It's January, and that means it's Social Media Advocacy Month

As you've probably surmised, from the festive badge and such, it's that time of the year again where we music therapists use the power of social media to advance the cause of music therapy in our respective states. 

The good news: it seems to be working! 

As the lovely Kat Fulton of Music Therapy Ed points out, we've been recognized in major publications (online and off), and we've even been named Persons of the Week for gosh sakes! Amazingly, nowadays we can even see characters who are music therapists in books, on television series and in movies. 

As a person who's been at this a while (ahem!), it's refreshing to meet people, tell them I'm a music therapist and have them respond with "Cool!" rather than "you're a what?" 

Dena Register (see below for her 2016 article) sees our advocacy styles as falling into three different categories. She identifies us as Connectors, Reflectors and Directors (I mean, don't we all really want to direct?). This is certainly true, and many of us do have these characteristics. But I want to propose another feature music therapists of the world possess, which is that of being Innovators. 

We've only just celebrated our 65th anniversary as an official profession. In that time, we have grown in remarkable ways. We've become an actual profession, complete with professional competencies, standards of practice, a code of ethics, board certification, journals, along with new and innovative research methods that use the arts as their basis!

We are curious, we're determined, and we work hard to find news ways to grow and extend what we already know as a field. When we're faced with our clients day after day, we are truly with them. We take our failures, and we try again, learning from our mistakes as we boldly explore new ideas and approaches. 

Yes. We are Innovators. And because of that, there is a profession called 'music therapy.' 

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And I will now step off of my soapbox and invite you to read Dena's perspective on the matter: 

Social Media Advocacy Month 2016

Dena Register, PhD, MT-BC

Certification Board for Music Therapists

Regulatory Affairs Advisor

Each New Year brings the opportunity to reflect on all that we have accomplished and to determine what is needed in the coming year to move forward. As the Regulatory Affairs (CBMT) and Government Relations (AMTA) teams reflect on the first 10 years of the State Recognition Operational Plan, we are grateful for the number of individuals that have actively engaged in the advocacy process. We have had the incredible fortune to watch groups of diverse individuals pull together, capitalize on their strengths, and create access to services for clients and families that benefit greatly from music therapy.

One of the observations we reflect on regularly is what makes an advocacy team successful. The teams that stand out are those that have 3 different kinds of participants: Connectors, Reflectors and Directors. While this is certainly not an exhaustive list, this seems to be a “triple threat” of action-oriented personalities that are able to work in tandem and move a group forward.

Building Bridges 

“Connectors” are people who are gifted at building bridges by bringing others together and recognizing complimentary skill sets in those that they know.  Connectors enjoy creating opportunities for people from diverse background and experiences to meet and interact. The role of the Connector in advocacy is to maximize the human resources available to them and to increase the network for their cause by helping interested parties get to know one another and discuss common interests. It is often the Connectors who are able to establish relationships with legislators or other decision makers that develops them into incredible advocates.

Holding Up the Mirror 

“Reflectors” are gifted at taking in information, experiences, and perceptions and—as the name implies—reflecting back the most salient points to those around them. Reflectors often have a knack for diffusing situations by indicating an understanding and empathy for someone else’s position. Reflectors also make great advocates because of their fierce loyalty to their cause. Their ability to see issues from multiple perspectives and then to communicate that to multiple audiences brings all sides of an issue to the foreground for discussion. Reflectors unite various individuals and guide the group to a vision that recognizes the complexity of all issues.

Consulting the Compass

“Directors” are the ones who are able to see the big picture of possibilities that exist beyond the current situation. They are able to assimilate the work of the “Reflectors” and the “Connectors” and navigate a course of next steps based on that information. Directors also gather additional relevant information as they move forward and constantly attend to what course corrections are necessary to get to their end goal. Those who are most successful in this role demonstrate flexibility in their thinking and actions, which allows them to accommodate to various situations that are presented and that often change without prior notice. Directors take a broad view of an issue, projecting out beyond it’s current status or challenge and using an ideal vision or end goal to guide the day-to-day steps necessary to get there.

So how about you? Are you a Connector, Reflector, or Director? Or maybe there is another description you would use? We would like to hear from you about other characteristics or personalities that you find “key” in advocacy.

Why it was hard for me to participate in this year's social media advocacy month

One of the things that doesn't get talked about enough when you're on your way to becoming a music therapist is how deflating it can be to have to define, to defend, to prove your work almost every single day for the rest of your music therapy life.

I need to admit to you (because I think it's important to say it out loud, because I truly believe that looking at the challenges means finding a way to get through them or at least come to terms with them): I am weary - bone weary - of advocating for music therapy right now. Will I still do it? Yes, probably I will. Do I still believe in what I do? Absolutely! Do I think I make a difference in my clients' lives? God, I hope so! I know they make a difference in mine. Am I still learning about music therapy? Always. 

But am I sick to death of explaining and re-explaining, and re-re-explaining what I do to people who already "know" what I do? Who incessantly belittle and demean my work (and, by extension, my clients' efforts)? Who still, after 27 years of this, see me as "the entertainment," treating me like a radio that nobody's really listening to anyway? Damn skippy! 

