There's a funny thing that happens when you learn a lot of valuable information in a short amount of time. You tend to forget that not everyone is having the same experience you are. I think this is even more pronounced in people who tend to be rather ambitious, like me. I know that in society in general, ambitious people are lauded, but there's a distinction between an ambitious person who has reached a level of success and an ambitious person who is just starting out. The successful person is seen as someone to look up to, and the new student to a discipline is seen as, well, a n00b.
We n00b's, by my definition, tend to be a bit crazy, you see. We geek out to anyone who shows even a tiny bit of interest in what we do. We find ourselves talking far too long about some nuance of our discipline without realizing it. In short, we are awkward and alienating. We're like someone who's just fallen in love, and we just can't help ourselves. However, we usually know we are a little different than others. I think I get it from my father. I once said Dad is a guy who doesn't have "hobbies" he has "obsessions," and, while I do have a few hobbies, I will say that voice science has become an obsession. I can only hope that my cohort of master's students won't mind, and perhaps they will even be the same.
I was like this with opera too, and really, I still am if given the chance. But the years have taught me that very few people can tolerate a singer geeking out about opera for too long before they politely excuse themselves. SLP is a little different, if only because if someone knows what it is, they usually either know someone who went to one, or they went to one themselves. Therefore, they seem to appreciate learning a little more about this profession, usually from the respect they feel toward that SLP who gave their parent a swallow evaluation at the hospital, treated their autistic child, or helped their grandparent after their stroke. For opera singers, though, we're just seen as a novelty, and people don't usually treat you with the same level of respect, perhaps because they've either never been to an opera or have never met an opera singer before. (Or worse yet, perhaps they have and that is why they don't respect them. Parish the thought!) This always ruffles my feathers, because I still strongly feel that, while the value in opera is subjective, it still has value nonetheless. And really, what kind of person are you if you don't at least respect someone for their craft even if you don't see the value in it? (But perhaps the issue lies in the general public not knowing about the craft itself and the training it requires...but I digress.)
What's interesting to me is that while I seem to have gained some respect and/or interest from random people I meet, I've lost a bit with (some) singers, particularly the ones who didn't know me before. Maybe it's that whole "abandoning" the musical profession thing, but I can certainly see that I've become an outsider. You know, someone who no longer understands the demands of the profession, or appreciates what the real professional singers go through. The biggest issue I have with this is I find myself wanting to abandon the singing world altogether. Why go into voice research? Why be interested in treating voice professionals when I get out? They're just going to treat me like I don't understand them anyway. I know this is really just an immature reaction from me generalizing a small portion of the singing population, but I find myself heartbroken all the same. Opera was my first love, profession-wise. I'll never really leave it. I may not train as hard as I used to when I was auditioning, mainly because I no longer have the time, but I still sing. I still remember the training from my master's program and beyond. I know I've gotten a bit rusty, but I can still run the race, even if I can't run it in the Olympics. (Course, I never got a great deal of respect from singers when I was in the profession either, but that's another story...one that I don't really need to write.)
All my new knowledge I've gained in voice science, and it's been significantly more than my pedagogy program, helped me a great deal. I was able to train smarter and more efficiently as a singer and I became a more efficient teacher. I noticed I was able to help my students with a vocal problem within weeks instead of months and months instead of years. I was a good teacher before, but I'm a better teacher now. But, I've gain new, more specific terminology that makes it harder to communicate with other voice teachers. I can see a rift forming in my mind just as it is forming in those singers who see me as an outsider.
That rift is the burden of knowledge. I know that sounds pompous, but it really isn't. On the contrary, it is a lonely place. It is the divide that comes when you forget exactly how much your target audience knows and how much they don't know. If you assume they know more than they do, you talk over their heads and seem like a pompous blow-hard who just wants to show them up intellectually. Assume they know less, and you seem condescending. As I integrate new knowledge, it solidifies, and I forget what it is I didn't know two years ago. Everything I've gained is just elementary stuff to the professors and licenced SLPs in my new field, and as such, I approach a lot of this as if it is elementary. However, some of this stuff is way beyond what some singers learn in pedagogy courses, so forgetting that makes the rift larger. And yet for others it is not all that far off; it really just depends on the school. So how does one begin to talk about it without falling into that rift? Maybe I'll never learn to find the balance. To talk in a way that doesn't alienate or deride and to be seen as a colleague to singers instead of a traitor and offender. And maybe I'll never stop being an outsider. I hope I find that balance someday, though, cause I would rather be of help to others (who wish for it) than to drift away in the rift.
No comments:
Post a Comment