Music I Wellness I Performance I Culture
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Artist Insight:
On Fear As The Fire That Keeps Us Us
6/7/2025
I reimagine my experience of fear as a positive voice keeping me safe, like a sort of fire that protects me–one I can use to motivate myself to overcome its burn.A call to action–the thought that everything that matters to me could be taken away–reframes picking up my viola to practice a difficult passage seem like child’s play. I am scared because I care, not because I am weak. From this stance, fear becomes a sort of radical honesty, one that is deeply compassionate, too. Fear, in this experience, is like a mirror, showing me intense clarity of my unresolved self, and glimpses of who I am meant to become.
Artist Insight:
Panic Practice - A Music Therapist Explains Anxiety, OCD, PTSD, and Practicing: A Call For Music Therapist As Mediators In Classical Conservatory Culture
6/16/2025
Anxiety manifests differently across individuals and settings, but common patterns are defined within several diagnostic categories. Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Panic Disorder, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) are each individually distinct, yet deeply related. Drawing from Comer’s Abnormal Psychology (2022), as well as personal experience navigating performance culture in a music conservatory, this paper compares these conditions while reflecting on how environments can compound or mitigate psychological harm.GAD involves continuous excessive worry across a range of topics for at least six months. Symptoms can include restlessness, lack of energy, difficulty concentrating, and muscle tension (Comer, 2022). Behaviorists suggest anxiety is learned and maintained through reinforcement, while cognitive theorists highlight distorted thought patterns and misaligned perceptions. Exposure therapy and cognitive restructuring are commonly used interventions. In the conservatory setting, chronic uncertainty about performance value, favoritism in instruction, and inequitable lesson time can provoke this kind of ongoing anxiety—especially when teachers subtly or overtly signal a student’s worth is conditional. I would like to see music therapists in conservatory roles, not to police relationships, but as informed mediators that hold that relationship accountable in a way that is supportive to the student and teacher’s growth.OCD is characterized by intrusive thoughts (obsessions) and repetitive behaviors (compulsions) aimed at reducing distress. These rituals can dominate a person’s life, often consuming an hour or more daily. While compulsions may provide short-term relief, they reinforce anxiety long term (Comer, 2022). In artistic training, this can take shape as perfectionistic habits—over-practicing, obsessive editing, or compulsive comparison and obtrusive thoughts—that begin to interrupt healthy development and self-trust. Hours alone in a practice room does not make perfect, and for an individual with GAD, PTSD, or OCD, this environment, if left unchecked, can encourage isolationism and distorted perceptions of experience. Imagine a music therapist role who could check in weekly, not to impose, but simply offer 15-30 minute check ins. How might the efficacy of practice time and enjoyment improve? If there was a positive correlation, would that influential pattern be reflected in increased job security in the fields of the arts? I wonder.Panic Disorder involves sudden and intense episodes of fear that reach a peak within minutes, accompanied by physical symptoms like rapid heartbeat, dizziness, and shortness of breath. These can be cued or or without a cue, or stimulus, and often lead to avoidance behaviors (Comer, 2022). Reflecting on my own experience as a conservatory freshman, I now recognize that what I interpreted as personal weakness was likely untreated panic disorder, triggered by unsupportive faculty interactions and the pressure to perform under constant evaluation. Weeks went by where I would be mentally counting constantly from 1-10 like a bodhisattva to keep a feeling of being grounded, and to ward off panic attacks. When I confided in an instructor I was experiencing daily panic attacks, where I needed support and therapeutic guidance, I was met with dismissiveness and a pressure that taught me I wasn’t enough and didn’t belong or deserve to make music if I couldn’t keep my anxiety in check. I can only imagine how an informed musician trained in therapy could have helped me in that moment.PTSD develops after exposure to a traumatic event and includes re-experiencing, avoidance, negative mood shifts, and hyperarousal. In conservatories, students may be subjected to emotionally intense environments where humiliation is used as a motivational tool. I was once required to perform a concerto I had not memorized, after being scolded in front of my peers by a teacher who had insisted they attend my lesson. This weekly cycle of critique and exposure can lead to symptoms akin to PTSD, especially when compounded over time.While each condition has its own criteria and treatment approaches, the lines blur in real life, particularly under chronic stress. What begins as GAD can evolve into PTSD when environments repeatedly activate fear, diminish autonomy, and reward a romantic idea of resilience over healing. Music institutions must reckon with how scarcity culture and performance pressure can harm developing artists. Integrating trauma-informed supports—such as on-site music therapists—could create healthier, more sustainable models for creative growth.Reference
Comer, R. J. (2022). Abnormal psychology (11th ed.). Worth Publishers.
