My musical journey

I was born and raised in an upper-middle class family in Korea. Both my father, who was a professor of anthropology, and my mother, who was a schoolteacher, shared the same intellectual Korean culture, which idealised that of Europe. They read Western European literature and philosophy, and listened to Western ‘classical’ music. Reciprocally, they knew very little about Korean traditional music, because their school education did not include traditional culture. This absence can be explained by the fact that their cultural identity had been devastated by the Japanese government's ‘Ethnic Extermination Policy’ during the 35 years (1910–1945) when Korea was a colony of Japan. Then again, just as Korea was beginning to build up an infrastructure, the Korean War (1950–1953) once again swept everything away. When the war was over, my parents’ generation, who were in desperate need of both an identity and ideals, turned to European culture, including classical music, which soon became a status symbol (Roe-Min Kok, Reference Green2011).

Growing up in this cultural background, the only music I knew until my teenage years was that of the Western classical tradition. Every morning I woke up to radio broadcasts of Bach, Beethoven and Brahms, which moulded me into a perfect ‘product of colonial music education’ (Roe-Min Kok, Reference Green2011). Western classical music was not only ‘the’ music for me, but it was also far superior to ‘other’ musics. At least in part, I had adopted the superior Western attitude (Westerlund, Reference WESTERLUND1999, p. 94), which defines any culture outside of Europe as less developed or ‘primitive’. My musical development was therefore, whether purposely or not, an attempt to define my identity in accordance with my ‘better’ musical taste (Frith, Reference FRITH, Hall and Du Gay1996, p. 140).

It was not until the Korean government was preparing for the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul that it started to revive and promote traditional music to entertain their guests from all over the world. Only then did the government realise that, whilst Korea had achieved remarkable economic growth within a short period of time, it had lost its cultural identity. It was at this time that my father first started attending concerts of traditional music. His patriotic and academic interests in traditional culture did not just stop there. He decided to send all three of his children to the national high school for Korean traditional music, and persuaded us that we should ‘contribute’ to the revival of traditional Korean music, and we started taking private lessons in traditional string instruments and the flute with prominent musicians in the field. For me, those three years at high school turned into an absolute disaster, for, as much as I tried, I could not become really involved in Korean traditional music since I was already far too immersed in the music of Western Europe to embrace these ‘strange’ traditional tunes. In short, although my skills developed, my heart grew colder, and my education seemed to lead towards a dead end. After graduation, I changed my focus back to the study of ‘classical’ music and studied Western Music Theory and Composition at Seoul City University.

After one and a half years of study, I decided to go to Germany, the home country of Bach, to study musicology and harpsichord. This was a period of great pain and culture shock, and it took me almost four years until I could make friends and speak fluent German. After about a decade there, I came to England, where, after a further three years, I found myself standing in front of school secondary school students as a music teacher. As with my experience in Germany, my new professional role required a brand new cultural identity.

This background made me think from a multicultural perspective, and to live like a global citizen. However, of course, it did not mean that my views were objective or free from ideology, for no one can be entirely free from ideology (Green, Reference GREEN2003, p. 6). At times, I probably took on the typical ideology of middle upper-class Koreans, who believe in the superior value of Western classical music. Whatever the case, I can certainly say that I went through a unique process of ‘self-understanding through other understanding’ (Elliott, Reference DENNIS, Corona and Madrid1989, p. 164) in the sense that I came to see ‘authenticity’ and ‘teaching world music’ through different eyes.

This article falls into three parts. In the first I address the question of the need to teach ‘world music’. In the second, I turn my attention to ‘authenticity’; and in the third part I enquire into both prejudice and identity. I conclude with suggestions about how world music can be more effective and fun for both teachers and learners.

Why learn world music?

It was not until after the 1950s that British schools gradually became aware of cultural diversity. Children born to immigrant workers from Eastern and Southern Europe were slowly bringing their cultural identity into schools, since which time the number of children from immigrant families, as well as EAL learners in London schools, has been growing. The 1981 Rampton report, ‘West Indian Children in Our Schools’, and the 1985 Swann report, ‘Education for All’, highlighted the need to recognise Britain as a multi-ethnic and multicultural society (Watson, Reference WATSON1988, p. 541). It was at this time that schools began to include pop and world music in the teaching curriculum (Green, Reference GREEN2001/2002, p. 157).

