Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy Fuelling Authentic Student Musicians From The Beginning

SPRINGER BRIEFS IN EDUC ATION
Merlin B. Thompson
Fundamentals of
Piano Pedagogy
Fuelling Authentic
Student Musicians
from the Beginning
123
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Merlin B. Thompson
Fundamentals of Piano
Pedagogy
Fuelling Authentic Student Musicians
from the Beginning
123
Merlin B. Thompson
Schulich School of Music
McGill University
Montréal, QC
Canada
and
Werklund School of Education

University of Calgary
Calgary, AB
Canada
ISSN 2211-1921 ISSN 2211-193X (electronic)

SpringerBriefs in Education
ISBN 978-3-319-65532-1 ISBN 978-3-319-65533-8 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-65533-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017949495
© The Author(s) 2018

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This book is dedicated
to my students and their parents,
to my family, friends, and colleagues.
Your interest and understanding
made it all possible.
Contents
1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
2 Themes to Initiate and Sustain the Journey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
2.1 Our Relation with Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
2.2 Student Independence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
2.3 Personal Authenticity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
2.4 Final Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
2.5 Before We Move on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
3 What Does Music Learning Look like? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
3.1 Models of Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
3.2 Language Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
3.3 Learning to Play by Ear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
3.4 Learning to Play the Piano . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
3.4.1 Background Stage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
3.4.2 Foundation Stage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
3.4.3 Reading Stage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
3.5 Growth and Rest. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
3.6 Before We Move on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
4 What Does Teaching the Piano Look like? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
4.1 Piano Teaching from a Historical Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
4.2 Piano Teaching and Democratic Relationships . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
4.3 Piano Teaching and the Model of Parenting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
4.4 Final Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
4.5 Before We Move on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
vii
viii Contents
5 Piano Tone and Technique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

5.1 Piano Tone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
5.2 Piano Technique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
5.2.1 Basic #1: Grab and Release . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
5.2.2 Basic #2: Walking Fingers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
5.2.3 Basic #3: Arm Circles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
5.2.4 Basic #4: Our Body . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
5.2.5 Basic #5: Posture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
5.3 Final Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
5.4 Before We Move on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
6 Teaching the Student . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ......... 61
6.1 Separating Students’ Development from Repertoire
Requirements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
6.2 Accumulated Repertoire, Review, and Refinement . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
6.3 Teachers as Student Advocates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
6.4 Teachers as Student Agitators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68
6.5 Caring for Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
6.6 Final Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
6.7 Before We Move on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
7 Taking Parents into Consideration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
7.1 Historical Implications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
7.2 Teachers and Parents in Musical Settings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
7.3 Meaningful Conversations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80
7.3.1 Teachers’ First Encounter with Parents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
7.3.2 Real Life Families . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
7.3.3 Input from Parents Is Vital . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
7.3.4 Musical Cornerstones . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
7.3.5 Parent-Teacher Interviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
7.4 Final Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
7.5 Before We Move on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
8 Coda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
8.1 Flourishing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
8.2 Final Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
Chapter 1
Introduction
Abstract This brief introductory chapter sets the tone for a humanistic and holistic
educational exploration by asserting that meaningful studio music instruction
encompasses multiple layers of teacher involvement. This means music teaching is
more than mere transmission of musical knowledge and skills. Meaningful music
instruction builds on the powerful yet natural connection we have individually and
universally with music. It’s driven by students’ own interests, by their need to thrive
as autonomous learners who value exploration, creation, and mastery. Further, it
relies on teachers who engage students as active participants by tapping into rele-
vant teaching and learning research, their awareness of others and life experiences,
and their own musical expertise. They serve as spark to their students’ musical
flame right from the very beginning.
Week after week and year after year, piano teachers help their students make
rewarding and challenging connections with music. Like their vocal and instru-
mental studio music colleagues, the piano teacher’s influence is no more important
than at the beginning—those first four to five years during which students initiate,
investigate, and expand their own musical mastery. So, how might piano teachers
fuel successful student participation and growth? What do teachers need to know
about piano pedagogy right from the very beginning?
This book is all about the fundamentals of piano pedagogy—the foundational
ideas that empower teachers in their working with beginner students. Fundamentals
have an anchoring quality that I appreciate because they provide much-needed
stability and confidence for teaching and learning. Fundamentals encompass mul-
tiple layers of support, background, basics, and origin. Yet, they also foster a
feeling of genesis and the energetic dynamism that assists growth and development.
In the pages following, I examine and articulate the personal, philosophical, edu-
cational, practical, and performance underpinnings teachers need to nurture
meaningful development in their students. To accomplish this task, I draw on music
philosophers, giants of the performance world, current research in music education,
and my own experience of working with enquiring colleagues and hundreds of
students from around the world.
© The Author(s) 2018 1

