How's Your "C" Game?

I made a mistake yesterday in performance.

This is not particularly unusual for me. Truth be told, this is not particularly unusual for anyone I know. Live performance of music is an incredibly consuming, complicated endeavor, and it’s close to impossible to achieve, live, the level of perfection you might hear on your favorite recording. (Spoiler alert: those are edited!)

Yes, there are times when, on stage, my performance seems to be unfolding flawlessly, unrolling like a magic carpet without any evident effort on my part. And those times are pretty dang great!

Other times, though, my playing feels more effortful. I don’t feel as fluid or alert as I want to be. I’m on edge or I’m tired. I screw up. And yet, the performance continues.

This is why I was so interested recently to hear Sports Psychologist Dan Abrahams, who primarily works with professional soccer players, describe the importance of helping athletes develop a good relationship with their “C” games. (Side note: if you’re a teaching and learning junkie like me, I highly recommend the new podcast Sweat the Technique.)

Getting comfortable with your “C” game makes an enormous amount of sense to me. Obviously we always want, and strive, to bring our “A” games. But the truth is that sometimes we will bring our “C” games instead. And we need to know how to react when we do.

Now, please understand that getting comfortable with your “C” game doesn’t mean that you’ve given up on your “A” game. You’re still going to work really hard to be your best musical self as often as you possibly can. You’re also going to work hard make sure your “C” game is as good as it can be, which means consistent investment, over time, in growing your overall abilities.

But when you find yourself, in the moment, playing with less than 100% of your ability, you need to be able to react constructively and calmly, and that means reacting from a place of acceptance rather than from a place of panic.

If I recognize that I’ve brought my “C” game, for example, I might take fewer risks. I might ornament a bit less, take more conservative tempos, and hew more closely to what I know will work. I’m probably going to double down on physical relaxation, and I’m definitely going to be working to recover from my mistakes as seamlessly as possible.

Which is what I did yesterday. Mistakes happen. You can’t always bring your “A” game. But you absolutely can accept, adjust, and continue.

Is Making Music Good For You?

One of the questions I frequently pose to students, both individually and in workshop settings, is: Why do you play?

I like this question because it helps people to refocus on what fuels and sustains them as musicians, as opposed to perseverating on their musical challenges.

And I get a fascinating array of answers! Some people play because they love to perceive progress; others because they enjoy specific styles of music; some prioritize the social aspect of making music with others

But one answer I don’t often receive is “because it’s good for me.”

Why not?

I’m not entirely sure, but I suspect it’s because people underestimate extent to which making music, especially in community, can enhance individual health and well being.

Here’s the thing: Music is really, really good for you! Yes, you personally, whether you’re young, old, or somewhere in between. The benefits of making (and learning to make) music last throughout the lifespan, and are particularly acute among older adults.

Yes, I’m biased….but I’m also informed! If you’re a research junkie like me, you can start to dive into the relevant research here and here and here. But I’ll also summarize a few key points, below!

• Actively engaging with music is positively associated with (self-reported) social and emotional well-being; this is consistent across levels of music making (i.e., beginner, amateur, professional).

• There are strong social benefits to making music together.

• Older adults are fully capable of developing and progressing in their musical skills.

• Music learning in all stages of life may offer cognitive benefits.

In short, making music is a pretty terrific thing for you to be doing with your time! Way to go!

Three Surprising Metaphors that Will Improve Your Airflow

Airflow– the production, management, movement, and guidance of air– is among the most difficult aspects of recorder playing to master. As you may have discovered, making a sound he recorder is easy….but producing a clear, resonant, well-shaped, beautiful sound is not.

When I’m teaching about airflow (which I am, constantly, because it’s the beating heart of any and all recorder playing), I like to come at the topic from two angles.

First, the bottom up….since I’m an anatomy and physiology nerd, I think it’s essential to address what your body should actually be doing as you play.

But it’s also useful to talk about airflow from the top down, starting with the sound we want to produce and identifying thought patterns that can help us achieve it.

And that’s why, like every other teacher before me, I love a good metaphor! The right metaphor can act a shortcut, ushering you toward beneficial patterns of movement without your having to build them up from scratch.

I’ve got literally dozens of airflow metaphors. Some of them work for most students and some of them work for only a few. Some of them are standard issue and some of them are unique. And some of them, to be totally honest, are wacky!

In honor of April Fool’s Day, here are three of my more offbeat metaphors. They may be a little odd, but try them out! They work more often than you’d think!

The ORD People Mover

Your air is the moving sidewalk between terminals at the Chicago O’Hare International Airport. You simply step on and admire the moving patterns of lights as you float toward your destination.

The Endless Towel Dispenser

You know those resusable towel dispensers in highway rest stops of yore? The ones where you pulled down on a loop of reusable material to dry your hands, and then pulled again to expose fresh towel? The ones to which the pandemic most likely dealt a killing blow? The towel loop is your air, and you’re pulling it out of your instrument in one never-ending loop.

The Rubber Duckie

Your sound is a rubber duckie bobbing gently up and down on a warm, slowly moving sea of air! Yes, really!

