Grad School Week 5: Andragogy

Here we are mid-way through my fifth week of my first semester.  Hard to believe I'm a third of the way through the first semester, but there it is.

There is lots to tell:  about how I should not be blogging, about how I should be starting my adult method reviews instead, how I'm learning a lot, how different it is the second time around, how my basic life rhythm consists of class/rehearsals/teaching, practicing, homework, sleeping/eating, and boyfriend... about how I'm re-learning the definitions of "management" and "pacing."  It's been an interesting transition.

This week was the first week that I didn't feel like crying at odd times for a variety of reasons... also something to do with the crazy stress I was under earlier this month, as well as time lost to various circumstances.  For those of you who wondered how the issue with the landlord turned out:  we compromised.  And then it made me sick to my stomach for about a week when I realized that we are part of the gentrification problem in St. Louis.  We blew our chance to blow the whistle and we only protected ourselves.  We did not help the larger situation in this town and I'm sorry to admit it.  Alas, I cannot be involved in a multi-year litigation issue, not while I'm in school.  So we negotiated a one-week renovation period in late October with definite start and end dates at no cost to us where we basically get an almost-completely new apartment for the remainder of our lease (6 months) for free.  Funny how things start looking your way when you mention the words "lawyer" and "what you're trying to do is illegal".  Jacob has since decided that if I can't be persuaded to head to the Ukraine or the Middle East to negotiate peace talks, I'm definitely buying his next car for him.  "Because," as he says, "you'd go in there with five dollars and walk out with a brand new vehicle."

It's true.  But I'm telling you, it took about a year off my life.

By far the biggest change (as foretold by Dr. Budds weeks before the semester started) has been my transition back to being a student.  But not in the way I thought... not at all.  For one thing, while I was in undergrad, I might as well have been Superman.  I had everything timed down to the minute.  I could get an incredible amount of stuff done in 10 minutes.  And I basically lived that way all the time.  It was crazy.  Seriously:  it was crazy.  And I am by no means old, but this pianist isn't the same spring chicken she used to be.  I still get a lot done, but I definitely have to plan more.  There is so much less room to fly by the seat of my pants, partly because I just can't, but also partly because the work load is so much more intense.  This past week (Wednesday to Wednesday) was the first time since the start of the semester that I was able to pace my homework and practicing without putting in multiple 12-14 hour days in a row.  Those weeks where I lost time due to one thing or another were valuable lessons in that regard... painful, but valuable.

The other thing I have realized in my transition back to student-hood is that I am actually a student.  Seems silly to say so, but it's true.  In my pedagogy class, we are currently studying how to teach adult beginning piano students (and adults in general).  Holy cow, I could not be a more perfect example! For the past four years I have not only been self-regulating, but regulating others as I teach them the intricacies of my instrument.  And not only am I realizing that once again am I a student, but that there is a serious process that comes with that role.  Sometimes that means being ok with where my pieces are (i.e. not perfect or performance ready or even where I want them to be) when it's time to head to lesson.  Sometimes I can't get my rotation sections to work the way I want them to (despite having put in hours of practice trying to get the coordination to come together) much less have the rest of the piece up to my personal standards of playability.  Sometimes this process means remembering that I'm here to enjoy my work, rather than be driven by it.  Sometimes it means I need to relax (period... in life...) so I can play with less tension.  Sometimes it means I need to go to bed or get up earlier so I can do a little yoga to help loosen me up... or do the theory assignment I put off til the last minute.  Always it means that this thing, this motor skill I'm attempting to develop at a level I've never attempted before... it is hard and unforgiving.  Because motor skills do not come easily and the music lays our shortcomings bare.  Always it means I need to let my art be what it is, where it is, in connection to where I'm at with it in the process... and not be so hard on myself while doing so.  Always it means giving grace to myself in the same way I would my own students. 

And you know, I've got some really great people (who care about me a ton!) helping me along the way.  I seriously couldn't be more thankful for them.  Not only that, I have a lot of really great support through my student families, as well as the choirs I accompany for.  I posted earlier this week on Facebook that I have the best student families in the universe:  they ask how things are going and they genuinely want to know.  One mom last week packed 2-3 meals worth of amazing produce and gluten-free food for me after her son's lesson, telling me she knows how hard it is to eat while in school.  I seriously could have cried.  I am so certainly loved.

So all in all, it's good.  It's one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do, but it's good.

Andragogy:  the study of how to teach adults... to be students again (ellipsis added)     

Grad School Week 3

Some of you have been asking how school is going now that I'm finishing up my third week.  Has it been three weeks already?  Holy cow.