Today's comment: "No offense or anything, Roia, but I think having gross motor and music out at the pool is more beneficial for the guys than just listening to music with you..." (hmm, now how could that possibly be offensive to me?). This came from a co-worker who arrives in the middle of our Community Music Group, starts yelling out names (with a quick "oh, sorry, Roia"), bustling people into coats, and taking out the majority of the group to go to another activity. Nice.

I've had bosses who've said (and I'm quoting here), "Roia, I honestly don't see how what you do is any different from someone putting a CD in a CD player," interrupting my invitation to come and observe a session with "I'm afraid we're just going to have to agree to disagree, because we have different views on this." I guess getting that Master's degree was an insane waste of time, money, and effort. Oh, and probably the twenty years of paying for clinical supervision (and a whole lot of other trainings outside of music therapy), learning everything I could about disabilities and psychotherapy and figuring out ways to make sense of all of this so I can offer my clients a form of music therapy that hardly anybody else really does...that was probably a bit of overkill.

It's hard when many of your professional colleagues think that all you're doing is "playing nice music for people." It's hard to listen to support staff tell you they don't like the music you're playing and that you're not doing music therapy "right."

The bottom line here is this: if you're going to be a music therapist (and I really want you to be), it's important to love what you do and believe in what you're providing to your clients with every fiber in your body. It's important to make music, to get clinical supervision, to get your own therapy, to have an amazing support system of people who love, respect and believe in you and in the work that you do. Because you will run into these people. And you're good and likely to feel squashed sometimes.

Being a music therapist is hard work, especially when you're trying to find a way to musically sit with people who are struggling, whose lives aren't going the way they wish they would, who are in pain, who are frightened, who throw instruments at you, who scratch your face, who are disorganized, who feel powerless, who are grieving, who are dying....All of this is hard to do. But we do it, because we know - deep in our souls we know - that the experience of being together in music means something, the musical and human relationships we painstakingly develop with people who've had chronic trauma, who've been discriminated against in every way imaginable (and in many ways we don't even have a clue about) means something.

So what the heck am I saying anyway? I guess what I'm trying to say is I've advocated until I'm blue in the face. Oh, I'll advocate when someone really cares to listen. Until then, I'm keeping my focus on helping the people whose understanding of music therapy is most important to me, and that's my clients.  

It's that time again (and not a moment too soon!) - A guest post from Judy Simpson

January marks the beginning of our annual Social Media Advocacy campaign, spear headed by the incomparable Kimberly Sena Moore. This year I'm feeling a particularly strong affinity for our theme, which is exploring and honoring our unique identity as music therapists, as I'm finding myself in the distressing position of having to fight to keep a long-term music therapy position in our facility, a battle which we may be losing. 

I will be working hard over the next few days to clearly and succinctly articulate to the state decision-makers exactly what, how and why the Music Therapy Unit offers the men and women in our developmental center something they are unable to get from any other service. While I'm doing that, I'm truly grateful to Judy Simpson (who has written a guest post honoring this month) for helping me get started by so beautiful saying...

“We are…MUSIC THERAPISTS!”

Judy Simpson, MT-BC

Director of Government Relations, American Music Therapy Association

When I started my career as a music therapist in 1983, it was not uncommon for me to describe my profession by comparing it to other professions which were more well-known.  If people gave me a puzzled look after I proudly stated, “I use music to change behaviors,” I would add, “Music therapy is like physical therapy and occupational therapy, but we use music as the tool to help our patients.” Over the years as I gained more knowledge and experience, I obviously made changes and improvements to my response when asked, “What is music therapy?” My enhanced explanations took into consideration not only the audience but also growth of the profession and progress made in a variety of research and clinical practice areas. 

The best revisions to my description of music therapy, however, have grown out of government relations and advocacy work.  The need to clearly define the profession for state legislators and state agency officials as part of the AMTA and CBMT State Recognition Operational Plan (http://www.musictherapy.org/policy/stateadvocacy/) has forced a serious review of the language we use to describe music therapy.  The process of seeking legislative and regulatory recognition of the profession and national credential provides an exceptional opportunity to finally be specific about who we are and what we do as music therapists. 

For far too long we have tried to fit music therapy into a pre-existing description of professions that address similar treatment needs.  What we need to do is provide a clear, distinct, and very specific narrative of music therapy so that all stakeholders and decision-makers “get it.” Included below are a few initial examples that support our efforts in defining music therapy separate from our peers that work in other healthcare and education professions.

·        Music therapist’s qualifications are unique due to the requirements to be a professionally trained musician in addition to training and clinical experience in practical applications of biology, anatomy, psychology, and the social and behavioral sciences.

·        Music therapists actively create, apply, and manipulate various music elements through live, improvised, adapted, individualized, or recorded music to address physical, emotional, cognitive, and social needs of individuals of all ages.

·        Music therapists structure the use of both instrumental and vocal music strategies to facilitate change and to assist clients achieve functional outcomes related to health and education needs.