Artist Insight:
When Rage Creeps In: A Guide for the Overholding Caregiver
7/4/2025
Where Do You Go?
A reflection on trauma, memory, and music education
7/10/2025
By Anaglog
“Where do you go?”
That’s all my teacher asked me—always after a memory slip in performance. I remember one time, during a masterclass, she stood up to leave the room the moment I faltered. She paused, realizing I saw her, and reluctantly sat back down. Later, she looked me in the eye, said nothing else, just, “Where do you go?” Then she turned and walked away.
At the time, I didn’t have the language to answer. All I had was shame. I felt exposed, confused, and completely alone.
Now I understand what was happening.
I’ve learned how PTSD alters brain function—how the amygdala becomes hyperactive, how the hippocampus struggles to consolidate memory under threat. When you’ve lived through trauma, your nervous system doesn’t always give you access to memory in high-stakes moments. It’s not a lack of preparation. It’s survival mode. And performance, especially in elite institutions where your identity is wrapped in your craft, can feel like a threat to your very being.
So where did I go? I went to the part of my brain that knows how to protect me. I went into defense, into freeze. I didn’t have the tools or the support to recognize that yet. All I knew was that I had failed in front of someone who was supposed to help me. And her only question—delivered not with curiosity but with disappointment—cut deeper than silence.
That performance marked me. It stayed in my body. I developed a fever shortly after, my first serious illness in over two decades. I believe now that it was grief—grief over the shame, the loneliness, and the sense that maybe I wasn’t built for this life, even though music was the one place I thought I belonged.
But I did belong, and still do.
I just needed support, not shame. Tools, not tests. Someone to ask, “How can I help you return?” instead of “Why did you leave?”
Now I can name what I couldn’t then.
Where did I go? I went into survival.
Where am I now? I’m here—with language, reflection, music, and hard-won resilience.
This post is for anyone who’s ever felt misunderstood in the spaces that were supposed to shape them. It’s for the artists who show up every day with more than their craft—they show up with histories that live in the body and brain, histories that deserve gentleness.
If you’ve ever had your struggle mistaken for weakness, know this: survival is not a flaw in your artistry. It’s a source of strength. And it’s okay to demand environments where your whole self can be held, not just your performance.
