Select media, mode 1: In-person pre-pandemic

What do you see when you watch this?

You probably see a group of teenagers jamming on a classic tune. But look closer—there’s more happening here than meets the eye. This was just another school day for these students as architects of their own learning. They picked the song, they chose their instruments, and they led their own rehearsals. The instructor? Barely involved, aside from setting a few broad guardrails.

What else do you notice? Engagement? Enthusiasm? Happiness? Fun? Joy, even?

Does it strike you as strange that their joy feels remarkable? When did school become so monotonous that seeing students happy—truly, deeply engaged in their learning—feels like an exception rather than the expectation? Joy in learning should not be an outlier. It should be the baseline.

That’s not to say there wasn’t struggle, effort, resilience, and conflict in this project (or the 400+ others like it). But if their happiness stood out to you, that’s the problem. It shouldn’t be notable. It should be required.

100% of these students are still playing music today. Zero quit. That should also be the minimum standard.

This is Christopher Small’s (1998) “Musicking” in action.

And one more thing: One of these students was in labour with her third child during filming. Yet she showed up—not out of obligation, but because her classmates depended on her. Would you go to school in labour to write a math test? Maybe that’s an unfair comparison. But it speaks volumes about what’s possible when music education is customized, democratized, and built around students’ lives. It becomes more than a class—it becomes a beacon of joy, belonging, and purpose.