·        In contrast, when OTs, Audiologists, and SLPs report using music as a part of treatment, it involves specific, isolated techniques within a pre-determined protocol, using one pre-arranged aspect of music to address specific and limited issues. This differs from music therapists’ qualifications to provide interventions that utilize all music elements in real-time to address issues across multiple developmental domains concurrently.

As we “celebrate” 2014’s Social Media Advocacy Month http://musictherapystaterecognition.blogspot.com), I invite you to join us in the acknowledgement of music therapy as a unique profession.  Focused on the ultimate goal of improved state recognition with increased awareness of benefits and increased access to services, we have an exciting adventure ahead of us. Please join us on this advocacy journey as we proudly declare, “We are Music Therapists!”

About the Author: Judy Simpson is the Director of Government Relations for the American Music Therapy Association (http://www.musictherapy.org). She can be reached at simpson@musictherapy.org

 

"What's your story?" 2013 Social Media Advocacy Month

It's Social Media Advocacy Month again, and this year we're talking about connections and the stories we share about music therapy. Or, put another way, we might say we're looking at how our stories define us and then help us to connect with each other. 

Whether or not we're aware of it, we're always telling stories. Stories help us describe (among other things) what we do, who we are, what we believe, how we've come to be, who we've come to be. And stories connect (and sometimes disconnect) us to/from ourselves, to/from our history, our families, our friends, our clients, our communities, our cultures. 

For this moment, let's focus on the stories we tell ourselves. Let's consider the stories we choose and use to help us form a professional identity.

The way I understand it, our identity as music therapists is a compilation of the many stories we have about ourselves: as musicians, as people, as therapists, as family members, as community members, as service users, as learners.

In the process we consider our beliefs about music, about therapy, how we define music therapy, what we understand about health/illness, how music fits into health/illness, about our clients, our biases, what it means to help someone else, what is/isn't helpful, what is meaningful, what we embrace, what we avoid. 

And our stories evolve even further as we give thought to how we choose to present our professional selves/stories to our clients, to our places of employment, to supervisors, to potential users of our services, to curious people, to lawmakers, to our larger communities. 

All of these elements start with the stories we tell ourselves. 

To that end, I'd like to share a list of questions I put together a few years ago for a presentation I did for a self-care series at the Kardon Institute for the Arts.  My hope is the questions will help you become more aware of your own stories, how you decide which stories you'd like to share, how you choose to share them, and with whom. 

What does it mean to be a music therapist? 

• Who am I, or who do I think I need to be as a music therapist? How have I constructed my music therapy identity?
• Do I think there's a "right" way or a "wrong" way to tell my stories as a music therapist?
• What does it mean about me if I present myself in the "wrong" way?
• How much does my history/personality/temperament influence who I am as a music therapist?
• How comfortable am I when I feel I have to defend my role as a music therapist? In sessions? At work? In team meetings? What if someone doesn't like my story?
• How comfortable am I with regard to my skills as a musician, my skills as a therapist? And does that level of comfort (of lack thereof) have an impact on my identity as a music therapist? In what way(s), if at all, does this change my story?
• In what ways do my clients’ needs and expectations of me shape who I am as a music therapist? How do we weave our stories together?
• What do I believe makes someone a “good” music therapist? 
• How do my race, culture, gender, sexuality, abilities/disabilities inform who I am as a music therapist?
• How do my beliefs and/or prejudices with regard to race, culture, gender, sexuality, abilities/disabilities impact my work?
• How do I feel/respond when someone outside of my field defines my profession or makes assumptions about music therapy? What happens when someone else tells my story? What if our stories conflict?
• How has my identity as a music therapist changed and evolved as I’ve moved through my 20, 30s, 40s, 50s, etc.? What are the ways in which my story has changed as I've grown through significant life changes (marriage, birth, loss, death, serious illness, natural/human made disasters, etc.)? 
• If I am a music therapist practicing in a culture that is not my culture of origin, how has this affected my identity as a professional?
• How committed am I to a specific identity or role (or story) I play as a music therapist? Am I comfortable expanding my identity/role? Is it okay to change the story? Under what circumstances? 
• How much of and which aspects of our clients' stories are okay for me to hear? And which aspects frighten me or make me uncomfortable? 
• What roles do I unconsciously assign to my clients?
• How do my beliefs about what constitutes music therapy affect the stories I tell about being a music therapist?

 (Copyright 2010 Roia Rafieyan)

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Introduction: Advocacy --> Recognition --> Access

Since 2005, the American Music Therapy Association and the Certification Board for Music Therapists have collaborated on a State Recognition Operational Plan. The primary purpose of this plan is to get music therapy and our MT-BC credential recognized by individual states so that citizens can more easily access our services. The AMTA Government Relations staff and CBMT Regulatory Affairs staff provide guidance and technical support to state task forces throughout the country as they work towards state recognition. To date, their work has resulted in over 35 active state task forces, 2 licensure bills passed in 2011, 1 licensure bill passed in 2012, and an estimated 7 bills being filed in 2013 that seek to create either title protection or a licensure for music therapy. This month, our focus is on YOU and on getting you excited about advocacy.

Beautiful and thought-provoking quote

From the transcript of the January 15th, 2012 On Being episode in which Krista Tippett interviewed singer/songwriter/author Roseanne Cash.

