There are many self-perpetuated stereotypes of musicians, but two that frustrate me the most are that…

1. All musicians are poor, and
2. All musicians are busy

I don’t buy into either. The first I’ll address in future posts, but the latter I’ll handle today.

I know that throughout my undergraduate people would have lumped me in the “busy” category. I took more than 15 credit hours a semester, participated in ensembles and chamber groups, was a member of student organizations, moonlighted as the labor czar in my housing cooperative, played in a band, and maintained a violin studio. A few all-nighters were pulled. Some stress tears were shed.

There were moments that I thought I literally didn’t have enough time get it all done. I thought I was in way over my head. It was too much.

Ultimately, I am extremely proud of the work I did in my undergrad. I think the work I did has undoubtedly shaped me to be the person I am today. But moving into graduate school, I feel there is a more mature, healthy way to approach work. As the depth and substantiality of my work increases, so will my work efforts– they’ll have to.

The week before school started at Ithaca College I went back to one of my favorite books, Deep Work by Cal Newport. In it, Newport systematically argues that the skill of working deeply is being lost at exactly the same time it is valuable. I have totally bought into this notion, but I do struggle putting it into practice.

Luckily, Newport uses himself as a case study.

Newport went through graduate school, did post-doc work at MIT, was hired on as a professor at Georgetown, and received tenure by 33. All the while he was writing books and short blog posts on his own successful strategies. It is easy to see how his study of, and commitment to, a deep life directly correlates to his academic success.

In Deep Work, Newport suggests many ways to organize the work day to reach the same levels of depth as he does. I want to implement three particular approaches in graduate school. The first is a fixed productivity schedule, the second is scheduling my days, and the third is a workday shutdown routine.

FIXED PRODUCTIVITY SCHEDULE

In How to Live on 24 Hours a Day, Arnold Bennet claims that, “More work, more genuine living, could be got out of six days than out of seven.” Though seemingly paradoxical, his idea is that by setting constraints on time one actually acts on the most important tasks and completes them faster. And, in constraining work time you are also allowing for rest time.

Newport sets up these constraints in his work days by only working until 5:30pm on weekdays, and doesn’t work at all on the weekends.

I want to set up a similar constraint. My plan is to work from 8-5:30pm, and not on weekends (the only exception being Mondays when I teach our studio scales class from 5:30-6:30 and violin practice on the weekends).

My daily work time will include my graduate teaching responsibilities (String Class, Scale Class), my academic classes (Suzuki Pedagogy I, Bibliography), rehearsals (Piano Instrument Duo, Chamber Music, Orchestra), practice, prep for classes, and admin tasks (attendance, email response, paperwork).

This will make it difficult for me to volunteer for gigs and playing opportunities since the rehearsals are often late at night and on weekends. I also won’t be staying up late working on homework or doing administrative, shallow work.

DAILY SCHEDULING

So on Sundays I already do a weekly review (David Allen style) in which I update all of my projects and tasks lists, clear out my inbox, and send an email to my grandmother with a description of the upcoming week. This helps me get my brain ready for the week ahead. My gears can start subconsciously turning and problem solving future assignments or projects.

This has been a very useful habit to develop, however if I’m going to stop working at 5:30 every day I need to make sure I’m being as productive as possible during the work day. I really shouldn’t be making decisions about what to do moment to moment during the day. My plan instead is to look over my hard commitments every Sunday like I have been, but also plan out the next day’s schedule the evening before.

Newport does this on a blank sheet in a notebook specifically set aside for this purpose. In the notebook he writes out the days schedule in half-hour increments. He starts of by blocking off his hard commitments (teaching, meetings), and then adds in deep work sessions and batched shallow work tasks.

If something comes up during the day, he rewrites his daily schedule.

I will use the same system. The goal here is not to stick religiously to a plan, but to be conscious and proactive about how I’m scheduling my days. In doing so I will better learn how long I take to do certain tasks and will become very aware of the opportunity cost for straying away from a plan I set up for the day.

WORKDAY SHUTDOWN ROUTINE

A final habit shift I would like to make as I enter graduate school is establishing a workday shutdown routine.

This is a strict ritual I will practice around 5:30 everyday, and it will be the last thing I do before I am free for the night.

This is my ritual

• check email one last time, make sure there is nothing urgent
• review task list, sort everything out of inbox
• review projects, make sure everything is moving forward
• plan next day
• say out-loud “Shutdown complete”

After I do this shutdown I have released myself from commitments to tasks and my inboxes. I am liberated to do whatever evening activity I have decided on, whether it be volunteering at Green-star Food Co-op, meditating, attending a concert, writing a blog post, or watching Netflix!

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The three changes I’m making to my daily architecture are ambitious, but I think they will be well worth the effort. As I get closer and closer to a masterful, professional life I need to actively improve my routines and systems. I’ll be reporting my success back here, of course, but I hope that success comes in the form of better playing, quality teaching, focused research, and more “genuine living.”

