught a class where no one really
wanted to write any lyrics. So we just sang songs together. The week before the same group had written
half of a country song in less than a half hour. The latter class, in contrast to the first, was packed with
learning and teaching. EMIC is a fluid space, and my teaching has changed dramatically because of the
flexibility that it requires me to bring to the table.

[advance slide] Our next panelist, Robby McCoubrey, MT-BC, maintains music education licensure and
music therapy certification. Currently, he is: an adjunct faculty member at James Madison University;
music teacher at an alternative school; facilitator of community-based music therapy sessions with adults
with various mental health challenges, and contracts as a music therapist for individual clients.

I’m often asked, "What do you do?" This is hard for me to answer. Do they want to know my role? My
identity? My intention? For a while, I said, "Music Therapist." It was a simple answer, people showed
interest, and it helped with networking.

But I realize that “what I do”, looks different based on where I am. When I go into a space, I ask myself:
What is happening here? What are the desires and needs of this space? How can I help engage this space
musically?

Here are a two brief examples.

In one space, I work with adults with intellectual and/or developmental disabilities and staff at a day
support center. Their desires and needs included: a regularly occurring music program, opportunities to
increase movement and motor function, and increased opportunity for community engagement. Once a
week I meet with the participants at the day support center. We start with various drumming exercises to
increase group cohesion and beat synchronicity. We then sing, as a group, a combination of new and
familiar songs. Every few months we host inclusion concerts, where everyone is the audience and
performer.

I also work with 8-12th graders and their classroom teachers at an alternative school. Their desires
include: painting, drawing, drumming, learning guitar, being outside, playing games, and doing new
things. Their needs include: change in their daily routine, a break from computers, an energetic outlet,
improved positive social interactions, and improved group cohesion. The actual sessions include: drum
circles, collaborative art, outside musical games, guitar lessons, and sometimes just a space to vent or
blow off steam.

In my work, I struggle with...when am I a music therapist?, when am I a music educator?, when am I

neither?, and when am I both? To teach a student guitar, we first had to build some self-esteem, then learn
songs, then we had to practice emotional regulation, then we learned some more songs, then we worked
on making requests rather than demands. My role is constantly changing during a session, minute to
minute. This at first was very stressful, because I didn't know what it was I was 'supposed' to do. Then I
learned that if I just took a few breaths, trusted my training, kept asking myself what I could do better, and
stayed focused on the needs and desires of others, there was a drastic improvement in my methods,
outcomes, and personal well-being.
Shelby Hall is a music teacher at Maiden Choice School, a public separate day school in Baltimore
County that provides programs for children from age 3 to 21 who have significant cognitive disabilities.
She graduated from James Madison University in 2017 with a degree in music education, and a minor in
music and human services.

- I work in a separate public day school for students with severe and profound disabilities. I teach
students between the ages of 3 and 21, and most of my students are non-verbal. My class sizes are
small, and all classes come with a paraprofessional, and other adults, to help students be successful.
Within my student population, I have a wide range of physical abilities & limitations. All of my
goals/objectives are education based. I modify my materials as best as I can to help students be
successful.

- There are some skills developed and practiced in musical contexts that can be easily transferred and
applied to social contexts. An example of this is having students play an instrument when it is their
turn. My, your, and turn, are core words that are part of our school wide curriculum of teaching core
words for communication, and those words pair well with the musical concept of call and response.
That concept translates to other contexts as well, such as taking turns in conversations and listening to
others. My main purpose for teaching call and response to for students to understand that concept
within the concept of music, but those skills can transfer elsewhere.

- I’m a music educator in a public school setting. However I work with a historically marginalized
population. My challenges and methods differ from that of a traditional elementary general/vocal
music teacher. (I don’t believe my challenges are greater or more difficult, but they are different).
Thankfully, because of my unique school setting, I am surrounded by many other professionals in a
variety of fields.
-
The speech therapists, occupational therapists, and physical therapists at my school know that they are
always welcome to come into the music room. I’m still teaching musical concepts, but the therapists
can use some of the experiences in the music room to their advantage, (ex. Physical therapists putting
a student in a walker for a movement activity.)

- In our school’s schedule, we have “special group” times, where we are allowed to pull students for
extra enrichment activities. During my special group time, a speech language pathologist and I pull
two students, for about 30 minutes every week. Both students enjoy using musical instruments, so I
set up options for them, and he encourages them to (verbally) ask for what they want to play, and how
they want to play.

[advance slide]

- In my classroom, we engage in music learning (learning about musical concepts), music making,
and the use of music (to teach Core words for Communication such as fast, & slow).
Our final panelist, Erin Dixon, is a rising junior music major at James Madison University, pursuing a
concentration in music education and double minors in substance abuse education, and music and human
services.

