I’m Betraying All My Principles, And I Think I Like It

Reader, the title says it all.

…

Not really, of course. Let me try to explain.

I was raised in a pretty strict family. My sister and I were homeschooled until we were 13 and 15. We weren't super religious. But no TV, extremely shielded from everyday life, careful monitoring of friends and experiences, etc. And there was definitely a sense (both articulated and implied) that there is a right way to do things, and We Do Things The Right Way In Our Family. Combine this with an anxious personality, and a lifetime of playing classical piano...well. You see where this is going. 

I started teaching when I was 14. A baby. In the beginning, I stuck firmly to such unhelpful principles as: Classical Piano Is The One True Way; Learning Visually From The Page Is The Only Kind Of Proper Learning; There Is One Way Of Playing Something Correctly.

It wasn't until my doctorate that I learned some generosity. It felt like my whole first year was spent on the dictum given by my advisor; 'you must be kind to yourself and others.' I, in my infinite wisdom, informed said advisor that I in fact didn't want to do any such thing. Thankfully, I did not win this argument. 

For me, it really wasn't until after the doctorate that I was able to find more flexibility, and more fully inhabit myself as a musician and teacher. During the degree, I wanted to be a Good Student (until the end, then I just wanted to be done). Grad school is a weird thing; you're an adult and supposed to be acting independently, except your committee also gets to choose what they think you should be knowledgeable about. So post-graduation, with the somewhat horrifying honorific of 'doctor' attached to my name, I found myself with no one to look over my shoulder and approve. Or disapprove. 

I discovered I actually didn't especially mind what repertoire my students wanted to work on, as I was much more interested in the process of teaching itself. I found when I approached teaching from as many angles as possible - aural, visual, kinesthetic - students responded with pleasure. When I let students work on only pop music, or things that were definitely 'too hard' for them, they found joy and motivation. 

Certain things were beyond the pale though. Never would I ever just...not make a student count. Nor would I play something for them first, without making them try it on their own. And teaching by rote...no. No, those things just aren't done.

Turns out, teaching exclusively online overturns everything. Not only have I been (and fortunate enough to be) teaching some of my regular studio online, I've started a few new students. One hasn't taken piano for years. One hasn't ever. How to get a student, especially one without a shared vocabulary, to understand swung eighth-notes. Or dotted notes. Or syncopation. Or almost anything rhythmic...without just playing it for them! I had been loathe to play for my students because I didn't want them blindly imitating me. It's not a bad ideal, I still stand by it. Sort of. Because it also turns out that imitation is its own kind of learning process. 

I know, I know, this is probably obvious to lots of people. But we all take our own time (as I am wont to tell my students) and willing yourself to be further along than you are is, unfortunately, wholly ineffective.

As it happens, demonstration is fun. And it makes my job a hell of a lot easier. It's not that I have stopped caring about the learning process, it's that I have come incredibly late to this whole other side of the party. I have to use my words much more, this is true. But the time lag. My god, the time lag. And the unstable internet! I can't always tell if my students are actually staying on tempo, given Zoom's preference for retaining all the sounds, then delivering them in a hurry to catch up. Demonstrating something properly, then asking the student if what they have done matches, allows for that self-analysis I'm always blathering on about.