Project focus

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For my project and my write-up, I’m becoming increasingly interested in addressing the question of where music (and more broadly, culture: music, dance, drama, and art) fits into the modern-day milieu of institutional education. I think this question is very pronounced here in Kathmandu where government curriculum is minimal and the many private schools have a lot of freedom to decide what subjects to teach, why, and how.

Obviously music is an important thing. It’s an enormous part of culture, identity, history, human expression, emotion; it helps people relax, think clearly, inspires creativity, etc. All of these things are well documented by ethnomusicologists and music education advocates, and most everybody will recognize at some gut level the importance of music. Music also can be a lucrative profession for those who manage to be recognized and gain some level of popularity.

Opposing this, however, is the realization that a developing country like Nepal has a lot of engineering, technical, and social problems that need to be addressed, and many would argue that it’s more important for their students to be studying math, science, and social studies so that they can increase the power grid, clean up the pollution, fix the roads, and treat the sick people, than it is for them to study music and make people momentarily happy.

This leads to the question: where does music fit?

Without a doubt music is a skill that needs to be taught, and for any kind of proficiency needs to be taught and practiced for long hours, months, and years. Where is this teaching going to take place, how is it going to take place, and who are the students going to be?

Institutionalized education in Nepal is not very old, and some of the effects that it has brought about in the city can be seen very clearly.

Education is probably the single most advertised domain on the streets of Kathmandu; hundreds of billboards boast: “Study Abroad! Go to the UK, USA, Australia!” and then give the phone number of whatever program can do this. Others advertise pre-schools and grade schools: “Euro-Kids! India’s number 1 pre-school system,” or “10+2 Science, Math, Hotel Science, Management” and then the name of the school. Colleges advertise as well: “XXX College, BBS, LLB, BS”.

The system of school qualifications for career advancement is solidly in place. Universities won’t accept students who haven’t passed the SLC test (School Leaving Certificate), and many upper-end employers require some kind of school qualification for their employees. The university administrator I spoke with said she requires masters’ degrees of her teachers and administrators. This can lead kids to an idea that I heard expressed by my Nepali teacher’s 10 year old nephew: “What’s the point of learning music? I don’t get any credit for it, and I could just as easily spend the time to do something else for credit.”

For working musicians, skills are far more important than qualifications. A dedicated music student could just as easily feel the opposite: “What’s the point of going to school? It’s only getting in the way of my music practice.” Indeed, many of the music students I interviewed at the university were beginners when they started university study, and were keenly aware of how far behind they were of students who started when they were younger.

Music education has also only recently been institutionalized in Nepal, though not completely. Some schools and universities offer it, but many don’t, and it’s only possible to study to bachelor’s level in music in Nepal—masters students have to go to India. Before it was institutionalized it was taught in family groups and through the guru-shishya param param system, kind of an intense private lesson system where the student becomes the master’s servant and close friend while studying. It’s easy to rest on the thought that this will continue no matter what happens with institutional education, and that cultural education belongs outside of school anyway. A problem is that the system of institutional qualifications and the large amount of time that students spend in schools can easily reduce a student’s motivation to spend what little free time he might have to learn a whole other skill set. Also, with parents paying now for private school and all of the supplies that go with it, it’s easy to understand why they may not want to pay for an instrument and another teacher on top of that. These arguments would suggest that institutional education is moving in on the territory that non-institutional music education used to hold, and it would make sense in that case to include some music education in the institution.

All of the previous arguments aside, there are musicians, music teachers, music schools, and dedicated music students in Kathmandu. Music students seem to be a special kind of people, and they seem to turn up even in the face of daunting challenges. This itself can be an attestation to the appeal of music in general. My job, then, is to see how music education asserts itself in a place where it would seemingly be difficult to do so. I need to interview administrators at schools that do offer music, find out why and how, and administrators at schools that don’t offer music, and find out why. I need to talk with music students and get an idea of their attitudes and motivations. I need to talk with music teachers, find out how they make a living, attract students, their motivations for teaching music, what kinds of music they teach, and their opinions on the state of music education as they know it. I need to speak with parents of young children, find out if they want their children to learn music, and understand their reasoning on the issue. If they do want their children to learn music, I want to know how they plan on arranging it.

I’ve conducted interviews at two schools so far, a university and a grade school, and both offer music education to their students. I’ve also conducted some informal interviews with students at other schools, and with strangers I run into at bakeries and other nondescript public places. If I had to answer the question of where music education fits into the whole institutional education sphere in Kathmandu, based solely on my limited research up to this point, I would say that it’s on the side, it’s for dedicated students (who want to be professional musicians), and it’s for rich people.

People at the grade school told me very clearly that many grade schools in Kathmandu don’t offer music to their students. In support of this, none of the music students at the university had gotten any music education at their grade schools. At this grade school, music is offered as a required extra-curricular subject, with music teachers visiting the regular classes twice a week. Older students can meet after school sometimes for ensemble rehearsals if a big show is coming soon. The principal told me that he wants to expose his students to a wide range of activities including music, dance, art, and sports, because his students may become professional musicians, dancers, artists, or athletes in the future, and he wants to help them along the way. Music is not a tested subject at any grade school I know of, and certainly not on the government tests, and at this school in particular the music teacher has total control over his curriculum. Teaching music is a part-time job at this school, and both of the music teachers teach in at least 3 other schools also. From interviews with students at other schools I’ve found that some other schools only hire a music teacher to come in a month or so before parents’ day to organize a big performance. These teachers might teach the kids a few songs to sing, put the kids in some kind of choir order and make a program, and direct the program in front of the parents. They won’t teach music as its own subject, and they won’t even work at the school except in the month leading up to parents’ day. In both of these cases music education is thoroughly on the side.

