Sock It to Me: A Muddy Adventure in Jazz Education

Here’s a tale about the unexpected consequences of hard work.

About ten years ago, while directing a middle school jazz band, I had a brilliant idea: to bridge science and jazz. I collaborated with the director of the school’s planetarium to arrange a special concert for early spring. The jazz band would perform tunes related to outer space, space travel, and exploration. We included classics like “Fly Me to The Moon,” “Swinging on a Star,” and even a selection titled “Area 51.” The idea quickly gained traction in the community, and soon the concert’s scope expanded. The planetarium director and I planned to share emcee duties—she would cover the science, while I introduced each piece musically. The school district’s education foundation even provided special clip-on lights for the students’ music stands, enhancing the visual presentation on the planetarium’s ceiling.

To make the event even more exciting, I invited a friend from a neighboring school district to bring his middle school jazz band to perform as well. We planned to alternate between our bands, culminating in a grand finale with both groups. With two bands involved, the concert was set to last 60 to 75 minutes. I felt like I was organizing my own version of Live Aid! We had advanced-level jazz for middle schoolers, cross-curricular lessons integrating science and music, and strong support from the school board and community—this was poised to have a lasting musical impact on these kids (or so we thought).

On the day of the big show, we arranged for both bands to rehearse in the planetarium after school, followed by pizza and sodas in the cafeteria. True to form, the twelve-year-olds devoured their food quickly and begged to play outside before changing into concert attire. About 20 minutes later, as we gathered the kids to prepare for the show, a few die-hards were reluctant to leave a game they had started on the football field. After much persuasion, they relented, sharing how much fun they were having. They had discovered a muddy sock and
invented a wild game combining football, keep-away, and dodgeball. Once the game wrapped up, we urged them to get ready for the concert.

The show went off without a hitch! The lights, sounds, and stars projected onto the ceiling created a fantastic atmosphere. The combined finale was magical. The planetarium director, my friend, and I delivered an unforgettable experience for these young musicians. In the days following, we received accolades from administration, parents, and school board members. Job well done, team!

A few months later, my friend and I attended a county-wide music conference. During lunch, we caught up and discussed how his school year was going and what summer plans lay ahead. Since we hadn’t seen each other since the planetarium concert, I asked him what his students thought of the experience—the multimedia light show, the music, and playing with kids from another school. He shared that he had asked his students about it recently, and a wave of excitement spread through the band. After things quieted down, one student exclaimed, “Mr. V., that was awesome! We totally loved that muddy sock game!” When my friend probed further about the music and light show, they replied, “Oh, yeah, that was cool too, I guess, but seriously, the muddy sock game was the best!”

Did our hard work go unnoticed? Not really. We were twelve once too. We laughed about our own middle school experiences. Do we really remember all the efforts made to provide us with musical and cultural opportunities? Probably not. I think back to the food at football games, freezing on the bleachers during cold October nights, and the funny mishaps that happened on band trips. If you asked my 12-year-old self about a musical performance, I likely would have echoed my friend’s students’ sentiments.

While I won’t change my approach or expectations for my bands or private students, since that planetarium extravaganza, I always remember that kids need structure and improvement, but they also want to have fun. Somehow, we managed to perform at our best during those days and didn’t drive our teachers completely crazy. They were tough on us, but in retrospect, they allowed us to enjoy our time, even if they wouldn’t have admitted it at the time.

Today, I find that in professional playing situations, the element of fun is often missing. Some of my peers have literally thrown away their proverbial muddy socks. Sure, we have a job to do, and it should always be done at the highest level. But every once in a while, a muddy sock is just what older musicians need. My favorite people to teach and perform with are those who remember what got them involved in music in the first place: to have fun, brighten the audience’s day, and enjoy the stage.

So, to all musicians, teachers, and students out there: keep practicing and striving for greatness, enjoy yourselves on stage and in the studio, and here’s hoping there’s a muddy sock waiting for you at your next gig!