If there is anything summer camp should be, it is fun. But nothing kills a fun mood like being shouted at to be quiet, sit still, and pay attention. Yet that was exactly what we expected from our campers at Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp — silent, still attention — for emergency situations, announcements, and concerts.

In order to direct the attention of a large group of people we developed a robust toolbox of positive attention getters. They are ways to mobilize young people without saying, “SHHHH!” or requiring the speaker to be louder than 175 campers at once.

I’ve listed my favorites below.

Get their mouths moving…

[Read more…]

I’m sitting in the darkened Camp Bernstein hut as the sun rises outside, listening to NPR and writing this update. There are few moments here at Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp that one can truly feel alone, and breakfast security is one of those times. The entire camp is at breakfast, save the few counselors who have been held back in the unit for “security.” It is mostly just a time to clear one’s head and answer phones if necessary.

I wrote a blog post every day in June, but took a break from daily writing in July in August in order to soak up as much experience as possible while at Blue Lake.

With only six days of camp left, I want to start putting my learned experiences down on paper. I want to go through the process of reflection, summary, and thematic discovery. I also just want to write down some of my favorite memories about camp.

Living on camp, in the middle of the forrest with limited access to electronics and the internet, with constant connection to music and young people, has been an incredible growing experience for me. Here are a few things I’ve learned (in no particular order). [Read more…]

I’m sitting in MADCAP coffee waiting for my Americano. I began what I expect is a lifelong journey with tea last week, but when one finds themselves in a city (Grand Rapids) with no tea options and excellent coffee one takes a seat at the best coffee shop in town. It’s the only responsible thing to do.

Today I’m allowing myself to think about the college education experience, especially as it relates to being a Suzuki violin teacher.

People go to college for credidation.

Sure, part of going to college is learning skills you will need professionally. But those skills, in many cases, can be learned outside of academic institutions. People go to college so they have proof, a piece of paper, that says that they learned skills.

A problem that arises, of course, is that one could get a piece of paper without learning skills. Or, even worse, one could learn and receive credit for skills that are now completely irrelevant in their line of work.

Another issue? Academic institutions don’t have the resources to tailor their degree programs to your unique needs. You might find yourself unfortunately situated between the scope of two different degrees or hoping to dive deep in a program that is so broad you only scratch the surface. [Read more…]

I started becoming a teacher the day I was born. From the earliest moments I (and you, for that matter) started collecting ideas, memories, skills, frameworks, that influence the way I (we) will teach forever.

But I didn’t make the decision to be a teacher until the summer after freshman year in high school.

That summer, I attended Bravo! Summer Music Camp at the University of Minnesota. We spent all of our waking hours doing music related things and hanging out with music related people. Practice, rehearsals, lessons, technique classes, master classes, and recitals all swirled together into a beautiful wash of effort and reward. I think I grew more in that month than I had in all of my work in violin put together.

One of my favorite activities while at Bravo! was attending master classes, which we were required to do every afternoon. I had a red spiral-bound notebook in which I would write down my observations of a student’s playing, the teachers response, and the resulting change in the student’s playing. At the time I think I thought I was taking notes in order to apply it to my own playing, but what I was really studying was teaching.

I knew, in that summer when the entirety of my day to day work aligned, that I wanted to pursue violin as a profession. And I knew that the way I felt most rewarded in my relationship with music was not in performing, or even practicing, but in teaching. [Read more…]

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…]

This Tuesday I taught my last University of Texas String Project lesson. String Project is a program sponsored by the Butler School of Music designed to train teachers and develop young talent.

The idea of the String Project came about in the years following World War II when an acute shortage of string players became apparent. In 1948 Dr. William E. Doty, founding Dean of the College of Fine Arts, listened to and supported Albert Gillis’ idea of tackling the problem head-on by developing an imaginative program for the preparation of string teachers. Together they founded the Junior String Project and Professor Gillis became the director, a position he held for the first 10 years. Eight years after its founding, the program was renamed the University of Texas String Project. Professor Phyllis Young joined the staff in its fifth year and began directing in 1958. She was involved with the University of Texas String Project for 41 years, directing it for 35 of those years. In the fall of 2002, Dr. Laurie Scott became the director of the University of Texas String Project.

Working in String Project closely with Dr. Scott and my other incredible teaching colleagues was a privilege. I learned countless teaching skills (including classroom management, lesson planning, and event organizing and many others) through observation, feedback, and practice. Furthermore, I feel I have a network of string teachers who I will reach out to wherever I decide to set roots in the future.

With String Project I taught three group classes every Saturday, attended an organizational faculty meeting every Thursday, and taught 17 private students throughout the week. Though quality of teaching and incredible growth occurred in the walls of the music while group classes, lessons on teaching, and private lessons occurred, it is worth noting that these classes didn’t happen in state of the art facilities. Most of the time our work was done in simple classrooms with rows of desks and a whiteboard, or simply in a practice room.

After teaching hundreds of private lessons to dozens of students over the past three years in a 5X7 foot practice room, I’ve made a few observations. [Read more…]