I still remember the worst lesson of my life. It was the first and only lesson I’d had with somebody – I don’t remember their name. I was a fragile teenager with fragile emotions, and had been self-studying for quite a few years. I brought in my newest love – Chopin, his “Raindrop” prelude. It is not a difficult piece, but my lack of lessons and lack of playing on an acoustic piano meant that my technique and physical approach to the piano were not up to the task. 

The teacher, from the very beginning, was that variety of fake friendly that any kid can spot from a mile away. I remember struggling through that Prelude – it was so much work to put my fingers down on those heavy keys, and it felt so different from my keyboard at home, and I couldn’t express it the way I usually did because I was so nervous and on-the-spot with this new, vaguely hostile entity sitting across from me. 

When I finished, they ripped me to shreds with everything that I had done wrong. I must have looked quite upset. What they said next, dripping with scorn, I will never ever forget: “It feels bad to be told you’re not as good as you thought you were, huh?” 

I felt so small, and left the lesson in tears. 

I look back now, with my adult self, and I have such compassion for my younger self. I find myself feeling compassion for that teacher, too – I don’t know what was going on in their lives to make them feel like they had to cut down a young student, but it must not have been anything good. 

I also remember a handful of worst lessons. Mostly, they were the result of me not practicing enough, or not practicing the right way or the right things. At one, I sat steeped in such anxiety and stress that I forgot how to play – the notes on the page suddenly weren’t making sense, and I couldn’t understand what keys to press. 

It’s said that you often learn more from bad teachers than from good ones. Well, that is certainly the case here. I have taken these lessons and woven them into my own pedagogy. 

The common thread is this: in my worst lessons, the teacher had set up an antagonistic relationship with the student. “Teacher” AGAINST “student”. The teacher feels they have to correct or set the student straight through tactics that inspire shame in the student. “If I leverage my authority to make you feel ashamed of your lack of practice,” the teacher thinks, “it will inspire you to work harder.” 

I can confidently say that this tactic did not work on me. I can also confidently say that, despite popular belief, it doesn’t actually work on anybody. Sure, shame might propel somebody to work hard in the short term… but it comes at the cost of their dignity and self worth. It dims their light. 

I aim to never set up that antagonistic relationship of me against the student. Of course, we all need to practice our instrument. We cannot grow if we don’t practice. And of course I encounter students who have insufficiently practiced. 

What is my tactic instead? It is me WITH the student, and we are working together to improve the situation. 

A couple of weeks here and there with insufficient practicing – fine. We get busy sometimes. If it becomes a running theme, I’ll sit with the student and try to figure it out, getting the parent involved in the conversation if needed. Do we need to write a schedule? Do we need to decide on a time of day that will always work – get home from school, have a snack, and play for a bit? Have supper, help clean up, then play for a bit? Wake up early before school? (this last one would never work for me!) 

I also spend lots of time showing students HOW to practice. Practicing well is not a skill that we are born with! I walk them through how to narrow and focus and simplify. Our goal is to make it easy! Practicing tactics could be a whole book… or maybe a whole separate blog post. 

My point is – I am meeting the student where they are at, with copious support and encouragement. We are working together. I am not the authority who comes down from on high to cut down students or tell them how to do things “because I said so”. 

I learned many, many things from my greatest teacher, Dominic. His teachings are a part of absolutely everything I do. One of the best is this – people learn better when they feel safe and supported. When they feel defensive or anxious, they close inward. Fight or flight engages. Their light dims. When people feel safe and unconditionally supported, they are open and receptive. Their light shines bright. THIS is the state of creativity and music.