The National Curriculum in England was introduced as a result of the Education Reform Act of 1988, since which time world music has been more actively included in classrooms than before. What was the real purpose of bringing world music into the classroom? I have often heard teachers and pupils discussing this question; and it is the lack of any clear answer that makes it so hard to motivate pupils about learning it.

The relevant points of the National Curriculum are, first, ‘cultural understanding’, and, second, ‘range and content’. The former is described in two sections: understanding musical traditions and the part music plays in national and global culture and in personal identity; and exploring how ideas, experiences and emotions are conveyed in a range of music from different times and cultures (National Curriculum Key Stage 3 Attainment Target).

Section ‘a’ of the National Curriculum, which concerns the interpretation and performance of musical traditions, is unclear. Is it promoting understanding traditional culture through music, or music through culture? Or is it about understanding different musical functions (‘the part music plays . . .’) in various cultures? Also, what does ‘personal identity’ mean? Is it the identity of the musician who plays (or once played) certain world music in a certain context, or is it that of a European learner? Section ‘b’, on the other hand, seems over-ambitious for a focus for secondary school children. Although these two sections encourage multiculturalism and pluralism in music learning, they are unclear about its purposes and aims. This lack of clarity in the promotion of teaching world music makes it hard to establish appropriate teaching methods in the classroom.

Various writers in music education have discussed the purposes of teaching world music. Keith Swanwick, for instance, proposed that such teaching should ‘Critically explore a number of musical procedures, experienced directly through . . . various intercultural encounters . . .’ (Swanwick, Reference ZAJONC1988, p. 118). His ‘intercultural’ approach criticised multiculturalist education as both ‘divisive’ and ‘racist’ (Swanwick, Reference ZAJONC1988). For him, the ultimate aim of music education is to ‘break out of restricted worlds of culturally defined reality’. Swanwick also mentions the need to ‘transcend the limits of local culture and personal self’ (Swanwick, Reference ZAJONC1988, p. 111) as important principles of multicultural music education. He believes that such transcendence can be achieved by focusing on music in and for itself. In other words, he argues that multiculturalism in music education needs to focus on the absolute meaning and the universality of music. He argued that it is ‘discriminatory nonsense’ to say that one must know the culture to understand its music (Swanwick, Reference ZAJONC1988, p. 112). Is music then to be contemplated for its own sake? Whilst I agree to a certain extent that multicultural music education must involve breaking out of narrow cultural mindsets, world music education is only possible through an understanding of a musical culture in relation to others. To be able to see the relation between two different cultures, the cultural background of both must be first understood.

Swanwick also proposes that culture can be learned through simply ‘getting on’ with music, as music is, ‘to some extent’ ‘the culture’ (Swanwick, Reference ZAJONC1988, p. 112). I would suggest that music is not only to some extent culture, but it is also a ‘product’ of a culture in the form of ‘humanly organised sound’ produced as a result of ‘humanly interactions’ (Blacking, Reference BLACKING1974, p. 26). He further argues that the ‘sound may be the object, but man is subject; and the key to understanding music is in the relationship between existing subject and object . . . (Blacking, Reference BLACKING1974, p. 26)

This view is in line with Green's theory (Reference GREEN1988) of ‘inherent- and delineated’ musical meanings. Both meanings co-exist within and outside of music. When one of the two is eliminated, musical meaning is incomplete. Swanwick ignores delineated musical meaning, and thereby understands music as a ‘created end product’ rather than as a ‘creative process’ (Small, Reference SMALL1996, p. 92). This educational separation of music from its origins involves understanding musical experience as little more than the imitation of sounds. But, as Merriam maintains, music is a ‘uniquely human phenomenon which exists only in terms of social interaction, which demands the social concurrence of people’ (Merriam, Reference MERRIAM1964, p. 27). This is why understanding a piece of music can never mean understanding a culture. Similarly, understanding a Chinese ceramic teapot in the British Museum is not equal to understanding Chinese culture, as the teapot is merely a ‘snapshot’ of a huge cultural phenomenon.