Amazing Grace and the Inheritance of Silence:
A reflection on intergenerational trauma, voice, and reclaiming sound
by Anaglog
7/10/025
When I was a child, there was this running joke in my family: no matter what instrument we learned, the first song we were taught was always Amazing Grace.We grew up Irish in America, so that tune didn’t completely historically resonate. But it held an odd kind of weight in our house—not because of the melody or content itself, but because of how much it drove my mother absolutely bonkers. I never understood why. It was always the first tune we learned on an instrument (sometimes learning an instrument just to play that tune). Anytime one of us played it, she’d get visibly agitated, even angry. Sometimes, she’d have to physically leave the room.It wasn’t until much later that I began to understand.My mother’s reactions were never just about Amazing Grace. They were about grief, about erasure, about being silenced long before she ever became a mother. I grew up in a household where it wasn’t really safe to sing—where the risk of being heard and judged far outweighed any potential joy. My mom used to talk about how she once wanted to be a singer, or a dancer. She’d say cigarettes ruined her voice, but that’s not the truth. Plenty of singers smoke. What really silenced her was something much older: her trauma, inherited and reinforced by generations of fear and control.My mother was one of ten children growing up in Dublin, shaped by the shadows of the Troubles, raised by parents who were carrying wounds of their own. Her father, involved with the IRA, passed his pain on to her mother, and her mother—through silence, through criticism—passed it on to my mom.And so, she escaped. She dreamed of moving to the United States, to have control, to survive.But survival has its costs.As I’ve started reclaiming my own voice—especially in the context of preparing music therapy sessions for children and autistic clients—I’ve begun to understand how deeply that silence shaped me too. Even now, I can feel my voice getting stuck in my throat, not because I don’t know the notes, but because there’s still fear. Fear that it’s not okay to be heard. Fear that someone will judge me or shut me down before I even begin, or worse, that my voice would somehow cause real violence to another.And yet, slowly, I’ve been trying to give myself permission to sing. To hum. But also to make noise just because I can—because it feels good and is good for me. But also because if I don’t help myself access my voice, I will fall short in being able to help others access theirs in session.Recently, I shared this realization with my mom. I told her how I’ve struggled to let my voice move freely, how hard it is to trust that I can fill space with sound without being punished for it. And I sang for her. Nothing fancy—just “We Are the Dinosaurs” by Laurie Berkner–a children’s tune. But I sang it on pitch. No one fainted. The world didn’t stop. And to my surprise, she really listened.She used to do that—listen. When I was first learning the viola, she sat through years of scratchy, awkward practice. I don’t know how she did it, but she did. That’s a kind of love too—a kind of endurance born out of resilience. It took everything in her to support what she couldn’t allow in herself.And then she told me something I hadn’t known until now.The reason she hates Amazing Grace isn’t because of something tragic that happened while it was playing. It’s simpler—and maybe more devastating. When she was a little girl learning that song in school, she tried to sing it for her mother. Every time, her mother refused to listen. She didn’t say, “Be quiet.” She just wouldn’t hear her.That refusal wounded my mother deeply. It taught her, implicitly, that her voice wasn’t worthy of being heard. That she was too much. Not good enough. And that wound got passed down, not out of cruelty, but out of habit. Out of pain. Out of conditioning.And so it continues. My sister, even now, is embarrassed to sing—though I know she wants to. My brother once wanted to act, to be on Broadway, but he can barely sing out loud. It’s not that we can’t—it’s that we were taught it wasn’t safe. That silence was survival.And this, too, is an Irish trauma. Not often named, especially in families like ours, where the accent may fade but the emotional code lingers. A shame around taking up space. A guilt around being too good, too loud, too much. It’s the same dynamic you see in Norway’s “Law of Jante.” The belief that if you shine, if you are seen, you must immediately shrink yourself.But I’m learning to unlearn that.Reclaiming my voice—whether through a song, a hum, or just a lip trill in the morning—is an act of self-affirmation. It’s also an act of healing. I’m learning that my voice is not a threat. That it is not too much. That it’s allowed to exist, to sound, to move through space.This matters—not just for me, but for every musician, every therapist, every person who is trying to work through their own inherited silences. Reclaiming your voice isn’t just about singing or speaking. It’s about making peace with the parts of yourself that were once too scared to be seen.And so, if Amazing Grace taught me anything, it’s that the songs we inherit sometimes carry wounds. But they also carry the potential to be rewritten. To be re-sung. To be ours.