M.B. Thompson, Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy,
SpringerBriefs in Education, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-65533-8_1
2 1 Introduction
Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy differs from other music education sources by

building on three distinctive instructional dynamics. Namely, that meaningful music
instruction is always:
• Based on our relation with music. Musical relationships encompass everything
from intense involvement to casual exploration to complete distraction. This
means music teaching is more than mere transmission of musical knowledge
and skills. It’s about helping students uncover more of their individual relations
with music.
• Driven by students’ interests. Students thrive as autonomous learners who value
exploration, creation, and mastery. This means teaching goes beyond passive
student repetition of performance drills. It’s about actively engaging students in
their own meaningful learning.
• Guided by teachers’ expertise. Teachers are more than assertive authorities who
control students’ awareness of what’s wrong or right. Because teachers have
vast musical and instructional knowledge, they’re able to lead students when
they cannot lead themselves, pass on the musical tools students need, and
expand students’ ongoing relation with music.
Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy provides a thoughtful response to the gap created
by a history of prioritizing music performance over music teaching and the con-
temporary trend for prescriptive repertoire-based and activity-based teaching. As an
alternative, this book stands out as a much-needed instructional resource with
immense personal, practical, social, philosophical, educational, and cultural rele-
vance for today’s studio music teachers. It offers teachers a deep understanding of
teaching from the beginning and invites them to consider their multilayered role in
uplifting musical adventures—ones that require thinking not only about who they
are and what music means to them, but also what they have yet to imagine about
themselves, about music, their students, and life.
I begin this exploration in Chap. 2 by examining three themes that may initiate
and sustain the first four to five years of teaching beginner piano students: our
relation with music, student independence, and personal authenticity. Firstly, our
relation with music spans an entire spectrum of experiences from music perfor-
mance, to critical thinking, to playing around. Knowing that it’s difficult to sustain
music study by doing the same thing at the same level for long periods of time,
teachers incorporate diverse aspects from our relation with music to ensure
meaningful ongoing musical development. Secondly, student independence emer-
ges from children’s natural inclination to do things on their own. Given that stu-
dents may take ownership of desirable skills and knowledge as well as undesirable
drawbacks, teachers use a process of multiple ownership to help students develop
awareness of their own performance. Finally, personal authenticity refers to the
notion of being true to oneself. By understanding, accepting, and caring for stu-
dents’ true self at all levels and ages, teachers may reinforce the genuine connection
between who students are and what they do as musicians.
In order to help teachers understand what happens when beginner piano students
take their initial steps, Chap. 3 examines the concept of learning from several
1 Introduction 3
relevant perspectives. Firstly, an overview of education theories indicates that

learning is frequently interpreted as involving: (1) linear progressions, (2) making
meaning from experience, (3) cyclical processes focused on exploration, and (4) the
influence of individual and collective worldviews. Next, given the parallels between
language learning and music learning, this chapter explores the process of language
acquisition and transposes the principles of language learning to music learning.
Finally, this chapter demonstrates how beginner piano students may move through
three fundamental stages of musical development. The Background Stage involves
how students informally acquire aspects of musicianship prior to formal lessons.
The Foundation Stage focuses on tonalization development of technique and tone
production as well as learning to play by ear. The Reading Stage continues to build
on the Foundation Stage through the additional element of learning to read music.
Teaching beginner piano students is an endeavor that builds implicitly and
explicitly on teachers’ beliefs, musical ideals, and personal values. Chapter 4
begins by exploring how many twenty-first century teaching resources and practices
have their origins in the piano’s history, influential educational movements, as well
as scientific and industrial developments of the 1800s. As alternatives to this
pedagogic history, teachers may incorporate principles of democracy and parenting
as models for instruction—two approaches that highlight how teaching is concerned
with the relationships between teachers and students. Democratic music teachers
draw from the ideals of freedom, equality, and dignity to solicit their students’
thoughts and opinions. They’re purposeful in finding out what students think, rather
than looking for students to regurgitate what teachers think. Democratic teaching
emphasizes how the teacher’s role has inherently moral and ethical undertones. The
parenting model highlights how teachers take on overlapping yet distinct roles.
They provide leadership when students don’t know the way. They hand over the
musical tools students need for successful musical learning. And, they provide the
impetus for expanding students’ ongoing mastery of musicianship.
Chapter 5 focuses on piano tone and technique—two inseparable aspects of
teachers’ work with beginner piano students. Historically, tone has been considered
as a most essential ingredient in the world of music because mastery of tone
production enables artistic expression. This chapter examines how tone may be
characterized as sound vibrations—intensities of energy—that range from soft to
loud, light to heavy, bright to dark, short to long, flat to round, and more. Pianists
bring immense variations in tonal intensity to their performances by tapping into
their emotional, spiritual, intellectual, intuitive, and physical energies. In a depar-
ture from treating piano technique as a kind of mechanical training, this chapter
considers piano technique as something we may already know about because of
how we use our fingers, hands, arms, and body in ordinary everyday life. Specific
examples of how beginner piano students may explore five technical basics include:
grabbing fingers, walking fingers, arm circles, our body, and appropriate posture at
the piano.
In Chap. 6, I address the notion of teaching the student as different from teaching
the repertoire. This approach specifically involves the teacher’s ability to go beyond
the repertoire to stimulate comprehensive student musical development. Also
4 1 Introduction
relevant to the aspect of teaching students is the accumulated repertoire approach