Ms. Cash: Sure. You know when I first became a performer, I was so anxious about it and it took me a long time to grow into it, because I thought that being a performer was about getting a lot of attention and I didn't want that much attention. I liked the writer's life. I liked the privacy and the solitude and being inside my own little mind cave. And over time I realized that it's not about the attention, it's about the energy exchange. I'm doing something for them, but they're doing something for me too, you know? And there's no hierarchy really. It's — and some nights that exchange is so beautiful, you know, I can feel my own energy stretching out to the far reaches of the room and theirs coming back. And there's something sublime about it, and also the temporal nature of it that at the end of the night it's over.

Ms. Tippett: Right.

Ms. Cash: It's like a monk's sand painting, it's wiped clean. And so you can't grab it, you know, which is part of the — the mystical beauty of it. You can't repeat it. You know, the next night might be just awful, like, your energy might not expand beyond two feet beyond you and they are not giving you anything and it doesn't work, but you know, that's the way life is.

Ms. Tippett: Yeah, it's that spiritual discipline of knowing impermanence.

Ms. Cash: Knowing impermanence and showing up even though you don't know what's going to happen.

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I love that! 

"...showing up even though you don't know what's going to happen." 

Isn't that gorgeous?

Aside from the fact that it was just...overall, a beautiful conversation about creativity and music and spirituality and how it all melds together, this particular snippet just captured my attention instantly. 


Here's what I loved about it:


First, it is so absolutely descriptive of my daily experience as a more or less psychodynamically-oriented, relationally-focused music therapist. I am not (really, I am NOT), by nature, what one would call a "flexible" human being. However, many years of practicing music therapy using this approach (and taking part in my own therapy, of course) has gotten me to a point where "showing up even though you don't know what's going to happen" has become okay. It's a concept I've grown into and have come to embrace with a comfortableness I would never have imagined for myself. 


Second, I was drawn in by Roseanne Cash's sharing of her struggle, as a musician and as a writer (basically, as an artist), to come to terms with her art- playing, performing, being musically present, which artistic voice to choose, and what all of that means to her. 


Periodically, people will ask me, "Does one have to be a good musician to be a music therapist?" And, until very recently, I've always responded with what my clinical supervisor has said to me, which is: "Well, the more accomplished you are as a musician, the more you have to offer your clients." And that still makes sense to me. 


But, in a recent email conversation with my colleague, Brian Abrams (who just had a terrific article published in the Arts in Psychotherapy journal), I realized that not only do we, as music therapists, benefit greatly from this type of engagement with our experience as artists and musical beings, but, on some level, maybe because of our chosen professions, we actually need to go through that kind of a struggle. 


Put another way, I think a willingness to come to terms with our own sense of what it means to be a musical self and building an identity as musicians and artists enables us to be present to our clients in a more profound, authentic, and meaningful way. 


You might even say it prepares us to  "...show up even though [we] don't know what's going to happen."

Grateful

On this quiet Thanksgiving day, it seems right to reflect on the many aspects of being a music therapist for which I'm grateful. 


Since I've just returned from a trip to Atlanta where I participated in the national music therapy conference, it's one of the things that's very  much on my mind (oops! That was very "Georgia On My Mind" there, wasn't it?). To that end, I'm sending out a big thank you to all the folks at the American Music Therapy Association (AMTA) as well as the conference chair-people and numerous volunteers for the huge amount of work that went into putting together a conference of this size! It was a great conference, and I truly enjoyed being there.


I'm also appreciative of the fact that I had the opportunity to meet many of the large collection of music therapists I've gotten to know through their blogs, tweets and list-serv postings in person. Even though I've been a part of this field for quite a long time, it was a comfort to be a part of an already existing online community, many of whom would be at the conference.  Now I can imagine all of your faces and voices as I read your online thoughts! Yay!


A particularly cool element of all that was having the opportunity to be a participant in a social media as music therapy advocacy tool panel, conceived by Kimberly Sena Moore, and joined by Michelle Erfurt, Michelle Strutzel, Matt Logan, Kat Fulton, Sarah Sendlbeck, Meryl Brown, Rachel Rambach, and Bill Matney. What a joy to be with this articulate and energetic group of professionals!


The renegade jam session (for those of us who can not function after 11 PM) was a lot of fun, and we sang and played our collective hearts out in a quieter corner of the giant hotel. 


As I gradually transition back to my usual hectic schedule (not to be confused with the completely crazy conference schedule! Yow!), I extend gratitude for the fact that I have a job and work with clients who, even after almost 24 years, challenge me to learn and grow and get better at serving them. And nowadays I get to add my supervisees to the list of folks who help me think and invite me to push the limits of my knowledge.


My co-workers at the developmental center also inspire my appreciation. We have struggled together to understand what might be going on when our clients try to convey their distress. At times we've sung and laughed and  at times we've cried together. We don't have an easy job, and, at this point, I don't think we'd really want one.


I'm thankful for the happiness that comes with playing music (either by myself or with other like-minded folks), and when people say, "wow, you're really lucky," I have to say, "Yes! Yes, I am!" 


