I enjoy reading Tynan’s blog and books for his practical approach to deep, risky, or unorthodox endeavors. He’s written about traveling the world with just a backpack, living in a luxury RV, and how to build incredible habits with the least amount of effort.

I picked up his “Superhuman Social Skills: A Guide to Being Likeable, Winning Friends, and Building Your Social Circle” last week and finished the short book (144 pages) in two afternoons of reading. [It is currently free on amazon with a prime membership!]

His thesis is our lives are shaped more by our circle of close relationships than by any other factor. Many dismiss social skills as being inherent traits (“She’s a social butterfly!”), but he insists that social skills are skills — ones that we can cultivate and master in order to change the course of our lives for the better. Just as we work intentionally toward professional success, we must work intentionally toward social success.

Tynan does devote some time to how to find and choose great friends, but one of the reasons I thoroughly enjoyed the book is that he focuses most of the time not on others but on the readers’ ability to improve themselves.

It is far more effective to spend time and energy making sure that you are a great friend than looking for other people to be great friends with. Tynan writes section after section of great ideas for how to be a net positive impact on other people and bring value to their lives.

Here are just a few…

• communicate well
• tell great stories
• make sure everyone feels involved
• be dynamic (always learning something new)
• smile and be positive
• don’t talk too much
• make introductions for people
• take the initiative to set up fun activities/dates/opportunities on your own

Some of the ideas will take longer to develop than others (read: telling great stories – this is one I’ll devote time to learning in the future – he wrote a blog post about it here), but he also includes a section with three easy ways to stand out in a positive way.

1. Do what you say
2. Be really honest
3. Be on time

He encouragers readers to begin working on them immediately because few people demonstrate all three of these characteristics, but they are easy to develop and will never go unnoticed. I would argue that this is certainly true for social circles, but even more true for teaching private music lessons.

If you can put yourself in a class of teachers who always does what they say they will do, is incredibly honest, and works like a clock you will be highly respected and enthusiastically referred to.

Let’s dive into each one of these points. I’ll share my ideas for how each one can manifest in a violin teacher’s work.

1. Do what you say

Have exciting violin lessons led to incredible new ideas, assignments, and practice techniques? Have you embarassingly entered next week’s lesson with no recollection of the multitude of epiphanies that occurred last week? You should never let this happen. This is a huge opportunity to pass up.

Take great notes before and after every lesson and to keep updated practice charts so that you are ready to follow up with your assignments in the next lesson. If you promised to send information or make an introduction during the week, make sure to put it in your to do list and to complete the task as soon as possible.

Think about how much you appreciate friends who follow up on promises without prompting, and then consider how much more important it is sense you are a mature professional.

Be vigilant when you tell someone you are going to do something, to make note and act.

2. Be really honest

Your desire to be kind and positively impact your students might actually be keeping you from being honest. However, it is your responsibility as a professional to tactfully keep parents and students on track toward success even when it is hard and ruffles feathers.

If you can be honest early on in your parent/student/teacher relationship, you will demonstrate far more value as a teacher and build trust quickly.

• if your student is out of tune/isn’t playing with the group/has scratchy tone tell them
• if a lack of listening to the reference recording is killing progress, tell them
• if you know that a parent is not on the same page with you philosophically, tell them they aren’t yet ready to participate in your studio
• if the parent shared a practice strategy the perceived as working well, but you sense will be problematic, tell them

And, even more importantly, always be honest about your shortcomings.

• if you don’t know the answer to a question, tell them so, and promise to find the correct information as soon as possible (see #1)
• if you made a scheduling mistake, tell them as soon as possible and go out of your way to right the wrong
• if they’ve misinterpreted your training or expertise, make sure to tell them honestly the extent of your education and experience

There are so many opportunities to build the trust of parents and students, especially when it is difficult. Be courageous and tell the truth.

3. Be on time

Tynan makes the point that this is a special case of doing what you say.

Most teachers aren’t terribly late when teaching, but it is normal to run between 5-15 minutes behind. Families probably won’t leave your studio because of this, but imagine the respect you will show them and they will show you when you choose to always start on time.

I side benefit is when you are on time, everyone else is influenced to be prompt as well. Because parents know you will be waiting if they are late to a lesson (or group class, rehearsal, concert) they will work to be right on time.

In an effort to always be on time, I aim to be 15 minutes early to teach for the day – giving me time to prepare my space and meditate – and to finish every lesson at the 20 minute mark. I’ve actually written a whole post on taking small steps to be on time.