wherein students review and refine pieces they know how to play, instead of
dropping pieces after they’ve been learned. Teaching the student may also require
teachers to consider their roles as student advocators and agitators. Advocating is all
about welcoming students into unconditional learning processes that respect stu-
dents’ personality. As agitators, teachers challenge their students by taking them
beyond their comfort zone. Finally, this chapter examines what happens when
students’ concern shifts from fulfilling their own self-interests to care for the
wellbeing of music.
Researchers have repeatedly affirmed that parental interest in their children’s
musical development has a noticeably positive impact on children’s musical
development even without parents having any musical knowledge. Knowing that
parents and teachers naturally bring different yet overlapping perspectives to
beginner piano students, Chap. 7 considers the relation between teachers and par-
ents. An examination of interactions between teachers and parents from a historical
perspective and within musical settings reveals that teachers may unconsciously
perpetuate attitudes of assumed teacher authority over parents. As an alternative,
teachers may establish meaningful parent relations by developing openness and
trust that includes listening to what parents have to contribute, figuring out what
they need, finding out what works, and drawing from what’s already there rather
than trying to reconfigure the family’s structure. This chapter concludes by pro-
viding practical information for the first conversation with parents, musical
cornerstones for parents, welcoming real life families, and twice-yearly
teacher-parent interviews.
I’ve written Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy with several audiences in mind.
Firstly, as the textbook for undergraduate piano performance majors interested in
studio music instruction. My goal is to provide pianists with an instructional
approach reflective of twenty-first century education research, contemporary cul-
tural values, and proven music instructional strategies. Secondly, as a resource for
novice and veteran piano teachers. My goal is to provide teachers with an exami-
nation of the issues regarding piano teaching that surfaced in my own teaching and
the essential questions from years of discussions and workshops with teachers.
Thirdly, as a resource for vocal and non-keyboard instrumental music teachers. My
goal is to provide studio music teachers with a framework of effective teaching
principles that empowers teachers in working with beginner music students.
Studio music teachers play an essential role in students’ musical development
because they bring multiple traits and expertise to learning and teaching. Through
their passion for music, pedagogical insight, educational understanding, awareness
of others, and life knowledge, teachers serve as a spark to their students’ musical
flame. They purposefully ignite and fuel another person’s thriving relation with
music. I hope that Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy will assist teachers in working
through, developing, stretching, inquiring, and honoring the multilayered practice
of teaching right from the very beginning.
Chapter 2
Themes to Initiate and Sustain the Journey
Abstract Teachers may initiate and sustain the first four to five years of teaching
beginner piano students by drawing upon three foundational themes: our relation
with music, student independence, and personal authenticity. Firstly, our relation
with music spans an entire spectrum of experiences from music performance, to
critical thinking, to playing around. Knowing that it’s difficult to sustain music
study by doing the same thing at the same level for long periods of time, teachers
incorporate diverse aspects from our relation with music to ensure meaningful
ongoing musical development. Secondly, student independence emerges from
children’s natural inclination to do things on their own. Given that students may
take ownership of desirable skills and knowledge as well as undesirable drawbacks,
teachers use a process of multiple ownership to help students develop awareness of
their own performance. Finally, personal authenticity refers to the notion of stu-
dents’ being true to oneself. By understanding, accepting, and caring for students’
true self at all levels and ages, teachers may reinforce the genuine connection
between who students are and what they do as musicians.
Not long ago, I attended one of my former student’s B.Mus. graduation concert. It
was wonderful to hear and see how much she was still the same delightful per-
former I’d always known and how she’d grown in her sophistication as a musician.
After the concert, I couldn’t help thinking about how people and events shape our
lives, about how my parents, teachers, and colleagues helped set the stage for my
own personal and professional explorations. Yet, when I graduated from university
and decided to become a piano teacher, there were certain questions I needed to
answer for myself. Questions like: How would my teaching reflect who I am? How
would I view my students? What would I draw from to initiate and sustain the long
journey of working with my students?
When I think about what anchors the first four to five years of working with
beginner piano students, three enduring themes come into focus: our relation with
music, student independence, and personal authenticity. These themes provide what
pianist and pedagogue Swinkin (2015) referred to as a “pedagogical background”
consisting of my core musical and non-musical beliefs and values that underlie and

