I have posted a lot about filling in what is missing from our student’s backgrounds, but, this week I got to thinking about our own gaps, crevices, and canyons. We all have them whether we want to admit it or not.

As a clinician, I often have teachers proudly tell me, “I only teach up to level _____.” They obviously feel virtuous in sticking to their level of expertise. Certainly this shows both good sense and that they care about their students. Some of these teachers are just starting out. However, a surprising number are long time teachers who have chosen to deal with the gaps in their background by sticking with what they know. That is not to say that they are not creative caring professionals—just professionals who, often in their words, know their limits. Yet, are those limits actual and real?

As a Masters student, my teacher made me promise to only teach elementary students. I eventually almost quit playing and teaching entirely. I began to find myself when a new student’s father requested that I join the local music teachers association so that his son could continue in their yearly evaluation program. Yes, you guessed it, my teacher didn’t approve of the local MTA and said they were, ”just a bunch of ladies drinking tea and wine.”

Within the MTA I found my balance as a person, teacher, and pianist and I began to study again. Eventually, I went back to school and earned my PhD and discovered that I had and have much to give—and not just at the elementary level either.

Everybody needs to find their own teaching style. I think this starts with finding the pianist inside—the playing you. It is just plain impossible for a teacher to prepare a student for a successful transition to a higher level if that teacher has not personally experienced what it means to play well at that higher level.

Students experience great frustration if they suddenly need to change a bunch of things at once due to having hit the proverbial musical wall. I become irritated by lists of the order in which pieces should be taught, mostly because if you haven’t experienced playing at the level(s) of the pieces on the list, you don’t know what to build upon—you don’t know why. Such lists are only helpful if you have experienced the musical, aural, and technical demands of such pieces and risen above them. Lists cannot substitute for experience period.

We need to push our limits constantly in order to grow. We need to conquer pieces artistically, whatever our chosen genre. Pushing and learning and growing as pianists allows us to make unexpected connections and rise to and above teaching challenges.

I also think that performance of some type is integral to this pushing and learning and growing. You never really know a piece until you have played it for others—until you have shared it joyfully with other human beings.

Do I still have gaps, crevices, and canyons? Of course. Everyone does. The trick is not to treat them as walls but to go to the edge and look out—perhaps to even go down inside and test their limits.

 

 

 

Share