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Consider how making these traits an uncompromising part of your daily life and work will put you head and shoulders above other music teachers in your community. Not only will your word, feedback, and time be respected, but people will assume they can respect your skills as a teacher too.

Furthermore, by doing what you say, staying honest, and being on time, you will encourage your studio to operate with the same values. And a studio that is proactive, honest, and prompt is simply hard to top.

I am mentally preparing myself for the five-year-old mind. I want to come down to their physical limitations and up to their sense of wonder and awe.”

Dr. Shinichi Suzuki

As I mentioned last week, I am currently in an in-between-graduation-and-graduate-school phase.

I am enjoying the heck out of this noncommittal freedom, but I also have been letting my thoughts wander to the future. I’ve been letting myself think about my time in Ithaca and how I want it to prepare me for my career beyond.

Today I want to get some of those thoughts down on paper.

If I think about the phases of my learning to be a teacher so far, they break down into two major phases.

1. Years 0-16: Learning to play the violin (completely immersed in the experience of the suzuki method from the student perspective)
2. Years 17-22: Learning to think as a teacher – gathering up as much information on violin playing, communication, and sequencing as I could to be able to teach

The second phase came in my last few years when I began to work with Tim and Kristi during group classes, volunteering to teach small parts of the group class. Kristi shared with me binders and binders of information she’d received in teacher training. I read Nurtured by Love, The Practice Revolution, and Helping Parents Practice (which I toted along with me to a track meet). They encouraged me to attend and audit the workshops of Suzuki teachers when they were in Austin. I learned from Carol Dallinger, Nancy Lokken, and Ed Sprunger while I was still in high school. Perhaps most importantly, after already spending as much time as I could observing Tim and Kristi teach I reached out to Suzuki teachers in the area (Danny Gee, Shana Guidi, etc) to watch them teach.

Once at UT, my opportunities to teach and learn about teaching exploded. I observed as many classes as I could, took undergraduate and graduate level course work on string pedagogy as electives, and jumped at the opportunity to teach with String Project and Monarch Suzuki Academy. By the time I graduated from UT I had registered four units of Suzuki training, logged at least six Suzuki training workshops, taken classes with Dr. Scott and Dr. Duke, and was teaching 17 students a week (working with some of them for more than three years).

Looking at those phases from a macro perspective, I would say phase 1 was me learning how to stand up on my own as a violinist and phase 2 was me learning how to stand up on my own as a teacher. Within phase 2 I gradually transitioned between intense observation and courageous attempts to teach with more and more finesse on my own.

If I were to use surfing as an example, I would say phase 2 was me watching many pros surf and then attempting the waves on my own. By the time I finished college I was standing up on my board and perhaps even doing a few maneuvers. However, I can’t deny that my surfing (my teaching) is still quite elementary.

I listened to a podcast interview between Erik Antonson (pro stand up paddle surfer) and Joshua Waitzkin (chess, tai chi push hands, brazilian jus jitsu, and soon to be surfing master). They touched on the art of learning as it applies to parenting. Erik’s son has been on and in the water all the seven years of his life, but it is only now that he is beginning to learn to stand on a board. They described the way his son has a beautiful, intuitive ability to understand the nature of water in the ocean, the way it ebbs and flows, and the way to interact with the water’s energy.

Waitzkin went on to discuss how in this time in his life (as a parent, a learning coach, and with a foundation focused on teaching) he is cultivating his ability to be receptive to his surroundings, as Erik’s son is to the ocean water.

I believe that, like Waitzkin, I need to come to a better understanding of the water on and in which I work. The water in teaching is the complex personalities of parents and students in my studio. I want to have a nuanced, receptive, intuitive understanding of the unique ways my students and parents approach learning together.

So if I were to look forward to a new phase in my learning to be a teacher, it would be this…

1. Years 0-16: Learning to play the violin (completely immersed in the experience of the suzuki method from the student perspective)
2. Years 17-22: Learning to think as a teacher – gathering up as much information on violin playing, communication, and sequencing as I could to be able to teach
3. Years 22-24: Become receptive and attuned to the natures of children and adults

And it is clear that this path is one the Dr. Suzuki similarly followed. It is he who said, “I play with children so that I can learn from them,” and, “I cannot live without children.” I want to understand his understanding on the flip side of his complete immersion in the nature of the child’s mind.”