6 2 Themes to Initiate and Sustain the Journey
unify everything I do as a teacher (p. 9). While these themes were present right from
my very first attempts at teaching, my awareness of them has most certainly evolved
over 40 years of teaching. First and foremost, I place our relation with music at the
top of my list because I believe that teaching and learning to play the piano may be
best understood through the experience of music in our lives. Knowing about the
various nuances and implications associated with our musical relations seems
essential to developing students’ musicianship. Next, I value student independence.
I appreciate how students take ownership of music and learning. My responsibility
is to incorporate their independence, add to it, and fill in the gaps as appropriate.
Finally, personal authenticity—the notion of being true to oneself—is essential to
my teaching. I pay close attention to my students’ authentic self by recognizing and
accepting who they genuinely are.
2.1 Our Relation with Music
Whether we’re performing or playing, listening or creating, music punctuates our

lives in a myriad of ways. From the random spontaneity of tapping a rhythm or
humming a tune, to the formalized occasions of singing the national anthem or
playing in a concert, these are all examples of how music fills our lives. Music has
unlimited potential to make life more rich, enjoyable, and meaningful. As pianist
Sylvia Coats offered, “Music touches the emotions. It makes us more fully human.
One’s primary reason for studying music is to enrich one’s soul. Music provides
solace in times of grief and enrichment in our everyday lives” (2006, p. 19). So,
what exactly is going on when we consider our relation with music? How do people
experience music in their lives?
One thing that makes our relation with music so remarkable may be expressed as
the notion of flow—the optimal yet simple state of mind when things seem to come
together. As described by renowned psychologist Csikszentmihalyi in his book
Flow (1991), an activity that produces flow may be so gratifying that people
willingly pursue it for its own sake, with little concern for what they will get out of
it. In experiences involving flow, consciousness is harmoniously ordered, life is
meaningful and enjoyable despite adversity (pp. 6–7). Based on worldwide research
into what makes an experience genuinely satisfying, Csikszentmihalyi observed
that people consistently identify flow with a complete range of experiences. At one
end, flow occurs because the task undertaken has clear goals and provides imme-
diate feedback—like playing the piano. While at the other end, flow is the result of
an effortless involvement that removes the person from the worries and frustrations
of everyday life—like playing the piano. Persons experiencing flow have a sense of
control over their actions, while paradoxically concern for his or her self often
disappears. Yet, the person’s sense of self emerges stronger after the flow experi-
ence is over. With flow, there’s often a sense that time has been altered, wherein
hours pass by in minutes, and minutes can stretch out to seem like hours—like
playing the piano. Finally, Csikszentmihalyi noticed that no person can sustain flow
2.1 Our Relation with Music 7
by doing the same thing at the same level for long periods of time (p. 75)—just like
playing the piano.
Similar to the way flow involves a complete range of experiences, our relation
with music also spans an entire spectrum. This means that on certain occasions, as
music educator Jorgensen indicated, critical thinking takes priority in musical
experiences. Here, our senses, intellect, and emotions are implicated in moments of
deep concentration on the musical task at hand (2008, p. 23). On other occasions as
extolled by Pollei, founding member of the American Piano Quartet, the benefits of
noodling and fiddling come into play as the preferred route to musicianship (1991,
p. 54). This is where freedom from worry in terms of playing around and taking
boundless risks takes the lead. While from another viewpoint, the piano icon
Schnabel proposed, “If I were a dictator, I would eliminate the term ‘practice’ from
the vocabulary, for it becomes a bogy, a nightmare to children. I would ask them:
‘Have you already made and enjoyed music today? If not—go and make music’”
(Schnabel 1945/1962, p. 162). Schnabel encourages each of us to dive into the joy
of making music.
Because students naturally seek out and participate in diverse meaningful
musical experiences, it makes sense for teachers to incorporate diversities like
playing around, making music, and thinking critically about performance devel-
opment—three examples from the spectrum of our relation with music that have
profound influences on each other. By playing around and risk taking, students may
find out what they don’t know or cannot do; so, that necessitates bringing in critical
thinking, which may lead to explicit actions; which might need to be tested out in
musical performance or more playing around. In this context, teachers recognize
why students may get tired of critical thinking. They know why students may
become disinterested in intentional music making and even the aspects of playing or
fiddling around. As a consequence, teachers and students avoid falling victim to the
dangers of repeatedly doing the same thing at the same level for extended periods of
time.
Teachers play a pivotal role in supporting and extending students’ own spectrum
of musical relations. This means piano teachers do more than merely transmitting
musical knowledge and skills; they use students’ individual relation with music to
stimulate and support their ongoing musical development. They take advantage of
the broad spectrum that is our relation with music because as music educator Allsup
has proposed, “we are more than makers of music; we are made by the music we
make” (2016, p. 11).
2.2 Student Independence
Early in my teaching career, the following question from a parent had a major
impact on my instructional approach.
“Just how long will it be before my child is able to practice on his own?”
I remember wondering—Was this question concerned with parental
involvement? What did the parent really want to know? Then it occurred to
me, this parent’s question was all about my own role as teacher. More par-
ticularly, he wanted to know how my teaching approach would address his
own child’s independence and ownership.
I replied, “Well, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised to see how many things
your child can do on his own even after the very first lesson!” And with that
simple statement, an adventurous exploration involving student independence
and ownership was underway.
Philosophers, educators, and child experts have long identified independence as a

