Drawing a line in water: Constructing the school censorship frame in popular music education

Cultural stories

Educating students within broad cultural narratives, and processes of enculturation, were seen as priorities for many teachers, particularly in schools catering for those who identified as outside the majority culture of Finland. For example, the teacher working in a Swedish speaking school articulated,

[I would like my students to] know a few songs that I think is a part of being upplyst [enlightened]… that they may be allmänbildad [broadly culturally educated] (Maria)

This focus on the reinforcement and/or cultivation of cultural identity may be a result of minority cultures’ marginalization in broader schooling (Georgii-Hemming & Westvall, 2010). An example of this may be seen as a number of teachers expressed that musics ‘belonging’ to immigrant students was seen as complementary, but not necessarily essential repertoire. While teachers acknowledged the importance of teaching musics of different cultures, these were often distant ‘world musics’, found in textbooks, rather than among their diverse student populations. Bresler (1998) has suggested that such approaches to diversity in music education reflect those of the wider society, ‘often a superficial rather than interpretive or experiential exposure to musics of other cultures…. [which] reflects a dutiful “lip service” stance, rather than a curious attitude recognizing complexity and drawing on students’ personal experiences’ (pp. 32−33). Similar observations have been made regarding recent Finnish cultural policy and multiculturalist projects where ‘cultures were represented through exotic artifacts without creating enduring social bonds between individuals and groups’ (Saukkonen & Pyykkönen, 2008, p. 15) and the cultivation of immigrant cultural practices and identities are not intrinsically valued, but ‘rather as an instrument for achieving/facilitating societal integration’ (p. 19).

These tensions surrounding multicultural musics, which were often popular musics ‘belonging’ to different cultures, were also clear when the teacher themselves identified as ‘other’. Iida was a teacher to many Sámi students (the indigenous population of Northern Finland), and felt it inappropriate to teach ‘their’ music, given that she was not from that cultural background herself, explaining,

the Sámi people don’t want somebody foreign coming to teach them how to practice their own culture… I understood from the beginning that I cannot be teaching Sámi music.

The curriculum states that ‘the school must provide [Sámi] pupils with conditions… to preserve a Sámi identity without being absorbed into the main population’ (p. 32), suggesting that cultural identity and belonging is regarded as an ‘either/or’ option, perhaps heightening teachers’ awareness of difference. As the curriculum intends to communicate to students that music ‘is different at different times, and in different cultures and societies, and has a different sort of meaning for different people’ (Finnish National Board of Education, 2004, p. 230), in practice, it may emphasize these differences, drawing clearly demarcated boundaries between ‘Finnish’ culture and others. Indeed, as sociologist Bauman (1999) has noted that if ‘cultural plurality is theorized as plurality of cultures, students of culture cannot but see cross-cultural communication and cross-cultural comparison as one of their central problems’ (p. xlv, italics in original). However, teachers also recognized that a simplified notion of ‘majority Finnish culture’ was increasingly problematic. As Julia noted, increasing diversity has brought with it additional challenges for teachers wanting to select repertoire in a culturally sensitive way,

…as schools have become more and more multicultural, where lie these boundaries of sensitive traditions and topics? It comes even more difficult all the time for us teachers to even recognize what topics are sensitive.

It is interesting to consider whether sensitive traditions and topics are culturally defined, or defined by power relations (Hydén, 2008, p. 125−127) – or perhaps both. Defined culturally, these findings express a tension between the communication of normative ‘ideals, hopes, expectations, standards, opinions’ (Dewey, 1916, p. 2) and the implementation of national curriculum directives for ‘acceptance and appreciation of a diversity of cultures and skills’ (Finnish National Board of Education 2004, p. 230) – embracing a plurality of cultural narratives. Julia continued,

[It is difficult to determine where boundaries of sensitive traditions and topics are] even within our own teacher group, who usually are originally from our own culture and are in a certain way representing the same cultural backgrounds as we ourselves do!

