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Guest post by Jill Timmons

These days we hear a lot about the allure of talent: gifted, extraordinary, special, something extra, blessed, graced, anointed, enviable. And as we know, the arts have been a particular repository for dazzling talent display.

Talent can be a kind of entry card. In music and dance we have such iconic artists as Arthur Rubinstein, Jascha Heifetz, Rudolf Nureyev, Margot Fonteyn, Taylor Swift, Fred Astaire, and the list goes on. There is a near religious fervour surrounding these folks who are perpetually confined to an archetypal pedestal – heroic figures living in a rarified alternate universe on Mount Olympus. To the lay person, it can seem almost magical that fame and fortune are readily available to those with exceptional talent. Often, there is a special entitlement afforded to these luminaries, and it may appear that with a bit of talent, we could all partake of these benefits. For some, there is the belief that talent alone should offer some measure of reward, a kind of requisite entitlement. Therein lies the shadow side of talent: acquiring something without the necessary earning of it.

As an artist, I stumble over the recognition of my own talent. To say that I am gifted strikes a difficult chord, so to speak. It feels like self-aggrandizement, ego inflation, and entitlement. Yet, if I don’t recognize my talent in an authentic and detached fashion, dare I say strategic, I would not be able to serve my gifts, perhaps my mission, and a sense of meaning and purpose to my life – making things better in the world through music. It’s a reminder, that the arts often contain paradox – two things can be true. I’m reminded of M. C. Escher’s lithographs where stairs simultaneously ascend and descend!

It is difficult to explain that talent and work go hand in hand. There can often be a disconnect (entitlement) between the temporal reality of musical study and the concrete requirements for what one may wish to achieve. As I regularly remind my students, there is no cramming for the concert, or for serious artistic growth. It’s a kind of marathon, and you wouldn’t just train for a few hours on Saturdays to take on those twenty-six miles!

Artists are individuals with varying skills and proclivities. While I might be a quick sight reader, it took me several months to learn J. S. Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Moreover, it wasn’t until I had performed it 6 times, that I really set to work! I had to marshal all my patience through this process, even with decades behind me as a professional pianist (perhaps some free-floating entitlement here!). These concepts are difficult to convey when entitlement is at play.

Add to this the fact that mostly our elementary and secondary education systems are now reduced to teaching to the test (reading and maths), and there is very little space in the curriculum for the arts, the creative process, and the fundamental human act of original thought. The notion of talent becomes a kind of bromide instead. Very little may be required to be considered talented. With that comes the risk of instant gratification, the dumbing down of quality and artistry, and a core understanding about what the arts require and what they can offer humanity.

Case in point: church music. This is by no means a declaration of any sort of religious affiliation. Consider, however, some of the greatest musical works from western European art music created by the likes of J. S. Bach, Mozart, Schubert, Bernstein (the Mass), Fauré, Poulenc, Elgar, and so forth. While there are still places where you can hear this exalted and compelling music, much of the American protestant church has withered into a kind of musical pablum: two chord changes with Jesus words. It doesn’t take much to master the ability to perform this music, nor does it require from the listener any level of artistic sophistication. It’s satisfying much in the same way as a bowl of Doritos. Oddly enough, many of the folks who deliver this music are often hailed as very talented.

For those of us who are educators, we can often encounter in our students that shadowy world of entitlement. It’s not just with the children we teach, but adult students as well. I recall one client who was a physician by profession. He had always wanted to play the piano at the advanced level, and so after reading Malcolm Gladwell’s edgy book, ‘Outliers: The Story of Success’, he asked me if after 10,000 hours of practice he could play one of the Chopin Ballades. Meanwhile, he was struggling with an early intermediate-level Haydn Sonata. Nonetheless, I lauded his efforts, and reminded him that the development of technic and musical capacity takes time – its own time, and that his responsibility would be to practice intelligently and regularly with a goodly amount based upon his goals, to follow my instruction, and to remember the long game. His sense of entitlement, however, overrode what I had hoped would be a gentle yet pointed reality check. He assumed that since he had weekly lessons, he was highly intelligent and disciplined, was committed to those 10,000 hours, and that in working with me he was entitled to have access to the advanced repertoire through some sort of short cut. Sadly, that sense of entitlement prevented him from serving his talent, of making a strategic plan in his practicing and study, honestly assessing his challenges along with his achievements, and trusting that together, he and I could move the cause forward. It would, however, require the long game as it does for most of us.