School is fine, honestly.  I go to class, I do my work, I teach my kids, I go to rehearsals.  Bam.  Of course there's the group dynamic of my music theory class that continues to grow more and more interesting by the day, but that's really nothing in the overall scheme of things.  It would be great if these were all I really had to worry about.  But the rest of my life just cannot seem to calm down.

Last weekend my sister got married, which was so much fun.  Of course I was the Maid of Honor, the Officiant, and (via recording) the Pianist as well.  There was something that felt very strangely familiar about the whole thing -- almost like when we were little girls playing wedding.  I think this had to do with the fact that I had about three different jobs throughout the course of the days and weeks leading up to and in fact the day of.  Officiant AND Maid of Honor.  It's a role I'll never have again.  It was a fun day though and I'm very happy for them.

AND JUST AS THAT EXCITEMENT BEGAN TO DIE DOWN (and I mistakenly thought that I could move on with my life as normal)...

We then received notice from our landlords that we have to move out by Monday.  As in, they left a note on our door Wednesday night that they want to do renovations and are trying to make us leave (quickly and illegally) within five days AND/OR fast-talk us into a "sweet deal" so that they don't end up in a legal entanglement.  We are currently in the midst of negotiations with them (which is super stressful), there's so much back and forth bullsh*t for lack of a better word, and tomorrow we meet with them to discuss some more stuff some more.  I am already mega tired of discussing it.  Because the truth is, none of this was ever written into the lease.  I plan to go in tomorrow and repeat the same words over and over:  "You legally can't make us do anything.  It's not in the lease.  We are open to terms, but you can't make us do anything... it's not in the lease."  I literally am ready for the broken record.  And it only took 24 hours to get here.  You can imagine what we've been through in the course of a single day.

But I do want to just take a second to mention that I am so very thankful for all the people in my life who love and care about me who also happen to be lawyers... very good lawyers at that.  We aren't at that point just yet, but I've received some great advice, and who's to say what exactly will happen if we just do nothing?  I honestly can't tell.  All I can say is, if they try anything without our consent, maybe I'll be able to pay for grad school.

Long story short, the chances of us moving in an extremely short time frame could be high, if the terms are right.  Whether to a different apartment, or moving out temporarily while they renovate is yet to be determined, but the amount of stress that this has created (and which will continue) for the next few weeks is... well, ridiculous.  I have to consciously try not to think about it.

Today I went and practiced my Schumann briefly at one point and it gave me a tremendous sense of comfort because it is so beautiful and it's not anything anyone (specifically my landlords) can take away from me.  It is mine, not by lease, nor by rent, and isn't subject to the rules and regulations of a contract.  It is mine.  At what point is it that grad school becomes a major source of comfort?  I can't tell.  But that can be one of the amazing benefits of art and actually reminds me of childhood a lot, as I remember that I spent a lot of time playing the piano as a major source of emotional release.  The reasons we become artists... do we choose it or does it choose us?  Who can say?

Anyway, if you're reading this and it's Friday, say a prayer for us.  We meet with our landlords today.  Jacob keeps telling me: "they can't make you do anything."  And it's true.  But it's so much easier to fight for someone else than to fight for yourself.

All that to say, school is great... :)

My first five years...

The following is something I wrote for an upcoming pedagogy assignment where I reviewed the things that I've learned or the things that have changed in my teaching after my first five years of teaching piano.  It's not a perfect article, by any means, and of course is subject to revision, but even in its imperfect state, I thought it was worth sharing...

