What Being a Student is Teaching Me

Recently, I’ve become a student again.

To be honest, it was not on purpose! As a working mother of two, my life was already quite full, and I wasn’t looking to add more to my plate.

But an old music school classmate of mine, a singer, was interested in taking recorder lessons, and she offered to barter lesson for lesson. And then I found that my son, who wanted to take tae kwon do, participated noticeably more if I was learning, too.

So I’m studying voice! And tae kwon do! And while it’s true that I’m a slightly better singer than when I started, and a slightly better martial artist than when I started, I think at least half the value, for me, of taking lessons has been a more direct window into the experiences of my students.

Here’s what it’s teaching (or re-teaching) me!

I Don’t Know What I Don’t Know

It’s a phenomenon I’ve observed consistently in my students, but it’s been fascinating to watch it unfolding in myself. As a learner, you are often simply not able to perceive even the outline of things you don’t know.

Here’s an example: One of the first tae kwon do moves I learned was something called high block, where you raise your arm to block a strike coming at your face. After two sessions, I thought I had it down absolutely pat! I was flawless! Brilliant, even!

After four sessions, I got clued in to the fact that the order of my movements was off. After six sessions, it dawned on me that my thumb position mattered. After eight sessions, I realized the angle of my arm needed to change. At this point I have no doubt there are more realizations ahead.

Learning is a process in which you expand not only skills, but also your perception. I compare it to flying in a plane: At first, you might see mountains and rivers and lakes. As you get closer, you begin to perceive that there are also settlements and roads. It’s only once you get even closer that you’re able to make out individual houses and vehicles.

The more you know, the more you realize how much you don’t know. How cool is that?

Cognitive Load Matters

This is something else I already knew, but it’s been valuable to feel it more viscerally.

Basically: Humans have a limited capacity for conscious engagement. If we’re wrestling with something that is taking a lot of conscious thought, we’re not going to be able to complete additional processing unless it is happening more or less automatically, below the level of conscious control.

This means that, for students, you need to consider cognitive load. Take note of what the students are able to do automatically, and try to tax them with only one additional high-load, conscious assignment at a time. And if you’re a learner, don’t try to do it all at once!

I Really Do Know What I’m Talking About

The beauty (curse?) of returning to formalized learning after having taught for a very long time is that I hear my own voice yapping away in my head. And you know what? I give some really great advice!

When I’m worried I’m backsliding, I remind myself that progress is not linear. When I’m frustrated by the pace of my improvement, I recollect that learning is a long road, and that many skills simply require the consistent investment time over time. I know that I need to practice relaxation. I know that I need to practice curiosity. I know that treating my mistakes neutrally, as data, will ultimately lead to my growth.

It’s comforting to reaffirm that most of what I’m telling my students is exactly on point. And to rediscover the joy of learning!

Why Stopping at "Does It Work?" Doesn't Work

As a teacher (of myself and others!), I am extremely interested in efficacy.

What’s efficacy? A fancy word for the vital question that marches unceasingly through the mind of anyone who is interested in the process of improvement: Does it work? If I assign a student a particular series of exercises to do to help facilitate tone production, will it work? If I assign myself a particular method of tackling a tricky passage, is it working? If I try out a particular image with a student, did it work?

Note the mix of tenses: This is a question I’m asking myself at every part of the process, before, during, and after I ask a student (or myself) to complete a task or task sequence. I think (hope!) almost all teachers do, whether consciously or not. And if you’re teaching yourself, you should do the same!

But what happens after you answer the question? If you stop at yes or no, I’d argue that you’re missing a key opportunity for reflection and growth. Because for me, each answer -yes or no- gives rise to a sequence of additional -and important!- questions.

Does it work: Yes!

You asked if it worked, and the answer is yes. Fantastic. Now you want to ask the following.

Is it working for this particular student? Sometimes as teachers we discover something that works, put it in our toolkit, and then leave it there without conducting ongoing reassessment. Not every intervention or technique is going to work for every student, and when your teaching technique is not working as it has in the past, I believe it is up to the teacher, NOT the student, to make a change. Once you write lack of progress off as your student’s fault (they aren’t practicing enough; they’re not motivated; not talented; they don’t get it, etc.), you’ve missed a HUGE opportunity for growth, and quite frankly, when I see teachers do this, it makes me sad. In my opinion, the onus remains on the teacher. Is there something you could do to help the student practice more? Is there a technique that would reach the student more effectively? What could help motivate him or her? Don’t let the fact that something generally works blind you to whether or not it is working now.