What’s your favorite metaphor? Is it more common, or a little bit quirky?

Want more on how to improve your airflow? My three-part webinar series on tone sttarts with Breathing.

The Thing About Ornamentation I Wish Everyone Knew

As I write this, I have just returned from a workshop at which I taught, among other things, a four-day course on ornamentation.

Ornamentation –the practice of adding to and/or changing what’s on the page– is an integral part of playing music from the Renaissance and Baroque eras. It is not optional!

But it can feel feel intimidating, especially (though not exclusively!) if you’re just getting started.

Possibly for this reason, I really enjoy teaching ornamentation.  It’s fun to demystify a complex process, breaking it down so it becomes, step by step, more approachable.   

But what if, instead of four days, I only had one blog entry to cut to the heart of what ornamentation was all about? If I could tell every student of ornamentation only one thing, what would that thing be?

Don’t ornament because you can; ornament because you must.

If your main reason for adding notes is the fact that you can, you are unlikely to be doing the most important job of a musician, which is, like an actor, to bring what’s on the page vividly to life.

The musical text in front of us is the beating heart of our endeavor, and it should be the driving force behind any ornamentation. A good ornament feels compelled.  It feels necessary.  It highlights the shapes and moods and colors and correspondences that are already front of you. It grows from the the music, an organic extension of its power.

An ornament that is not compelled by the music, in contrast, sounds cheap.  It obscures the text. It’s a glitter bomb, burying everything in sparkle.

Don’t be a rhinestone cowboy. Grow your ornaments from seed.

Want more tips on how to ornament with grace and style? Check out my Ornamentation Starter Kit.

Five Things I Never Worry About...and Neither Should You!

You may have noticed that making music is complicated.

Do I win the understatement of the year award? I never cease to be awestruck by the breadth and depth of what music demands from us, all the physical, cognitive, perceptual, emotional, and social skills it requires us integrate in real time and under pressure.

Isn’t it nice, then, to have a few musical things we can simply…blow off?

Here are five things I never worry about...and I don’t think you should, either! And while I can’t promise my list will be free of controversy, my hope is that it helps at least some of you say a guilt-free goodbye to something you’ve been sweating.

So let’s get to it!

1) Circular breathing. Do I circular breathe? No. Do I want to? Honestly, not really. Circular breathing is a cool party trick, and I can see how it might come in handy in some circumstances. But taking time to breathe can be such an intimate and beautiful part of music-making, so essential for making phrases and shapes, that it very seldom feels like a constraint. Done correctly, your breathing is part of the music.

2) Making low notes loud. The unique timbre and volume of the various notes on the recorder is a feature, not a bug! Embrace it!

3) Keeping my music pristine. Unless I’m working with an orchestral part that I have to relinquish when the gig is done, I have carte blanche to do whatever the heck I want with my page. I can mark my beats, mark my part, pepper the score with exclamation points and inscrutable phrases (“llama enters here”)...whatever helps. No one cares.

4) Making up unique ornaments out of whole cloth in the moment, every time. Look: here’s the truth. Yes, a few of us are up there extemporizing elaborate, novel flourishes inspired by the moment. But a whole lot more of us (including me) are doing what I call prepared improvisation. That means we’ve spent quality time experimenting during our practice sessions, exploring different ornamental patterns to discover what works. Then, when it comes time to perform, we have a repository of semi-rehearsed shapes from which to select. There’s no law that says you have to come up with something new and unique every time. In fact, the number of ornamental shapes that will work in any given passage is not infinite, and if you get too hung up on novelty, it’s easy to lose sight of whether your ornament actually supports what’s written.

5) What other people think of the recorder. My indifference is hard won, but at this point I can simply say: I make the most beautiful music I can on the instruments I have to hand. I can’t wait for you to hear it!

How to Begin

Once upon a time, as an innocent young musician, I thought you began at the beginning.

I mean, it makes intuitive sense! If you are going to begin something, surely the beginning is the best place to start? There’s even a saying: about it: Begin at the beginning.

So for a long time, whenever I began a piece of music, I started at the beginning: I played the first note. Then the note after that. And then another and another and another, never realizing I’d left out something vital.

I can’t remember when or how I realized I’d been doing the equivalent of starting a five mile race at mile marker one, but somehow or other it dawned on me: Music begins before its beginning.

Say what?

See, music is like an iceberg. There’s what you hear, the sounds that actually reach your ears. Then there’s a whole bunch of stuff that lurks below the surface of perception but is, nevertheless, an essential part of making music: your breathing, your thoughts, the movement of the pulse through your body.

Before you play the first note of a piece, you are, or should be, already deeply engaged with the music– tracking its pulse, assessing its character, timing your inhale so that, when it comes time to play, your exhale is merely the continuation of your ongoing musical intention.

Let me say it again: Music starts before sound. You need to be making music before you make sound.

It’s an essential concept, but it can be a challenge to implement. Fortunately, you can practice!

The next time you begin a piece, give it a shot: Think about making music before you begin making sound. If you do this enough, it will start to become a habit. And I promise it will be worth your while.

