When Ron steps to the front of his classes, he does so with the conviction that, while the classes he teaches might be called "electives," they are as important as the so-called "core" classes. Ron sees music as nonverbal language. He thinks music teaches cooperation, teamwork and discipline, and that students learn history through music in a way that gives a context and a fullness to the names and dates they read about in history class. In class, they learn about jazz and klezmer from visiting groups, Mozart’s time period from the movie "Amadeus," and New Orleans funeral traditions from a song the advanced band plays.

He encourages learning outside the classroom as well. A couple of days a week, Ron starts class with the question: "Okay, who went to a concert last night?" This time, a few hands shoot up. Ron asks a boy, "Which concert did you go to?" The boy, a little overexcited, stammers at the beginning of his story.

"I saw my friend’s brother play violin last night," he says. Ron nods; he was at the concert too. Ron says, "Yeah, he did a really great job." Here’s where the bag of Tootsie Rolls comes in. Ron throws the boy a Tootsie Roll out of a big bag that’s always in front of the room. A few other kids tell Ron which concerts they went to, and the Tootsie Rolls fly. The candy spins high in the air, and the kids snag it mid-flight. They’ve had lots of practice.

"These are not for now, Ron adds.. "They’re for after class." Then he pauses, and gives them the stare. "And I don’t want to see any wrappers on the floor!"

Another day, a dance troupe is in town, and Ron asks if anyone has seen it. No hands. Ron goes on, "If you get the chance, you’ve really got to see it. The things these dancers were doing were just amazing." Ron looks out over the rows. The percussionists in the back, all boys, have glazed, far away expressions. One boy seems to have hypnotized himself by spinning a drum stick in his fingers.

"Even you guys who might think that dance isn’t for you, I’m telling you, it was great. Everyone would like it."

After class, Ron is sorting through a stack of sheet music looking for a flute part. Some of the sheet music has folded corners or tears. A music part or two is written out entirely by hand. He finds the piece of music he’s looking for and notices some writing on it. It says something "Ron." He takes a closer look. Kids will sometimes write things like "Ron sucks," but he learned long ago not to let that bother him. He says he doesn’t care much about whether the kids like him or not. He just wants them to think he is fair—that both punishment and praise fit the act that prompted it. This time, the writing turns out to be a dutifully scrawled "watch Ron," serving as a reminder to the student to pay attention to Ron’s conducting. He separates the sheet music from the stack and carries it over to his stand.

Ron teaches music to sixth, seventh and eighth graders, taking many of them from first note ever to reasonably difficult concert pieces. First on his schedule at the middle school is the intermediate band, or Band II, which typically plays short musical exercises and a few concert pieces.

His second class at Spencer Butte is the advanced band, or Band III. This year’s Band III is one of his favorite groups of kids ever. During the year, the class has learned an impressive twenty-five pieces of music. Many of these young musicians will be moving on to his high school classes at South Eugene High next year. He surveys the class. It’s not a bad mix of instruments. His high school groups will be in good shape.

Last class of the day is Band I, the beginning band. Ron wonders whose idea it was to put sixth grade band at the end of the day. He calls it a "real educational challenge," affectionately referring to this group of kids as the "knuckleheads." The kids in this class are alternately fidgety and spacey. He likes them, but Band III is where he gets to dig into the music with the kids.