Teaching to the Test
When I was in middle and high school in Pennsylvania, I studied with a cello teacher - the late David Diehl - who had an excellent reputation for turning moderately talented young cellists into the cello-playing stars of the area. Mr. Diehl was a brash, demanding, and deeply musical teacher. I enjoyed my time studying with him, and I wouldn’t hesitate to give him a healthy dose of credit for turning me into the musician that I am today. That being said, he didn’t care about how I actually played the cello - only what I achieved while playing. And as a consequence, I have grown to feel a bit aggrieved about how I was taught in middle and high school, specifically in my private lessons.
Mr. Diehl was a results-oriented teacher, and that makes sense, as he was certainly a product of his time. When I graduated high school, the No Child Left Behind Act had been law for a few years, and high-pressure standardized testing had been the norm for a while. While there was no “test” in orchestra class, and certainly not in my private lessons, Mr. Diehl was exclusively focused on the quantifiable results of his and my efforts. In the place where I grew up, the most prestigious quantifiable results were found in extracurricular orchestra festivals, culminating with All State Orchestra.
The process to be accepted to the Pennsylvania All State Orchestra began in June or July every year, and wrapped up when the All State ensembles performed, at the annual Pennsylvania Music Educators Association conference in April. In Pennsylvania, one had to advance through three auditions (and their accompanying orchestra festivals) before being accepted to the one, single All State Orchestra. It was intense. For ten months every year, I was drilled on audition requirements - scales, excerpts, repertoire. However, little effort or time spent working on becoming a better cello player. In 2002, I placed first overall in the second round audition - ostensibly because I played louder, though not necessarily better, than other cellists - and was ultimately rewarded with acceptance to the All State Orchestra two months later.
Despite my results, I look back and realize I didn’t know anything and I wasn’t really playing the cello terribly well. Please note: I did NOT care about that; I achieved something! HOORAY FOR JUSTIN! Consequently, I left high school with an undeserved ego and a belief that if one can play loud enough and fast enough, there was no other knowledge necessary. This belief sat in the back of my mind for almost the entirety of my post-secondary musical education. I didn’t care about music theory class (when I went, which wasn’t often), nor really about practicing and learning anything about the cello. For a while, I was better than (most of) those around me, and the results spoke for themselves.
Goodness, how wrong I was.
Now, nearly 20 years later, I’m experiencing this mindset again with my own students. I see kids who are learning that results - be they youth orchestra acceptances, school adjudications/evaluations, All State ensembles, even achieving an A grade in orchestra - are the only thing that matters in music.
Goodness, how wrong they are.
There are two types of students that really stick out in my teaching studio. First, is the type that wants to improve and understands that perfection doesn’t exist, but is an admirable goal toward which to work. The second type is the one that believes that getting first chair in their school’s highest level ensemble or being accepted to All State Orchestra is the only thing that matters and failure to do that invalidates the whole enterprise.
Student One is the cellist I want to work with. I learned from my time with Mr. Diehl, and I spend as little time as is necessary working on audition music. I believe - strongly - that if a young cellist must spend weeks (or months!) working solely on audition repertoire to get into their desired ensemble, then they aren’t yet playing at the level that is necessary to actually get into that ensemble. Student One understands this and is willing to have their lesson and at-home practicing broken down into small segments in which work is done to build a formidable technique. If this is done over months and years, they will likely achieve their goals, but it may not happen instantly. They are accepting of this reality.
Student Two doesn’t care about getting better at the instrument. They care about getting better at the audition repertoire. Audition music should - but doesn’t always - test one’s technical and musical ability and knowledge. But if enough time is allotted before the audition, Student Two can overcome their shortcomings and play well enough to achieve the result. Their name will be in the program and they can list their achievements when they apply to college. But, I don’t necessarily believe that they are good musicians. Mr. Diehl wasn’t the only teacher who taught this way; I know many teachers who do, currently.