natural dynamic in the child’s growth from infancy to adulthood. From Rousseau
(1712–78), to Pestalozzi (1746–1827), to Montessori (1870–1952) and such current
parenting professionals as Barbara Coloroso, child independence is acknowledged
as an unavoidable and necessary element of every child’s natural growth. We all
recognize the two-year-old’s penchant for the word “No”, the child’s ongoing and
irrepressible drive to do things “My way”, the rebellious teenager’s need to separate
his or her self from family and eventually from peers as the inevitable signs of child
independence. In our Western cultural context, independence takes on a particular
relevance because, as social analyst Nisbett (2004) explained, there is an expec-
tation that each person is a “unitary free agent” personally charged with making the
most out of his or her life.
From the very earliest ages, children make amazing demonstrations of their
independence as musicians. Just think about how many children sing songs on their
own, move their bodies to the beat, and differentiate one musical selection from
another or one instrument from another. While children may acquire such funda-
mentals through direct instruction from adults, children’s ownership of their
musicianship results mostly from their ordinary everyday encounters with music.
Music is something they internalize because of their preference for listening
repeatedly to certain musical selections. Their independent ownership of music
grows because children’s daily lives are full of repetitious musical moments like
commercial jingles, church music, Christmas carols, Happy Birthday, music on the
radio, video games, movies, and more. In this way, children’s musicianship isn’t
something that develops randomly or just by chance. Nor is it something that only
develops in formal educational settings. Children take ownership of their own
musicianship as the result of listening to music and trying things out for themselves.
Teachers may build on their students’ independence by recognizing, validating,
and following up on what students actually do—whether it’s a matter of listening,
practicing, or reading, whether it’s concerned with tone, technical fluency, or
interpretation. That means that while teachers take a leadership role in the early
stages as students become familiar with musical vocabulary and our way of
2.2 Student Independence 9
communicating, such processes are only fully successful when students take
ownership of what’s going on. Teachers play an important role in promoting stu-
dents’ “active participation in learning” (Niemi et al. 2012, p. 277) and allowing
students to take responsibility for their own “personal decision-making” (Kemp and
Mills 2002, p. 13). Even at the first lesson, teachers may prioritize students’
ownership of sitting too high and just right, light and harsh tone, stiff and flexible
fingers. As students progress as independent musicians, teachers make sure students
take ownership of increasingly sophisticated musical concepts.
One of the challenges teachers face in supporting student independence is that
students frequently take ownership of drawbacks like wrong notes, inflexible
techniques, spontaneous fingerings, or radical interpretations. This challenge brings
attention to a very pertinent issue: How can teachers minimize performance
drawbacks while supporting student ownership? Teachers may address this issue by
incorporating what I call multiple ownership. The goal in using multiple ownership
is to heighten students’ awareness of what they’re doing, so they know how it
differs from what might be preferable as demonstrated in the following examples.
When Jessica started reading her pieces, she frequently played left hand
chords in the wrong octave or E-G-C instead of C-E-G. Practicing with a
multiple ownership approach meant exploring both correct and incorrect
versions, comparing the sounds, and affirming placement on the keyboard.
During her second piano lesson, Victoria achieved a legato sound by
dropping her wrist and pushing her fingers into the keys. Rather than asking
Victoria to discard her legato accomplishment, a multiple ownership
approach allowed Victoria to compare how various wrist positions—low,
high, stiff, light—impact her tone quality and physical fluency at the piano.
Jeffrey often ran out of fingers in pieces that contained scale passages,
spontaneously adding 4-5-4-5 in ascending, and 2-1-2-1 in descending right
hand passages. Using a multiple ownership approach, he was able to explore
formal alternatives and his own spontaneous versions, comparing their
facility, and highlighting the necessary transitional fingers.
Scott preferred to end all his pieces with a brusque sforzando on the last
note. Using a multiple ownership approach meant trying out various ways to
have fun with the ends of his pieces: getting softer, slowing down, speeding
up, and of course suddenly loud.
Multiple ownership allows students to develop broader understanding of how

