Mark H Rooney  - "the world's most dangerous half-Japanese, half-Scottish solo improvisational taiko artist" - has been studying, teaching and performing taiko for 26 years. Traveling far and wide to both study and teach, Mark has led workshops on various styles of taiko at NATC (North American Taiko Conference), ECTC (East Coast Taiko Conference), ETC (European Taiko Conference) and TTF (Toronto Taiko Festival). He has also worked with dozens of groups, both collegiate and community, specializing in kumidaiko and healthy group culture. In both Boston and the DC area, Mark has taught thousands of students in his various classes and workshops, always working toward the mission, "taiko for all people at all levels".

Ever since starting taiko drumming at the age of 25, I fell in love with the shared drumming experience we call kumi-daiko. It spoke of course to my own heritage being half-Japanese, and also to my experiences with other kinds of performance throughout my life. But what made me most excited about taiko was the idea of sharing it with other people. So very early on in my taiko career, I dedicated myself to learning how to teach it.

Through my various experiences teaching and studying taiko in Japan and in the United States, I’ve come up with my 11-step program for good taiko practice. I’ve developed this method through a lot of trial and error over the years, and through numerous conversations with many amazing taiko pedagogues as well as teachers of other disciplines. This is by no means the only method, but it’s been a consistent one and one that I’ve found a lot of success with. I’m sharing this method with you all in hopes that you find any of it applicable to your own taiko curriculum.

But first! A few guiding principles

Before diving into the method, I think it’s important to lay out the central philosophy behind it. These are the principles that guide my teaching and that I hope to pass on to others through this framework.

3 types of connection

Kumi-daiko, as a shared drumming experience, is all about connection. This philosophy of connection is embedded throughout my teaching approach, which I tend to break down into 3 interrelated types:

1. Connection to the drum: Playing taiko involves exploring our connection to the drum—how it sounds, how it wants to be played, even the physics and physical relation to the taiko. Through this exploration we're also connecting to ourselves. It’s about understanding your body and movement in context with the drum. For some, it can even be a sort of spiritual connection between yourself and the taiko. It’s a very personal connection that each of us has whenever we approach a drum.

2. Connection to each other: This type of connection is embedded in the very idea of kumi-daiko. By drumming as an ensemble, we are inherently connecting to each other as people and taiko players. 

3. Connection to a witness: When we think about performing taiko, we typically strive to connect with an audience in sharing the art of taiko outside of the classroom. But these connections can extend beyond the typical audience to unexpected witnesses, from the person who happens to walk by your studio during a practice, to your neighbors (who may not always enjoy the connection they have to your playing). It can be any act of observation in which a third party begins to connect with you, the taiko drum, and the art of taiko practice.

As I developed in my practice of taiko, I increasingly started to explore these 3 ways that we connect. I also started to gain a deep appreciation for this connectivity within the Japanese language: this triality of koko (here), soko (there), and asoko (over there) is what we mean when we think about first-, second-, and third-person relationships. I believe that taiko is an exploration of these connections, so naturally I wanted to embed this philosophy into my teaching practice as well.

Teaching taiko through cultural context

As teachers, we have a responsibility to be informed and intentional about how we situate taiko as a Japanese cultural practice in the classroom. I believe this cultural context is just as important as considering what drills or approaches to song study we use, even though the latter is typically what we tend to emphasize when we think about classroom design. Choices such as how we open and close a class, what terminology we use to describe concepts to students, and the pedagogical tools we use: all of these play a role in helping to ensure taiko retains its Japanese roots as we continue to advance the art of taiko in Western cultural contexts. Emphasizing the transmission of taiko through kuchi shōga over Western notation is one such choice many of us make in our classrooms. Japanese practices and philosophies are woven throughout my teaching method, which I’ll try to emphasize in my explanations below.

Goal-based learning

For effective classroom design, it’s important to identify goals. Goals operate on many layers: longer-term goals for a series of classes trickle down into the goals for a specific class, and then into the goals for a specific drill or exercise. The method I lay out below is intentionally very high-level so that it can be applied to different situations. But to fill in the details of every class you’ll first want to identify these different goals as a way of orienting your teaching at the different moments I lay out in this method. 

