A series of posts on accidental successes uncovered in Zoom teaching in the past few months.

Consider what it took to get to the in-person violin lesson of times past…

• consult the weekly calendar
• pack up violin and music bag in the morning
• careful family strategizing of who picks up what and delivers who/what/where
• child gets in car knowing they are headed to a lesson
• parent gets in car knowing they are headed to a lesson
• a commute ranging from 2 to 35 minutes (if you are one of my students)
• usually a Suzuki CD playing in the car
• perhaps a conversation about what is important during the lesson
• perhaps a snack
• get out of the car with violin and violin bag
• walk into the Ithaca Talent Education building (a historic one with lots of music paraphernalia on the walls and a sense of Suzuki sacredness, at least unconsciously)
• the sounds of lessons envelop: violin, viola, and cello playing Twinkle to Mozart and beyond
• wait outside the teachers’ door, unpacking the violin very quietly
• teacher opens the door to great you, invites you in

Now consider what it takes to get to our virtual alternative…

• check email: calendar notification that zoom lessons starts in 2 minutes!
• frantic scramble to rush into the living room, wake the computer up and connect it to a charger
• teacher pops on screen, says hello

A world of difference, no?

It’s no wonder our students are coming into the lesson anxious and scattered.

Parents are already doing the best they can, but when we started zoom lessons I felt it imperative to empower the student with a transition routine they could use to prime the brain for a violin lesson. We would actually do the transition together at the beginning of the lesson. In other words, the transition was our responsibility.

The activities in each transition were different for each student, but typically fell into each of the following categories…

• consistent sensory cue (drink of water, eat a micro snack, smell a flower or perfume, put on an article of clothing)
• movement ritual (yoga posture, silly arm wiggles, stretches)
• practical set up (unpack violin, set out books, move chairs into place)
• connection to the breath

Perhaps I’ll using my own teaching transition ritual to demonstrate.

1. Put on my teaching ‘uniform’ and a dab of Texas Cedar essential oil
2. Three (wimpy) pull ups–it does really get the blood flowing
3. Set up stool, computer, headphones, cushions, teaching toolbox (link) and violin [tour here]
4. I sit down on the cushions a few minutes before the lesson and use the Breathe+ app to do 24 breaths (3 minutes)

You’ll notice that setting up the environment (rather than walking into ITE) is actually a big cue in the slippery, virtual world. For this reason (and others… we live in a tiny house) I don’t leave my teaching station set up overnight. I use the ritual of building the space and putting it away to trigger my body into a teaching state.

Going through these transition rituals with students is remarkable. You’ll actually start to get a feel for their different temperamental states. What does anxiety in each student look like, sound like, feel like? How does focus present itself? Frustration? Excitement?

I don’t know when we will go back to in person lessons, but when we do I’ll bring these transition rituals, and the information from them, with me.

For more on rituals and triggers see Josh Waitzkin’s Art of Learning, Charles Duhigg’s The Power of Habit and Jim Loehr’s The Power of Full Engagement.