Teaching in the Time of Corona
I have always prided myself on being an in-person teacher. Intensely focused on the physical. People would tell me "oh, you should move your work online, you'd reach such a bigger audience", and I'd react negatively. Too difficult. Too busy. Not my jam.
Here are some potential problems with teaching online, and these are just off the top of my head. My passion is for that most archaic of things, classical piano. I hate keyboards. I'm an introvert and thus get my energy from connecting deeply with one person at a time, which I hear is not how the internet often works. I'm tender hearted, and always stay out of the comments. I'm fascinated by the tiniest physical manipulations and how they affect changes in sound and physical ease, and how is that possible to really see/hear through an online platform? I can also do barely more than turn on my computer (true story, I couldn't find the power button on my Macbook Air when I got it). I am overwhelmed by GoogleDocs (but hey, I hear they're great!), I still pay for Dropbox because I know how it works, despite the fact that I *think* I have space...in the cloud...?
But. Forced as we all have been to the dark side of Zoom, here are some things I have learned. One. No smells. I never need to worry about the other person or myself. Of course, I tend to be better smelling these days, as I'm not going straight from the gym to teach (sorry, dear students!). Two, no undergarments necessary. The cameras aren't THAT good. Speaking of which, ever check out that 'touch up my appearance' button? Turns out, my skin never has to look anything but lovely!
For real though, I am obliged to be more patient. My students in The Before Times (to be referred from now on as TBT - it's like the original #tbt, but much more sinister) would compliment me on my patience. Mostly I would laugh and say 'oh, you know, 20 years in, I've gotten a lot better' as I'm screaming inside 'JUST FUCKING COUNT'. But the time lag in online teaching doesn't allow me to stop someone in the moment. The best I can do is a half second after the problem, which is usually entirely too late. And I'll tell you from any number of attempts, it doesn't actually matter if I try to say it louder, it still doesn't make it earlier. Side note: this is probably an excellent point to make to my students.
We hold our students in different ways. Maintaining energy through a long day of teaching is difficult, but nothing compared to sustaining it over an internet connection. The rhythm, that all-important factor of music, is shifted. Kids can’t interrupt. I can’t interrupt. I have to use my words. Why does this sound like I’m learning to grow out of toddlerhood? I’m a good teacher. I’m comfortable in what I know, and really love what I do. Teaching online is putting me in an unusual position, where I can’t rely on my eyes and ears in the same way. I can’t point to the music, I can’t physically manipulate someone’s body. I can’t catch someone in the moment. I can’t even really give them comments as they are playing. I certainly can’t help them count out loud.
One of the things I loved most about my doctoral advisor was his gentleness and forbearance when his students tried new ways of playing. I'd play something, poorly, and he'd lightly murmur 'mmhmm...why don't you try that again'..and we'd repeat this process until finally something halfway decent came out. I even specifically articulated my joy to others at the freedom this gave me. And still, it's something I've really struggled bringing into my teaching.
So okay, I allow my students to play longer, and then inquire as to whether they used the correct fingering, or had a relaxed elbow. And then they laugh and say they have no idea, and so I laugh and say they'd better do it again to check, as this format doesn't allow for me to see and hear in the same way. They're learning to self-monitor in a way I've mostly been too anxious and uptight to let them. I'm forced back into my armchair (this is a lie: I'm currently shifting between sitting on a yoga block and on the floor), forced into allowing them space to try without interruption. I’m learning to let them rely on their own ears, eyes, and kinesthetic awareness.
Takes a pandemic, I guess.