The One Thing You Need to Ask Yourself This December

Certain times of the year encourage us toward particular kinds of reflection.

October and early November lean into mortality. Thanksgiving herds us toward gratitude. The New Year is a powerful nudge to think about self-improvement.

And December?

Well, there’s generally not much time to think in December.

December, for many of us, is a noisy, cookie-laden vortex we’re lucky to stagger out the other end of.

Which is fun, but also kind of a pity, because December is the absolute best time to ask yourself a vital question: What are you proud of this year?

As musicians, we are trained to look forward. How can I develop my skills? How can I improve how I sound? What do I need to do next to get where I want to be?

And since so much of what we do is about skill development, that forward-looking orientation serves us. Progress depends on keeping the future firmly in our sights.

But I think we miss something crucial if we don't take the time to reflect upon, and rejoice in, what we have done. We need a moment to look back on, and celebrate, our own work. Over the past year, have you put forth effort in the service of something you love? If so, that’s pretty terrific!

Acknowledging what we’ve done, not just focusing on what we’ve left undone, is essential fertilizer for musical growth. It’s an antidote for destructive frustration. It is a vital reminder of the power of our own efforts. It is renewing, and it is important.

So take a moment, right now, to ask yourself: What are you proud of this year?

Maybe you practiced most days of the week. Maybe you didn’t quit when you got frustrated. Maybe you picked up a new size of instrument, improved your understanding of time signatures, learned to read bass clef, got through a whole sonata, worked on your tone, brushed up on your articulation, played in a group for the first time, got back in after you got lost…or all of these things. Or more!

You put in musical effort this year. Rejoice!

Should I buy it?

As we head into the holiday season, you may be thinking: Now is the perfect time to buy a recorder!

OK, full confession: I am always thinking this. My budget only sometimes agrees.

But let’s say your budget cooperates. You’ve done your research and identified the style, make and model of recorder you’d like to own. You’ve surrendered your credit card number.

And thus it is that, one happy morning, a package arrives! You open it eagerly. There it is: a beautiful new (or used) recorder, sent to you on approval.

Now you have to decide: Should you buy it?

Sometimes, this decision is easy. You need a sopranino for a concert next month. Your old alto cracked.

But sometimes, it’s agonizing. How do you know you’re buying the right instrument? What about all the other instruments out there you could be buying instead?? How on earth can you make a commitment without full knowledge of the options??? (Let me just interject here how grateful I am that there is no Tinder for recorders.)

The good news is that I am here to help! As a longtime agonizer AND a longtime purchaser of recorders, I have developed five key questions you can ask yourself to frame your decision and choose with confidence. To wit:

1) How much agonizing is it worth?

The amount of time you spend making a purchase decision should be proportional to what that instrument will cost you. I’m not talking about its dollar amount; I’m talking about what it will cost you, specifically. A $35 dollar plastic recorder could be a big investment for some and forgettable for others.

You’ll also want to think about cost in terms of your time. Some instruments have a steeper learning curve, requiring that you invest more hours of your life to be able to play them well. High investment purchases require more thought.

2) Are there deal breakers?

Some instruments might be excellent in many ways, but they possess key flaws that will render them, for your purposes, useless. The key phrase here is for your purposes. If you only want to play solo, a spectacular instrument that plays ten cents flat won’t phase you. If you want to pair that instrument with a keyboard, however, that’s a deal breaker

I do need to differentiate here between deal breakers and technical constraints. If the high F isn’t coming easily and you’ve not yet built confidence in the upper register, the problem might not be the instrument. If your technical stills are still in the early stages of development, you might want to seek out a second opinion from someone with more experience.

3) Is it The One?

I’m not going to tell you that true, instant recorder love doesn’t exist, because I have actually fallen in deep and lasting love with a recorder. But this has happened ONE TIME and I have tried literally hundreds of recorders. Do NOT wait for The One. But on the off-chance The One happens to come along, buy it!

4) Will it open up new doors?

If you don’t own a C bass, purchasing a C bass is going to enable you to tackle new repertoire in new ways. Same with a Ganassi-style instrument, or an instrument at a different pitch than you currently own. If your current priority is unlocking a musical door, the value of having a key, any key, increases.

5) How much work are you willing to do?

No instrument is perfect. Some notes will be easier to make beautiful, some will be harder. Some will be flat, some sharp, and accommodations will need to be made. The question to ask yourself is: How much work am I willing to do? As with any relationship, you will always have to do some work. But you shouldn’t feel as if the work completely overwhelms the joy.

Happy hunting!

The One Musical Tool You Absolutely Must Own

What if I told you there was a transformative musical tool that was portable, sturdy, intuitive, and dirt cheap?

Now what if I told you there was a 99% chance chance that this tool was already in your house? I mean…WOW!

I’m talking, of course, about the pencil (or, for you high-tech converts, the stylus). The pencil is likely to be the single most powerful and versatile musical tool you own, yet it very seldom gets its due.

Until now! This month I’m hoping to inspire you to pick up your pencil with confidence and intention– because it really can make you a better musician.