Happy Thanksgiving to you all. May you also feel lucky and fulfilled in your chosen profession!

Journal Prompt #4- Uncertainty

Image by cowbite via FlickrOne of the hardest aspects of being a music therapist, at least for me, has been working to come to terms with the experience of uncertainty as I work with clients. I'm sure this won't come as a surprise to you, because I've written about it a number of times (here, here, and here- to name a few).


I think part of what makes it difficult to sit with the sense of "um, I'm not sure what's going on here" is this mythology we tend to buy into as music therapists (I guess as any kind of therapists, really) that tells us "you must always know what's going on with your clients and have the perfect intervention and/or response to address it."   


Even after doing this for 24 years, there's still a nagging sense of "I should know" in the back of my mind- even though I know (intellectually anyway) that I don't have to know, and even though I'm well aware my clients aren't always ready for me to know (or aren't ready to know for themselves), and even though I realize it's just a matter of sitting with the feeling and trusting the process.  


I understand that some of my uncertainty comes from the fact that I work with people who don't use the usual means of communication or ways of relating to people. Using a process-oriented approach (and not a product-oriented one) also increases the likelihood that I won't always know what's going on in my sessions. 


And, really, I'm okay with all of that. I'm just...very aware (shall we say) of a feeling of "hmm" when I'm faced with a situation and I'm not sure how to proceed. 


So, lovely readers, I invite you to join me in looking at this part of our work as you journal.


-Do you allow for a bit of uncertainty as a part of your music therapy practice? If you do, in what ways? If you don't, why not? 


-How do you approach uncertainty when it comes up in your work as a music therapist? Do you power through it on your own? Do you seek supervision or consultation? What kinds of questions do you ask yourself?


-How do your beliefs about what it means to be a "good music therapist" affect the way you deal with uncertainty? What does it mean about you, about your abilities as a music therapist, about how people might view the field of music therapy to "not know" what to do or how to approach a therapy situation? 


-What if the "perfect" song or intervention isn't coming to you and you're in the middle of a session? 


-What are some of the things you're doing in your music therapy practice that help you avoid the experience of uncertainty? How does that affect the therapy relationship? What might you be communicating to your clients?


I'd love to hear your thoughts about uncertainty (written out, sung, played as a piece of music, acted out as a play, whatever works for you), so please share them freely. 

Journal Prompt #3 (When music therapists go bad)

Image by Esparta via FlickrYesterday, I felt like a bad therapist. 


I was tired from awful allergies (and the ends of a lingering cold), and I didn't feel great physically (and, let me tell you, there was some serious whining going on). And, yeah, okay, the truth is I just plain started out the day with an attitude. 


But I figured, "Come on, Roia! It's Saturday, you only have three sessions with three different guys. They're good guys. You really like working with them. It'll be fine. Stop your kvetching, and go do your sessions and you and your aches and pains will survive." 


Great. Pep talk done. Let's do it!


Maybe it was because it was a holiday weekend (with little hope of their seeing family members), maybe it was that it was a fairly nice day outside and they were all stuck indoors, maybe they all had allergies, maybe they thought my sunscreen smelled weird...I don't know what it was!  But my clients weren't exactly in jovial moods either. 


So. 


There we all were with our collective attitudes in the various sessions, and there I was just...not making sense, not saying or doing anything particularly- I don't know- therapeutic. I found myself wondering why the heck I was saying what I was saying.


And all I could think was "what is with you today, woman?"


I was so not being a shining example of music therapy and all the fabulosity that goes with it. 


Yes, I know that I probably wasn't as awful as I felt  I was being. And, yes, I realize that it's all "grist for the mill" (as my clinical supervisor has always said), and it's all part of a much larger process/context. And, sure, it's true that even a bad day of music therapy (when you live in an institution) is probably not as bad as all that, but I like my clients. I want to do right by them, and I felt kind of badly that I was less present than I would have preferred. 


And I was also annoyed that they were (at least in my perception of things) making me work so damned hard! Waaah! [We're whining...we're whining...]

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So, perhaps you can journal (or sing, or play, or create some form of art, or develop your own whining rant) about a day (or, heck, a week or a month) when you felt as if you were having a hard time being the kind of  music therapist you like to think you are.

What are some of the idea(l)s/myths you have about who/how you "should" be as a music therapist? 

What are some of the idea(l)s/myths you hold in your mind about who your clients "should" be and how they should act/respond/deal with stuff when they're in music therapy with you?

And how do all these idea(l)s and myths affect how therapy goes some days? And how do you cope with days when you feel as if you are less than stellar?

Bring it on, my fellow bloggies!

10 thoughts about music therapy advocacy- Part 2

I'm thinking that it might be helpful to know where I'm coming from in terms of music therapy advocacy as I share this list of thoughts with you. After all, you may be wondering what the heck qualifies me to preach at you about becoming an advocate? Here are some of the things I've done over the past twenty-three or so years:


During my time as a music therapist I have spent a lot of years as an active member of my state organization, the New Jersey Association for  Music Therapy (NJAMT). I was originally asked to join the board because I was a member of the former American Association for Music Therapy (yes, back then there used to be two associations, and they merged in 1998). I continued to serve, becoming Secretary, Treasurer, President, Newsletter Editor and ending as Public Relations co-chair. I am no longer active as a board/committee member, but I maintain my connection to NJAMT as the listserv coordinator. 


