Episode 9: The Teacher

Have you seen that movie Whiplash? I hear it’s about some super mean drum teacher. I have not seen it, nor do I plan to. Why not, you ask? Because I’m pretty sure I had that teacher and I’m not eager to repeat the experience. Hopefully it goes without saying but being ridiculed, berated, emotionally manipulated, and screamed at during my first two years of college was not enjoyable. In fact, my attempt to gain mastery over the violin while the words of my mentor stripped me bare of self-worth led directly to my anorexia.

Like many dads, mine had a few choice aphorisms. A frequent favorite was, “do not be surprised when you do unto others as others have done unto you.” As a kid I would correct him with my Hermione-Granger-know-it-all voice: “no Dad, it’s do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Duh.” Nowadays, I see the truth in what my dad was saying. Many abused people go on to abuse others. Whiplash-style teaching is just that: abuse.

Through my eating disorder, I was able to escape my own Whiplash teacher as I eventually became too ill to remain in school. Through my recovery work, I have transformed the abuse into something productive: I am a better teacher because of the experience. I have made the conscious decision to NOT do unto others that which was done unto me.

THINGS NOT TO DO No. 1: Lie to students

The Teacher was dishonest with me. The day I auditioned for him, The Teacher accepted me immediately into his studio. Accompanied by my mom, we met with him in his office. He told me he was eager to teach me as I had, “no bad habits to correct.” I was flattered; I was seduced.

Three months later, at my first lesson, he told me that I was doing everything wrong; I would need to relearn the violin. We spent three months playing nothing but open strings. With every error I did not correct, he proclaimed, “you will never get a job playing like that!”

The Teacher once told me that I play, “so out-of-tune that after every lesson I have to go home and swallow an entire bottle of tylenol.” You might read that and think that’s not lying...he was just exaggerating to prove a point. Sure. I get that. However, as an insecure teen with undiagnosed anxiety and depression, the idea that my poor intonation was causing my teacher to want to kill himself via medicinal overdose felt entirely real.

These lies confused me. Sure I played flat or sharp at times but I had always been complimented on matching pitch well. Had my sense of tuning disappeared overnight? How could I not get a job when I had already, in fact, been working professionally as a musician from a young age? I doubted everything I had been taught and told before. I distrusted all parts of my playing and, by extension, every piece of my soul. I believed only The Teacher and not the body of evidence (i.e. the awards, the scholarships, the accolades, the gigs, my own critical ear) that legitimized my violinistic esteem. Worse yet, with such depleted self-esteem, I could not even bring myself to practice.

As a teacher myself, I strive to be honest and kind. Music is hard; the violin is stupidly hard. My students are going to play out-of-tune, they are going to make scratchy sounds, and they are going to play wrong rhythms. If something is wrong, I absolutely address it. In fact, I am told I can be rather blunt. However, when I correct a student, I do not make broad stroke comments or exaggerate. Instead, I address the specific mistake and provide a clear pathway for correction. For example, I might say, “measure 27 has some out-of-tune-notes so let’s practice with a drone” instead of, “literally I would rather die than hear you play the violin. But please continue to attend lessons and also pay me for them.”

THINGS NOT TO DO No. 2: Vacillate unpredictably and irrationally between elation and rage.

The Teacher flip-flopped personalities. One week, he gave me a profoundly moving speech at the end of a lesson, proclaiming, “there are so many butterflies out there, but you could be a beautiful butterfly, maybe the most beautiful butterfly.” The next week he yelled himself into a fit and stormed out of the room in a rage. I was left alone in the studio crying, consoled only by the student who had been observing my lesson. Let that sink in for a moment: the entire temper tantrum happened in front of a peer. Once he left, I remember telling my colleague, “I should have known this was coming because last week went so well.”