Pencils ready? Here are four important ways to use them:

Mark Mistakes: Here’s my rule: If I miss something once– misread a note or a rhythm, fail to remember to repeat, etc.– no problem. But if I miss the same thing twice, I break out the pencil and mark it. No exceptions. Repeated errors mean I need to add a visual support for my future self. That might mean writing in a note name. It might mean circling a tricky rhythm. It might mean scratching in what another part is doing, or drawing eyeglasses to remind myself to look up– whatever will be helpful in the moment. In no way, shape, or form is this cheating. Rather, it is setting yourself up for success!

Mark Beats: Many of us have difficulty with rhythms that cross beats or are not precisely aligned with the pulse of the music. This can be especially true as we begin to use longer note values, like half notes or whole notes, as our basic pulse. Marking in your beats, usually by way of little tics at the top of the staff, is a terrific way to support yourself during these difficult passages. This is not a crutch– it is a smart self-assist!

Mark Breaths: Sure, you might breathe in felicitous places if you entrust your breathing plan to the whim of the moment. But you’re much more likely to interrupt phrases, run out of air, or otherwise squander the opportunity to knit your breath into your music making. Marking your breaths in advance is a terrific way to increase the chance that your breathing will serve the music, as opposed to the other way around.

Make Group Decisions: So much of our music-making takes place in groups. And groups, in order to be musically unified, need to make and stick to musical decisions. Unless you have the steel-trap mind of a tween, it is highly unlikely that you will be able to remember these decisions in the moment without some kind of written cue. Writing in group decisions is part of your duty as an ensemble member.

Sense a theme here? Use your pencil! Use it frequently! And use it with pride!

In Praise of Amateurs

I love listening to amateurs make music.

This isn’t to say I don’t enjoy hearing professionals making music. I do.

But as a professional musician myself, I can’t escape the fact that I’ve seen behind the curtain. I’ve glimpsed the levers and pulleys, the grinding machinery, and I can’t unsee it. Playing music professionally can be joyful, but that joy is freighted, because it carries with it the weight of work. So most of the time, when I go to a professional concert, I see, well...people working.

But take me to, say, an amateur choral concert and I’m all ears. Because there’s something incredibly moving about people who are coming together to make music not because it’s their job, but simply because they can.

According to Ye Olde Google, the word “amateur” comes from the Latin “amare,” to love. When I listen to amateurs making music, that’s what I hear: Love made audible. And I can hear that love even if notes are wrong, chords are sour, or things come apart.

This is not to say that I think amateurs are off the hook in terms of working toward quality. They’re definitely not! (With the notable exception of the Portsmouth Sinfonia, which is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.)

Love, after all, comes with responsibility. If you love something, you have a duty to care for it to the very best of your ability– and, in fact, to enlarge your abilities when possible.

Nor am I laboring under the misconception that amateur music-making is free from the ego drama, competitiveness, and hierarchies that can plague the professional world. Human beings making music are still, after all, human beings.

But among the things I love most about human beings is the way in which we’re willing give ourselves not only to what is necessary for survival, but to what is beautifully superfluous. And so I try, in my own playing, to remind myself to begin from a place of love.

I hope, when I grow up, that I can be an amateur. I’ve got my crumhorn ready.

My Best Advice!

If I could give my students only one piece of advice for the rest of my teaching career, what would it be?

It’s like one of those desert island questions, except without the sand. (For the record: Water, Goldberg Variations, magical lamp.) It’s a bit silly, because it will always be hypothetical, but it is nevertheless fun to entertain. What would I say if I could only say one thing? Because the truth is, I give a lot of advice.

This is a professional hazard of being any kind of teacher, but I think it also speaks to the incredible complexity of learning and making music. Music engages our whole selves– physically, cognitively, emotionally, and interpersonally. We must hone a wildly diverse variety of skills, then integrate them dynamically in real time.

To be honest, I cannot think of a more complex human endeavor.

Hence, advice! But if I were to limit myself to only one piece? One singular sentence in a potential galaxy of guidance?

The funny thing is, it’s not difficult for me to choose. My best is advice is very simple:

Be curious.

What the heck does that mean?

When it comes to learning and making music, our default attitude is often one of judgment. We hold where we are up to where we want to be and try to gauge the difference. We often exist in a perpetual state of assessment: Are we doing it right? Do we sound good? Are we there yet????

If, instead, we are curious, our lens changes. We can’t forsake judgment entirely, but by focusing elsewhere and reducing judgment’s cognitive and emotional burdens, we have the space to become our own best teachers.

When we are curious, mistakes become opportunities, helping us notice where and how to concentrate our work. Gaps in knowledge become beacons for learning. And challenges become invitations to explore.

When we’re curious, our minds are calm and open. We’re ready to learn. And so we do!

The Powerful Question You Should Be Asking Yourself

One of the joys –and tribulations– of making music is that your journey from page to stage (or practice room, or closet…) is not entirely straightforward.

Sure, part of your path is clear. You need to try to play the right notes at the right time, following whatever instructions the composer has provided. In this way, a certain portion of music-making is like assembling IKEA furniture… though hopefully with less swearing.