With young students, the struggle is more systemic. Parents are often driving their children to overload their schedules: A’s in everything, numerous sports, extra curriculars that might be the ticket to getting into Harvard or Oxford, and a schedule with every hour accounted for. Where is the time to daydream, to imagine, to create something original? Who will teach them the value and efficacy of this? Where is the education for the sublime, for beauty, for the inherent power of the arts to uplift humanity? How do they discover their own gifts, and more importantly how do they humbly serve music? How can they become inner directed, avoiding the distractions, the pressures to conform, and the seductions and misinformation that float around in the outer world?

Nurturing one’s talents takes time, commitment, appropriate education, inspiring and skilled mentors, confidence, patience, a keen work ethic, self-reflection, humility, and the long view. Moreover, one must acquire the ability to be ruthlessly honest about one’s work. What are my strengths? How can I build upon those? What led me to fluency in a performance? Conversely, what are the barriers to my progress? What blind spots do I have? Am I open to learning new things? Is my practice time allotment sufficient and effective for my goals? By the way, my definition of practicing is rehearsing solutions to musical and technical challenges. If you are not rehearsing solutions, what is it that you are drilling? Never mind those 10,000 hours! Can you measure yourself by what you strengthen in your own work? One can learn a great deal from mastering a new capacity! What is your artist vision and is it undergirded by a searingly honest and doable plan?

No matter how brilliant a mind, there will be a substantial, regular time commitment required if one is to develop artistry. For example, with musicians, the development of technic can take many years. I may dream of playing Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata, but without the necessary technique, a grounding in historical performance practice, and a willingness to musically serve that style period, it will remain aspirational. No amount of will, talent, or entitlement will achieve that objective. Ask the artists at the top of the industry and they will regale you with stories of decades of practice, study, self-reflection, perseverance, sacrifice, challenges, luck, and yes, the long game.

So, in moving forward, how do we eschew entitlement in our own artistic work and that of our students? It may be that the way out is through. That Zen saying speaks volumes about the process required. In my own teaching, I have observed that when a student really wants to achieve something, they are apt to work for it if they can lift the veil of entitlement. It’s what I call concrete teaching. It’s a black and white approach (no pun intended) with weekly achievable goals, a constant check-in on reality, and that ruthless honestly. We ask our students as to how practicing is going? What is the quality of one’s practice time? Is it sufficient? Are we rehearsing solutions to musical and technical challenges? Are our musical goals congruent with our skills and time available? Needless to say, these points of practice apply equally to our own artistic work.

Moreover, all musical compositions have dues that one must pay in order to master fluency. It is relative to one’s skill and experience of course. The more experience you have, the more accurately you can assess the work ahead that is required. Back to the Goldberg Variations.

When I received an invitation to perform it, I had a year to prepare. I figured I could learn it in roughly three months with three to four hours of practice most days. I had other performances and professional tasks, but that time frame seemed appropriate. Wrong. It took me five months to learn it, during which time I had the flu, was preparing to move, and received a contract to write a book. Needless to say, I learned a great deal from that experience. Clearly, one’s musical skills and capacity are realized by the amount of time needed in order to learn a piece of music. This measurable and temporal reality may be your greatest weapon in combating entitlement: yours, or your students!

Speaking of students, the overarching concern that most music educators harbor is usually with sufficient and regular practice for their pupils. Moreover, that practice time must be informed, efficient, and consequential. As most of us know, many hours can be spent at the piano, even 10,000 hours, but there must be conscious awareness of how one is practicing. In those hours of practice, ideally, we become our own best teacher, and we train our students to embrace this concept as well. Mindless, disengaged drill at the piano does not engender mastery. One tool, however, can move the cause forward. If your student is motivated and is not under the spell of entitlement, they can greatly benefit from what I call a “mock practice session.” I periodically take an entire lesson time (usually one to two hours) and guide the student in what constitutes effective practicing. I am experientially teaching the student how to practice effectively and efficiently. This session is recorded for the student to review between lessons. Often, the student discovers that in a short period of time a great deal can be achieved in learning the score. Moreover, I remind students that they can continue this exciting path to mastery if they practice like they did in the lesson!