Her choice of words and surprise suggest that while Finnish classrooms may be increasingly diverse, and thus repertoire decisions increasingly complex, notions of our culture, and a common cultural background clearly exist. However, if we are to understand this sensitivity as defined by power relations, it suggests that cultural hierarchies between ‘high’ and ‘low’ have not at all dissolved (Georgii-Hemming & Westvall, 2010) but have been relocated from the discussion of Western art music vs popular or multicultural discussions, to within the popular realm. Relocating the dichotomy arguably runs as many risks of ‘othering’ and exoticism as other cultural valuations.

Religious stories

Assumptions of a shared culture extended also to discussions of religion. While not as explicitly prohibited as in other educational curricula (Bresler, 1998, p. 27), school instruction in Finland is ‘nondenominational’ (Finnish National Board of Education 2004, p. 12), ‘school is school. Church is church’ (Outi). However, with a majority ⁷ of Finnish society formally belonging to the Evangelical Lutheran Church, and societal attitudes towards Christian religious practices being generally positive (Taira, 2012, p. 23), the church is seen as not only one of the primary institutions to uphold Finnish traditions (p. 24), but a Finnish tradition itself. This view is reflected in school repertoires, particularly for festive occasions, which often feature popular musics that refer to religious events or popular adaptations of hymns, etc. A number of teachers recalled instances when certain students were excluded from ‘traditional’ events or celebrations, as Risto explained,

you have to maybe think more often nowadays about selecting repertoire that won’t offend people – those who are religious people, but also the people who are not so religious. It’s a balance. Sometimes there is the situation when a Muslim student doesn’t come to school celebrations because there are some religious elements.

However, teachers noted that there has been an increase of alternative programming and events for non-Lutheran/Christian students, with alternative music repertoires – that are distinctly areligious – or the exclusion of all music altogether. Teachers noted that despite this alternative programming for students, staff were often, if not always, expected to attend Christian school services and events regardless of their individual convictions, again perhaps fostering a focus on difference and ideas of the traditional ‘us’ and ‘other’.

In adhering to perceptions of shared traditions, teachers felt obliged to include religious repertoire in a small number of festive occasions such as Christmas events. All teachers performed religious repertoire in the ‘traditional’ way. This was seen as the case even if the repertoire for most classes was predominantly popular, although Outi and her students had once tried to unite the musics her students enjoyed with the expectations that accompanied a festive occasion, as they updated a familiar school performance,

We had one project for the Christmas celebrations where we modernized the nativity story, it wasn’t good! We didn’t touch the story, but adapted it for modern times – with the music too, there was some pop and metal and all kinds of things. Some teachers were very unhappy, so maybe we went a little bit too far. I learnt that we should never touch that kind of tradition, I think it is too sensitive!

Outi continued to reflect on the public nature of music as a subject, noting that there may be more restrictions and considerations for whole-school performances that might make a traditional approach more ‘appropriate’. In addition to being aware of the sensitivity of public audiences, teachers were also wary of including religious repertoire, or allowing students to bring religious music to normal classes, which they saw as being related to the increasing polarization between religious and atheist discourses in Finland (Taira, 2012). One teacher noted that while expressions of atheism were increasingly visible and accommodated, she felt that her own expressions of faith were suppressed,

I cannot be openly Christian. One has to be very alert… some parents are very, very strict that they don’t want to have anything to do with religion in the classroom. (Maria)

Even with alternative programming, and with school and church separate in policy, questions may be raised regarding the potential for religious repertoire to ever be inclusive and democratic in a school context. This is particularly relevant as an ‘easy’ answer to the increasing diversity of school populations appears to be the increasing exclusion of religious repertoire altogether.

Curricular stories

Interestingly, despite its breadth and brevity (the music curriculum for secondary students is but a page long), teachers all identified the national curriculum as the most important resource when selecting repertoire,

The starting point is in a certain way the curriculum, and it has the power on me. I have to follow. I would not be professional, I would not do my duty if I didn’t follow the curriculum (Julia)

However, while acknowledged as the ‘starting point’, it may be seen that Finnish teachers challenge the ‘conduit’ understanding of the curriculum as described by Clandinin and Connelly (1995) where external ‘others’ provide information to teachers and their classrooms. Teachers acknowledged the variety of personal and situational interpretations afforded by the curriculum, allowing for ‘so many roads to Rome’ (Julia) and that ‘nobody follows it like the bible’ (Julia). Initially, this gives an impression of almost total freedom in repertoire selection. Bresler (1998) has suggested that ‘autonomy means that teachers are not required to push themselves beyond their “comfort zone”’ (p. 33). Indeed one teacher noted the lack of career steps in teaching (unless you want to be a principal), explaining that there are not many external challenges to extend oneself.