But often (as with IKEA products, come to think of it!) the instructions don’t tell you everything you need to know. And even if they did, there’s so much more to making music than assembling notes!

In any given piece of music there are hundreds, maybe even thousands, of choices to be made. How might you articulate that pericular passage? Which note gets the accent in measure 30, and how are you going to convey that? Should you ornament in measure six, and if so, how? What kind of tempo works for movement two?

Making music is a galaxy of tiny decisions. That can be empowering. Or nerve-wracking. Or both. For many student musicians, this wealth of possibility causes anxiety: How can you know if the choices you’re making are the right ones?

This is where the Powerful Question comes in.

So what, you might be asking, is the Powerful Question, and why in the world does it deserve those capital letters? The Powerful Question is a simple, flexible decision-making tool that can help you either affirm or reject choices in almost any musical scenario. Want to know if your ornament works? Wondering if your articulation is on point? The Powerful Question is for you!

So let’s ask it: Are you helping or hurting?

I have to admit my Powerful Question comes straight from the front lines of parenting. With small kids, the idea is to get them to consider the consequences of their behavior in relation of family or community goals. It works...sometimes.

But in music, the Powerful Question is no-fail! Because every piece of music, every single scrap of every movement, is trying to do something. Maybe it’s reaching. Maybe it’s intensifying. Maybe it’s diminishing or circling or exclaiming or lamenting or holding still. There are a zillion things music can do, and our job, as players, is to give it a hand.

Are you helping or hurting? I adore this question, because instead of assessing whether you’re “correct” or “right–” concepts that, truth be told, have limited musical utility, you’re forced to contend with music as a living, striving entity. The Powerful Question requires you to engage with music in a way that is much deeper, and more productive, than trying to be “correct.”

Are you helping or hurting?

When you’re highlighting what the music is trying to do, you’re helping! Pick an ornament that enhances the music’s natural acceleration toward the cadence. Reach where the music reaches. Soften as the music softens. Strengthen when the music is gaining power.

When you’re obscuring or clouding or stymieing what the music is trying to do, you’re hurting. Don’t pick a fast tempo for a sorrowful slow movement. Don’t add fussy little ornaments to long, clean lines. Don’t dump a bunch of moving notes on a note that wants to rest.

As I tell my kids, it’s better to be a helper!

The Things We Carry

“No knowledge is ever wasted.”

That old saw has been rattling around in my brain lately. I’m not sure I’m 100% in agreement, especially given the alarming amount of cognitive real estate I seem to have deeded, in perpetuity, to the complete lyrics of The Rainforest Rap circa 1992.

But there’s definitely a seam of truth here, in that your past experiences, particularly if they were ingrained deeply and daily, can profoundly shape the way you approach the present.

I’ve been thinking about this because I teach a lot of adults. Adults, by definition, have accumulated a good chunk of life experience. They’ve honed skills, developed mindsets; their work, formal or informal, has molded them in ways that can be immensely helpful– or not. Or both!

And these things we carry –mindsets, processes, beliefs– are worth digging into, both within ourselves and in our students. Because when we understand how what we’ve done before shapes what we’re doing now, we’re better able to leverage what serves us– and let go of what doesn’t.

Here’s my own example.

For well over a decade, in addition to my work as a recorder player and teacher, I worked as a part-time Speech-Language Pathologist. Eventually, I needed more space for recorder teaching and had to leave my SLP life behind. But doing so was hard. I’d acquired so much knowledge, invested so much of myself. Had I been wasting my time all those years? How could I just up and leave all that work in the dust?

The truth is, of course, that I took it with me. That even as I was moving away from SLP life, it was leaving its mark.

Now, in my life as a full-time recorder teacher, I see the fingerprints of my years as an SLP everywhere. On the surface level, I use, on a near daily basis, my knowledge of things like oral anatomy and physiology, psychomotor learning, goal setting, task analysis, and scaffolding. And on a deeper level, I’m learning what those years have given me– and what I need to release.

Here’s what I treasure:

I love progress!

An an SLP, I facilitated, and celebrated, the progress of individuals with wildly varying capabilities. I learned that anyone –everyone– can make progress, and I learned how empowering that progress can be. As a consequence, I value progress in every recorder student at every level. No one’s learning, to me, is worth more than anyone else’s, and progress is exciting and rewarding wherever you are.

It’s not the student’s fault

When students don’t make progress, SLPs get curious. To an SLP, lack of progress is a puzzle to be rigorously analyzed and solved. If a student is not progressing, it is the SLP’s responsibility to change intervention and/or add support until they do. As a recorder teacher, I find this attitude extremely empowering. Rather than wasting time blaming the student or throwing up my hands, I can focus on how to help.

Individualize!

SLPs spend lots of time crafting blueprints for student progress that delineate each student’s individual strengths, weaknesses, challenges, and goals, with an emphasis on the uniqueness of every individual. As a recorder teacher, I’m always looking to tailor what I do to each student’s unique learning style, challenges, and strengths.