I can think of three ways I will work on this (following the arc of growth I used in phase 2) while in graduate school

• Observe, observe, observe. I will take advantage of the opportunity to watch Carrie Reuning-Hummel, Samford Reuning, and the other incredible teachers of Ithaca Talent Education to see how they respond to the variety of people in their school
• Meditation and more observation. I will work on my skills of receptivity through deep mediation practice. I can think of my time in zen meditation, drinking tea, being in nature, listening to my environment, and riding my bike as opportunities to practice not actively projecting my thoughts/feelings/pre-conceptions but to engage with places/people/things as they are.
• Learning about people. I will seek out the opportunity to spend time with children and their parents as often as possible (especially outside of musical experiences). This might involve me working at a local montessori school, boys and girls club, or after school program – anywhere where I can engage with many different children casually, but regularly. I will also look for scholarly research on parenting, psychology, and communication to further my understanding.

With only two years in Ithaca, I feel that having a focused approach to school and my time there will allow me to leave transformed as a teacher. Because I know I want to observe, practice mediation, and work with children/parents I can prioritize my time accordingly from the start. And because I’ve defined the bucket I want to fill — so to speak — I will end up retaining far more than if I approached school with only empty hands.

I can’t wait to update my site with the discoveries I make on this perpetual journey as I continue it in Ithaca.

I returned home to Burnet after spending the past week with my grandmother in San Marcos.

She lives on the top of a hill on a beautiful piece of property about 10 miles out of town. We spent every morning sipping coffee outside, listening to birds, and reading. In the mid afternoon I would drive down to the San Marcos river — to the special spot under the railroad tracks. The water is clear and swift and cold. I would dive in, wade around, feel the water rushing around me, and then hop out to read a chapter or two from a biography on Teddy Roosevelt (which I’ve been thoroughly enjoying!). After running some errands, perhaps to the local coffee roasters, the dog grooming shop, the jewelry store or the grocery store we would drive back home, fix a simple supper, and continue binge watching the Handmaid’s Tale on Hulu.

I was living the essence of summer. It was sublime.

I felt as the speaker of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” must have when remarking, “I loafe and invite my soul, / I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.”

The loafing I did out-loafed any loafing I’ve done before, for a particularly obvious reason: I’ve graduated, I taught my last lessons, and don’t start graduate school until August!

Never in my life have I been more free of commitment.

There is nothing I NEED to study. There is nothing I NEED to read. There is nothing I NEED to finish. There is nothing I NEED to practice.

It is, quite honestly, an odd, luxurious feeling. It gives me the chance to live out the question, “What would you do if you didn’t have to do anything?”

And so far the answer has been fairly close to what I expected it would be…

• nature time
• listening, watching, reading as they relate to learning (about violin or otherwise)
• rituals: meditation, writing, gung fu, violin (tonalizations and scales — not rigorous practice)
• meeting with close friends

And while doing all of these things (camping, reading, meditating, hanging out with good friends), I’ve also been thinking. I’ve been thinking about the two years to come– what I want to be involved myself in, how I want to organize my time, who I want to meet, and the sort of work I want to do.

I’ve also been thinking about my past four years — what choices did I actually make, what choices were lucky, and what “choices” were imposed. Where did my energy go, and was it well spent? What 20 percent of effort reaped 80 percent of my growth? If I were to do it again what would I do differently? What are the things I want to repeat, to really teach myself, and what are the things I can let fall away or deliberately unlearn?

I have thoughts, lots of them, but I think it’s okay to not answer them right now. I think it’s okay to live in a weird/awesome/fun/non-commital-summer-time and enjoy that time for what it is — and what it isn’t.

If there is anything I’ve learned from the past few weeks (while I was paddling in the river or steeping tea in my gaiwan or hiking in the mountains) it is the importance of stepping back, cultivating empty space, and not doing. Because in this zone of freedom there is the space to introspect. To really follow what you want to do. To really know where your heart is steering you. To really know who you are.

Make sure that if you are on the path to a career in performing and teaching, and especially if you already all to familiar with the routine of daily work, your create the space to know who you are by relieving yourself (even if just for a week) of all commitments. And in that space, really listen deeply to your thoughts, words, and actions. Begin to understand yourself.

As zen buddhist Shunryu Suzuki said in Zen Mind, Beginners Mind, “The best way is to understand yourself, and then you will understand everything. So when you try hard to make your own way, you will help others, and you will be helped by others. Before you make your own way you cannot help anyone, and no one can help you.”

So it turns out Golden, Co is the home of the coors factory, 9 other microbreweries, and one of my best friends, Eilish. I flew up to visit her last week. I’m going to try and communicate here some of the wonder that was that trip, but mostly I want to get down what I can remember in hopes that it will unveil some important lessons.

I’m going to dump stories, photos, and details below. [Read more…]