       Although many things are similar to when I first started teaching, some things have definitely changed since then. Technically, I started teaching in 2008, when I had my first student Emily under Dr. Knerr’s supervision during my Pedagogy I class at the University of Missouri. That was crazy! I had no idea what I was doing back then! I was learning right there alongside Emily, trying to act like I knew what I was doing the whole time. Ultimately she quit lessons after the fall semester of the following year. It was so sad! I tried to keep her going, but she hit that wall—the one we’re all too familiar with—when a student realizes they can play by ear and decides to stop reading.  That is definitely one thing I have learned:  not all students make it past the first year or two.
       I think one of the most valuable things I’ve taken away from my early experiences though, is that life happens in a given week. I always knew this growing up, but when you first become a teacher, you’re inspired and taught to push your students as much as humanly possible, which is great and true in theory, but not entirely realistic. It’s important that they aren’t ever bored in their lessons or in their assignments, but it’s also important to balance expectations with reality. At some point (I don’t remember when), I started including the student in the conversation about what was realistic for them in terms of their weekly assignments. I ask them directly, towards the end of their lesson when we’re reviewing their assignment sheet, “Is this enough to work on? Do you want something else? Is this too much? Are you going to be bored? You know, the last thing I want is for you to be bored.” I also often tell them, “You know if you get bored, you can always work ahead,” or conversely, if I know they have a stressful week ahead and are normally hard workers, I might say, “You know, if this is too much, you can always drop ____ (specific assignment) and we’ll wait on that til next week. But see if you can work on it anyway.” Sometimes I tell them, "You know, if you don't make it through all your assignments, it's not like I'm going to show up and burst into flames."  I think I learned this after over-assigning and watching my students deal with the stress and then thinking they’ve failed at life: that mentality is just not ok. Life is too short to continue to do something you think you’re constantly failing at, and in my estimation, it’s the teacher who can make or break it for a student by either recognizing the reality a student is living in or ignoring it and steamrolling ahead. I prefer the former over the latter, mostly because I would rather see a student succeed and love their instrument than quit.
       After my first year of teaching in St. Louis, I also realized that it was really important that students like what they’re working on. In my pedagogy classes and in my instruction as a student teacher, I think I had been taught that it doesn’t matter so much in the beginning if a kid likes what they are playing, because they’re going to like the fact that they can play, which I think is definitely true. Kids are smart though, and at some point they realize that they’ll be able to play things they like sooner or later and that playing in general gives them pleasure, but playing things they like gives them an even greater pleasure. Again, I think there’s a balance here. There are some things I insist my students work on because it’s good for them, because it’s great literature that would be stupid to leave out of their education, or because there are specific things I want them to work on. I often tell them why I want them working on a specific piece, or ask them to figure out if they were the teacher, why I gave them a certain piece and what skills I want them to take away. That being said, there is also a huge benefit to giving a student something they like. Not only does it hook them into continued playing, but the pieces they like are often the pieces that push them into the next level, or can relieve a plateau in learning.
       Another thing I’ve taken away from my first five years in teaching piano is to clarify the “practice/not practice mind games” that often occur between teacher and students. When the lesson starts, I ask my students how their week went (both at school and at the piano) and they often give me the expected answer: “good.” But then we get into lesson and I can tell that practice did not in fact go so “good.” Rather than play mind games with them though, I will often ask them directly, “How did you practice this? Tell me what you did.” When I first started doing this, they would often look up at me sheepishly, as if preparing for Catholic confession, at which point I would say, “I’m not here to make you feel guilty. You can confess to me, and I hope you do, but I’m here to help you be a better pianist, not to make you feel bad for lack of practicing.” I would then proceed to hear what they have to say and ask them what a better practice strategy would have been. (This still happens occasionally, although most of my students know now that they can’t hide a lack of practice from me). In lesson though, after “confession”, if they can’t come up with any effective practice strategies (or even if they do), I will often give them a laundry list of much more efficient ways to practice that piece/passage/section so they can finally conquer it. Often, I will have them do certain things in lesson (such as ghosting one hand while playing the other, practice a passage in dotted rhythms and then reverse the dotted rhythms, or go back and forth between chords, etc) so that they can see their progress in a matter of five minutes or less. This usually inspires them to go back the following week and do what I ask.
       One thing I definitely do now, that I didn’t do in my first year of teaching is have both my students and their parents sign studio contracts each semester. Not only is this a legal protection for me in terms of payment, but it’s also important that the student read, review, and re-sign the studio policy each semester before committing to lessons. Every student needs to remember each semester what they’re getting into and what’s expected of them.
       I think, on the whole (based on the examples I’m remembering as I write), the biggest things I’ve changed in my teaching since my first year or two is honesty and transparency in the teacher-student relationship, as well as checking my high expectations against their realities. The best thing I can do for a student is to show them how much I actually care through my interactions with them and my expectations each week during lesson. The most loving and instructive thing I do actually, is give them grace when necessary, which I think I was less inclined to do as a new teacher having been freshly pruned as a teacher myself. I also think one of the greatest things I’ve learned is how to discern when a student really needs grace and when they need grace with a side of pushing. Of course I want them to learn to read music, play with a nice tone and nice voicing, be able to move around the keyboard efficiently, make lovely musical phrases, pedal correctly, and play each piece as if it were the greatest thing ever written. But I think what I’ve really learned in the past five years or so is that if grace is the one thing they take away from their lessons, then that in itself is worth it.