At the age of 58, a perennial student like me has spent a lot of time with a lot of teachers, including a considerable number of private music teachers. Some of that time has been rewarding, some ill-spent, and some absolutely magical. What makes the magic? And can I distill any wisdom from my experiences that might bring the magic within closer reach for others, especially younger musicians?
Simple as it sounds, all students, even rank beginners, need to know why they are studying and what they hope to learn. Entrusting yourself to a teacher with the general expectation that you’ll “get better” is usually an inadequate basis for studying, no matter how solid that teacher’s reputation. In other words, study is an active, not a passive, endeavor. If you think of a student as someone to be led, and the teacher as the leader, you are as likely to be led down the wrong road as the right one.
I’ve made the mistake of choosing to study with a teacher on the basis of that person’s abilities as a performer. Did I think that some of that ability would “rub off” on me? Or did I imagine that I could absorb some of the performer’s reflected glory? Guilty, I believe, on both counts. Would I have made the same choices if I’d had a clearer set of expectations for myself? I’d like to think so.
Then there are considerations of friendship. I’ve studied with teachers for far too long, simply because we’ve become friends and we enjoy spending time together. Rather than an occasion for intense focus, the lesson hour becomes a musical jog; invigorating, certainly, but more like recreation than purposeful study.
Now let’s imagine that you know what you want to learn, and you’ve found someone who can help you learn it. Both of you have the required discipline and sense of purpose. But do you mesh? Some teachers teach by handing out prescriptions: “Take 20 minutes of Ševčik, twice daily, for the next two weeks.” If you are the sort of student who wants to learn by remedy, this may be a perfect match. If not, sooner or later you’ll chafe. Others teach by anecdote: “When I was studying with Casals, he insisted that I hold my bow thus . . . .” You’re now in the same psychic space as one of the immortals, perhaps, but does the observation even begin to apply to your situation? A key element in the discipline of study is knowing when to end the relationship, even if the beginning seemed full of promise.
To all of this you may ask, with considerable justification, “How can I know what I want to know, when I don’t yet know it?” On the surface, this objection seems reasonable, but it unravels over time. Learning is cumulative; you acquire what appear to be bits of skill and knowledge, and these either serve as a foundation for greater skill and knowledge, or they prove ineffective and ersatz. Most of us can tell if we are making progress—provided, of course, that we have some aim, no matter how imprecisely we’ve articulated that aim at the start.
In my experience, the magic occurs when the teacher recognizes and understands the student’s aims in studying, and then actively participates in refining those aims, taking them to be of an equal or even greater value than the student’s need for mere technical progress. In other words, a teacher’s role is to educate the student in the art of self-analysis and self-observation, ultimately rendering the teacher superfluous.
Anyone with a second opinion?
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