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Guest post by Frances Jones

A few weeks ago I slipped on an icy pavement and fractured my right hand. There was a scary moment when I was told the break might be a serious one, and difficult to heal, but that proved to be a false alarm and the hand is almost back in normal use.

The injury, though, proved to have interesting consequences for my piano teaching, and got me thinking about motivation, a topic often in my thoughts concerning my students, who are currently between the ages of 4 and 11.

Because my right hand was immobile, I dictated homework notes to the older children to write in their practice diaries. (The younger ones made do with the squiggly efforts of my non-dominant hand.) Two particular children took this responsibility very seriously, to the extent that they are continuing to write their own notes and adhering to them, too. One of these children hadn’t been very motivated of late; she mostly did what was asked in terms of practice, but seemed to be going through the motions, rather than actually enjoying playing. Now, she makes annotations to the music, adding fingering or reminders of articulation and seems to be enjoying the piano once again. The difference in her playing is marked; there’s an expressive quality there that I hadn’t heard for months. There could be many different reasons, of course, for the change of attitude, but I think the shift in ownership has played a part. The child knows now that she is responsible for her own progress but I haven’t had to tell her that. The process has taught me a lesson, too; that for some children doing as much as possible for themselves is a real motivator. For others, it’s not important; they still have the intrinsic motivation they started out with.

Over the years, I’ve found that most children are motivated to play at first because they like the sound of the piano and take pleasure from being able to create that sound. (Very occasionally, a child has no interest in the instrument but his parents wish him to learn. Honesty, or extrinsic motivation are the options here.) Keeping hold of that initial motivation is key, and all teachers of young children have their own thoughts on how to do this. Here are mine:

Performing. This depends on the child, but I have found in schools that most children love to play in assembly or to their class and will devote considerable time to practice if they have this goal.

Being the teacher. A pupil of six was thrilled to tell me recently that he had taught his younger sister how to play a tune. Some children enjoy teaching their friends. I say to children they can teach their mum/dad how to play and younger children often love it when their parents can play a duet part.

Composing/improvising. I do this from time to time in lessons and with some children it really absorbs their interest and allows them to enjoy and explore the range of the piano. Writing down their melody is a good way to revise or bring in notation.

Learning a well-known tune. Many children, especially older ones, really want to be able to play specific pieces. Mastering a manageable version of a song you like can be very rewarding and I think helps some children continue to play when they might otherwise have given up.

Stickers. My use of these is extremely judicious and only for those up to the age of 8. I find that if a child manages to do something he’s been trying to achieve, the satisfaction of accomplishment is reward enough. For the youngest, the excitement of playing the piano is similarly, quite a match for a humble sticker and that excitement must be retained. Having said that, some children love making collections and if a sticker helps a child practice, I would certainly advocate being generous.

Praise and positivity. There are different schools of thought on this. My view is that children really value praise when it is earned and therefore, used truthfully, it is immensely helpful to progress. I find this is particularly true with children who are in a cohort with many high-achievers and feel they are never going to catch up. Sometimes a child needs convincing they are playing well, even if it’s a simple tune.

As a teacher, I’m conscious of the need to retain that initial interest and enjoyment so the child doesn’t lose sight of why he is playing and practising. Even the most well-intentioned child (and adult) can suffer a dip in motivation whilst navigating the distractions of modern life. Frustrating, yes, but truly rewarding when a little creative thinking puts things back on track.

Frances Jones teaches piano in SW London. She has also taught and led music provision in London prep schools.

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Guest post by Alexandra Westcott

This article about learning the piano, the skills and the memories was lovely, and jogged my own memories of myself both as student and teacher.

I was about 6 when I used my sister’s books to learn the piano – they had photos for hand positions and finger numbers and that seemed all I needed (I’ve no idea to this day how I learned the rhythm and counting; I don’t remember reading about it but I must have!). I raced through the books and started fiddling with any music floating around, which was a fair amount as my Mum was a singer and also played the piano. I remember having the C major Mozart sonata at home and learning two pages during each holiday when home from boarding school at around 8 or 9. At this point Mum asked me if I wanted lessons, and because all my friends hated it (they hated the
practice); I said no because I loved playing, but she obviously ignored me and I ended up with a teacher I adored with whom I became very close.