The learning never stops

For SLPs, the process of getting better at your job is never, ever, done. This is both part of the culture of the profession and a formal requirement: each SLP must earn a certain amount of continuing education credit each year. I am so grateful for this mindset, which allows me to approach my career with curiosity, eagerness, and a recognition that there are always, always ways in which I can improve.

And what am I working to leave behind?

I don’t need to serve every single student

As an SLP, you have a legal and ethical obligation to serve each and every eligible student who needs your services, even if your caseload is overwhelming. As a recorder teacher, I’m just in the beginning stages of learning that I can, in fact, say no.

I don’t need to be the perfect teacher for every person

In the same vein, SLPs have an obligation to serve a student whether or not that student’s particular needs match that SLP’s areas of competence or interest. It is only just occurring to me that, as a recorder teacher, I don’t actually have a moral obligation to be the best teacher for every single kind of student. I can look for students who share my approach and areas of interest. I can pass someone along if I think another teacher would be a better fit.

What are some things you are carrying forward from your past work? Which of those serve you? Which do not? Try writing it out– I bet you’ll learn something.

Can You Pass the Sneeze Test?

Have you ever had to sneeze while driving?

It can be nerve-wracking, because sneezing is like a miniature blackout. I have yet to meet anyone who keeps their eyes open while they sneeze, and you lose other driving senses, too: Your “ACHOO” might drown out road sound, and your jerking head can alter your sense of yourself in space.

But you still have to keep driving, and so, for the duration of the sneeze, you make a road in your mind. Essentially, you construct a dynamic representation of what you saw before the sneeze took hold. You drive along that mental road even as you’re sneezing so that when the sneeze is done, you can continue on your way.

We do the same thing in music.

In fact, I love a good sneeze while playing, because it really lays bare whether or not we’ve achieved mastery of the musical landscape. Even as we take the instrument out of our mouths and (hopefully) cover our noses, we have to keep “playing” the piece in our heads, tracking the material and keeping the pulse, in order to keep from running off the musical road.

Chances are we won’t sneeze in every piece. But in every piece, there will come a moment when we look away, miscount, bobble a note, or otherwise lose focus. And when we do, we need to be able to imagine the road ahead– and keep driving.

Can you pass the musical sneeze test? If not, it’s definitely something to work toward.

GESUNDHEIT!

The Power of Remind

Once upon a time, as a very novice teacher, I hesitated to repeat myself. After all, weren’t my students paying me to provide them with brand new information, things they DIDN’T already know? If all I was doing was reminding them of something I’d already told them, was I really teaching?

Two decades and much teaching experience later, I know better. And if you’ve ever taught, or learned, anything, you probably know better, too. Repetition is the bread and butter of learning. It’s all well and good to hear something new, but if you are unable to retain it, apply it, and/or integrate it within your existing knowledge frameworks, you might as well not have heard it at all.

Repetition is how we bridge the distance from hearing to doing. (Especially spaced, richly contextualized, participatory repetition, but that’s another blog post.) Needing repetition is not a failure. It doesn’t mean you’re slow.

When it comes to learning, reminders are a feature, not a bug.

As a teacher, I do need to remind myself of this from time (SEE WHAT I DID THERE!!).

I suspect you might, too, because often, when I remind a student of something they already know, I see that student wince. And I sympathize! There’s a societal stigma around reminders. It lurks in common phrases like“don’t make me repeat myself,” “you should have listened the first time,” and “you don’t need to tell me twice.” Quick learning is lionized; benefiting from repetition is not.

But repetition is immensely powerful, and many, many individuals and organizations know and take full advantage of this. Think about any kind of religious service, in which you are constantly and creatively reminded of things you’ve already heard. Think about advertising campaigns, with their repeated, tailored reminders. Think about successful classroom management, with its many repeated routines.

The best teachers you’ve had repeated themselves. And as we become teachers, whether we are teaching ourselves or teaching others, it behooves us to remember just how essential repetition can be.

It is OK to say the same thing twice. It is OK to hear the same thing twice. It is OK to take the time to remind ourselves of what we already know.

Top Six Recorder Myths

I love my job, but I have to admit that there are certain hazards that come with being a recorder professional.

There’s that brief flash of disbelief when I divulge my career. There are the perennial requests to appraise your second-cousin’s aunt’s ex-husband’s ancient basement recorder stash. And don’t get me started on the endless stream of recorder memes (yes, I promise I have seen that one).

Then there are the myths. Recorder myths are multitudinous and hardy. They spring eternal, like hope or that one plant I haven’t quite managed to kill. There are so many recorder myths, in fact, that it is extremely difficult to choose my top six!

But I’ll try. Because myth-busting is fun!

#1. The recorder is easy

Every myth starts with a grain of truth, and there is definitely one here. The beginning stages of learning to play the recorder ARE significantly easier than the beginning stages of learning to play other instruments, in that it’s a relatively quick road to being able to string notes together to produce melodies. You can be rattling off your favorite holiday tune in the same amount of time it might take your trumpet-learning friend to produce, say, a noise.

I actually think this is one of the great virtues of the recorder. Along with the recorder’s unbeatable price, its initial ease makes music accessible for many people who would otherwise not have the time or resources to learn an instrument well enough to enjoy making music on their own or with others. And anything that increases access to music is a win in my book!