The majority of music educators would agree that music can be learned best through the experience of making music. Merely attending to music in itself will disconnect all cultural understanding. If cultural understanding is not the basis of teaching or learning world music, there is no reason for the existence of world music in classrooms.

Swanwick argues that in pluralistic music education, pieces of music must ‘be always chosen for their sonorous, expressive and structural impact’ (Swanwick, Reference SWANWICK1988, p. 118). Some theorists such as Reimer share similar ideas about music education. Reimer (Reference SCHIPPERS1997), for instance, argues that any musical piece must be studied for its own sake, and for its aesthetic, as well as its autonomous value. He proposed that we can only reap the maximum benefit from music when we remember that each piece, irrespective of its cultural origin, should be studied for its artistic power, including but transcending any specific references (Reimer, Reference REIMER1997, p. 145). This view also refuses to see music as a product of a specific culture. Again, similarly to Swanwick, when world music is seen from this perspective, there is little place for it in classrooms.

The aim of learning world music must be ‘self-understanding through other understanding’ (Elliott, Reference DENNIS, Corona and Madrid1989, p. 164). This idea is well described in the National Curriculum's rationale, which proposes that ‘Music helps pupils understand themselves, relate to others and develop their cultural understanding . . .’. Both Elliott's statement, as well as that of the National Curriculum, makes it clear that musical understanding has to do with ‘self-understanding’. In other words, learning world music is a process of finding ‘self-identity’. This kind of knowledge can only be gained by studying music in relation to its original distinctive cultural, background, ideology and social function. Pratt's ‘Dynamic multiculturalism’, on the other hand, sounds more like a plausible answer insofar as he argues that it is important to develop a student's abilities to appreciate the differences between musical cultures (as well as its similarities) (Elliott, Reference DENNIS, Corona and Madrid1989, p. 164).

Schippers’ (Reference SCHIPPERS2010a, Reference SCHIPPERS2010b) recent research suggests that there have been positive developments and ‘conceptual shifts’ in multicultural music education since the Tanglewood conference. He further argues that the re-contextualisation and re-interpretation of perspectives on authenticity, traditions, learning objectives and pedagogic methodologies are promoting the global thinking in cultural diversity. His ‘Twelve Continuum Transmission Framework model’ (Schippers, Reference SCHIPPERS2010b) suggests how complex and interrelated the issues raised in teaching/learning world music are. He rightly points out that the complexity has often been underestimated. He further argues that the teachers and learners must become aware of the wide spectrum of possibilities in choosing their starting points, approaches, contexts, methods and modes of transmission, etc. when teaching/learning world music. I believe that the key elment to success in teaching is to know, firstly ‘what’ is to be chosen, ‘why’ and then ‘how’ to apply.

Beyond ‘authenticity’

My experience tells me that one of the biggest fears of music teachers is the issue of ‘authenticity.’ The majority of teachers in London are from a white-British background, and their expertise is focused on Western classical music, so much so that they often feel they do not know enough about world music to teach it. The only exception might be African drumming, because it is relatively easy to organise.

The concept of ‘authenticity’ is, at least in part, the product of the absolutism of Western culture in general, and Western classical music in particular, especially from the 18th century onwards. Notation made it possible for composers to demand from performers not only correctness, but also their own interpretation. Consequently, there can never be only one correct way of playing a piece. In non-Western music it is different. World music is often aurally handed down from generation to generation.

The Korean ‘Kayagum Sanjo’ (12-string instrument improvisation), for instance, has traditionally been taught in a strict one-to-one master–pupil relationship without notation. The learner was not allowed to change the ‘original’ tune in any way. However, when the master passed away, this obligation and loyalty to his ‘original’ ended, along with his performed ‘original’ piece, since there was no written form of it. There are six or seven main ‘schools’ (‘Rye’) of sanjo in Korea. Apart from the fact that their versions of pieces all have similar melodies and structures, they have nonetheless evolved into completely independent pieces of music, which are only loosely related to one another. Kayagum Sanjo was first notated in the 1960s in Western staff notation, which gives little idea of which melody, or which tempo is original – ‘authentic’. Kayagum Sanjo is only one of thousands of examples of world music that are passed down without notation, and in which improvisation is encouraged. In this context ‘authenticity’ refers to the performer's style, competence, interpretation and creativity, rather than to their ability to stick accurately to the original.