Is there a way to get the same results faster? This question is really about efficiency. Say a student plays long tones on every note of the instrument every day, and their tone improves. Terrific! But it took that student two hours, and a future student might only be able to carve out 30 minutes. Is there a more efficient way to achieve the same goals?

Will gains be maintained? Is the student able to independently and effectively monitor themselves moving forward? Can they carry the strategy forward without consistent teacher input? If not, you need to work the development of self-assessment skills into your teaching.

Does it work: No!

Curses! Things are not going well. But before you throw everything out the window, there are some important follow-up questions to ask.

Is it a dose problem? Sometimes it’s not a method issue. Sometimes, especially with a strategy that is generally successful, what you’re trying will work or is working- the student just hasn’t done enough of it AND/OR the student hasn’t done it for a long enough time span. This is particularly true when students are working on skills that typically have longer time horizons, like tone production or free ornamentation. Alas, it can be difficult, as a teacher, to assess whether the issue is dose or method. Getting an accurate picture of the student’s practice routine can help, as can increasing the dose (number of times you ask a student to complete a task each session, e.g.,) and seeing if you get a result. If you’re seeing at least some progress, there’s often a dose issue involved.

I will also add that assuming the problem is method, and not dose, is a an extraordinarily common error made by students who are teaching themselves. Many skills simply require a timescale of months or even years.

Is it a comprehension problem? Sometimes you think you’ve successful explained a concept, but the student doesn’t quite have an accurate grasp of what he or she is to do, or loses their grasp after the lesson is over. This can lead to mis-practicing, in which a student thinks he or she is practicing the assigned skill, but is in fact practicing something different, often to his or her detriment. One way to winkle out comprehension issues is for the student to restate, or “teach” you the desire concept or exercise. Recording is another useful tool. The student can record the entire lesson to refer back to. Or you can provide a short video of a particular task for reference.

Is there a constraint? If there is, you don’t want to miss it! Maybe the student is playing an Adler recorder from the 1970s, and someone’s dog chewed on it. Perhaps the student has short-term memory weakness, or arthritis, or compromised lung function. If it’s a constraint that can be removed, remove it (goodbye, Adler!) If it’s a constraint that can’t be removed, you must think about how to accommodate.

Is it a motivation issue? Sometimes a student just doesn’t see the utility of what you’re trying to do, but is reluctant to tell you so. This can come into play both with goals (e.g., you want to help the student control his uncontrolled vibrato but the student actually likes the way it sounds) or with strategies (e.g., the student doesn’t *really* believe the tone exercises you’re asking her to do are going to work). If it’s a motivation issue, you need to address it. Can you use recordings, or a discussion of tuning, to convince the student of the beauty of a clear tone? Would the student prefer to work on something else for now? Can you ask another student to talk about how similar assignments improved her playing?

What are you going to try next? If it doesn’t work, and it’s not a dose or compression or motivation issue, you have a moral imperative to move on and try to find another way of meeting your goals. What’s next?

Instead of "Don't Rush," Try This

Do you rush? Do your students?

I’m guessing that for many of you, the answer is yes. Sure, a lucky few of us seem to have been born with a metronome welded to our hearts, but most of us have a tempo tendency: we either push forward, or pull back. And of the two tendencies, rushing is far more common.

In fact, I’ll go ahead and confess: pulling forward is my own tendency, and I have worked very hard over the years to mitigate it. Which is why I know how frustrating it sometimes can be, as a learner, to be told, simply, “don’t rush.”

Sure, sometimes “don't rush” is all it takes. There are times when merely having an awareness that you’re rushing allows you to direct your attention toward playing in better time. But this generally only works with experienced musicians who have already developed the skills to monitor and alter their playing in relation to an internal beat. They might have momentarily been distracted from doing do, but once their attention is called to that fact, they’re fine.

But for other learners, hearing “don’t rush” is a bit like like hearing “be happy.” I mean, sure, yes, OBVIOUSLY. Be happy. And don’t rush. But. how???

Over the years, I’ve worked with many, many rushers, and I’m constantly on the hunt for new ways to help them master keeping time when “don’t rush” isn’t enough. Here are three of my more successful strategies:

1) Feel the pulse Sometimes rushing arises from the fact that the student has not yet learned, or been taught, to keep a conscious pulse (or in some cases, any pulse at all). These students feel adrift in the rhythm, often able to memorize the approximate rhythmic contour of a melody, but unable to pinpoint where the beats fall and prone in particular to eating time during longer note values. With these students, I work specifically on developing the ability to keep a pulse while simultaneously receiving or generating auditory input. We choose a way to physicalize the pulse (my recommedation is often to tap a big toe, though any small, unobtrusive motion will work) and then build up: First listening to a known piece while tapping the pulse, then speaking the rhythm while tapping the pulse, then playing while tapping a pulse. Working on pulse is not a quick fix, but it helps to shore up a vital foundational skill.

