In a few minutes a dozen four-year-olds will be with us. I am not at all sure what we will be doing. There has been no rehearsing in any distant sense of the word.

It is a question, of course, whether children of this age should be brought before a large group of people, under conditions which might be termed artificial. There is the question of whether it is good for the children. There is also the question whether those elements which should be uppermost in the bringing of music and children together, can be retained with so many strange faces looking on.

If these children had been subjected in advance to any performance attitudes or disciplines, if they had been drilled or “taught,” I would be the first to say certainly No, let's forego whatever values might come to us from having them here.

But what I hope to do this morning is to achieve with the help of the music and the children a complete forgetting on their part of the fact that there is anyone here but themselves and me. I believe we will make that happen (and I beg you to help by refraining from audible appreciation, either through laughter or clapping). What we will do this morning will be what we would do any morning if we were at school.

At school we are too busy with ourselves and the music—with fitting the songs to our thoughts or actions, and fitting our thoughts or actions to the songs—to think much about anyone watching us. At school we are never sure what will be happening next. No two mornings are ever the same. There is a skeleton plan, of course. Thought is given to balance between active and quiet music, to consistency from day to day, to awareness of weather and the seasons in choices of songs (though if Jingle Bells is wanted in June, let's sing it). But plans are really points of departure, to be returned to when needed but often to be stretched and occasionally to be entirely ignored. If David comes up today with a new idea, we may follow David. If Peter starts kicking his feet up and down in the middle of Hush Little Baby, we may even leave the quiet song half finished and let the music pick up the insistent rhythm of Peter's feet.