Many teachers also mentioned preferring to teach music that they felt comfortable with, or enjoyed, rather than contemporary popular musics. Just as an exclusive focus on any or anyone’s music, remaining within teachers’ comfort zones may have the ‘unintended consequence of narrowing of musical possibilities rather than expanding them’ (Allsup, 2008, p. 3), with school repertoires composed of white, predominantly male, Finnish or Anglo-American, guitar-based rock circa 19-the teacher’s hey-day. This is in-keeping with research conducted in Sweden that found that popular repertoires in schools are not ‘truly representative of pupils’ everyday culture. It might more accurately be characterized as teachers’ everyday culture’ (Lindgren & Ericsson, 2010), though further problematized by considering other influences of the school censorship frame as well. In this sense, these comfort zones may not only be musical, but sociological and ethical, maintaining and strengthening dominant sociopolitical values, whilst suppressing voices and stories that challenge or contrast.

All five teachers emphasized that they appreciated the freedoms afforded by the national curriculum, and indeed found it difficult to openly critique. This may be seen as a cover story, canonical stories ‘that teachers publically claim to know (or show)’ (Olson & Craig, 2005, p. 161).Teachers often compared the open and permissive national curriculum to others that they viewed as overly restrictive and directive, suggesting that these two extremes may be viewed as the only alternatives, compelling teachers to publicly defend the curriculum they have, lest it be replaced with another. Difficulties in publicly and openly critiquing the curriculum may silence moral and ethical issues through taking on ‘externally prescribed roles and responsibilities, predetermined scripts set within a seemingly necessary hierarchical order, with some members of the community holding power over others’ (Huber & Keats Whelan, 2001, pp. 221−222). The imperative to accept and appreciate such freedoms may make it difficult for teachers to identify the foundational values that are intended to inform their teaching, thus making it difficult to determine whose values should guide repertoire inclusion and exclusion.

Small stories

Despite many teachers noting the solitary nature of music teaching, usually being the only music specialist in the school with few other staff members to turn to for advice, ‘I didn’t have anyone to talk to’ (Risto), they recognized that others in the school community influenced their repertoire decisions. Different actors in the school community were seen to be,

not equal, but like puzzle pieces. To get to the whole picture you need all of the pieces. Some of them are bigger, and some are more meaningful. For instance one piece might be the head of a character whilst another might just be a green area, but all of them are needed. (Julia)

Teachers’ understandings of these different actors were described and reflected upon in five small stories told by teachers: the school as an institution, school staff, parents, themselves as a teacher and their students, and described a process of constant negotiation regarding the values and ideologies of their teaching, and repertoire selections. Each of these small stories is discussed in turn below.

Staff stories

Within the framework of ‘school music’, teachers considered the values or expectations of school principals and other teachers when selecting popular repertoire, despite many teachers initially claiming considerable freedoms and autonomy. This autonomy was often seen as a result of professionalism and trust, as Maria proudly stated,

When I started here the principal said to me, ‘you are now the music teacher of the house, and you will do as you please’.

However, teachers were not simply left in isolation, nor were expectations simply set and fulfilled. Defining their roles as teachers in relation to those of the principal was seen as an ongoing negotiation, a dialogue necessary for ethical reflection (Allsup & Westerlund, 2012). These negotiations were, however, not necessarily on equal ground. Principals were often seen to align more with traditional notions of schooling and what should be included as part of it, which was seen as difficult and slow to change, particularly in relation to popular pedagogies and ‘what sounds normally come out of a music classroom’ (Iida). As Iida articulated,

Sometimes headmasters want school events and classes to go the same way as they always have, because it’s the known way, the easiest way, we know this is working, it’s safe.