During one of my first semester lessons, The Teacher and I were actually having a downright pleasant time working through Kreisler’s Praeludium and Allegro. As the lesson approached its end, I appeared distracted. The Teacher asked why. I told him that my mom would be arriving soon, that I was excited to see her, having missed her for the past three months. Instantly the mood changed. I received a screaming lecture, the point of which was this: when the student is in a lesson, the student must focus on only the lesson. How dare the student think of other things? As icing on the cake, he concluded the lesson by reminding me that he remained focused during our lessons even though he had, “a million places I would rather be than here teaching you!”

I never knew what to expect from The Teacher. I was fearful of his temper and would get physically sick before lessons. I believe he intended for this fear to be a powerful motivator. Instead, it drove me away from the violin.

When teaching, I believe it is my job to remain the stable adult in the room. I commit to leaving my ego at the door when I enter a classroom and I work to keep my emotions in check. Let me tell you, this isn’t always easy as I primarily teach teenagers. They know how to push my buttons, they can be emotionally volatile, and they don’t always make great life choices. There are days where Sally Sue will arrive at a lesson having binge-watched Sabrina The Teenage Witch on Netflix instead of practicing. There are days where Jimmy John will only respond by saying “Big Mac” when called upon during music theory class.

In these moments, rather than losing my cool and screaming, one of my favorite things to do is pretend I am on The Office: I look at the imaginary camera in the corner, giving it a Pam-inspired look of exasperation. I suppose this is my version of take a deep breath and count to ten.

On a deeper level, I hold fast to the idea that most folks are NOT lazy or eager to avoid work. What might look like disrespect or procrastination can actually be anxiety or self-doubt. Taking time to uncover these forces is helpful for both me and the student; yelling is not. Better yet, actually listening to a teen, or to anyone really, helps build trust and respect. Students who feel respected and heard do better work, at least in my experience.

THINGS NOT TO DO No. 3: Touch your students.

The Teacher did not respect physical boundaries. Ok don’t freak-out; this isn’t going to a sexual place. However, I was required to supply a kiss on either side of The Teacher’s face at the end of each lesson. That is, at the end of each lesson that didn’t conclude with him stomping out of the room. I understand, of course, that this is a cultural norm in many parts of the world. However, I don’t have to kiss anyone on the cheek who I do not want to kiss on the cheek. End of story. Period.

For me as a teacher this one seems like a no-brainer. When working with my students, I do not physically engage without first asking permission. When I teach toddlers, I ask their parents if it is okay to be hands-on during lessons. With teens and young adults, I ask for permission each time I wish to adjust something. I see this impacting the way my students interact with me as well. If they wish to hug me, they first ask for permission. I love this.

THINGS NOT TO DO No. 4: Ridicule students in front of their peers.

In college, once each week we violin students attended an evening performance class that began at 7pm and went until...well, it went until The Teacher wanted it to end. During class, it was not unusual for students to cry either while receiving criticism onstage or while simply observing from the audience.

One evening, an undergraduate classmate played Ernst’s extremely virtuosic transcription of Der Erlkönig. It was phenomenal. The Teacher gave helpful and supportive feedback after her performance and nobody cried. He then told her to play it again. A repeat performance during class was unheard of so she responded with an are you serious look. He replied, “go on, it will help burn some calories anyway and we’re all trying to lose weight.” Yes, this student was a bit heavy and yes, The Teacher did know about my eating disorder when making this comment.

When leading performance classes like these, I do challenge students in ways that can feel very exposed. It is not fun having your weaknesses pointed out in front of your colleagues, especially for the teenaged group I typically work with. Therefore, I take care to say things like:

This is a challenging exercise and nobody here expects it to be perfect right now!

Thank you for taking that chance in front of all of us!

You are in a room filled with your biggest cheerleaders, take the chance!

I also like to create exercises or challenges for the performer that involve the student listeners so things don’t feel so intimidating. And of course, I leave any discussion of weight or appearance out of the conversation.

THINGS NOT TO DO No. 5: Harass a student’s parents about money late at night.