This does not mean that Korean music culture did not know notation. Most court music, which is the chamber music of the upper class, and especially ritual music, was recorded with the notation system ‘Jungganbo’. Jungganbo was created by King Sejong (1418–1450) during the Chosun dynasty. This system enabled performers to differentiate between pitch and rhythm. However, this kind of notation was exclusively for the upper class, who never played music in public (this was due to the influence of conservative Confucianism).

As illustrated by this example from Korea, the concept of ‘authenticity’ differs from East to West. This difference must always be respected when teaching world music that might not share the same values as Western classical styles. Western-style ‘authenticity’ demands expert teachers who possess a deep understanding and experience of that particular musical culture. Also, the music is supposed to be played on original instruments, though this is nearly impossible for practical reasons. For example, the most popular Korean folk song ‘Arirang’ represents the emotion ‘Han’, which must be understood if the listener is to be able to interpret the song properly. Apart from being a state of mind, the concept of ‘Han’ is deeply embedded in Korean mentality and philosophy, in which the concept is much deeper and more complicated than just sad feelings. Korea has been invaded over 600 hundred times in its history, which has made Koreans accustomed to sorrow. Sadness is almost a way of life, and lends aesthetic value, a kind of beauty, to such sad songs. Suh Nam-dong describes ‘han’ as follows:

The Jewish tune ‘Prayer’ is another good example of the cultural embedding of music. Without understanding the historical and religious background of Jewish culture, the tune cannot be understood or properly performed.

At this point, I wish to discuss the matter of ‘authenticity’ in a different setting and return to Korea for an example of a non-Western musical culture. How do Korean virtuoso classical musicians, who play on both Korean and international stages, manage to master European music? Most of them probably grow up in a musical family, with one of their parents having studied music abroad. If they were not born in the European home countries of classical music, they were sent off to study there at a young age. All of them have studied at renowned world-class institutions for a number of years, and have had private lessons with the world's top class musicians. These people might speak English, or even have multiple language skills that are far more developed than most Koreans; and they probably practise for at least six hours a day.

When I was studying harpsichord at the conservatory in Berlin, I also practiced six hours every day. I was wholly dedicated to Baroque music. I played German Baroque music relatively well, as I had been playing and listening to Bach all my life. But when I played French Baroque music, I often felt like something was missing. It is hard to define what exactly was missing: the ‘salt and pepper’, an emotional expression, or just a deeper understanding? I found it really difficult to express ‘notes inégales’ (a technique of playing pairs of notes of equal written length with a ‘swung’ rhythm, alternating longer and shorter values in pairs). As my experience shows, authenticity is not only confined to musical genres, but involves the linking of particular musical styles, instruments, sounds, characteristics and stereotypes associated with the location from where it comes (Cohen, Reference COHEN and Strokes1994, p. 121). I tried so hard for at least two years. Day and night I was listening to French music. I tried to walk like French Baroque dancers. I tried anything and everything to feel and know what it was like to be ’French’ – French food, French coffee, French films, etc. But all these attempts did not make my music sound French. The bottom line was that, I still did not know anything about French culture, nor had I experienced anything ‘first hand’ apart from a three-day trip to Paris.

The above discussion suggests that musical authenticity is closely connected to musical meaning; and that musical meaning, in turn, cannot be understood separately from the historical and cultural background wherein it originated. What is musical meaning and how is it conveyed by a piece of music?