Ultimately, whatever way we approach the nurturing of talent, we need adequate time. This can be challenging in our cluttered and distracted world. I still struggle with this every now and then. There are, however, myriad solutions. Time management is a powerful tool, especially if you can review your schedule on a weekly basis. You are in charge, after all. As a side bar, I highly recommend Cal Newport’s groundbreaking book, ‘Digital Minimalism’. You will find a wealth of information, advice, and strategies to remain artfully engaged in your environment, but not possessed or distracted by the endless commotion from the digital world.

Lastly, I will leave you with several thoughts. My sense of music making is that it is 80 percent work and 20 percent talent. And moreover, the making of that music is not about me. I am merely the vessel. But without me, fully present, humbly prepared, and devoted to the composer and audience, that music remains on the page. It is indeed a sacred mission. In the final analysis, there is no entitlement, only devotion to the highest level our talent can take us. Music then becomes an act of service.

Jill Timmons is a leading performing arts consultant, serving individuals and nonprofits. As an international artist-educator, her work is sculpted by the ever-changing global market. The second edition of her book The Musician’s Journey is published by Oxford University Press.

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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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Guest post by Jessica Yeartie

To our benefit, there are usually several paths one can choose to arrive at the same end result. Doing so in the traditional way or manner, and the unconventional way. Whichever decision you make is incumbent on the most comfortable way for you in accomplishing something.

To me, I am always seeking the easiest and most convenient way to do something, however I would not perceive myself as lazy. I am just conservative and selective with how I spend my energy. The only thing I exercise to the brink of exhaustion on a daily basis is my brain and thought processes. I can usually just take a nap to recuperate when necessary.

When I had decided I wanted to learn the piano, I knew seeking out a professional teacher to personally instruct me was out of the question, financially and time-wise. My mentors and research consisted of pianists who posted helpful videos on YouTube for beginners and affordable piano books and exercises I could purchase from Amazon.

Due to my circumstances, these choices suited my situation best and I made the best with what I had at my disposal. If aspiring pianists have the funds to hire a personal instructor, I would highly encourage you to do so.

Many tactics I did not learn until much later would have been made aware to me had I had someone to overlook my practice sessions and provide instant feedback I could apply on my own time. Though I think I have gotten on fine enough considering the circumstances.

Like everything in this universe, there are pros and cons when we make these choices. When we choose one thing over the other, we are knowingly sacrificing what could have been had we chosen differently. Sometimes the fear of ¨what could have been¨ can cripple us so much that we just do not make a choice at all.

Some have the opportunity to experience both but I cannot say if that is the default when it comes to decision-making. Although, I can say that hard work can certainly aid with filling in the gaps where personal instruction could have been well-utilized.

Pros

Learning anything outside our immediate area of expertise is a struggle, to say the least. Fortunately the individuals who would consider themselves to be of a more independent nature could definitely benefit from the self-taught avenue.

Adhering to Your Own Schedule

Going solo means you do not have to refer to someone else for when a task should be completed. Finding ways to manoeuvre around each other´s, sometimes very busy, schedules can be time-consuming and hard to negotiate.

Also, life is still going on around us. Many of us have outside responsibilities that come first before giving precious time to what most would consider a hobby. Things like family, relationships, work, household duties, etc. are more than enough to keep the average citizen occupied for the majority of their week.

Of course we definitely need sleep as well, especially me. We are not machines that only need to be recharged when we are feeling fatigued at the end of a long, busy day. Being self-taught can eliminate some of these issues.

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas on Pexels.com

No Time Constraints

Typically, teachers expect you to have practiced a certain amount during the week and present that to them when you see them next. Sometimes, the pressure of performing and getting in the required time for a full practice session can be tiresome and anxiety-inducing.

While I immensely enjoyed taking a piano close as a Junior in high school, I hated the weekly tests the teacher would grade us on for the song he selected. I always performed so much worse during the exam than when I was practicing and it frustrated me to no end.

Also, my school did not have enough pianos for each student to have their own so our allotted time slot was much shorter time to accommodate our larger than average classrooms. Now that I practice in the comfort of my own home, I can take as much time as I need to make sure I fully understand a concept.

Working at Your Own Pace

Slow-learners and fast-learners are the bane of the other´s existence. We all have that one subject or skill we excel in and get mildly irritated when others are not. At least that was the case for me in the past. I was even more irritated when I did not understand something and everyone else did, leaving me behind while I struggled.

