A Tale of Two Pedagogies

Among the most formative musical experiences of my undergraduate university years were the summer workshops that my cello teacher encouraged me to attend. These opportunities required travel, so I was able to visit other music programs and to work along with different groups of aspiring, and often inspiring, peers. Studying under new leadership, even for only a matter of weeks or days, brought fresh perspectives and insights, and broadened my understanding of music-making.

One such summer workshop was a chamber music program led by an eminent violinist with a long list of European credentials. Coaching sessions lasted 45 minutes during which time we got no further than three printed lines of music. The teaching was rigorous, repetitive, microscopic and, yes, micro-managed. Every note from every player in the string quartet was examined and addressed: intonation, tone quality, vibrato, fingerings, shifting, bow speed, and bow placement. The extent of technical matters being raised was at that time astonishing to me and a bit overwhelming. I was struck by how much more there was to the process of music preparation than I had ever considered.

This violinist served as a living model of concentration and detailed focus unlike anyone I had ever encountered. The intensity of expectation and scope of those coaching sessions began to enter into my own practice room work back home. The experience was what the novelist Henry James encouraged: "Try to be one of those on whom nothing is lost." That summer strengthened the way I practiced and awakened a greater sense of responsibility that we have as musicians.

A few summers later, under the leadership of an internationally recognized pianist, the experience was much different but no less impactful. Coaching sessions were mainly focused on musical expression. There was not a word about the technical "how to play" but, rather, about the character and emotion one seeks to hear. Intuition and one's ear guided our music-making. This we found inspirational and liberating.

This pianist was a model of teaching of another kind in that we focused in those few days on why we play, why we have chosen music as a professional goal and why there can be such joy in music-making. It was as much an examination of our inner lives as the music we played.

Taken together, these two experiences reveal two different pedagogical points of views. One view is to focus on foundational technical skills as a means of communicating musical results. The other is to let the music inspire, if not shape, the technique. I don't see this necessarily as an irreconcilable dichotomy between rigor and indulgence. Both views require skills that can be learned, exercised and, indeed, blended to shape one's individuality in musical performance.

As we move toward summer. I encourage teachers to talk to students about summer learning opportunities. The experiences may be short term, but the outcomes can last a lifetime.