The Therapist for Musicians: A Closer Look at the Relationship Between Musicians and the Music They Make
by Sean Mulligan, MTI
(9/9/2025)
Abstract
Performance anxiety is a persistent challenge in classical music—often exacerbated by the pressure to replicate pre-written scores precisely. Emerging studies suggest that improvisation can reduce anxiety and support greater expressive freedom. This proof-of-concept argues that improvisation should be integrated into classical pedagogy—not only to cultivate musicianship but to foster self-trust, presence, and adaptability. Evidence from music therapy research, including Youngshin Kim (2008) and Robert Allen (2011), demonstrates the potential for improvisational practices to function as “therapists” for musicians navigating uncertainty and emotional pressure.Classical musicians often train as technicians—mastering precision and accuracy—yet find themselves under-equipped when facing blank pages, unexpected circumstances, or self-generated creative demand. This disjunction can lead to performance anxiety, self-doubt, and a lack of artistic agency. Improvisation offers a counterbalance: permission to experiment, fail, and adapt in real time. It cultivates improvisational confidence and may serve as a tool for emotional resilience and creativity.Improvisation-Assisted Desensitization
Kim (2008) conducted a study investigating two music therapy interventions—improvisation-assisted desensitization and progressive muscle relaxation with imagery—on alleviating music performance anxiety (MPA) in pianists. Thirty female college pianists participated in six weekly sessions and were assessed via Spielberger’s State-Trait Anxiety Inventory (STAI), visual analogue scales, and physiological markers such as finger temperature. The study found statistically significant reductions in tension and trait anxiety within the improvisation group, alongside increases in finger temperature—indicative of decreased sympathetic arousal.Free Improvisation vs. Repertoire Performance Anxiety
Allen (2011) compared anxiety levels in young piano students performing free improvisation versus pre-composed repertoire. Using measures such as the STAIC and the Musical Anxiety Report Scale (MARS), the study found that improvisation significantly reduced performance anxiety compared to performing standard pieces, supporting the use of improvisation as a therapeutic intervention for anxiety in performance contexts.These findings suggest that improvisation serves not only as a musical skill but as a mechanism for emotion regulation and confidence-building.Pedagogical Proposal: Improvisation as Core CurriculumBased on these findings, I propose introducing mandatory improvisation labs across classical music curricula. Such curricular shifts could include:• Weekly improvisation workshops as part of performance classes, focusing on emotional expression, response to unpredictability, and anxiety exposure in low-stakes environments.• Integration of improvisatory assignments within applied lessons—requiring students to invent melodic or harmonic material rather than only playing notated scores.• Reflective practice sessions where students journal about their emotional responses to improvisation, tracking changes in anxiety, presence, and musical self-perception.Such integration would not merely enhance technical versatility; it would directly nurture authenticity, self-trust, and creative agency—qualities essential to transforming students from performers into artists.Improvisation can act as a “therapist for musicians,” offering a structured mode for confronting uncertainty, reducing performance anxiety, and building inner resilience. The empirical evidence from Kim (2008) and Allen (2011) underscores its therapeutic and pedagogical value.
Embedding improvisation into classical training could empower musicians to navigate blank pages—not as paralyzing voids, but as invitations to their own voice.***
ReferencesAllen, R. (2011). Free improvisation and performance anxiety among piano students. Psychology of Music, 41(1), 75–88. https://doi.org/10.1177/0305735611415750 Kim, Y. (2008). The effect of improvisation-assisted desensitization, and music-assisted progressive muscle relaxation and imagery on reducing pianists’ music performance anxiety. Journal of Music Therapy, 45(2), 165–191. https://doi.org/10.1093/jmt/45.2.165 
Improvised Co-Regulation
and Trauma-Informed Pedagogy:
Toward Collaborative, Co-Facilitated Models in Post-Secondary Music Conservatories
Sean Mulligan, MTI
November 9, 2025Introduction
The traditional music conservatory model has long been revered for its ability to produce technically skilled musicians capable of performing with precision and artistic excellence. However, its hierarchical, evaluative, and competitive culture has also perpetuated patterns of stress, perfectionism, and disconnection from community engagement (Bradley & Hess, 2019; Kimber & Swift, 2021). As societal and professional contexts evolve, conservatories face increasing pressure to adopt pedagogies that prioritize relevance, inclusivity, and holistic well-being (Gouk & Springgay, 2023).