Some concepts take longer to comprehend than others so rushing them can exacerbate their feelings of inadequacy, leading them to eventually quitting.

On the contrary, moving too slowly can lead to boredom. It is hard for a professional and newbie to come to terms with their individual skill levels and find a way to move forward that satisfies both of their needs.

Working alone means you can work as fast or slow as you need. You can speed up when something comes easier to you or take additional time for more difficult roadblocks without feeling like you are infringing on someone else´s time while still moving forward.

Cons

On the other side, there are some hiccups one should take into consideration before taking the plunge. While there is a considerable amount of freedom that comes with being self-taught, there are also some factors one should think about. Determine whether or not these possible setbacks are something you are willing to take on during your progression.

Lack of Support

One thing that makes starting a new hobby so exciting is meeting new people who have the same passion as you. This can be said about starting a new sport, joining a club at school, or attending weekly community gatherings for a specific project.

What all of these activities have in common is a group of individuals that are physically present. You have others you can converse with as the two of you are working while establishing a relationship.

In the beginning stages, learning an instrument can be kind of isolating if you are teaching yourself. Having a teacher present can remind you that they are there to help and support you when you eventually hit a wall. We can sometimes lose motivation when we have no one holding us accountable.

Lack of Foundation

If you are anything like me, you tend to want to skip the ¨boring¨ stuff and tackle the more exciting lessons. The problem with this is you hit a plateau much quicker due to a lack of knowledge in basic strategies you should have focused on to begin with.

We all have songs in our heads we really want to learn so we convince ourselves, prematurely, that we can learn it at our current level only to receive a slap in the face when you realize you cannot even play both hands at the same time without being out of time.

It takes a responsible person to stave off instant gratification and spend time on the more mundane, but important, aspects that are the very foundation of what they can accomplish in the future.

Little to No Feedback

Unless you asked someone to watch over you who is well-versed in piano and the proper form, you do not have much immediate feedback so you would have to refer to second-hand resources for clarity.

Playing in front of someone can be extremely nerve-wrecking but it is worth it to learn in the early stages which behaviours need to be corrected so they do not turn into bad habits that are nearly impossible to break further down the line.

Don´t shoot yourself in the foot by relying on your intuition in unfamiliar territory. There are lots of resources and videos out there that will inform you on better ways to play arpeggios or the perfect posture to maintain when practicing.

In Conclusion

We are all different. Some thrive in solitude while others, in the company of others. I do not regret that I chose to be self-taught however I definitely believe I could have benefited greatly from having a stable authority present to help me when I struggled.

Ideally, I think the best situation would be to experience both. Have a teacher as a novice player then gradually become more independent as you improve. That is just my opinion, though.

Whatever decision you choose is ultimately up to you unless you have parents who insist on paying for your lessons. I hope whatever path you choose leads you to victory.

Keep playing!

Jessica Yeartie is a US-based writer and blogger.

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Guest post by Dr Michael Low

This is, in part, a response to the article Should there be minimum qualifications for piano teachers.

Before I discuss some of the points made in that article, I would like to clarify the following:

● The intention of my response is not to point fingers as to who or what is right or wrong. All of us are entitled to our own opinion and the purpose of this article is to provide an alternate viewpoint.

● All of us are unique individuals, what works for one person (musically and otherwise) might not necessarily resonate with another. In an ideal world, we will learn to respect someone else’s opinion without the need to resort to some form of online slur of abuse. However, the world we live in is far from ideal.

● Everything in the article is based on my own experience as a human being, educator, musician and a pianist.

I must applaud the author of the article for being so articulate and standing up for what she believes in. The music industry and the world of piano teaching will always be indebted to teachers with Lorraine’s passion.

I agree that some form of panel or administrative board (notice I stopped short of calling them ‘third-party’ interlopers) might be useful not only to regulate the quality of piano teachers, but also to provide general information and guideline to aspiring piano teachers as to what good teaching might be. Ultimately, this does not guarantee that everyone who is examined and passed by the board will end up as good teachers (as Lorraine rightly pointed out later in her article). It is all very well being able to convince a panel of examiners or judges that you have the credentials to be a good teacher, but applying what you have studied in real life is an artform in itself, and one which takes a lifetime to perfect. I also see the benefit of CPD (Continuous Professional Development) for piano teachers, but I must admit that the best teachers that I know have often been musically curious (in a healthy way) and always considered themselves as students of the arts. In general, it is my opinion that being a good teacher has less to do with the qualification and more to do with being a relatable human being, as teaching is the transference of knowledge from one individual to another (and very often from one generation to another). Ultimately, teaching is a spiritual exercise which requires patience, empathy, integrity, dedication, and sometimes even humour – in short, all the qualities that make one a honourable human being. Though it may sound obvious, we often take it for granted that some form of qualification is the minimum requirement for all professions. Bad teaching is often attributed to teachers having little, or at times no qualifications or formal training, whereas an excellent student is often the product of certain highly qualified individuals.

