I Was Asking the Wrong Questions (A Piano Teacher Confession)


Today, I Confess: I Was Asking the Wrong Questions

In this week's podcast episode, I shared what I call the "most annoying" Teacher Truth: the fact that we have NO control over what our students remember.

It drives me crazy: the effort we put into our words... our demonstrations... our studio experiences...

Maybe they'll remember. But maybe they won't? ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿปโ€โ™€๏ธ

Granted, Episode 273 was largely exploring what students remember later in life. Getting them to recall musical details week-to-week is a different beast, right?

I recently caught myself in a familiar trap. I was marking up a student's score, attempting to help him remember some articulations in a Baroque dance movement. He was really struggling to implement these details consistently. He'd proven his understanding of the concepts and ability to execute them properly, but his playing would be fine one minute and absent-minded the next.

I demonstrated. I spoke a lot of words. I made jokes. I marked his music (thank goodness for my favorite transparent sticky notes!).

Regardless of all *my* efforts, he was still inconsistent - sometimes nailing the passagework, other times missing the articulation altogether.

I call this a trap because it's precisely that: the trap of focusing on ourselves. What can I say? What can I do?

In actuality, I was asking the wrong questions.

In situations like I'm describing, there is one question we need to ask our students: What would help you remember?

Instead of asking ourselves what we can do to help our students, we need to ask them.

When it comes to marking music, it's very possible the thing that helps YOU remember something does not translate the same way in your students' brain.

Instead of defaulting to drawing a circle around the F-sharps your student is prone to missing, try asking them, "What would you write here to help yourself remember your key signature?"

(Even if they end up using the same marking as you, the simple act of handing them the pencil is going to instill a greater sense of responsibility for the concept).

Watching what my students write in their scores is often enlightening (not to mention, entertaining). More importantly, it's almost always more effective.

This is just the tip of the iceberg, but it's an easy way to remind ourselves that what our students do in the lesson is more important than what we do.

We can teach a "perfect" lesson - saying and doing brilliant things - and still have students leave confused and uninspired. It's disturbingly easy to do, actually.

So - as I said on the airwaves this week - it's frustrating to have so little control over what our students remember.

The good news? Acknowledging that truth is a gateway to better teaching. Relinquishing the control we (mistakenly) think we have over what students do with our instruction is a freeing thing. Doing so allows us to pay attention to what's happening in front of us, rather than what we want to say/do next.

(Fun Fact: It also spares a LOT of frustration.)

Embracing this approach is a turning point in mature teaching. The easiest place to start is to begin asking our students, "What will help you remember?", rather than trying to solve problems ourselves.

๐Ÿฅ‚ May we remain committed to prioritizing the student experience over our own during lessons, embracing the freedom that comes with doing so.๐Ÿฅ‚


NOW IT'S YOUR TURN: What is the funniest thing your student has ever written in their music? I'd love to know! Hit reply and tell me.

(I promise, I read every reply. I'm famously-terrible at responding, but every message brings sunshine to my day).


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