For students with trauma histories–including those navigating the dynamic complex of performance anxiety, emotional neglect, and institutional power structures–traditional conservatory training can reinforce cycles of dysregulation and creative paralysis rather than nurture authentic artistry. Having personally survived such environments, I have witnessed how musical identity, initially a source of safety and autonomy, can become entangled with self-criticism and fear under conditions of chronic evaluative stress.
In contrast, trauma-informed and improvisation-based pedagogies emphasize emotional safety, co-regulation, and creative agency. These frameworks invite learners to engage in music-making as a relational process, positioning improvisation as both a therapeutic and educational practice. This literature review examines the growing body of scholarship supporting integrative models that merge improvisation, co-regulation, and trauma-informed principles within post-secondary music education. The review moves from a broad critique of conservatory culture to the specific theoretical and empirical foundations underpinning a relational, inclusive, and culturally responsive reimagining of musical training.The Changing Role of the Music Conservatory
Historically, conservatories were established to cultivate elite performers for professional orchestras and opera houses. Training emphasized technical mastery, obedience to authority, and adherence to Western classical standards of excellence (Bradley & Hess, 2019). These traditions–though occasionally effective in producing virtuosity–have often relied on neglecting the social and emotional needs of students, their providers, and as a result, audiences, in turn reinforcing perfectionism and power imbalances that can mirror broader societal hierarchies.
Recent scholarship challenges this paradigm. Kimber and Swift (2021) argue that post-secondary music education must evolve beyond its “product-oriented” ethos toward one that values process, reflection, and relationship. Similarly, Gouk and Springgay (2023) in Sound Pedagogy: Radical Music Education in the American Context call for “radical care” and “sound as social practice,” emphasizing the need for pedagogies that connect musical learning to community well-being and social justice.
In contemporary contexts, musicians increasingly work across interdisciplinary and community-based fields, including clinical and clinically-adjacent environments, such as through social work, education, and participatory arts. These professional realities require adaptive, relational, and culturally competent skill sets. Integrating trauma-informed and improvisation-based pedagogies within conservatories then aligns not only with student wellness but also with employability and societal relevance.
Trauma and the Conservatory Environment
The psychological and somatic impact of trauma in conservatory education is well-documented yet often underacknowledged. Bradley and Hess (2019) describe conservatories as “haunted” spaces where students internalize fear, self-doubt, and conditional worth through cycles of evaluation and comparison. High-stakes juries, authoritarian instruction, and public critique can retraumatize students with histories of emotional or physical neglect. For others, these practices may create new forms of trauma rooted in performance-related anxiety and identity fragmentation.
Beach (2023) highlights that when trauma is unaddressed, it impairs emotional regulation, creativity, and a sense of belonging; elements fundamental to musical expression. This aligns with van der Kolk’s (2014) foundational work in trauma studies, which explains how dysregulation limits access to play and spontaneous expression, both essential for learning and relational connection.
Trauma-informed pedagogy seeks to address these barriers by fostering environments of predictability, safety, and choice. Kimber and Swift (2021) emphasize that such frameworks are not about performing therapy in the classroom but about recognizing emotional processes as inherent to learning. They advocate for co-authorship between teachers and students, where educators act as facilitators who scaffold exploration while maintaining emotional safety. For students with trauma, this shift can be transformative. It allows them to re-engage with music not as a site of judgment but as a resource for regulation, identity formation, and empowerment. In my own conservatory experience, I often longed for teachers who could recognize my dissociative withdrawal not as laziness but as a symptom of overwhelm. Trauma-informed models give language and legitimacy to those unseen experiences, offering tools for both students and educators to reestablish trust in the learning relationship.Theoretical Foundations: Kenny’s Ecological Model of Play
Kenny’s (2014) Field of Play provides a vital theoretical foundation for understanding improvisation and co-regulation within musical learning. Drawing from ecological and phenomenological frameworks, Kenny conceptualizes music as a relational field in which all participants–students, teachers, and the music itself–interact dynamically. Within this field, safety and attunement form the conditions for “play,” a process through which creativity, healing, and learning emerge spontaneously.