Lucy Green (Reference GEORGII-HEMMING and GREEN1988) explains how musical meaning has two dimensions, which she refers to as ‘inherent‘ and ‘delineated’ meanings. Inherent meaning is contained within the musical object (though she preferred ‘inter-sonic meaning’ in her later work of 2005); whereas ‘delineated meaning’ refers to the meaning that is ‘metaphorically sketched’ by the music in relation to its social context (Green, Reference GREEN2005, p. 80). Musical meaning arises in the act of listening. Without an understanding of music as a social construction, a listener cannot recognise any sounds as ‘music’ (Green, Reference GREEN1999). Musical ‘alienation’ happens when a listener feels negative towards both inherent and delineated meanings (Green Reference GREEN2006, p. 103). Pupils learning about world music are most likely to be exposed to this alienation.

Christopher Small (Reference SMALL1980) suggests that ‘musicking’ is a powerful means of social- and self-definition. He further argues that a musical performance conveys different values of different social groups, and different concepts of relationships and of the pattern which connects them. Accordingly, a performance is an ‘enactment’ of these relationships (Small, Reference SMALL1980, p. 133). Applying this idea to my harpsichord performance of Rameau, it becomes clear why my playing could not sound as meaningful as Blandine Verlet's (a renounced French harpsichord performer). As I didn't understand the social value, nor the mentality of the social groups, my ‘enactment’ was mere imitation. This experience made me aware that ‘cultural assimilation’ (O'Flynn, Reference O'FLYNN2005, p. 195) requires a long and painful learning process.

Musical understanding is not a singular intellectual happening or a profound aesthetic experience in an individual's monological brain (Westerlund, Reference WESTERLUND1999, p. 97), but it is ‘closely connected to other lived experiences and conceptions’ (Westerlund, Reference WESTERLUND1999, p. 96). Understanding music from different cultures is a lengthy process that is at least as long as the time needed to master a language. It cannot be done within a short series of lessons. But what can be done is to provide an introduction to understanding and embracing the ‘difference’. For this reason, neither pupils or teachers should feel that they have to reproduce an ‘authentic’ performance of world music, for in such music ‘authenticity’ is not always required.

There are two relevant concepts which are closely related to authenticity. The one is ‘intermusicality’ whilst the other is ‘intramusicality’ (O'Flynn, Reference O'FLYNN2005). O'Flynn suggests that Mantle Hood's (1960) ethnomusicological concept, ‘bimusicality’, is an ‘ideal feature’ of multi- and intercultural music learning. Bimusicality (as well as tri-, or multimusicality) is the ability to have expertise, knowledge and skill in more than one musical culture. As ‘bilingualism’ refers to individuals who learn languages from birth and understand two (or more) languages, ‘bimusicalism’ means individuals who learn music in distinct musical systems/cultures thorough a process of enculturation (O'Flynn, Reference O'FLYNN2005, p. 199).

Monson's term ‘intermusicality’ (Reference MONSON1996) describes ‘the phenomenon by which musicians can sometimes import specific practices and nuances from one style, and apply it to another’ (O'Flynn, Reference O'FLYNN2005, p. 199). I would suggest that this kind of skill is valuable for learning world music. However, it is something that a learner is expected to attain as a result of a meaningful learning process of world music, rather than as an end in itself. Whilst it might be ideal to fill music classes with pupils and music teachers who possess multimusicality, it is not an achievable target, nor should it become one when learning world music. Green points out that too much emphasis on the authenticity of music might be an ‘adult construction’ (Green, Reference GREEN2006, p. 114). She further argues that the music educator must focus on the ‘musical autonomy’ of learners and their ‘music-learning authenticity’ rather than on the authenticity of a piece of music in itself.

In sum, genuine authenticity cannot be applied, nor achieved through teaching world music, unless the teacher is genuinely informed of the particular country where the music comes from. This kind of teaching can take place in the form of workshops or events. I would suggest that classroom teaching must never be focused on imitating the original music as accurately as possible. Whilst the authenticity of the piece of music or the correctness of information is of course important, teaching world music is more about giving pupils an overview of how music functions differently in other cultures, how different emotions and ideas can be conveyed, and where the differences come from. The focus of teaching world music can be narrowed down into three questions:

1. 1. How does it work?;

2. 2. Is it different from our music culture?; and

3. 3. Why and how is it different?

If these questions can be clearly established as principles the teaching and learning experience of world music can become more enjoyable.