There are music education options around for dedicated students who want to become professional musicians. The guru-shishya param param system is still around, and a really dedicated student may be able to score a guru. There are also music schools and music centers that arrange for private or class music instruction. Students can also do what I did—walk into a music store and ask the owner if he knows any teachers, then start taking lessons with that teacher. Some universities offer music majors, and for students who have passed the SLC this is a great option for structured formal music education.

Wealthy students have much better access to the music centers and private music instruction than do poor students. Lessons can be expensive, instruments can be expensive, and the time spent on practicing and learning can have high opportunity costs. The music center that immediately comes to mind when I think about music education for rich people is the jazz school in Kathmandu. This is just an initial gut reaction—I haven’t been to the place, and I do plan on going for interviews, so I’ll be much more informed afterwards. I say that it’s much more available for rich students because standard jazz instruments are generally very expensive with high maintenance costs (reeds for saxophones), and because somebody off the street told me that only rich students go there. I’ve also heard that the school for traditional music in Bhaktapur is generally only available for wealthy students, but again, I’ll know more after I visit.


The past few days:
Last Saturday I had an amazing time at a grade school carnival. I played improvised carnival games, looked at student artwork, made momos (Tibetan dumplings; a popular fast food), and got to talk to some students and teachers in an excellent, good-humored, jovial atmosphere. The students are incredibly well-adjusted and well-spoken, in English, and I was able to sit down and have very good conversation with some 14-year old 8th graders for over an hour. One of the girls especially was kind and helpful; she taught me how to make momos, she insisted on buying me a carnival game ticket, she taught me some Nepali words, and she told me about their seasonal music teacher at the school. I was even more impressed when I found out a little about her family: she’s from the Khumbu (the Everest region), she lives at the hostel on campus (it’s a boarding school), and both of her parents are working in Kuwait. So, she’s away from her parents, and the whole family is away from their home. Despite the difficulty of such a situation, she has a very bright attitude and showed me a great time at the fair.

Saturday night I played a gig with my guitar friend at the New Orleans restaurant in Patan, and I ate the best hamburger I’ve had since arrival. I think it was made from real beef (instead of buffalo).

Sunday was a fairly lazy day; I woke up late, then wandered around town in search of a good book. Books are generally cheaper here than in the US, but some books are way more expensive than others. Unfortunately, all of the ones that looked really good were really expensive (close to $10), and some of the ones that looked kind of good were way cheaper (around $2-$3). I wanted to buy a cheap book, but I couldn’t in the presence of all the really good looking expensive books. I didn’t buy any books that day. I had lunch with some college students on a study abroad program, then went to a formal farewell dinner for the departing Fulbright Commissioner. The dinner ended up being a meet-and-greet with many high-end Kathmandu professionals, including somebody who used to work for the ministry of education, and the newly appointed Nepali ambassador to the US. I made contacts and got email addresses.

Monday I went with my tabla teacher to a recording studio and met another bamboo flute player and a sound engineer. They were working on mixing a recording for a new album. It was a little bit boring sitting there, but I got to listen to a lot of spoken Nepali and practice the language a little bit. Also, after an hour or so somebody brought in tea and baked goods for a great breakfast. After this I went to my tabla teacher’s house, watched some videos, had a tabla lesson, and ate daal bhaat with him for lunch (daal bhaat is the staple Nepali food—rice with stewed lentils mixed with some cooked vegetables). I ate the daal bhaat in the traditional way: with my hands. After lunch I had to hurry to my Nepali language lesson, then hurry to the Fulbright Commission to attend a presentation by a representative from the East-West Center at the University of Hawaii. I’m convinced; I’m sending them an application for study next year. When the presentation ended I was finally able to relax a little bit; I met up with my guitar friend and we went out for pizza.

Tuesday was all about finding a police report for my stolen insulin pump. I have been in communication with the police and the embassy since the theft, but until Tuesday I hadn’t gotten a copy of the report. I first went to my community police station, and they told me to go to Interpol at Durbar Square in Basantapur, about a 25 minute walk away. They told me to go to the tourist police office, which they said was just across the street, but ended up being across town in Bhrikutimandap, another 20 minute walk. The tourist police were able to help me, and I got a certified police report document about the event. I’m still awaiting a memo from the embassy about my actions there. From the (third) police station I had to hurry to my Nepali language lesson, made it on time, and learned how to say ‘before’ (verb+nubanda pahile) among other things. After taking my police report to be scanned into a digital file, I really wanted to relax and watch a Nepali movie, so I bought ‘Sano Sansar’ (small world) and watched it on my computer. It’s good—I’d recommend it.

Today I’ve been invited to attend a professional culture show with my madal teacher performing, and afterwards I have a goodbye dinner for another Fulbrighter who will be traveling to the Khumbu for her research.

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