I played the piano in all my spare time to the extent my reports used to say ‘she spends a lot of time at the piano’ and during prep, having done my homework as fast as possible, would skip off to the music rooms. I was fussy even then about the piano I played, and only the teachers’ or the grand in the assembly hall would do! None of the awful practice pianos for me!

During my time at school with this wonderful teacher, me and a group of friends would be taken away for a weekend each term to him and his wife at his amazing ancient cottage. He was the church organist and ran the church choir so we ate well on local Devon produce that he was given by local friends and members of the church. At times we also had breakfast in bed (often sugar on toast!), It was all very idyllic and I stayed in touch with him and his wife until they died.

For the 6th form I left there and went to a college local to my home, so I changed teacher and went to a local music school during my A levels. A completely different teacher and one the parents were scared of but the pupils loved. We did Sunday concerts at her house, always with cake, and a large concert once a year at the 6th form college at which she got her advanced students to do a movement of a concerto with her school orchestra. I did the first movement of the Schumann. I never wanted to be a concert pianist but this was good experience and I later had the chance to play on a few occasions with another orchestra, and for one of the concerts performed the whole of the Schumann. It brought back many memories.

I had another teacher for my degree, and then had a break in formal lessons before returning to a commitment to my own playing in my 20s. I had a local teacher for a year but then met Nelly Ben Or and knew I had to learn with her.

Nelly Ben Or

I studied with Nelly for many many years undoing my bad habits in order to acquire new and better ones and becoming a much better pianist, and a better teacher for that. I would often have lunch along with my lessons, and, again, house concerts and other performances enhanced the lessons. And, yes, you guessed it, always with accompanying food and drink.

As a teacher myself I became the sort of teacher I had grown up with; I had close bonds with my students, always had house concerts and local concerts both with tea parties afterwards, usually some chocolate for after lessons, and often would become close friends and either take them out for tea when young, or stay in touch later on.

Piano teachers, or any instrument teacher, hold a particular place in the life of a child. Such a close bond is formed and often many confidentialities shared. There needs to be trust for something that is hard to learn and something that needs self expression in execution. It is maybe not surprising that the bond becomes a firm friendship (and, often, one that needs physical as well as sustenance)!

I often wonder about my students’ memories of their time with me and whether they have similar memories as I do about my own mentors. I hope they hold the same  happy and cherished memories in their hearts for all the hours we spent and fun we had together as I do for my own teachers.

Alexandra Westcott is a piano teacher based in north London who specialises in understanding the piano in the light of the Alexander Technique, as studied with Nelly Ben Or, and encourages all areas of learning in a creative way. Find out more here

If you would like to share your piano memories, whether you are a teacher or pianist, or bothm, please get in touch

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The decision to leave one’s piano teacher and move on can be a difficult one, especially if the relationship is longstanding. I have written more about this subject here. 

Ann Grogan, a poet and adult pianist, contacted me after reading my article to share her own thoughts on the issues surrounding the decision to leave a teacher, and I am sharing a excerpt from her article on this subject here:

In appreciation because they help me reach my goals, I fall into a kind of deep music-love affair with each of my teachers. Music and piano lessons open up my heart and emotions, and make me feel raw, vulnerable, and exposed in a way that other kinds of art lessons have never done. Music is special in this way, at least for me.

THE DANGER OF BEING OVERLY IMPRESSED: Sometimes this specialness causes me to set aside what I note is out of place in a lesson or in the teaching relationship, in favor of long-term hopes and dreams. That is usually never a good thing to do. I’ve learned to speak up earlier and more often when I’m fairly certain I’m not enjoying something I am trying to learn or a particular approach the teacher insists I apply.

In one case, I’m certain that I was initially overly-impressed by a teacher’s many published CDs featuring original compositions and pianistic talents in a preferred musical genre that was not mine, and another teacher’s stature as a well-known professional pianist with ubiquitous “how to” vlogs. However, I failed to do my due diligence and had no clue about their teaching ability in general, or if their approaches and policies were compatible with what are certain basic requirements I have for piano lessons.

For many seniors, the process of learning the piano is critical, in that it must function in the nature of a partnership and not a top-down affair. Being overly-impressed hinders my ability to observe what is happening as lessons unfold. I stray from my desire to learn in partnership with my teacher. Sometimes I continue studying with the teacher beyond what is reasonable and productive.

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