Beyond prejudice and self-identity

As mentioned earlier, no one can be free from ideology – including teachers – and no one can be detached from their cultural bias or background. We all, in one way or another, have assumptions about certain types of music based on our past musical experience. Teachers have personal preferences for some music, which will, in one way or another, affect pupil's learning. And the accumulation of past musical experience builds up ‘prejudice’.

‘Prejudice’ in music learning can be defined quite simply. We all tend to like the music which is most familiar to us (Zajonc, Reference ZAJONC1968). Green's theory of musical meaning explains how audiences respond to familiar or unfamiliar musical sounds. In inherent meaning, affirmation occurs when the listener is familiar with the style of the particular piece. This is when music can ebb and ‘flow’ (Csikszentmihalyi, Reference CSIKSZENTMIHALYI1996). On the other hand, unfamiliar music will cause aggravation, as the listener cannot make any sense of such music's internal similarities, differences, continuity, change etc. In the case of delineated meaning, listeners will respond either ‘positively’ or ‘negatively’ to the sound, depending on whether they can identify themselves with the music, or project their own emotions or experiences onto it (Green, Reference GREEN1999, p. 164).

In other words, we tend to dislike unfamiliar music, just as I hated traditional Korean music even during the time I studied it, because I was much more familiar with Western classical music. For this reason, no one has to be blamed for ‘not liking’ ‘other’ music. Consequently, the need to overcome cultural prejudice still remains a challenge. How can we be freed from ‘not-liking’ attitudes? I do not believe that it will happen merely by changing the term ‘Western Art Music’ to ‘North-west Asian Court Music’ (Drummond, Reference DRUMMOND2010, p. 117). This is only possible when ‘other musics’ are called ‘different’ and allowed to be ‘different’. They simply have to be understood as they are. Instead of amalgamating, embracing or ‘tolerating’ diversity, there must be a deeper understanding of ‘why’ the music in question is different. I believe this understanding is the very reason for the existence of world music within the National Curriculum in England. Cross-cultural and/or inter-cultural teaching can happen by focusing on cultural differences and by portraying them positively (Teicher, Reference TEICHER1997, p. 425). Nettl suggest a diplomatic and pluralistic approach:

In other words, a piece of music is a cultural object and a message to be ‘decoded’ according to the meaning of the society where it comes from.

Lack of knowledge, lack of experience, lack of enthusiasm

Teicher points out that the reason why classroom teachers prefer not to teach music from a multicultural perspective is firstly due to their Eurocentric approach, and secondly because of their ‘not perceiving the need for multicultural music’ (Teicher, Reference TEICHER1997, p. 416). I think this statement pinpoints the current difficulties that music teachers are facing. I believe their ‘Eurocentric approach’ is not so much intentional, as due to lack of experience. Most music teachers who have grown up in Western society have not necessarily had their Eurocentric approach exposed and challenged during their music education, which, in turn, causes them not to see the ‘point’ of teaching world music, unless the National curriculum advises them to do so. Others, who are willing to teach world music from multicultural perspectives, might face hindrances such as ‘lack of resources, training and expertise necessary to develop and implement multicultural music lessons’ (Teicher, Reference TEICHER1997, p. 417).

During my teaching experiences and seminar sessions with colleagues at my university, I had opportunities to discuss the theme ‘teaching world music’. Most of them sighed and confessed:

• Teacher A: I don't know anything about Indian (Chinese, African, etc.) music, and now I have to teach . . . (with sigh)

• Teacher B: Our department doesn't possess any original instruments. How am I supposed to teach? (with eyes rolling up and down)

• Teacher C: Kids hate world music.

Note that Teacher C's comment sounds like a projection of her own feeling into her pupils’. Often teachers feel under pressure to teach world music, saying that:

1. 1. They have to ‘pretend’ to valued (or like) ‘other’ music when they do not.

2. 2. They have to pretend that they know everything about that particular musical culture when they do not.