This model mirrors trauma-informed theory, emphasizing responsiveness, containment, and shared presence. In conservatory contexts, the ecological model reframes instruction as co-created exploration rather than hierarchical transmission. It also underscores the embodied dimension of somatic musical learning: how breath, rhythm, and tone serve as vehicles for regulation and connection.
Kenny’s approach provides a theoretical bridge between music therapy and education, demonstrating how improvisation can function as both a pedagogical and healing modality. In essence, it reclaims the conservatory classroom as a potential “field of play,” a space where relational safety allows for genuine risk-taking, emotional expression, and creative autonomy.Improvisation as a Vehicle for Co-Regulation and Professional Relevance
Improvisation offers one concrete pathway for integrating trauma-informed and relational learning within conservatory curricula. Rather than focusing solely on accuracy and replication, improvisation prioritizes adaptability, listening, and responsiveness. These skills are essential not only for musical creativity but also for professional collaboration across diverse settings (Kenny, 2014; Bradley & Hess, 2019).
Kimber and Swift (2021) note that improvisation naturally cultivates co-regulation: the capacity to adjust one’s affective and expressive state in response to others. When students improvise together, they practice empathy, synchronization, and nonverbal communication. These are the same mechanisms underlying therapeutic attunement, and this connection makes improvisation uniquely suited to bridge the gap between artistic training and emotional development.
Moreover, improvisation repositions musicians as facilitators of connection and cultural dialogue rather than isolated performers. It restores a communal dimension to music-making that modern conservatory culture often suppresses. In this sense, improvisation not only supports trauma recovery but also redefines musicianship as socially vital work.Cultural Responsiveness and Co-Regulation Across Contexts
Trauma and identity cannot be disentangled from culture. Kang (2025a, 2025b) explores how musicians navigate multiple cultural traditions through code-switching and adaptive learning, emphasizing the importance of maintaining cultural integrity amid cross-genre experimentation. For students from marginalized or immigrant backgrounds, improvisation and co-facilitation can reduce cultural hierarchies by creating space for diverse modes of expression.
Kang and Lee (2025) further demonstrate that culturally responsive teaching enhances psychological safety by validating students’ lived experiences and musical heritages. When educators and therapists collaborate to design inclusive improvisation sessions, co-regulation becomes both emotional and cultural: students feel seen, heard, and empowered to contribute from their authentic perspectives.
This relational inclusivity aligns with trauma-informed care’s emphasis on empowerment, trust, and collaboration. Together, cultural responsiveness and co-regulation cultivate belonging–the antidote to the alienation many conservatory students experience. As someone who once felt “too emotional” or “too expressive” for classical performance norms, I recognize how such frameworks could have transformed my educational trajectory.Motivation, Enjoyment, and Autonomy as Pathways to Lifelong Musicianship
Beyond healing, trauma-informed and improvisation-based pedagogies foster intrinsic motivation–the joy of music-making for its own sake. Kang (2016, 2025) identifies curiosity, enjoyment, and self-direction as central to sustained engagement and creative persistence. When students are encouraged to explore sound through play rather than evaluation, they develop a sense of ownership and curiosity that endures beyond formal education.
Improvisation reinforces these qualities by allowing musicians to act as co-authors of their artistic experiences. In trauma-informed environments, this autonomy counteracts the learned helplessness and perfectionistic control that often characterize conservatory stress. Play becomes a vehicle for reclaiming agency.
Research suggests that such environments not only enhance learning outcomes but also contribute to long-term artistic sustainability. Students who experience safety, belonging, and intrinsic motivation are more likely to pursue meaningful, adaptive careers across education, therapy, and community arts (Kimber & Swift, 2021; Gouk & Springgay, 2023).Institutional Integration: Linking Wellness, Pedagogy, and Professional Viability
While individual instructors can model trauma-informed and improvisational practices, systemic change within conservatories requires institutional support. Beach (2023) emphasizes that access to trauma-informed training among music educators remains limited. Faculty development programs must therefore include training in emotional attunement, co-regulation, and culturally responsive facilitation.