their practice impacts their accomplishments. Rather than thinking of performance
drawbacks as something to avoid, I consider drawbacks as an opportunity to expand
students’ awareness beyond their current ownership. As pianist and educator
William Westney described in The Perfect Wrong Note (2003), “Sometimes we
have to experience fully what’s wrong in order to understand and integrate what’s
right, and honest mistakes are the only way to do that. They give texture to the act
of learning” (pp. 63–64). Also in support of multiple ownership, author of How We
Learn (2015) Benedict Carey proposed that varied practice has immense benefits
over repetition of singular drills. Carey explains that interleaving—a cognitive
science word that refers to the mixing of items, skills or concepts during
practice—“seems to help us not only see the distinctions between them but also to
achieve a clearer grasp of each one individually” (p. 164). Mixed-up practice builds
overall dexterity and prompts active discrimination. The hardest part may be
abandoning our primal faith in isolated repetition because, of course, everyone
needs a certain amount of repetition to become familiar with any new skill or
material. However, Carey suggests that repetition creates a powerful illusion
because skills improve and then plateau. By contrast, varied practice produces a
slower rate of improvement in each practice session but a greater accumulation of
skill and learning over time.
While multiple ownership has its obvious merits, some teachers may fear that
validating drawbacks will derail the learning process. Yet, in my own experience,
I’ve observed that students’ musicianship may survive and even flourish despite the
arrival of wrong notes, inflexible techniques, and radical interpretations. Knowing
that students frequently take ownership of things that may impede their learning,
some teachers solve this problem by administering absolute control over students’
musical development. Other teachers seem to regard independence as something
only they can grant or bestow, and put off student ownership as a distant desti-
nation. These kinds of teaching seem to be embedded in a fear that students’
independence or ownership will result in teachers’ loss of control. Or, teachers may
feel compelled to streamline student development in ways that avoid moving
outside teachers’ comfort zone. However, under such circumstances, it’s ques-
tionable how the weight of teacher authority will avoid fostering students’ blind
complacency or outright dislike.
Finally, students’ processes of taking ownership have both independent and
dependent implications. From the independent perspective, taking ownership is
something that emerges from the child’s own natural inclination to do things on his
or her own without assistance. It comes from the child’s inherent yearning to
separate his or her self from family, peers, and teachers. In this respect, students’
independence is anchored in their sense of self. While from the dependent per-
spective, students also depend on teachers to recognize what they achieve on their
own and to introduce what they cannot find on their own. They rely on teachers to
guide their musical development without squashing their highly valued sense of
independence. Under such circumstances, students’ growing musicianship might be
described as a process of dependent independence. That’s why it’s important for
teachers not only to recognize students’ knowledge and sense of ownership, it’s
also important to challenge and expand student independence, to keep in mind
where we’re going and how teachers may assist students in getting there.
2.3 Personal Authenticity 11
2.3 Personal Authenticity
Around the time energetic Arthur was in preschool, his older sister Janine
informed me he would soon be starting lessons. “My Mom really hopes that
piano lessons will help to settle him down”, she told me. I couldn’t stop
myself from thinking that both Janine and her Mom might be disappointed by
the outcome of Arthur’s lessons. Because, my goal wouldn’t be to reduce,
minimize, or eliminate Arthur’s boisterous authentic self. It would be a matter
of amplifying who Arthur is as a person—his personal authenticity.
As criteria for musical performance, the term authenticity is often used regarding
the composer’s performance intentions, faithfulness to historical performance, and
period sound especially in terms of techniques and instruments.1 So, let me begin
by stating that’s not what I intend to explore in this segment. My purpose is to
examine authenticity from a personal perspective especially as concerned with the
notion of being true to oneself. Personal authenticity is all about the way in which a
person’s actions genuinely align with his or her authentic self—that is the many
layers that make up each person’s uniqueness much like a fabric woven from the
countless threads of who we are. Being personally authentic relies on connecting
the fabric of who we are and what we value about ourselves with how we actually
get on with life. For teachers, paying attention to students’ authentic self involves
understanding, recognizing, accepting, and caring for who they are, rather than
controlling who we might want them to be.