Why is teaching world music seen to be so challenging? Is it simply lack of knowledge, experience and enthusiasm, or are there deeper reasons? If it were only a matter of experience and knowledge, there could be a quick solution. I assume that the challenge is a matter of identity. Music has been often seen as a representation of the ‘self’. Schopenhauer even believed that music is a copy of the ‘Will’. In modern society, music is something that can be ‘worn’ like clothes or a t-shirt slogan (Elliott, Reference DENNIS, Corona and Madrid1989, p. 11). The music people listen to, perform or present is often thought to be a part of one's identity. Making music is an intimate process, which involves emotion and ideas. For this reason, teachers feel they have to wear ‘t-shirts with slogans’ that actually do not match their real identity. It almost feels like a forced invasion into the intimate area called ‘self’. However, they do not need to wear any t-shirts. The fear does not have any solid ground but is merely emotional.

The reluctance to wear different ‘t-shirt slogans’ might partly come from historical background. In Europe, non-Western music has been considered to have less value than Western music. This is due to the fact that at the beginning of music ethnology, most world music was collected from the colonies. This background gave them the idea that their music belonged to a ‘lower culture’. Referring to non-Western music as ‘primitive’ (Nettl, Reference NETTL1956) implies that it is inferior. Another term, ‘ethnic music’ (Vulliamy & Lee, Reference VULLIAMY and LEE1982), is based on the assumption that Western music is not ethnic. Terms such as ‘Non-Western’ or ‘other music’ are not very friendly either, as they are divisive and lead to the view of ‘different, but not equal’ (Glynne-Jones, Reference GLYNNE-JONES, King and Reiss1993, p. 140). The use of different terms for world music shows why embracing musical diversity could be a challenge for teachers. Of course, this might be only one of many other possible reasons. Such values cannot be changed overnight, and neither do attitudes towards different music (as I have experienced in relation to both Korean traditional music and Western classical music).

This issue is not only limited to teachers from a white, middle-class background. It is also a problem with pupils from multicultural backgrounds who often refuse to identify themselves with their own cultural heritage. When I undertook a survey about multiple musical lives in a boys’ school, the pupils from a different cultural background did not want to talk openly about their ‘different culture’ at home, unless they were encouraged to do so. This fact also became clear through the anonymous surveys I undertook. Micro-musical cultures such as Gospel, Indian, Nepalese, Japanese music were identified. Some of the pupils seemed to be deeply involved in that music. But to the question, ‘what kind of ‘other’ music do you wish to learn more in the classroom?’, none of them mentioned the music from their micro- or sub-culture. Like any other pupils at that age (Key Stage 3), they might live with the pressure to conform to the mainstream culture (Green, 1998, p. 46).

As Alden's research (mentioned in Green, Reference GREEN1999) shows, pupils from minority backgrounds live with multiple identities, two of which include the identity of their home culture an the identity of British culture. They feel ashamed and embarrassed about their ‘hidden culture’ (Green, Reference GREEN1999, p. 167). Teachers’ failure to address the specific needs of students who are culturally different is often because such students ‘inhibit’ teachers from doing so (Campbell, Reference CAMPBELL1992). This is a sad reality. Potentially, these children could be the best teachers who could possibly introduce ‘first-hand’ musical experience into classrooms. They might be the best ones to describe that music's cultural background. They might be the ones who can do the best research into their music at home. How about encouraging them to do a short presentation about their home music?

Once, I observed a music lesson about Indian music, in which a pupil brought in a tabla and performed to the whole class. This was a big success. This kind of occasion helps pupils to open up other pupil's minds – not only those of pupils from minority ethnic backgrounds, but also of those in the majority. They will no longer feel that this ‘other’ musical culture is horribly alien, but that it is something that naturally co-exists within their classmate's mind within the same classroom. They could learn a lot more about different music through the informal route, such as a chat at lunchtime. The following comment demonstrates this fact well:

It must not be forgotten that culture ‘flows’ through people, and that a ‘cultural object’ can be best learned and presented through those who have appropriate resources.

After I taught a lesson to Korean pupils, some of them wanted to discuss it. A few came up to me with a sheet of Korean pop songs (K-pop) during the keyboard club, saying that they wanted to learn them. Others admitted that they started to listen to Korean music at home. This, of course, had a positive impact on my lesson. Through personal contacts with individuals from ‘other’ cultures, prejudice can be broken down and interest easily awakened.