After finishing my time at James Madison University I hope to teach high school choir and show choir in
Central Virginia before moving towards obtaining a master’s degree in either Music Education or Music
Therapy. My hope is to bridge music education and music therapy while in the classroom and to someday
open a facility for patients with substance abuse in which the main method of 'medicine' is music and
therapeutic methods via creativity, expression, and modification. This passion for therapeutic music has
definitely helped in shaping my personal philosophy of music education. To me, education should be
thought out to fit the constantly changing needs and strengths of every single learner​ ​through an approach
of individualized learning. In order for this idea of personal growth and development to be achieved,
there needs to be a focus on relationships and community within the music classroom. This is where I
personally see music therapy having the strongest effect towards the growth of music education. My
minor in music and human services has fueled my thinking towards many experiences in which the
primary goal doesn’t at first glance seem to prioritize musical relations. For example, this semester I had
the unique opportunity of teaching music to residents of the Gemeinschaft Home, a halfway house for
recently incarcerated men. Through my experiences working with the Gemeinschaft Home, I have seen
just how imperative community music making can be in regards to music pedagogy. Not only does it
offer a positive environment for learners to feel as though they are welcome to engage and explore, but, it
also strengthens the essential method of working toward a shared goal, enhancing our context of the
community in which learning is occurring. Enhancing both the relationships between the residents and
the facilitator can in turn strengthen their trust and ​c​omfort with engagement, thus, leading towards a
release of expression. Though the word comfort often holds a restraining connotation, a sense of security
must be established before expecting students to feel safe or welcomed to contribute and engage in
experiences that are particularly personal when it comes to expressing vulnerability. Implementing small
aspects of music therapy into the earlier stages of community music making or pedagogy can be
extremely beneficial; but in turn furthers the murkiness of labels, disputes, and the general ambiguity
between music therapy and music education.

[advance slide]

There were several themes we noticed across these panelists’ narratives:

● First, commonality of the notion of working ​with​ marginalized ​individuals​. While several
of our panelists reported working with persons in groups, their focus remained on
individuals. Erin articulated a focus on developing relationships with learners, Jon spoke
of helping individuals meet personal goals, and Robby reflected on an underlying
question of how to help a person engage musically.

● Another theme in these narratives is the way each panelist draws on, or intends to draw
on, ​diversified​ professional knowledge. Robby pivots from educational to therapeutic
knowledge in his practices. Shelby lives within music education, basing her work on that
disciplinary knowledge, but catalyzing knowledge she has picked up through work with
 therapists and through her diverse coursework. Erin notes the importance of knowledge
of pedagogy, psychology, and therapeutic music for her current and future work.

● Third, panelists described a struggle with disciplinary ​labels​ and professional ​identities.
Erin mentioned using “small aspects of music therapy” in her work. Shelby made it clear
that she is neither a music therapist—nor is she pretending to be one—but part of her
charge is to help students meet a non-musical goal through learning and practicing “core
words.” Jon has a hard time “squaring” his practice with the identity his credential
implies. Robby, who holds professional labels as both a music educator and music
therapist, talks about his work in terms of people’s backgrounds, challenges, and
preferences.

[advance slides]

There are some warnings that have cropped up, and/or could crop up, when living in “no
person’s land”

● First, journeying the tenuous terrains may require hybridized education & professional
development (educators learning therapeutic tools and vice-versa). Additional skills,
knowledges, perspectives, and meanings may be enticing—it is to me—yet, such hybrid
and ambiguous educational experiences might not be a) welcomed by institutions and
professional organizations that operate on clear delineation for funding and
certification/licensure purposes, or b) easily fostered by instructors and programs
grounded within traditions of clear delineation.

● Second, conflict can arise around “fiefdoms” and border disputes. I’ve attempted to make
it abundantly clear that I am not a music therapist, nor do I claim to provide—or help
students provide—music therapy services. Still, many of us involved in this presentation,
and perhaps some of you in the audience, have had work perceived as “border crossing,”
providing an opening for claims of disciplinary heresy. Exploring this “no person’s land”
requires open minds willing to consider—and perhaps reconsider—perceptions of clearly
delineated boundaries.

● Finally, “border crossing” also requires a move from consultation to deep collaboration
between and among certified music therapists and licensed music educators,
collaboration in which strict boundaries of professional knowledges and identities may be
called into question, requiring new hybrid and innovative approaches that defy clear
identification, realizing the kind of “dynamic and creative collaborations and cross
fertilization” imagined by Wood and Ansdell (2018). Yet, such collaboration may bring
about even more accusations of heresy with various border crossings and boundary
breakings.

[advance slide]

Rather than dictate some suggestions, we’d like to open up this space to discuss with all of you
how we might encourage border crossings. Specifically how might we foster professional
development to be better ​prepared​ for “no person’s land” wherein we might encounter co-owned
(Wood & Ansdell, 2018) therapeutic music education and/or educative music therapy practices
with a spectrum of musical relationships between facilitators, participants, communities, and
musics. What considerations, concerns, and/or conundrums might be ahead in these tenuous
terrains, as we co-journey in “no person’s land”?