On teaching.

That last post seems to have gone down rather well. I've been wondering what to say next, and knowing I'll not be able to match it.

One of the things I spend time doing is teaching music. I've done other bits of teaching--volunteering with Cub Scouts, small amounts of academic tutoring on a fairly informal basis--but teaching music comes most naturally to me.

The last few weeks I've been doing a bit of music coaching via e-mail, which has been an interesting exercise. It has forced me to think carefully about what I do when I teach, because at one remove I cannot operate on instinct. That in turn has lead to some refinement of technique, I think, and some ideas for further distance learning tools.

I often say to people that I don't just teach how to play the notes, but how to be a musician. This is true on some level: learning the notes alone does not good musicianship make. Or I tell people that I don't just teach music, but how to learn. Again, this is true on some level: the strategies I teach my students to use in learning music can be applied in many other situations, and the habit of attentive learning is a useful one to build. Sometimes I tell people that what I teach my students is confidence, how to perform well under pressure, and while that's often a useful skill in music and their experiences in musical performance often have a lot to offer in terms of transferable skills (for most people school exams, job interviews and public speaking are a relative walk in the park after music exams), that's not really the point.

In a world where most of my students are under immense pressure to do things perfectly, I try to show them that perfection as they conceive of it doesn't exist. There is always something, in singing or playing music, that could be done differently, and some would say better.

In a world where living up to external standards is emphasised as the only route to success and even survival, I try to show my students that the world won't fall in on them if they play a wrong note, that doing things well to jump through a hoop isn't nearly as much fun as doing things well just for the sheer joy of it.

In a world where literalism and adherence to written instructions reign supreme, I try to teach my students to use their imaginations, to create something more than just what the dots say.

In a world where tests are things to be passed and then forgotten, I try to teach my students that being able to play a piece well once doesn't mean they'll be able to do it every time; that consistent results require ongoing input.

In a world where pleasure is associated with instant gratification I try to teach my students that tasks or projects which take hours, days, months, years can be worthwhile and enjoyable.

In a world where inherent ability is far too often conflated with worth, I try to teach my students that no matter what their starting point, they can improve and this can be fun.

In a world where regimented, dedicated hours of hard work are required even of children, I try to teach my students that no matter what they've done during the week, no matter whether they've had a chance or the inclination or energy to practise, as their teacher I will meet them where they are and help them go from there in learning. I won't shout at them for making mistakes or for not practising enough, or for anything: they get enough of that from others.

Yes, you read that correctly: I do not tell my students off when they haven't practised. I start where they are. I teach them how to practise, I teach them that practising works by working with them in lessons, and I find that when they are ready they will start taking the time to do it on their own, unless there are barriers in place.

All this is a lot harder than just teaching them how to read music, how to play the right notes, but also more rewarding. And some of the time I do seem to get it right.

It is a privilege and a very deep joy to have the opportunity to work with people on these different levels.

(It was late last night when I wrote this, so coherence may not be wonderful, and I've almost certainly missed some things out. But I'm going to post it anyway.)