Abstract

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:EditorialEstelle R. JorgensenAt moments of loss, we are especially conscious of our humanity. As I write, Hurricane Katrina has devastated a wide swath of the Gulf Coast of the United States of America and flooded the City of New Orleans in a disaster of apocalyptic proportions. People have lost loved ones, livelihoods, and homes. They have been forced to evacuate, try to begin anew, sometimes in a different place. Day after day, we have been touched by the plight of people of color, the poor, children and the elderly, and the sick, unable and sometimes unwilling to leave their homes. We collectively feel their need and loss as they wade through toxic waters, clamber onto rooftops, and gather on highway overpasses waiting to be snatched away to safety. With their remaining worldly possessions with them and sometimes only the clothes on their back, and forced to abandon pets and sometimes loved ones, while the bodies of the dead remain unattended, their loss symbolizes a nation's predicament and shame in ignoring the plight of the poor and minorities left behind by rampant materialism, political indifference, and corporate greed.Whether it be the loss of a parent, spouse, child, relative, family pet, colleague, student, job, home, or public figure who touches our lives, we all know sorrow and grief for what has been lost. These are moments when we come face-to-face with life's important existential questions: Who am I? What is the purpose of my life? Where have I come from? Where am I going? Here, we are especially compelled to contemplate the things in life most worth living for, teaching for, learning for, loving for, and even dying for. Such moments offer us opportunities to think again about what brings us the greatest happiness, or the deepest sorrow when what is loved and enjoyed is lost. For Nel Noddings, in Happiness and [End Page 127] Education, these things include the sometimes "little" things in life–a study and plant room facing east over ocean through which she (and her cat Lulu) wander in the morning as the sun breaks across the horizon, her life with her husband, children, and grandchildren, and the often underappreciated importance of being at home with loved ones. It is here, that she contemplates happiness and its role in education as parent, grandparent, and philosopher. And it is not surprising that in this private sphere, in which pain, sorrow, and loss form part of the rainbow of experience that may comprise happiness, she sees most clearly the ways we can live our lives and educate humanely.What does it mean to be humane? Throughout the ages, philosophers of all stripes have sought to answer this question. If we think in terms of music education, especially in modern times, answers have often been couched in terms of love, respect, caring, and reverence for people, whether it be those with whom teachers work as colleagues or for students (and guardians and parents) of those they teach. Martin Buber probably captures the notion of humaneness as well as anyone in his idea of mutually respectful I-Thou relationships. Max van Manen likewise describes the "pedagogical tact" that plays out in a teacher's deep sensitivity to, intuitive grasp of, and feeling for his or her students in his book, The Tact of Teaching. For me, humaneness in practical terms means placing people at the center of music education and regarding one's students as the raison d'etre for one's work as a teacher of music. In A Common Humanity, Raymond Gaita makes a compelling case for the centrality of the virtues of love, truth, and justice grounded in a view of the "preciousness" of human beings–issues that Plato and Aristotle also grappled with millennia ago. Regarding our students humanely, as precious and of inestimable value and as subjects rather than objects profoundly affects and colors the whole of our educational work. And when our students are central to our work, this reverential attitude impacts what we do pedagogically and how we do it.I am often struck by how deeply music teachers feel about their students. This is not surprising for...