Reading the Room

Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of my students are exhausted. Sick and needing to be curled up in bed, yet still made to go to lessons. Depleted from school requirements, family commitments, and extracurriculars. Trying to manage the emotional turmoil that can come with (pre)adolescence.

Added to this for many students is the exercise of navigating complicated family situations. Many children in our area are looked after by grandparents, or are living in blended family situations that may be tough for them to navigate. Of course, as the music teacher, it is not within my purview to pry, but occasionally a response to something I say or do reveals something going on under the surface. It’s surprising how adept the young can be at “holding it together”.

In these situations, I pivot from teaching and turn to appropriate connection. I know what extracurriculars they are involved in, what music they like, so I may ask for an update on those things. I mention that I can tell they’re a bit tired. I might suggest not worrying about maximizing practice time if they have something big going on like an extracurricular performance or family health issues. I might suggest bite-sized ways to keep engaged with their music that they can do in the meantime. If they come to me sick, I suggest rest and not practicing at all. In these instances, I know that next week will be more workshop-like than like a lesson built on weekly progress, but I have become used to pivoting between those two approaches anyway.

I consider it my duty to nurture in my students a lifelong love of “doing” music. Eleven years old is too early to burn out. A love of doing music is only going to happen if, overall (despite inevitable ups and downs), music education is a positive experience for them. Sometimes the kids themselves need to be reminded that they’re human, not merely productivity units in training, as our society tends to treat them.

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