While I was President of NJAMT I also served on the NJCATA board (that would be the New Jersey Coalition of Arts Therapies Associations) as the music therapy representative for a period of time. I've helped to organize Music Therapy Day in New Jersey (which we have been holding in Trenton in the State House), and we organized a celebration of  30 years of music therapy at the facility where I work. 


As a performing singer/songwriter, I've talked about music therapy when I've had gigs, and I regularly find myself engaged in conversations about "what is music therapy" when I meet new people. These days I share stories about my work with you, kind readers. 


So. Yes. I've spent a good portion of my music therapy life advocating. I feel strongly about the work I do, and I care a great deal about the people I work for, namely my clients. With that in mind, here are my thoughts about what is helpful as we learn to become advocates:


1. Connect with other music therapists. Join a peer supervision group, connect through various social media outlets on the internet, or simply get to know the music therapists in your geographic area. I'm lucky. New Jersey has a lot of music therapists, and we have a fairly strong community, but we work at it, because it's important to us. Doing this type of work with a group of like-minded people standing next to you is a lot easier.


2. Know who you are and what it means to you to be a music therapist. It's very hard to advocate for yourself and for your clients if you don't know who you are professionally and why what you're doing is important. Really work at developing an identity for yourself as a music therapist. And I don't mean branding (although at some point that's important as well). What I mean is figure out your beliefs: about music, therapy, about what works for you and what doesn't, your approach, and hone your skills.


3. Be really good at what you do. By this I mean, find yourself a clinical supervisor. Yes, I know I sound like a broken record, but it's that important and that helpful. If you decide to get peer supervision instead, challenge yourself to go deeper- even if it means getting your own therapy- music therapy if you can. Look at your own issues. Figure out what issues and blocks come up for you when you're providing music therapy services, and work on them. This makes you accountable. 


4. Learn everything you can about the population with whom you're working.  Try to get as deep an understanding of the group of people you work with every day, and, as much as possible, try to learn from the people who experience the condition/illness/life experience. Learn what the issues are from their perspective, and then make a point of figuring out why music therapy is important for this particular group of people. When you have an idea of what someone's actual lived experience is like, you will be a more respectful and effective music therapist. And, by extension, you'll be a more effective advocate for your services (to people who may want to use your services, to facilities that may hire you, and, eventually, to legislators). 


5. Chat with people about music therapy. If you're a performing musician, you have a perfect forum for talking about music therapy (and sometimes a captive audience). Talk about what you do to high school students who are musicians. Tell people what you do when you're getting your hair cut. I mean, really. The possibilities are endless.


6. Answer questions about music therapy. Because I have a website or two, I get a lot of emails from high school and college students who are writing papers about music therapy. Do your best to be helpful. Sometimes people I've met (or relatives of people I've met) are considering the possibility of becoming music therapists. If they live nearby, invite them to come and observe you in your work (get permission from your clients/facility first, of course). 


7. If your state has a music therapy organization, join/volunteer. If not, start one. True, it's been a while since I was a very active member of NJAMT, but it was, and continues to be, one of the best decisions I made as a music therapist. It helped me to develop my skills as a leader, as a public speaker, as an organizer. It connected me with a lot of really great people, and it gave me a sense of being a part of something (which can be important, especially if you happen to be the only music therapist at your facility). It gave me the opportunity to do a lot of things I didn't think I could ever do. Your state organization keeps you up-to-date on what's happening with regard to legislation and can provide you with training so you know how to go and talk to your elected officials about music therapy.  They can be a resource for jobs in your state (or in a state in which you might want to relocate). 


8. Don't burn yourself out on advocacy. This may sound like kind of a strange thing to say after a big long pep talk, but it can happen. You can be all gung-ho for a long time, and it's great when you can do that! But you can just as easily burn yourself out without noticing it. And that's no good for anyone. So make sure that you have a life outside of music therapy as well. One of the best pieces of advice I got was when I observed my first music therapist ever. She said to make sure you always have somewhere to play your own music. Cultivate the many other things you love to do- cooking, hiking, reading, kayaking, sky diving...whatever excites you and lets you have your own personal identity as well. 


9. Sometimes in spite of your best advocacy efforts, things don't go as you hoped. It's the truth. Being a music therapist can sometimes be very frustrating. One of the most devastating experiences for me was spending twenty years at my job talking about music therapy, doing presentations for administrators, making sure people had information about what a qualified music therapist is, what skills we have, what training we have, and on and on. And one day, one of the other departments decided to hire a person who is not trained as a music therapist to work in a music therapy title and to "do music" with our clients. And there wasn't a blessed thing I could do about it. (Mercifully, the guy is really cool and never calls what he does music therapy, but that doesn't mean that the rest of the staff understands that he's not a music therapist.) It's important for you to know: it happens. It happens a lot. And when it does (because it will), you go back to the support system you've developed. You re-connect with the community of fellow music therapists and allies. Because you will need them. 