Throughout history, poets and philosophers have repeatedly acknowledged the
importance of personal authenticity. From the 400 BC inscription “Know yourself”
on the Temple of Apollo in Delphi, to the 4th century St. Augustine’s “In the
inward man dwells truth”, to Shakespeare’s 16th century “To thine own self be
true”, and contemporary educator Carl Roger’s expression “Be yourself”, these
phrases represent the long historical trajectory of concern for knowing, listening,
and being true to our own internal voice. As Canadian philosopher Taylor (1991)
described,
There is a certain way of being human that is my way. I am called up to live my life in this
way, and not in imitation of anyone else’s. But this gives a new importance to being true to
myself. If I am not, I miss the point of my life, I miss what being human is for me (p. 29).
Personal authenticity brings clarity and meaning to who we are and what we do in
life. Without authenticity, there may be a sense of superficiality, artificiality, or
disconnection from life. With authenticity, we may experience both comfort and
discomfort in being true to oneself—when on certain occasions it’s easy to tap into
our own personal authenticity, and elsewhere when we’re challenged to remain true
1
See Swinkin (2015, pp. 54–55) and Kivy (2002, pp. 238–250) for summaries regarding inter-
pretation and critique of the authentic music performance movement.
to who we are. Yet, we take on both comfort and discomfort associated with being
true to oneself, as philosophers and poets throughout history have indicated,
because of the value and meaning we take from our own authentic self.2
Music serves as a resonant and intimate vehicle for experiencing who we are and
how we actually get on with life. As music philosopher Cumming (2000) explained,
the musician’s individuality is “inseparable from the sounds she makes” (p. 27).
Musicians express who they are because music’s technical, expressive, explorative,
and formal demands prompt all varieties and intensities of personal involvement.
Similarly, in educational processes, the ideal of authenticity receives widespread
support because educational activities take on personal meaning when connected to
the person’s true or core self.3 So, this brings us to consider: How might an
understanding of authenticity impact musical study and performance? What hap-
pens when teachers pay attention to the student’s authentic self?
Music lessons provide teachers with ample ongoing opportunities to interact
one-on-one with their students for periods that may span several years of weekly
involvement from preschool through high school. Teachers get to know their stu-
dent’s authentic self through observing and listening on professional, casual,
immediate, and introspective levels. Everything comes into play. Things like the
physicality of what students do—the quickness or slowness of how students move,
mannerisms, the flexibility in bodily involvement and digital finesse, physical
strength, the comfort of a balanced body, what their eyes do, body language,
breathing and gestures, the need for movement. Students have their own emotional
compass—easily frustrated, endless patience, playing from the heart, how things
feel, dealing with success and failure, openness to all kinds of emotional intent.
There’s everything connected with thinking—brief and lengthy concentration,
making sense of what’s going on, the words they use, their own life experiences,
short and long term goals, how much they have to say, figuring out the meaning of
progress and setbacks. Students possess their own intuitive insight—being in the
moment, spontaneous creativity and imagination, letting go and trusting your gut.
Things like spirituality—soulful grounding, anima mundi, faith, what students
believe in, morals, what they care about, relation to nature, cultural and community
values. In the context of studio music lessons, teachers put together a picture of
their students’ true self as a result of immediate and evolving perceptions. They
assemble information from students’ interactions with their teachers, other students,
and their parents. They witness how the fabric of students’ core self is indelibly
2
Personal authenticity is not without its critics. Aloni (2002) warned that authenticity tied solely to
the subjective self may create a “nihilistic position according to which everything is equally good
and beautiful and just as long as the individual’s choice was authentic” (p. 104). Theoretical
researchers (Barry et al. 2011; Hotchkiss 2002) and social commentators (Lasch 1979; Wolfe
1976) have argued against the narcissistic qualities of individualism associated with a liberal,
affluent, secular, and consumer-oriented North American culture.
3
On the topic of authenticity in educational settings see: Brookfield (2006), Cranton (2001),
Kreber (2013), Palmer (1998), Rogers (1969).
2.3 Personal Authenticity 13
woven into their relation with music, the sounds they make, the interpretations they
prefer, the way they learn, the tools they use to study and perform, the spontaneous
expression of their own internal voice. Here are a few snapshots of my beginner and
elementary students taken through an authentic lens:
Jennifer is soft-spoken with a keen desire to express her sense of humor.