This raises questions whether these negotiations are processes of inquiry, or whether they are confined by predetermined ends, each of which has very different ethical implications. As Allsup and Westerlund (2012) have noted, ‘if dialogue is taken to mean compromise across the particularities of difference and perception, this… may inadvertently inhibit growth. If dialogue affirms or intends to affirm the preexisting values that a community holds dear, dialectics as a teaching stance hold no guarantee for ethical reconstruction on the one hand, or re-imaginative practice on the other’ (p. 141).

Parent stories

Unlike relationships with school staff, ‘[parents were seen as] outside. They are not so close’ (Maria). On the periphery of school life, the influence parents had on teachers’ views and practices varied from very little, to being ‘quite demanding’ (Outi). Professional interactions with parents were, for all teachers, primarily done through online school-home communication systems, and for most teachers were infrequent and primarily related to assessment. While teachers noted that parents had never contacted them regarding their selection of repertoire, they were acutely aware of being contacted, should an ‘inappropriate’ decision be made,

I don’t want to play in the classroom (sings): ‘lick it up, lick it up, woah, it’s only right now’ (laughs). Yes, it’s a very good guitar riff and that could be very nice to play with these kids, but I would not choose that song. If I choose that song, maybe I will get some phone calls from their parents. (Risto)

The imagined values of parents were in the minds of many teachers, perhaps not so much as processes of reflection (Dewey, 1933) but rationalization (Loughran, 2002) that reinforce and rationalize preconceived ideas. With limited communication between parents and teachers, there appears to be very little information on parents’ values to reflect upon. Thus, reflection becomes something of a hall of mirrors, where ‘reflexive discourse runs the risk of leading the experience of the outside back to the dimension of interiority; reflection tends irresistibly to repatriate it to the side of consciousness and to develop it into a description of living that depicts the “outside” as the experience of the body, space, the limits of the will, and the ineffaceable presence of the other’ (Foucault, 1966/1998, pp. 151−152).

Teacher stories

The teachers’ own values and how they envisioned their role in the school and classroom was also seen to influence their popular repertoire decisions. This was seen as primarily related to professionalism, as Julia explained,

I may be a sadomasochist at home, but at work I am not. I represent the official teacher profession. I represent my profession here and not my person.

Ideas of teacher professionalism have been seen as inseparable from the ‘moral demands of education’ (Allsup & Westerlund, 2012, p. 125). The moral imperatives for teachers to teach ‘authentically’ (e.g. Elliott, 1995) may be problematic with particular popular musics that are seen to epitomize anti-authoritarian rebellion. Teacher professionalism may thus be drawn into question when conflicts arise between mainstream values or expectations regarding what the teacher should teach and how, and broader social constructions (particularly pejorative constructions) of popular musics.

Related to understandings of professionalism, how teachers perceived their role in relation to their students was also seen to influence the repertoire they chose for them. Teaching students between 12 and 15 years of age, teaching music and teaching the ‘whole’ student was seen as inseparable, which was often seen as a justification for excluding particular popular musics. Maria noted this was particularly relevant for teenage students,

I’m responsible for everything else as well as students’ musical development. I must look out for their well-being. I am responsible for my group, but maybe I try to teach values a bit more to the secondary school students [than younger or older students]. One tries to teach every little thing you can, squeeze in values, democracy and all the good things in life.

Student stories

Working with this particular age group, teachers saw students very differently: ‘as a child. Absolutely. Until they are 18’ (Maria); ‘they are not children. They are young people’ (Outi); and ‘it’s not about the age, but their individual maturity levels’ (Risto). Lower secondary school was seen as a transitory period between childhood and high school, when students ‘are still learning how to be, and how to be themselves’ (Iida), and it was generally accepted that students would test boundaries during this period. In this sense, it may be seen that ‘discipline and classroom management, central to the school context, shape all music instruction’ (Bresler, 1998, p. 26), including repertoire selection. Some teachers saw the need to protect students, seen as naïve or innocent, whereas others recognized that students were often more ‘worldly’ than themselves. Many teachers were mindful of the diverse backgrounds their students came from, as Outi pointed out,

there are pupils who are so motivated and behave exactly as you would like them to, and then there are pupils who are thinking only what to drink, when to drink and when to have sex with somebody – with anybody! We have to handle all of these young people.