While Lorraine asserts that, in her experience, the majority of poor students have been taught by unqualified teachers, I would like to suggest that there are many other reasons why a piano student might not have as solid of a musical foundation as one would like, some of which I will try and address below.

Firstly, no teacher is ever entire responsible for how a student develops, as I strongly believe that there also has to be a sense of accountability on the student’s part. As much as I enjoy the 1984 film Karate Kid, I have come to find Mr Miyagi’s famous line ‘No such thing [as a] bad student, only [a] bad teacher’ a little simplistic. This is because I pay all of my students the compliment of being responsible for their own decisions (musical or otherwise). Take a common musical occurrence: if (for whatever reason) you left your sheet music at home instead of bringing it to your lesson, then it is no fault of your parents. And if we are preparing for an external exam or performance, there will be musical consequences should you choose not to practise your scales and technical work properly. A teacher can do their best to help, facilitate, teach, even go as far as practicing with a student, but at the end of the day we cannot play for them. I recall meeting an excellent Singaporean piano teacher during my travels who told me that she was ‘embarrassed beyond words’ because one of her students had taken a rather spontaneous opportunity to play for a very famous piano teacher when she was on holiday in China. I might have read the situation incorrectly, but in this instance the teacher clearly felt that all her students are a reflection of her teaching and personal credentials. When I reassured this teacher that she is not ultimately responsible for everything her student plays, and given the circumstances it was very understandable, she looked at me as though I was speaking Wookie! As excellent as some piano teachers are, I sometimes wonder if their dedication and commitment (particularly in Asia) have more to do with the preservation of their own self-image and reputation. This makes sense from a business point of view, especially when you are making a living in a results-driven culture.

Secondly, I believe that the gaps in all our musical development often have more to do with the lack of interest (or even laziness) on the student’s part rather than lack of effort by the teacher. A sweeping statement perhaps, but I count my lucky piano stars that I was fortunate to have studied with some of the most sought-after piano teachers in the business. As different as all my teachers were, they were unanimous in believing that unless I studied more Bach and work on my sight-reading, I would never reach the musical heights of my fantasies. I sometimes wonder if things would have turned out differently if I had at that stage come across Maria Tipo’s recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations or Grigory Sokolov’s performances of Rameau and Couperin … Unfortunately, I was young, hot-headed, and lacked any sort of emotional or musical patience. Why play contrapuntal music when I aspire to perform works with eight-note chords on every single beat of the bar? What I failed to notice was that contrapuntal musical lines exist within almost all chordal textures. And who needed sight-reading when I was able to learn new repertoire just as quickly through obsessive practising? I was wrong of course, and it was only years later when I become a teacher that I started addressing these musical gaps. To this day, I have never felt that the talented but wildly undisciplined Michael Low of twenty years ago was a reflection of any of my teachers.

Ultimately, it is up to the student what they want to get out of their piano lessons. As a teacher, would you turn down the lucrative proposition if a potential client offers to double or even triple your fees, only to let you know that they have absolutely no interest in learning how to read music notation? The same client’s ultimate aim is to play a few soundtracks from iconic Hollywood movies or well-known pop songs when hosting elaborate dinner parties. As a teacher, do you take on such a student in the hope that, while this is far from a ‘proper’ or ‘ideal’ way of teaching the piano, maybe the student will change their mind somewhere down the line and recognise the importance of reading music notation? Such an occurrence might be rare, but it is not entirely impossible, and I have experienced it. Or do you simply refuse to entertain such profanity? The situation becomes even more complicated when there is a new teacher trying to build their reputation. Does the new teacher turn down this very profitable musical venture and run the risk of losing out on future clients of the same social status? I cannot speak for everyone else, but when I started teaching I took on anyone who wanted to learn how to play the piano, partly for financial reasons, but most of all because I believe that I have to work hard in forging my musical reputation. I did everything (within reason) to assist my students when it comes to note-learning, even to the extent of spoon-feeding them. Looking back, I probably should have considered a less strenuous methodology when it comes to reading musical notation, but that was an important part of my journey as a music educator, and I certainly do not think any less of myself for the musical decisions that I have taken.

