I have been teaching piano lessons since I was 14 years old. From where I am today, that is now almost 13 years of giving endless positive reinforcement, questions of "did you practice this week?", and statements of "let's try that measure again". I would be lying if I said teaching piano is my favorite job and hobby. It takes an insane amount of patience. Parents forget to pay you. And more often than not you have the pleasure of teaching children who would rather be playing basketball or watching TV. But I am grateful. I get to pass along the joy and reward of learning how to play such a beautiful instrument. And every day I'm grateful that for the rest of my life, I will have a job I can do if I wish, all because my parents never let me quit my own piano lessons.
I feel like I learn something new each year I start a fresh group of students. As I become a better musician myself, I realize that the more I personally learn on my instrument, the more I can offer my students. I am a classically trained pianist, and took piano lessons up through the middle of my undergraduate college years. I had multiple teachers growing up, and I feel like each one honed in on a different aspect to my playing. I have learned life lessons from each of them. To this day I remember my teacher Andy and taking lessons in the basement underneath his father's dental office. I remember master classes and how terrified I was to play for the other kids. Or how much he made me sightread at every lesson, and how much I hated it. When my brother and I took again from him later in our teenage years, lessons became more about the emotion that went into the piece and less on making sure every single note was present. I remember my teacher Bill standing behind me pushing my shoulders down as I played because I was too tense and intense. Or the day he compared my piece to the abstract art painting on the wall and how the beauty of it all was in the small details. And while Joanna was probably the most intense of them all, she taught me about bracket practice and the fact that the metronome can and should indeed become your best friend.
While they each taught me different things, the underlying concept each of them taught me over the years is that - it's not how long you practice every day, but HOW you practice that makes the difference. And now, to this day, I am constantly reminding my own students, ages 5 to adult, that the most important lesson I could ever teach them - is how to practice.
If you ask my teachers, or my parents, I was never a star student myself. I have come to recognize over the years that Heavenly Father has certainly blessed me with some real talent when it comes to music. Where I lack in many areas of my life, I feel like He made up for in my ability to play the piano and understand music theory. I would throw tantrums on the piano bench, fake my way through lessons (sight reading on the spot the homework they had assigned me the week prior), and loathed practicing while anyone else was in the house. But somehow, I continued to improve. A little practice could go a long way for me. To this day I kick myself for being so silly. I probably could have been 10 times as good had I just been a better student. So I can empathize with my students 100% when they tell me they just didn't want to practice. I can also spot the practice faker from a mile away, and laugh to myself that I always thought I was pulling one on my teachers. They knew better.
What I started learning as I grew older and became a teacher myself, was that the 30 minute piano lesson once a week was not what made my students better. It was merely a small checkpoint on their journey.
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In preparation for my freshman orientation week at Utah State, we were asked to read Atul Gawande's book "Complications". In his book, the author humanizes his experience of working as a surgeon through real cases and stories. I'm not sure if it was because I was still planning to go to medical school, because I had the opportunity to meet the author and have him sign my book, or both, but this quickly became one of my favorite books.
Within the first couple of pages I was hooked, and on page 20 I read a passage that I have never forgotten and refer to often in my life. He writes:
"Skill, surgeons believe, can be taught; tenacity cannot...There have now been many studies of elite performers – international violinists, chess grand masters, professional ice-skaters, mathematicians, and so forth – and the biggest difference researchers find between them and lesser performers is the cumulative amount of deliberate practice they’ve had. Indeed, the most important talent may be the talent for practice itself. K Anders Ericsson, a cognitive psychologist and expert on performance, notes that the most important way in which innate factors play a role may be in one’s willingness to engage in sustained training. He’s found, for example, that top performers dislike practicing just as much as others do. But more than others, they have the will to keep at it anyway."
How true it is that I still dislike practicing as much as my students sometimes. (If I could only have my guitar barre chords down in a day!) However, the difference is that over my 20+ years as a student myself, I have learned what it takes to be good. I have tasted the benefits of proficiency, and have felt the reward of disciplined practice paying off. So how do we teach this lesson?
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It's a tough endeavor to gain someone's trust. I think it's even tougher with children. My younger students complain quite often about how hard piano is. I present a plan for them each week of what to practice, how to go about practicing, and what I expect to hear at the next lesson. I try to accommodate for their busy schedules at home, etc. because I'm definitely not in the business of breeding young piano prodigies. However, if I don't assign enough for them to do, they won't make too much progress throughout the week. The hard part of it all, is getting them to a point where they trust the process, and me their teacher. Some of my students still don't trust that process or my vast knowledge in this area. They return to their lesson having practiced one day, and expect they're now ready for the sheet music for their favorite Disney song.
I wish they could trust the process, and trust their teacher who has walked these roads for many years. But I can understand that it's difficult to be working towards a goal in which you have never seen yourself in. If you have no idea what the end looks like, is it even there? Now that's quite a pessimistic way to look at things, but I want to think that's where some of my students are at. They can't see that the mundane daily practice of their lessons books is going to result in the skills necessary to play their preferred songs. I am proud of the ones who press forward though, willing to trust the process, believing and hoping that it will eventually produce a positive result.
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There are so many aspects of our lives that require practice. There are so many moments when we must simply 'trust the process' or trust our mentors/leaders/parents/God, or anyone who has walked before us. How often do we give up simply because we can't see ourselves ever reaching the end goal?
As both a student and a teacher, I am still learning. I'm most definitely not the greatest piano teacher in the world. I'm also not the greatest pianist. I'll be the first to admit both. However, I am at a point where I am confident in my abilities in both areas. I enjoy playing for others because I am proud of what thousands of hours of practice looks like. I have learned to trust the process my teachers drilled into me. I have learned to trust them.
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When my mom took my older brother and I to see Jon Schmidt in concert many years ago when he was barely starting his journey, I decided that my goal for piano was to be good enough to play all of his songs. Many years and practice hours later, I shared a piano bench with him.
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Whatever it is in your life that requires a daily practice, just do it. Trust the process. As a teacher I really can't do much to help my students improve. They have to be willing to put in the time and effort themselves. I can't practice for them. What I can do is inspire them and give them the correct tools to get where they want to go.
"The most important talent may be the talent for practice itself."
The only way we develop that talent, is by willingly trying. Then getting up the next day and doing it again.
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