What is our job as performers? As musicians? As educators?
Often, I think that the musician must play all three roles; as performer, educator and as steps in a re-creative force. And quite often, I think this tripartite division can cause some (rather painful) conflict.
We’ve all heard of the failed-artist/researcher-turned educator or the tyrannical [usually caricatured as Eastern European] piano teacher, parodied here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WOQaK7NHY-4
Remember the adage “Those who can’t, teach”? Those guys. The people I’m calling to your minds are unfortunate examples of what can sometimes happen when a person not trained in pedagogy must moonlight as educator.
Before you send hate mail, of course there have been successful, useful artist-turned-teachers, or artists/teachers, but we don’t need to talk about them. Those rare and wonderful people take no part in the reason why when I ask a person who formerly played an instrument as a child why they stopped, 7 out of 10 times they tell me it was because they hated their teacher because s/he was mean. Why would a teacher be mean? Why would a student think a teacher was being mean? (This isn’t just piano teaching we’re talking about now.)
I can’t be sure how much of that “meanness” is actually misdirected bitterness at personal failure. There is just as good a chance that it is the simple result of impatience (justified or not) on the behalf of the teacher and poor communication with the student. I’m willing to guess though, that poor communication is the more insidious crippling agent.
Last night one of my students was on the brink of tears because she couldn’t put her hands together. We were working on a basic piano solo, and she could play the left and right hands separately, but couldn’t reliably play both hands at the same time, no matter how slowly she tried. She expressed concern that she knew how “easy” the song was, but just couldn’t do it. Now I know this student’s background, and she has been [admittedly] successful in practically every aspect of her adult life, but this night, her struggles with fine motor coordination were threatening to get the best of her. I could see it in her eyes–the tell-tale eye rubbing, cracking voice, reddened nose the flushed cheeks–everything about her was expressing frustration in the most personally painful sort of way.
I could have told her that she should practice more. Sure, I could have done that. I could have said “toughen up”, slapped her on the back, brushed her aside, played the passage perfectly and said “do likewise”. To a fellow musician, doing that would have been a bit brusk and might have been viewed as unhelpful or arrogant, but to a student, even to an adult over 50, that would have been cruel. As an educator, it is my job to help the student. If the student’s ego takes a bruising from time to time over the course of learning, that’s the breaks, but it is also my job to rescue the student when s/he needs it. The sherpa doesn’t carry you up the mountain. He guides you, sometimes letting you make your own mistakes and helps you to learn from them. He however, should not let you fall to your [in this case, spiritual or emotional] death. Students are allowed to be frustrated, but nowhere does it say that I have to be oblivious to their frustration.
I think one big reason for difficulty in the transition from being a musician to being a teacher is because while effective teaching is an extroverted activity, success at research and/or artistry demands great powers of introversion. Teachers must direct focus to the student and all ares of the student’s progress–while maintaining the interest of the student–not just the music (or the subject at hand). Teachers don’t necessarily have to be entertainers, but it is the responsibility of the teacher to ensure learning takes place. Standing or sitting down and “teaching” a lesson, not caring or attempting to ensure the student understands; That is not education. That is useless.)
I think when we as musicians forget that we are teachers we get into trouble. For example, when we say to a student, “try this,” and then demonstrate it, and the student doesn’t understand it, or isn’t able to reproduce it, we don’t have room for getting frustrated like we might with a fellow musician. Fallacies in technique and wrong notes are [perhaps] unforgivable with other musicians, but are to be expected with the student.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ZP199_rXLo (anywhere from 4:15 onward)
(I’m sure some of you are getting tired of me picking on our boy Volodya. Too bad. I do so because he effectively illustrates a lot of things. Besides, he would have enjoyed the attention.)
When I walk into a lesson, I expect to hear wrong notes and mistakes with students. With the more experienced students, I expect to hear inconsistencies, stylistic incongruities, “dropped balls”. That’s fine. That’s what we’re here for. We forgive those things when the professionals do them because they’re humans, and we as humans find human error interesting. When we teach, we have to forgive those things because they mayn’t know any better.