2) Think about vowels One of my favorite tricks (I use it with myself) is to ask the student to think about notes they are rushing as consonant-vowel-consonant words, paying special attention to the vowels. When you’re speaking, if you don't leave enough time for the vowel, the words sound clipped and strange, and since the experience of speaking is near universal, most of us have a ready-made mental template we can access to help us learn to leave enough time between our beginnings and endings. It’s just a matter of calling it up.

3) You’re James Dean! If rushing is part of general over-functioning, tension, and/or nerves, adopting a nonchalant body posture, as I discussed in this post, can be immeasurably helpful. If your overall body positioning is broadcasting ease and comfort, as it might if you pretend you’re a very cool cinema idol just noodling around, your'e much less likely to rush. Along these same lines, I often tell myself “there’s no hurry,” as I play, which helps me achieve a feeling of confident calm.

Student-generated bonus strategies!

One of the great pleasures of teaching adults is that they become partners in their own learning. Occasionally a student who rushes doesn’t respond to my go-to strategies, but, as we tackle the issue, he or she is able to generate a tweak or an entirely new tactic that helps achieve the desired result. Here are a couple of strategies students have self-generated in the recent past. I wouldn’t have thought of either of these off the top of my head, but for these particular students, they worked amazingly well.

4) Commas I have one student whose rushing was immeasurably improved when she drew commas into her music after notes she was shortening. The visual cue reminded her not to move on from that note too quickly.

5) I have a right to be here! Another student saw significant improvement when she told herself she had a right to be playing and a right to be heard. When she said to herself “I have a right to be here,” she stopped hurrying forward in her playing and took her time.

What else have you tried in place of “don’t rush?”

Transform Your Practice: Keeping a Practice Journal

Yes, it's true: An unprepossessing 3x5 inch notebook can become the most important tool in your musical arsenal.

It’s called a practice journal, and if you use it thoughtfully, it can increase the effectiveness, efficiency, and joyfulness of your practice!

A practice journal serves multiple functions:  It keeps you accountable, tracks your progress, and helps you chart your course.  It can also evolve into a resource you can refer back to later for ideas and inspiration.

The physical form of the practice journal can vary. I use a small notebook- easy to open, carry, and modify.  I’m not picky about the cover, but if you’re a visual person, having a beautiful object might increase your chances of using it.  You could also use a word doc or note-taking software as a journal.  There’s even an app- though I find it to be more limiting than free-form journaling.

Whatever it looks like, a successful practice journal allows you to tracks several things:

• Time:  When did you practice?  For how long?  I typically jot down my start and end times.  Why track your time?  It's not meant to be punitive or shaming.  Rather, tracking is one of the best ways to motivate yourself.  It's also yields valuable information.  Try jotting a few notes about how you felt prior to and during practice.  You may discover patterns in your practice: perhaps you practice with more energy after dinner, for example, as opposed to before you've eaten.
• Target: What’s your goal?  Writing down what you’re trying to work on, whether it be for the task, hour, week, month, or year, helps you focus your energies and harness your attention. Some goals I’ve set recently include improving my clef reading and brushing up on RV 443. 
• Task: What did you practice?  Ideally, your tasks should relate closely to your targets.  I might make a note that I practiced reading tenor cleft excerpts for 10 minutes, e.g., or that I spent 5 minutes practicing the tricky bit in the Vivaldi at half time.
• Thoughts:  How did go? What did you learn?  If I discover something in the course of my practice that will be helpful to remember, things I tried that I want to avoid or amplify, I jot them down.  Reflecting on my practice helps me refine it.  It also helps my build on each day's practice moving forward.
• Tomorrow: At the end of each session’s entry, I make a note of what I want to accomplish the following day (or week, or month).  I might read a longer excerpt, or tick up my metronome marking, or make a note to listen with my score to a piece for an upcoming concert.
• Odds and Ends: This is optional, butI tend to use my journal as a place to jot down things I want to remember.  It might be a sonata want to play, or a recording I want to listen to, or something somebody said that was extremely helpful.  I star these kinds of entries so that I can flip back through my journal and quickly locate ideas, inspiration, and advice. 

Happy Journaling!

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