10. In spite of it all, love what you do. Celebrate when your clients take little and big steps. Theirs are the faces you'll see in your mind as you tell people what it is you do. Feel a passion for getting to be someone who gets to connect with people and who uses and plays music for a living. Because that is living. 


And, ultimately, that's what it's all about!

What is advocacy and why do we do it?- Part 1

Advocating for music therapy is, at its most basic, about telling people who we are, what we do, where we do what we do, with whom and how. It can be as simple as meeting someone at a party and responding to "what do you do for a living?" with "I'm a music therapist." And it can be as complex as working with legislators to get licensure for music therapists in your state. 

The reason we spend so much time advocating for music therapy is so that, when you and I are a lot older music therapists (and that's not to say that I'm not seriously getting to "older music therapist status" at a rapid rate here), when we say "I'm a music therapist," people will say "oh, my child is receiving music therapy services" or "I work with a music therapist in the hospital where I'm a nurse" instead of the blank stares that I used to get when I first started out back in 1987. 

In fact, the reason some of you younger folks (you know who you are) have even heard of music therapy is because there are a lot of us older folks (ahem) who've been talking about what we do for a long time.

Now, as more people are starting to learn about music therapy our focus as a profession has been turning toward gaining state recognition for what we do. After all, people who use our services (heck, sometimes music therapists use our services!) need to know they're receiving music therapy from someone who is trained, qualified, certified, and, in some states, licensed. 

Another thing we're working toward is third party payment. While there are some music therapists who are getting reimbursed by insurance companies, it is still extremely rare. Creative arts therapy providers will become a lot more accessible to those who need them when health insurance companies add "music therapy", "dance therapy" and "art therapy" to their lists of reimbursable services.

On another level, advocating for music therapy services is about creating jobs and opportunities for ourselves. We know why what we do is important, and we want to educate the people who could use our services. It also means helping the public to distinguish between music therapy, provided by a trained, board-certified music therapist, and the therapeutic use of music, provided by talented musicians who are sensitive to the needs of others.  Sometimes advocacy is about making sure we're appropriately compensated for the services we provide. The fact is that music therapists in many work situations are vastly underpaid in comparison to other allied health professionals. 

So, as you can see, advocacy is an important enough element that we need to, literally, build it into our work. In Part 2, I'll address some of the things I think are helpful as we engage in this process. 

So you want to become a music therapist...

Image by doug88888 via FlickrI, rather regularly, receive emails and blog comments from people who are interested in becoming music therapists.  And I regularly send back big, long emails with information I hope they'll find to be useful. Well, suddenly, one of my slower neurons fired, and I thought, "why on earth haven't you written a blog with this advice in it, so you don't have to keep repeating yourself?!" 


Somewhere a dog barked. 


Aaaand, we're back.


Okay. So you want to become a music therapist. Fabulous! And you want to know what it will take, what kind of advice I can offer, whether you'll ever have an actual salary, what to write for that research paper that's due in 13 hours...and so forth.


(Stand back. I'm about to jump into list-making land.) (Actually, even though my blog posts aren't usually in list form, I have a deep and abiding love of lists.) (But I digress.)


1. It helps to be a fairly good musician.That said, it also helps if you learn to play guitar and piano.
Different schools that offer music therapy as a major have different requirements. I think, ultimately, the more skill you have as a musician, the more you have to offer your clients. If you're busy focusing on yourself trying to play a song or a particular instrument, you're no longer focusing on your client, and that sort of defeats the whole purpose of therapy. You know? You don't have to know how to play guitar and piano before you go to school, because that is part of the music therapy curriculum. Those are, however, two instruments that are used an awful lot in the course of a music therapist's day/week/life, so it's worth getting to a point where you're relatively comfortable with them.


2. And, while you're at it, get comfortable with using your voice.
When I first started out as a music therapist I was really shy, and I found it difficult to sing in front of anyone. Mercifully, I managed to move beyond that. We don't have to be brilliant singers, but it's important to carry a tune and be comfortable improvising and playing around with vocal sounds. I still remember a client I worked with who tore up an entire room and threw my entire music cart on the floor. For a good solid year I had to go and do his sessions with nothing but me and my voice. 


3. Be careful of your "helpful" intentions. 
When you're trying to figure out what you want to do with your life, it's not unusual to think, "you know, I really want to do something that helps people." We all have our reasons for wanting to somehow be useful in this world, and they're all valid and important. When we come to a profession like music therapy, though, I think it's important to be mindful of the various implications of being "helpful" (in terms of power, control, what it means to be "the helped", etc.). Because Norman Kunc and Emma van der Klift said it a lot better already, I  highly recommend reading their article, "Hell-Bent on Helping: Benevolence, Friendship, and the Politics of Help". It will, I hope, give you a whole new perspective on being "helpful".