Unfortunately, Student One is a rarity in my studio. My first question in the trial lesson is always some variation on, “What are you doing here? What do you want to do with your cello playing?” More often than not, a student’s desired result is the answer: All State. College Scholarship. Get a better chair in school than my friend/enemy. The list goes on. Very rarely do I hear, “I want to get better at the cello so that I can play music I like.”
This idea of results-oriented playing is everywhere, and some are seemingly inconsequential: there are school orchestra programs whose teachers demand that their students model the use of vibrato (despite lacking the technical foundation to do so, and doing it badly) just so that they get better scores/results in large group adjudications. For some, it is no longer a source of pride to perform with a youth orchestra; now you must be accepted into a better orchestra and achieve a higher chair than everyone else. Learning a standard Classical concerto doesn’t meet expectations; only the hardest (Romantic-era) concertos for me, the young virtuoso!
Speaking as a former high school student, who was, and often still is, cynical and results-oriented, I’d like to see some changes.
First, for parents of young musicians - stop paying attention to the achievements of your friends’ kids. In one of the worst lessons of my teaching career, I listened to a student cry and yell for an hour because their mother was pressuring them to audition for a major youth orchestra, despite the student’s current ability level. When asked why it was so important for the child to be in that youth orchestra, Mom replied, “What will my friends think of me if [my child] doesn’t get in?” Instead, encourage your child to identify musical things that they are interested in and pursue them with abandon. Finding enjoyment in an artistic outlet will lead not only to short term progress, but a lifelong interest in and love for music. Constantly pressuring the child to live up to unreasonable expectations will leave them artistically broken, and possibly resentful.
Second, for students - understand that your path in life is just that: yours! While your friend may be suffering from Youth Orchestra Syndrome, loudly playing the first 10 measures of Dvorak Concerto at every waking moment, you may be, currently, in a different place. Their journey is distinct from your journey, and that is okay. Some young performers begin playing at exceptionally young ages, while others wait until later on. There’s no prescribed speed at which you arrive at your destination, and no real destination at which to arrive! Set goals, and work - often, slowly - to achieve those goals, your goals. The journey can be immensely satisfying and the result-oriented thinking can take a back seat.
Third, for teachers - your worth and value as an educator, be it a school music teacher or a private instrumental instructor, is tied to neither your program’s, nor your students’ short term successes, and nobody does it alone. You’re not on an island. If your school orchestra achieves great scores at an adjudication or is accepted to perform at a prestigious venue, thank the private teachers who helped to lift your program. If your private violin studio is thriving, thank the school orchestra teacher who instilled a love of music in the student (or the parent) that is so great that they sought out further musical enrichment, trusting you for that. A rising tide lifts all boats.
To mercifully conclude, I’d like to give an answer to a question that I most certainly asked my fifth grade math teacher: “When am I ever going to use this?!”
When it comes to skills learned in a music lesson, the answer might be, “Never.” You may never, ever need to know how to prepare and execute an octave shift. You may never benefit from that dastardly etude you were assigned in 9th grade. It’s possible that you’ll never need to fully understand sonata form. But lessons learned in musical study are not necessarily tangible, nor the product of great (results-oriented) achievement. There are many skills acquired in music lessons that are all-but-mandatory to thrive in society.
What I know for sure: we should be focusing on the arts and music without caring one bit about fancy results. My own All State Orchestra chair placement, competition and audition results, and the repertoire I could “play” in high school makes absolutely no difference in my life now. With the exception of the schools I went to, I don’t remember which universities or conservatories accepted me for ANY of my degrees. I don’t remember the music I played in any of my youth orchestras.
But, I remember Mr. Diehl. I remember him hammering on the piano in his living room, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, while I played a Bach Gamba Sonata. There was no achievable result in that moment, but it was an enormously satisfying performance, for an audience of just the two of us. I’ll remember it and think about it, fondly, for the rest of my life.