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas on Pexels.com

The Piano Teacher’s Musical Blanket

Imagine going to bed with a blanket long enough only to cover three quarters of your body. If your pull the blanket over your chest, then your feet will be exposed; and when you cover the lower part of your body, your chest will be cold. Any student and piano teacher worth their musical salt will tell you that managing time is one of the most challenging factors during weekly lessons. In other words, one can never have enough of it. If you spend all your lesson working on technical studies and repertoire, you run the risk of neglecting other aspects of the student’s musical development such as sight-reading and aural. By spending a substantial time on the latter, you will find it hard to delve into the details and the emotional subtleties of musical interpretation. And because of this, I would argue that there will inevitably be gaps in any student’s musical and pianistic developments. It is very difficult for any teacher to address all the musical weaknesses in a student. Sometimes the teacher just isn’t experienced enough, but most of the time this is a logistical issue. By the same token, most teachers are not so bad that they cannot address any of the more glaring issues in a student’s playing.

I have never been keen to give my new students a ‘check list’ of things we need to do to improve their playing as I find that in doing so only creates tension and bad feelings especially when the student (for whatever reasons) feels attached and loyal to their previous teacher – I am speaking from experience as I have been on the receiving end of such a treatment during my student days. Rather find out what was done and what hasn’t been done so well and build on this. Just like any musical performance, if you look hard enough, you will always be able to find interpretive discrepancies. It is up to the individual how they move forward from here.

Again, this may be another unpopular opinion, but studying with highly qualified or sought-after teachers doesn’t necessarily mean that you will have all your musical and pianistic questions answered. This might sound like a simplistic statement, but highly qualified (and famous) teachers often have the musical gravitas to attract more advanced students. This of course makes complete sense – you are not going to study with one of the professors who teaches in a music conservatoire if you are just interested in playing Grade 3 level (nothing wrong with that of course, as all musical and pianistic goals are personal), and, conversely, you don’t seek help from a primary school piano teacher if you are studying the entire Liszt Transcendental Etudes (again, this is a generalisation – and perhaps a little tongue-in-cheek – because I have come across excellent piano teachers who have yet to have the opportunity to showcase their teaching credential at a tertiary institute). The dilemma lies at the highest level of teaching, where prestigious music schools are more interested in having famous performers than actual teachers on their teaching roster. I knew of a brilliant young pianist who won a scholarship to study with one of the twentieth century’s most prolific pianists in London, only to have a handful of lessons due to his teacher’s own personal commitments. And I am sure all of us are familiar with the story of Martha Argerich, who recalled only having four lessons (in eighteen months) when studying with Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli. Michelangeli asserted that he taught Argerich ‘in silence, and away from the piano.’

I would like to leave you with the following scene from John Avildsen’s 1984 film The Karate Kid. I am sure many of you are just as familiar with the movie’s plotline as I am: the teenage Daniel LaRusso and his mother Lucille move to Los Angeles and live in the same apartment block as the Japanese immigrant Mr Miyagi, who accepts Daniel as a karate student when he becomes the victim of bullying. What follows is a mentor/student relationship that encompasses not only, karate but life itself, as in the following exchange:

Miyagi (to Daniel): You remember lesson about balance?

Daniel (nods somewhat hesitantly): Yeah.

Miyagi: Lesson not just karate only. Lesson for whole life. Whole life have a balance, everything be better. Understand?

As piano teachers, it is our duty to teach our students the mechanics of how to play the instrument along with the basic of music such as rhythm, note-reading, musical notation, as well as interpretation and music appreciation. However, as much as we want all our students to succeed and become international prize-winners, it is worth remembering that, ultimately, every student is different and some are more interested than others. At the end of the day, it is not the teacher who does the playing or performing in practical exams. Just as it is left to Daniel LaRusso to find the balance in his life that ultimately propels him to become the karate champion, our students will ultimately have to walk through the musical door that we open for them, and that will be enough.

Michael Low, March 2023

Listen to Michael Low’s podcast with The Cross-Eyed Pianist