4. Learn to pay close attention. Notice stuff.  
So much of my job is about paying attention. Whenever I have students come to do their practicum experiences with me, I have them fill out an observation form that I developed. It's an insanely complicated form, because in a music therapy session there is so much going on at any given moment and on so many levels. You have to be aware of your client (s), the music, yourself, the environment, the history...there's a lot of stuff happening. This is what makes music therapy so completely fascinating! You can practice at an activity level and be quite effective, and you can also decide that you want to go deeper and explore the therapy relationship, the dynamics within it, and how it's all expressed within the music, and that's really nifty as well! 


5. Expect that this will be a life-long learning experience. 
Music therapy is a growing and evolving field. Because there's so much to know (and you can't cram it all in at school!), so much to pay attention to, and because you can work at a lot of different levels, there's always something new you can be learning. For that reason, getting professional clinical supervision in music therapy after you've graduated is extremely helpful to your growth as a new clinician. Moreover, there are lots of trainings that music therapists can take to deepen their knowledge/skill in specific areas (GIM, Nordoff-Robbins Music Therapy, Neurologic Music Therapy, NICU Music Therapy, Hospice Music Therapy, Austin Vocal Psychotherapy, and I'm sure there'll be more sooner or later). 


6. Get used to advocating for yourself. 
Music therapy isn't the huge mystery it once was. These days when I say I'm a music therapist, people are way less likely to say "a what?!" than they were back when I first started out. Now I'm usually greeted with something along the lines of "oh, how cool!" As nice as that is, people often think they know what we do, but they really don't. Co-workers who've known us for years may still not have a clear idea of what happens in a session. I'l be straight with you: It can be quite frustrating when you see that someone who hasn't gone through the years of training you have is calling him/herself a music therapist (or being called one by the media). It can be even more challenging when supervisors, colleagues, and various other people/organizations who fund our services (who aren't music therapists) feel compelled to tell us how we should do our job.  Having said that, I would still maintain (and I think my music therapy colleagues would agree) that being a music therapist still far outweighs the difficult stuff. 


7. You'll need to figure out a semi-quick way to explain what it is you do for a living. 
Given that you'll have to spend some time advocating for yourself and showing people what music therapy is, it's important to have your "elevator speech" prepared shortly after you graduate from your program. I usually tell people I use music to listen to people. That usually makes them curious enough to want to know more. Then, depending on how much time they're willing/able to spend, I can expound until they're sick of me. Ahem.  


8. It's not likely you'll be rich beyond your wildest dreams, but you can definitely make a living as a music therapist.
A few months ago, our Rabbi at work asked me, as nicely as he could, on behalf of one of his congregants, "can music therapists make a living doing this work?" I assured him that we could. We can find jobs (we've been doing a lot of advocating- trust me), we can get health benefits, and we can make enough money to live peacefully. We'll never get the kind of money that, say, a computer programmer or a financial analyst would make, but most of us aren't starving. And if this is truly what you want to do, then you should do it. [2024 Update: Having written this some time ago, I want to acknowledge that these days it may be a bit more of a challenge, given the financial realities of the current day. And a lot of younger music therapists have expressed dismay when they can't find full-time jobs, they can't afford housing, and they are often expected to have a Master's degree. This is decidedly problematic, and I will not deny the situation can be quite frustrating. At the same time, there are also a LOT more music therapist-owned businesses, and people are actually familiar with music therapy (or know a music therapist) (of have had their own music therapist) (or have at least heard of it). So, I believe, still, with some flexibility, you'll probably be able to find a job. It may not be where you hoped/expected to work, but it may end up being the right place. Or, like many people do nowadays, you can get some experience and move to an employment situation that feels more in line with who you are.]


9. Get used to not knowing what's going on and sometimes being uncomfortable or awkward. Or at least come to terms with it. 
I would have to say that it's rarely dull being a music therapist. Sometimes your clients will do unexpected sorts of things, or you'll find yourself dealing with really uncomfortable feelings. And sometimes you can go for a really long time and not be at all sure you're on the right track with a client/group. Again, this is what makes this work so fascinating and so completely worthwhile! It's difficult when your own issues are triggered, but, heck! Your issues will be triggered no matter what you do. You may as well have an interesting job within which to notice them. 


10. Consider getting your own therapy (or your own music therapy, if you can). 
Being a therapist is hard work. Being a client is also hard work. If you've never gone through  your own therapy, and if you've never struggled in a big way with your own problems and emotional baggage, it will be hard for you to have a real understanding of what it's like to see yourself in a new way (which is not always a pleasant experience at first). Making changes in our lives is something most of us resist mightily. Looking at our resistance- ugh! It's not always fun. It's a long, bumpy road. And we ask our clients every day to allow us to stumble along that bumpy road with them. We owe it to ourselves and to our clients to at least bring along the map we saved from our own journey (even if they decide to take a different route). (Okay, I'm getting a bit nuts with the metaphors here, but you get the idea, yes?)


So there you have it. That's the list I have going in my head when people ask me for advice on becoming a music therapist, and now here it is! In blog-land! And if any of you music therapists out there in the world have other advice to offer, bring it on!


The good news (well, to me anyway) is this: I worked as a music therapist for 34 years. Even on the worst of days, I have never regretted my decision to do this work! Much good luck to you as you go forth and consider whether or not the life of a music therapist is one you'd like as your own.