One semester, I did not enroll properly in the correct course section for violin lessons. As someone who has taught at the college level, I know how easily this can happen. An advisor types in the wrong letter-number combination and suddenly you are enrolled in graduate level bassoon lessons. Hooray for the bureaucracy of higher education! As frustrating as this situation might be, a professor’s correct response to such an error should never be this: call the student’s parents at 11pm, yell at them, then threaten them for “not paying him.”

What do I do instead? Umm...I just straight up would never do that and I don’t feel like I have to explain the alternative. I simply don’t model my parent-teacher interactions after mafia-don or drug-lord scripting.

THINGS NOT TO DO No. 6: View art as a dichotomy; view yourself as its god.

The Teacher broke students like me on purpose. Left with no sense of self or worth, the student came to believe only The Teacher. He created a cult of personality around himself; he became a god. Once broken by his emotional manipulation, gas-lighting, and belittling, everything he said was deemed definitive and as such, all elements of violin playing became black and white.

His bow hold is right, that one is wrong.

His fingering is correct, that one idiotic.

His vibrato is proper, any other vibrato is trash.

His edition of the score is legitimate, all others should be burnt in a dumpster fire.

Your favorite violinist is a musical whore, you should only listen to “dead, male violinists”.

As a teacher, I too have my preferred fingerings and my preferred bow hold. However, I also must have room for adjustments and flexibility when it comes to:

-Set Up

Different hand shapes, different body shapes, and different muscle tones all require slightly different violin set ups. I work with students to fit the violin to their body, not to my own.

-Dynamics, phrasing, emotional expression

Music is an art; it is an expressive media. I want my students to bring unique perspectives to the work they produce. I encourage them to draw pictures, write stories, perform harmonic analysis, and even set text to their repertoire. Their goal is to create a new and personal take on an ancient masterpiece, not to simply replicate my own performances.

-Fingerings and Bowings

To be sure, I carry decades of musical tradition and knowledge that I want to pass to the next generation. More than that, I want my students to become independent thinkers who can learn music on their own. If they invent a successful fingering or bowing, I let them use it...even if it’s not what I do.

-Repertoire

Some folks will 100% quit the violin if they have to learn another freakin’ Bach Minuet or Vivaldi Concerto. They just want to play Hamilton transcriptions, okay? Then there are the students who ask me things like, “can I play something by a woman?” Repertoire selection is not a free-for-all in my studio, but if an unconventional piece fits, why not learn it...even if it’s not a piece I learned as a student.

On top of all this, I do not require that students respect and adore me simply because of my name and title. I am no god. I can gain their respect as they hear their own improvements; I can earn their trust as they grow confident through successful performances.

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Sadly, The Teacher in my story is ubiquitous in the land of conservatory training. Generations upon generations of instructors choose to do unto others as those have done unto them. Worse still, students and administrators routinely justify or even celebrate abuse. (Not to go on a rant but I blame capitalism for this as it teaches us to value laudable products over destructive processes.) A teacher throws stands or berates his students yet we are quick to ignore such behavior if we can instead celebrate his pupils who win international competitions, sign with prominent management, or land prestigious orchestra positions. When students dare complain, we defend The Teacher, saying: “he just has very high standards” or “he’s giving you a thick skin ! You will need that in this career!” or “just look how well his students play!”

Many of you readers are my friends and family and it may be upsetting to read what I went through in college. On the other hand, there are plenty who have been through worse, and there are others who have experienced similar but to a lesser degree. The point of my post is not to bask in or glorify my lived trauma, nor is it call out or cancel The Teacher.

The emotional and verbal abuse I experienced at the hands of The Teacher caused my eating disorder. Through treatment, through carefully unpacking and processing of the abuse, I uncovered and affirmed the behaviors I wish to see in myself. I am not a perfect teacher: I have lost my temper, I have kicked kids out of the classroom, and I have demanded students conform to my violinistic ideals. I work daily to never repeat those actions, and to instead adhere to my teaching philosophy. If I routinely select patience, flexibility, and honesty over manipulation and domination, I shalt not do unto others that which has been done unto me. I still wouldn’t wish anorexia on anyone, but I am glad the recovery process led me where it did.