Today is Tuesday, January 21st, and we’ll be talking about the questions that anyone who does music therapy will be asked throughout their entire life.
Since I tend to talk quite a lot — and I know myself — I’ve divided the “question-askers” into categories, so I don’t lose my way.
It seemed like a useful solution, because of course the questions change depending on the status, the role, and the position of the person who is asking them.
What do I mean?
Well, if you have in front of you a student who is trying to decide whether or not to enrol in the music therapy course where you teach — or the one you attended — they will almost certainly ask you whether the course is recognised.
They will ask whether the exams they took at another music therapy school can be transferred.
They will ask whether they need to be able to play an instrument in order to qualify.
They will ask how many absences they are allowed.
And, of course, they will ask whether there are any real job opportunities once the course is over.
The questions will be quite different if you are speaking to a university researcher.
Someone who deals every day with criteria such as effectiveness, efficiency, and replicability will almost certainly ask whether there have been randomised controlled double-blind trials in music therapy.
They will ask what assessment or evaluation tools music therapy has, and whether they have been validated.
They may ask whether there are systematic reviews or meta-analyses in the Cochrane Library.
Then there are two questions of a completely different kind. These will come from the person who signs your contract — the administrative director of the institution.
The questions are:
“How much do you cost?”
And:
“What is the difference between what you do and the retired gentleman who already comes at the end of the month to do the birthday party?”
In no particular order.
A subcategory of the contract-signer is the parent or caregiver, who will also ask you:
“But does it work?”
And:
“Can I claim this as a healthcare expense?”
Then there are the questions from your colleague, who will almost certainly ask:
“Where did you qualify?”
“What model of music therapy do you follow?”
“What VAT code do you use?”
“Are you on the flat-rate tax regime or the ordinary one?”
And then:
“Do you know that guy… what’s his name… come on, you know… Caneva, the one who talks every Tuesday?”
Another “question-asker” is your trusted petrol station attendant — who, in my case, of course speaks strictly in Veronese dialect.
He will ask:
“What are you doing with all those drums in the car?”
And:
“How many kilometres do you drive every week?”
Last on the list, but certainly not least in importance, is the psychiatrist, who will ask you:
“Do you know what therapy means?”
“And protocol… do you know what protocol means?”
“Do you realise the enormous responsibility you have in doing this work?”
“Are you sure that what you are doing is really therapy, and not simply entertainment?”
Of course, each of you will have thousands of other examples drawn from your own experience.
And what we can do — in fact, what we must do — is try to give the right answer to each of these questions.
Answering these questions is one of the most difficult tasks we will face in our everyday professional lives.
It is very likely — at least this is how it works for me — that your answers will change depending on who is asking, and above all depending on the moment in your life and career in which you find yourself.
Oh, and one last thing.
Remember that as soon as you have found the “perfect” answers, life will make sure it changes the questions.
So: stay light.
Always.
We’ll meet again next Tuesday with a new episode of A Light-Hearted Journey Through Music Therapy, where we’ll talk about “clothing”.
Is there such a thing as a music therapist’s uniform?
White coat: yes or no?