I want to emphasize that these should be your goals, not your students’ goals. I believe students should adapt and meet you where you want them to be based on the goals you’ve outlined and communicated for the class. It’s impossible to meet everyone else’s goals, and besides that attempting to do so will lead to a less focused classroom overall. However, you should consider your students’ motivations for taking the class when designing these goals. The goals you design for a recreational class are going to be different from the goals for a community group or a performance training class.

11 steps to any taiko class

With these principles in mind, let’s dive into the 11 steps I follow in any taiko class.

1. Aisatsu
   We greet each other and acknowledge that what we’re about to do is not done alone. A central philosophy for me in taiko, which is shared in Japanese culture more broadly, is respect. Often at the beginning of class, we talk about respect for the space, for the taiko that we play on, for our teachers, for each other, and for ourselves. Acknowledging these different areas of respect as central to the taiko we practice  ensures that we are intentional in how we interact with each other and our surroundings every time we come to class. It can also be used as a general guide in connection with the world around us.

2. Mokuso
   We meditate to focus on being present in the space. Establishing presence is an effective way to maximize the limited time you have together. I’ve applied this practice of meditation from the influence of my grandfather, who was a kendo and iaidō teacher in Japan. At the beginning and end of every class, his groups participated in this moment of silent meditation to bring everyone’s focus into the space and practice. I hope to carry on that practice in the taiko community as well.

3. Establishing goals
   I then lay out the goals of the specific practice. This helps create a signpost for whether or not we accomplished what we’ve set out to do that day. Rather than a goal like “we are going to get better at taiko today,” establish more concrete and actionable goals, like cleaning up a specific section of a piece, or working on applying a specific principle to a drill students have been working on.

4. Taiso
   I guide the group through a full body warmup and stretching routine. This helps players check in with their body, which is as much a part of the instrument they play as the taiko itself..

5. Kihon
   This period of the class is all about exploring the connection to the taiko that I described above. No matter how advanced a player is, checking in on fundamentals is important for everyone’s continual progress. Typically this takes the form of either an uchikomi or drill exercise designed to focus on kata, endurance, or basic striking techniques. Students will get accustomed to what it’s like for them to connect with the drum on that given day.

6. Kumi-daiko
   Here we explore the second type of connection I described: the connection to each other. We start to explore a “duality of awareness”—both what one is doing themselves as well as its context within the larger group. I like to incorporate what I call “feedback loops” into this space. These are moments when I have students observe each other and let each other know what they’re doing well, as well as offer recommended tips on areas for improvement. I find that this helps students develop a critical eye for their own playing, as it becomes necessary for them to give feedback to others. I also find that it enhances students’ trust in each other in learning to accept feedback from a place of gratitude.

7. Song study
   Finally, we explore the third type of connection by refining our outward expression to an audience or other observer. Typically this manifests as song study, either learning a new part of a piece or honing in on an established one. We connect to others outside the studio through the repertoire we play, so this time is used for students to learn how we want to convey ourselves through this form of outward expression through song. And of course, we fall into a “triality of awareness”—what we are doing, its context in the larger group and how it’s perceived by an outside party.

8. Mokuso
   In our closing meditation, I have students reflect on the practice. I want students to explore for themselves what they noticed during the practice, what they took away, and any questions that came up for them that they want to explore further in the next class.

9. Gratitude
   We then express our gratitude to each other, showing respect for the time we spent together, the work we did, the taiko we played, and the energy shared.

10. Discussion and Logistics
    At this point, I like to hear students’ take-ways and observations from the class. What did they notice about their own playing, what improvements did they see, or what challenged them today? Sometimes, I prompt them with a question about their experience. Before ending, I typically make space for general announcements and discussion of upcoming events.

11. Soji
    Finally, we all participate in cleaning up our studio space before leaving. Again, this is about instilling a sense of respect and responsibility for the space we learn and play in.

Conclusion

It’s my hope that this framework will help you feel confident in approaching your taiko classrooms, and that some of these guiding principles of connection and cultural context will resonate with some of you. There’s of course a lot of nuance that goes into designing the details of any class, from drill design, to creating an approachable learning environment, and even bringing your own flair into the classroom. If I might offer one final piece of advice to my fellow taiko pedagogues, it would be to always be learning. Strive to become a student of teaching by observing other taiko pedagogues and talking to teachers you admire. Always seek to progress your skill alongside your students, and learn from them by taking in their feedback during your classes. Recognize the limits of your expertise, and bring in an expert to fill in any gaps and progress your own knowledge. This advancement will only enhance your creativity in teaching through this or any other method.