But alas, the initial ease of the recorder is like a will-o-the-wisp, luring you into the swamp. Because producing a beautiful, warm, lively, musical, in-tune, well-articulated melody on the recorder, one that truly serves the music, is NOT easy, as anyone who spends enough time with the instrument will eventually discover!

#2. The recorder has no embouchure

If this were true, I wouldn’t have spent hundreds of lesson hours working on getting students to adapt their mouth positions. (Especially players of other winds and brass. Habit dies hard.) Just because an embouchure is comparatively relaxed doesn’t mean it doesn't matter what you do with your lips.

#3. You can’t tune a recorder

I think this myth came about because playing a recorder in tune, much less multiple recorders in tune, is really, really, really difficult, requiring an excellent ear, a large arsenal of sound manipulation techniques, a knowledge of temperaments, and much focused practice. It’s a lot easier to just say the instrument can’t be tuned and move on.

But just because something is extremely difficult to achieve in full doesn’t mean it’s not worth moving toward. We can ALL get better at tuning. I’m still working on it

#4. It’s all about instrument quality!

There’s a grain of truth here, too. The quality of your instrument does have some impact on how you sound. But you know what has far, far more impact? Your level of skill. I recommend investing your time accordingly!

#5. You can’t do dynamics on the recorder

Again, there’s some truth here. You can’t do dynamics in the traditional way, by substantially raising and lowering breath pressure (and if you try this, you’ll quickly find out why!). But can we make energetic shapes in our music, increasing and decreasing our intensity to convey our musical ideas? Absolutely. We can also marshal alternative fingerings, mouth positions, and a variety of other techniques to help us play softer or louder as the occasion demands.

#6. I have mastered the recorder!

Wow! Good for you! I haven’t yet, and I’ve been working on it for over thirty years.

The truth is, we don’t know what we don’t know. And in my experience, those who have decided they’ve learned everything there is to learn about the recorder– or really about any topic– tend to be among the people who know the least.

At the very least, they’re missing out on the delight of learning!

Is Your Mindset Holding You Back?

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.

Unlocking the Secret Benefits of Scales

If you’ve ever studied music, you know scales. In the world of music learning, they are evergreen, prescribed year in and year out by music teachers across the globe.

I’m no exception: I love a scale! But I do think their ubiquity makes it easy to run through them without much thought. And that’s a pity! Because approached with deliberation and intention, scales have benefits far beyond improving your musical fitness (or satisfying your music teacher’s desire to see you suffer)! Approached on autopilot– well, scales are still good for you, but you’re only receiving a fraction of their benefits.

So how do you get the most out of your scales? Here are four ideas

1) Aim for ease, not speed. While it’s true that playing scales can build your finger speed over time, if you prioritize speed in your practice, chances are you may not actually be doing much to help yourself get faster. That’s because your fingers need to be moving in a relaxed, easy, even way for you to be able to play faster. If you practice scales with tension, the only thing you’re getting better at is playing with tension, and tension limits mobility, compromising speed. When you’re practicing scales, let ease be your guardrail. If you aren’t moving easily and evenly, you’re playing too fast.

2) Use scales to work on tone. Sure, scales are nominally a finger exercise, but you can use them for so much more! When you are working on any aspect of tone, from clarity to resonance to steadiness, it is extremely helpful to do so in a constrained context. Like, say, a scale! When you play a scale, your brain isn’t overloaded with stuff like harmony, articulation, and expression; instead you can focus your conscious mind on tone quality, laying down the mental and physical foundation you need to maintain a beautiful sound.

3) Practice connection. If you want accurate, synchronized finger movements, you need to practice in such a way that your fingers have nowhere to hide. What do I mean by that? Well, if you play a scale that’s even remotely disconnected, with any amount of silence between the notes, you’re giving your fingers cover for all sorts of between-note shenanigans. In contrast, if you eliminate all of the silence in between the notes by playing slurred, legato, or both, any lack of synchronization will be immediately obvious. And hearing your disynchronies is the only way you can eventually eliminate them. Practice scales with connection.

3) Practice with and without music. Reading a scale on a piece of paper and generating the scale in your mind are dramatically different skills. And both are useful! Having a piece of paper in front of you might make it easier to work on tone, for example. Whereas generating the scale from memory will help you to solidify your knowledge of keys and chords. So do both!

Happy scaling!

What I've Learned in 20 years of teaching

I’m coming up on 20 years of recorder teaching. I started with one student, way back when I was a student myself (sorry, Katie Z.! You had me 20 years too early!). Now I have….well, actually, I’ve lost count of how many students I have.

And sure, I teach them things. But they also teach me things. That’s one of the secret joys of teaching– that in helping others learn, you, too, are learning!

So twenty years in, what have my students taught me?

I should really take all that great advice I give!

A side effect of teaching is that you begin to hear your own voice in your head as you practice. And guess what? The stuff I’ve been telling my students really does work! I should listen to myself more often.

Teaching is BIG FUN!

