Once upon a time, I went to school with two violinists. Let’s call them Ernie and Bert. (Their real names were far more boring!) Ernie entered Conservatory as the most talented violinist in his freshman class. He won first chair in the freshman orchestra, and all the other violinists wanted to be like him. Bert entered Conservatory toward the back of the back. His natural gifts were not as extensive, and though he’d been called “talented” at home, no one called him that once he got to school.

By senior year, Bert was leading the orchestra.

Ernie had drifted to the back of the string section.

What happened?

Well, for one thing, Ernie smoked a whole lot of weed and started skipping class. But Bert also had a secret weapon, one no college entrance exam or audition had revealed

Bert had what’s called a “growth mindset.” He believed wholeheartedly that, with the intelligent application of effort, he could grow his abilities. His talent was not his destiny.

If you’ve set foot in a classroom in the last ten years, you’ve heard the term “growth mindset.” Based on the work of Psychologist Carol Dweck, the terms “growth mindset” and “fixed miindset” have become big-time educational buzzwords.

So what the heck are they?

Even though Dweck specifically warns us against the oversimplification of her research, I will attempt to summarize! Those who employ growth mindset believe that their talents abilities can be developed through sustained, engaged, and intelligent effort. Whereas those who employ a fixed mindset believe that their talents and abilities are innate.

Guess who achieves more? Turns out if you believe you can improve your abilities, you’re much more likely to work at doing just that.

Alas, classical music, like a many art forms, has a fixed mindset problem. As children, budding classical musicians win praise for their innate ability. They are singled out as “musical” or “talented” or “a natural.” They play music by composers who are also revered for their “gifts.”

And so, like Ernie, many of them begin to develop a sense of their art as something inborn, and their training as a means of polishing their natural abilities.

This is compounded by an early-and-often emphasis on performance, which very clearly prioritizes results over effort. “It was a nice try,” says no one at the end of a symphony concert, ever.

All of this can conspire to make classical music a milieu where effort, especially deliberate and intelligent effort, is seen as something incidental, perhaps even a little bit shameful.

And that, as Bert shows us, is a pity!

As a teacher and as a player I’ve worked very, very hard to counter this trend and cultivate a growth mindset in myself and my students.

It’s been a complex and multi-faceted process, and it is very much still ongoing. But one important element of it is that I now try to respond not only to a student’s in-the-moment playing, but to how much and what kind of effort I perceive behind that playing.

“I hear the work you put into that tricky passage,” I’ll say. Or, “I can hear that you practiced with the metronome!” “Sounds like you put in some great practice on legato– can you tell me what you did during your practice sessions?”

Similarly, if a student tells me something that reveals a find mindset in a certain area, I work to help them change it. For example, if a student says “I’m terrible with rhythm,” I help them to begin to perceive rhythm as a constellation of skills, each of which may need to be specifically practiced.

I’m not sure I always succeed in fostering growth mindset in my students (or in myself!), but I keep trying. Because sustained, intelligent effort over time is incredibly powerful!

So be like Bert! And the next time you catch yourself falling into a Fixed Mindset, take a deep breath and refocus on your capacity to grow.