Kimber and Swift (2021) argue that institutional wellness initiatives often remain separate from curriculum design, creating a divide between “care” and “training.” Embedding trauma-informed and co-regulated improvisation across courses–such as studio lessons, ensemble rehearsals, and pedagogy classes–can help dissolve this binary.
Gouk and Springgay’s (2023) notion of “radical care” underscores the societal value of such reform. When conservatories model relational and inclusive practices, they not only support student well-being but also expand the professional scope of musicianship. Graduates emerge better prepared for diverse roles: community engagement, therapeutic collaboration, interdisciplinary creation, and cultural leadership.
For institutions, this alignment enhances public relevance and sustainability. For students, it restores the possibility of music as a lifelong companion rather than a site of pain or exclusion.Conclusion
Integrating improvisation, co-regulation, and trauma-informed pedagogy in post-secondary conservatories represents more than a wellness initiative–it signals a paradigm shift in how musical learning is understood. By centering safety, play, and relationality, this model transforms conservatories from performance factories into spaces of genuine human growth.
Improvisation becomes a living practice of regulation and resilience. Co-regulation, when supported by cultural responsiveness, transforms the teacher-student dynamic into a collaborative field of mutual learning. Together, these approaches redefine musicianship as both personally and socially vital work.
As a survivor of conservatory culture, I view these frameworks not as abstractions but as necessities. They point toward an education system that values wholeness over perfection, relationship over hierarchy, and creativity over compliance. Future research, particularly co-facilitated studies involving music therapists and educators, should examine how these pedagogies influence student well-being, artistic authenticity, and professional sustainability.
Ultimately, by restoring music’s capacity to heal, connect, and empower, trauma-informed and improvisatory practices can reimagine conservatory training as a living art of care; one that honors both the individual and the community through sound.References
Aigen, K. (2014). The study of music therapy: Current issues and concepts. Routledge.
Beach, C. (2023). An exploration of accessibility to trauma-focused education and knowledge among music therapists. Music Therapy Perspectives, 41(2), 135–143. https://doi.org/10.1093/mtp/miad005
Bradley, R., & Hess, J. (2019). Haunted melodies: Music, trauma, and the classroom. Routledge.
Bruscia, K. (2014). Defining music therapy (3rd ed.). Barcelona Publishers.
Gouk, P., & Springgay, S. (Eds.). (2023). Sound pedagogy: Radical music education in the American context. University of Illinois Press.
Kang, S. (2016). Using enjoyment and exploration to guide students’ instrument selection: Development of a motivation to learn a musical instrument scale. In T. S. Brophy, J. Marlatt, & G. K. Ritcher (Eds.), Connecting practice, measurement, and evaluation: Selected papers from the 5th International Symposium on Assessment in Music Education (pp. 251–260). GIA Publications.
Kang, S. (2025a). Adaptations, code-switching, and novelty with cultural integrity: Musicians performing and learning musical instruments in different musical traditions. Journal of Research in Music Education, 73(1), 3–23. https://doi.org/10.1177/00224294251317170
Kang, S. M. (2025b). Between the piano and the gayageum: From reversal to empowerment. In C. Cayari, J. D. Thompson, & R. S. Rajan (Eds.), If colors could be heard: Narratives about racial identity in music education (Ch. 4). Intellect Books.
Kang, S., & Lee, J. W. (2025). Supporting immigrant, intercountry adopted, and refugee students in music classrooms with culturally relevant and responsive approaches. Music Educators Journal, 111(4), 65–72. https://doi.org/10.1177/00274321251332298
Kenny, C. (2014). The field of play: An ecology of being in music therapy. Voices: A World Forum for Music Therapy, 14(1). https://doi.org/10.15845/voices.v14i1.737
Kimber, M., & Swift, A. (2021). Trauma-informed pedagogy and the post-secondary music class. Routledge.
van der Kolk, B. (2014). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of trauma. Viking.