Today, I Confess: It's Easy to Focus on the Wrong Things.
It's Recital Week over here in my world and that means I've been a busy bee. ๐
I wasn't going to send a Confession today (keep those self-imposed deadlines in perspective, friends!) but then I was hit with an overwhelming desire to make a recital-related confession... so here I am! ๐
When it comes to recitals, it's easy to focus on the wrong things.
Many teachers struggle with recital season because they feel pressure over how their teaching will be reflected in their students' playing.
Some of us fear our students' mistakes will draw attention to our shortcomings and everyone will find out we are imposters.
We also want to host "the perfect" event. We focus on smooth logistics and visual appeal, all in hopes of proving we have it all together.
As it turns out, we are not under the intense scrutiny we imagine. Audience members are not actually scouring performances for evidence of our merit.
In fact, as students are performing, no one is thinking about *us* at all.
โ
โEven still - we ARE on display. We ARE being judged...
...just not on our students' performances or our elaborate tablescapes. ๐
Recitals give parents and community members the opportunity to see YOU in action. They watch from a distance as you help performers navigate this anxious setting. They see how students look to you for approval as they finish their performance and how their faces light up when you celebrate their job well done.
I would argue the unique relationships you have with students are the star of the show on Recital Day.
Sure, I want my students to play well. They are prepared, playing great music, and I fully expect them to entertain the audience successfully. That will help create an abundance of warm, fuzzy feelings about my studio culture.
...but the feedback I receive post-recital, year after year, is best summed up by this email from a parent in 2022:
"I just love watching the way you interact with each student before and after they play. It is obvious you have special relationships with every single person there. I don't know how you do it, but each performer leaves that piano looking like a superhero. We are so thankful to be part of your studio."
Sigh. Don't we love the studio parents who take time to affirm us? I couldn't do this work without them.
(and, yes, that email went straight into My Happy File)
Here's the takeaway for you: Don't let yourself get caught up in self-imposed expectations that don't actually matter on Recital Day.
Parents will not judge you if your slideshow malfunctions or if Johnny has a memory slip mid-performance. Much to the contrary, they will be forever endeared to you once they see how you care for their child under pressure.
Avoid allowing things that don't matter to distract you from what does. Take care of your people and the rest will take care of itself.
And now... I'm off to work on the aforementioned slideshow. Not that it matters... ๐
Are YOU hosting a recital this spring? HIT REPLY and tell me all about it. I may be slow to reply, but I *love* hearing from you and pinky-promise to read every email I receive.
๐ฅ Cheers to our Teacher Magic and all the good that comes from it. May we overcome the temptation to focus on inconsequential details, keeping our attention on the humans in our care. ๐ฅ