There’s a little sign that I love on my office door. I’m not sure how often students or passersby read it when they are in the hallway, but every once in a while, I find the perfect occasion to pull it down from the door and share it with a student.
The sign reads as follows:
“This is too hard” is often a disguise for “I don’t want to put in the time it requires to accomplish this.” Similarly, “I don’t want to put in the time” is often a cover up for “I feel stupid when I face the challenges instead of ignoring them.”
The incredible irony is that “I feel stupid” comes from “this is too hard” which comes from “I don’t want to put in the time” which comes from “I feel stupid” … It’s a vicious cycle that is NOT EVEN REAL.
Because no musical passage is ever too fast or too difficult when approached with luxuriously slow practice tempos, unlimited repetitions and infinite baby steps, and the following three things are ALWAYS true!
1) Nothing is too hard for you!
2) Practicing feels good when you know time is all that stands between you and the music that is never too hard for you.
3) You never (ever!) need to feel stupid when you know that practice time will feel good and nothing is ever too hard for you!
If I’m lucky, the concept makes perfect sense, the student smiles and we are able to collaborate on some practice games or meaningful repetitions that further solidify the point. More often than not, however, whether it’s reading this particular sign or other teaching moments like it, there is only a brief glimpse of the wisdom that all we need is time and baby steps. Sadly, that glimpse fades quickly, either as soon as the student leaves my office door or perhaps later when the busy-ness of modern life swoops in and replaces that fleeting connection to simplicity and clarity. In some cases, and I’m sorry to say that this is increasingly so, and the understanding that time, space, patience and a willingness to invest in repetitions is necessary to grow and play high quality art music does not take root.
This is my current obsession. What do we do as practitioners of an old school art in our current “instant-gratification-short-attention-span-poor-emotional-regulation” age? Teachers and students alike are faced with what seems like an epic challenge to access patience, grace, persistence and resilience when our culture is preaching anything but. In the past, the Penny Game (in which you line up 10 pennies on the music stand, slide one over for an excellent repetition and have to start all the way over for any errors) was enough to make practicing fun and to get satisfaction from quick enough results. Now? It seems like the teacher and the student need a degree in psychology, a spiritual quest and an epic breakthrough just to get to two or three pennies, much less have the patience to complete the Penny Game dozens and dozens of times through an entire piece of challenging flute repertoire.
It’s a significant challenge, but I refuse to give up on bridging this gap. I will find a way to keep helping students transform their practice cycles from vicious (this is too hard, I don’t have enough time, I feel stupid or I’m overcompensating from feeling stupid) to virtuous (I’ve got this, baby steps are where it’s at, repetitions are magical). This article does not have the perfect answer yet (and neither do I), but I do know it has something to do with no longer assuming any basic personal skills. Flute students in this post-pandemic-modern-technology age do have many things going for them (lightning fast navigation of unlimited resources perhaps most of all), but their awareness of how accessible their own growth is (or that growth is something beautiful, desirable and good to seek) is never a guarantee today.
For now, I will simply address the issue and proclaim my hope for new ideas and communication that transcends the generational and cultural gaps. If you are a flute teacher, I encourage you to take heart and join me on the quest to teach our students that understanding our limits is only the beginning and that anything is possible through unlimited repetitions and a willingness to break challenges down into small, digestible components. If you are a flute student or other type of aspiring flutist, I ask you to consider releasing both the high and the low ends of ego issues. No need to fiercely protect “how good you are” or conversely, form an identity out of struggle. Get excited about an objective assessment of where your abilities lie and embrace the idea that you can grow, grow, grow, starting today and building on the ripple effects of your microsteps tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
In a day and age where we tend to get impatient if what we want doesn’t come directly through our phone in 2 seconds or less, let’s embrace the old-fashioned joys of delayed gratification and accomplishing something after one hundred tries. In a life that seems to be moving at breakneck speed while we are constantly craving rest, let’s find rest and rejuvenation in our flute practice. Let’s let go and witness the incredible power of never-giving-up-consistent persistence. Let’s turn the vicious, frustrating cycles of demanding instant gratification into the virtuous, satisfying, oh so rewarding cycles of believing in ourselves, our students and the power of the human spirit to forge new territory and reach higher levels than ever before.