I was a pretty conflicted performance major. I liked performing (I still do), but it always felt like something was missing, and so I spent years agonizing over whether I should stay in music or leave it behind. I wish I could go back and reassure myself: Just wait until you can teach!

Teaching, especially teaching adults, is a joy and a privilege. You’re part evangelist, part project manager, part therapist, part consultant, part tour guide. And I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.

It’s never too late to learn!

I’d estimate that average age of my studio is somewhere circa 70 years old. But my students prove to me, again and again, that there is no statute of limitations on learning. They are joyfully curious, in a way that is tremendously inspiring.

And that’s given me the confidence to learn new skills, too! I hung my first –and second!– picture this year. It was, I am not going to lie, really hard. Mechanical intelligence is….how shall I say this?….not my strong suit. And my lifelong tendency with tasks that require mechanical savvy has been to give up.

But thanks to my students, I knew I could do it. I sought out quality instruction and allowed myself to go slowly, step by step. I did have some dark periods (what IS a level?! And why???), but I persevered, and now my walls are no longer bare!

Next up: I’m going to roast my first chicken!

If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know what took me out.

Seven Rules for Beginners

A while back, a student challenged me to write a list of seven rules for beginners. At the time, I didn’t feel equipped for the task– it’s been a very long time since I was a beginner!– and in many ways, I still don’t. After all, the word “rule” implies certainty. And certainty is not really the spirit in which I believe music (and teaching) should be approached.

Rules make for good clickbait, though! And the idea did interest me. Beginnings are important. They are exciting times, times of openness and exploration, but they also set habits and patterns that can last far into the future. There’s more than a little truth to the maxim “Begin as you mean to go on.”

So I asked myself: If I had to pick seven things I wish that every beginner knew, what would they be?

I promptly generated a list of 63 vital principles.

Lucky for all of us, I’ve managed to winnow down. The choices were in some cases painful, but here’s what remains.

1) You can make progress!

It doesn’t matter how old you are. It doesn’t matter how talented you are. It doesn’t matter what you already know and what you don’t. You, yes you, are capable of learning! I suppose I might make an exception if you are comatose. But you’re reading this, so I know you’re not! Start your endeavor secure in the knowledge that, no matter who you are or when you begin, you CAN improve your skills.

2) But it will take consistent work over time

You may be surprised at how disappointing you find this to be (I was!), but music is not like a list of vocabulary words, a procedure for solving math problems, or any other fact or procedure-based body of knowledge. Music is an intensely complex psycho-motor skill that engages, deeply, the mind and the body. Many musical skills can only be acquired by consistent, deliberate, intelligent repetition, often spread over a much more considerable time span than you would like them to be. There is no substitute for this; there is no shortcut. The good news is that the ability put in work consistently over time is ALSO a skill, and thus something at which you can improve!

3) Aim for momentum, not mastery

I could also phrase this one as “aim for progress, not perfection.” The single greatest source of pointless student angst is the misapprehension that music is a results-based endeavor, and that complete mastery is the only acceptable goal. This is possibly because the part of music-making that most of us see, performance, is fairly results-based. But performing is the very tip of the musical iceberg, and an over-emphasis on perfection or complete mastery during your daily practice can retard your progress and embed habits of tension and stress. Focus on moving your skills forward over time, not on achieving perfection in the moment. Mistakes are an opportunity for you to learn!

That said….

4) Learn, don't unlearn

It is so, so, so much easier to lay down a new habit than to uproot an old one. Take the extra time to learn with optimal technique now, when you’re just beginning, and to learn slowly enough and thoroughly enough that you are always practicing relaxed, easy playing. This will pay massive dividends later.

5) I don’t care about your fingers

Well, I do actually care. But how fast you can move your fingers on the recorder should not be your top learning priority. It should not even be in your top ten, to be honest. Yes, moving your fingers is the most visible and self-explanatory part of recorder playing, but things like breathing, sound production, coordination and articulation are worth far more of your time and effort in the beginning.

6) You’ll feel uncomfortable

Beginning things is hard. When you begin, you have to do something you’re not particularly good at, and do that thing repeatedly. And humans tend not to enjoy that very much. Plus, a lot of us haven’t begun things in a while, maybe not since we were kids, so we’re out of practice at beginning. But beginning is good for the soul! And getting comfortable with being uncomfortable is a skill in its own right, and hence, something at which you can make progress!

7) You really don’t know what you don’t know

Beginning anything is a bit like being in an airplane and starting to descend from 30,000 feet. At first, you just see the ground. There it is; that’s where you’re headed; simple! Then lakes and rivers start to appear. Cities become discernible. Then roads. Then buildings. Cars. OMG, are those individual trees?? And now you’re telling me we need to land on this tiny strip of concrete????

As a beginner, you literally have no conception of what you don’t know. And trust me- it’s a lot. As you progress, you will begin to see more and more detail in your musical landscape. And this is OK! In fact, it’s good! Beginning to become aware of the outlines of what you don’t know doesn’t mean you’re moving backward; it’s progress.

The only part of my plane metaphor I don’t like is that, in the plane, you eventually land.

In music, the flight goes on forever.

Happy travels!