Consequently, when teachers had students that exhibited behaviors they found challenging to deal with, or were particularly energetic, certain musics may be excluded from their classes, for fear of ‘losing control’. In response to asking why she chose not to include particular genres of heavy metal, Maria answered,

I have just visualized how one of my pupils would react if I played really heavy metal, he would start banging his head up and down with his hair flowing and jumping and really start moving around with the music.

In other circumstances, ‘calming’ music was intentionally selected to fulfil a prescriptive function to ‘soothe the beast in the child’ (Bresler, 1998, p. 9). Both views appear to rely on normative understandings of how teachers and school students should behave and how they should relate to music in school settings.

The school censorship frame: An invitation

Whilst on face value Finnish teachers may be seen to have almost complete freedom in repertoire selection, this study illustrates the complex, situational and multifaceted negotiations involved in deciding whether to include or exclude popular repertoire. These negotiations may be seen to take place through a school censorship frame, composed of intertwined big and small stories, with different situations raising different concerns and considerations.

Thus far, the censorship frame has been understood as constructed and perpetuated by the mass media. Indeed the ‘censorship frame’ as coined by Schneider (2011) refers to mass media reports that collectively construct particular popular musics as a social problem. However, in understanding negative constructions of popular musics, and by implication those who identify with them, surely it is not only relevant, but imperative to also look to their role in mass education. As this study suggests, the situation appears altogether more complicated than pointing the finger at the ‘big bad media’, at least in the school context. Rather, a variety of narrators, from broad cultural traditions to individual students, construct particular popular musics as educationally, and thus, ethically problematic. This may result in their exclusion from or at very least, marginalization in formal music education. As a process, this censorship frame in the school context is not one that is developed and maintained over prolonged periods of time as is the case with media activities, but may be seen to change more rapidly, with the rules changing with the next song, the next lesson and the next student. This suggests that the school censorship frame presents teachers with greater pedagogical and ethical challenges than critical media skills or the simple exclusion of inappropriate musical material.

Decisions by teachers on repertoire inclusion or exclusion are distinctly ethical in nature, with ethical implications. As school music is intended to reflect the musical world outside classroom walls, there are significant ethical questions regarding the exclusion of popular musics from educational activities. Has introducing popular repertoire to the classroom achieved the intended goals of democratic music education? Or has it in fact reverted to a peculiar form of school music (Regelski, 2006, p. 11), which does not reflect the musical world outside classrooms, where a large portion of repertoire is disregarded as inappropriate for young students? In excluding, or marginalizing particular popular musics, in turn, so are those young people who enjoy and identify with such musics excluded from and marginalized in school music education.

As other nations look to Finland as exemplar, with its permissive and open national curriculum and welcoming of popular musics to the school classroom, it is worth noting that such a music education system does not necessarily present the teacher with an easier path, indeed it may be more challenging. As Woodford (2005) has argued, the ‘avoidance of politics in education serves no one well, except perhaps those who would dominate and control’ (p. xii), thus in recognizing music as process and belonging to people, discussions of democracy regarding equal access and participation of students, should extend too to repertoire decisions. Such decisions are distinctly ethical in nature, as ‘a pedagogical practice [the teacher] contends is undemocratic – is one she considers unethical’ (Allsup, 2003, p. 28). If teachers are not encouraged to engage with complex issues presented by the school censorship frame, and to solve the ‘problem’ of popular music education by excluding musics that ideologically conflict with the perceived values of the school, the curriculum or the community, significant questions are raised regarding the ethical implications of a pasteurized popular music education. However, if we see decisions regarding the inclusion or exclusion of popular repertoire as drawing a line in water, the school censorship frame may be seen not as a solution, boundary, solid framework or limitation, but as an invitation. In identifying the components of the watery school censorship frame, and examining their influence on ‘lines drawn’ as decisions are made, there is an invitation to reflection, to ideological mediation, to questioning, raising and exploring new problems.