Her subtle jokes often provide openings for exploration of both familiar and
unfamiliar musical avenues.
Alex only talks about music in terms of how it makes him feel. His ability
as a composer, perfect pitch, and playing by ear stand in direct contrast to his
discomfort with learning to read music.
Everything about Erica sparkles: her eyes, her speech patterns, her clothes,
her gestures. She has a penchant for jumping into her performances, often
charging headstrong through entire sections without a single breath.
The combination of Brandon’s confidence in his own intuition and urge
for self-mastery often results in elevated frustration. He rarely gives up.
Recognizing each of my student’s authentic self has important implications related

to his or her musical growth especially in terms of two vital areas: triggering interest
and developing expertise. Interest may be described as the feeling of curiosity or
desire for exploration that compels a person to experiment or willingly take risks.
Often the delight associated with interest involves breaking through boundaries,
challenging established rules, or stepping beyond a person’s comfort zone.
Expertise may be defined as know-how that exceeds the demands of a given task.
It’s the competency, skills, and knowledge that equip a person to successfully
complete activities within a certain area. Confidence associated with expertise
typically results from a person working within the broad base of his or her own
comfort zone.
While interest and expertise both help to define who we genuinely are, they draw
from the fabric of our own true self in significantly different ways. Quite remark-
ably, the curiosity associated with interest involves stepping outside our own
comfort zone, while expertise builds from within our own comfort zone. Although
interest and expertise may occupy opposite ends of the spectrum, personal interest
often generates the commitments of time and energy necessary to produce exper-
tise. Expertise relies on a person’s interest in doing something well, and personal
interest stimulates adjustments to a person’s expertise.
In order to tap into students’ interest and expertise, teachers may need not only
to understand and recognize their students, but also accept and care for who their
students are. Accepting a student’s true self is an unconditional and nonjudgmental
practice that speaks of openness and humility. Acceptance isn’t about changing a
student’s authentic self into something else. It’s about caring for the genuine fabric
of a student’s true self. Teachers who genuinely accept their students’ personal
authenticity open themselves to personally care about their students by involving
students in their own learning journey, by protecting them, and by shielding stu-
dents from excessive demands. They know when and how to guard students’
vulnerability. Yet, accepting and caring for students also means teachers know
when to take risks and when not, when it’s appropriate to push students out of their
comfort zone and urge students to look beyond their immediate vision. In this latter
example, teachers help keep students from being held hostage by their own
defensive sense of self. They recognize that knowing students’ authentic self isn’t
about ego building or doing only what students want. It’s about teachers becoming
skilled advocates on their students’ behalf, supporting and challenging students’
true self.
Teaching with personal authenticity means teachers value who their students are.
They guide their students by exploring musicianship as something unequivocally
and enduringly grounded in students’ own true self. This is not to underrate the
influence of teachers’ own authentic self, their own interests, expertise, wisdom, or
practical experience. Obviously, teachers’ input is vitally important. However, in
acknowledging students’ true self, teachers may provide leadership without taking
over their students’ journeys. In this process, teachers promote a flourishing of their
students’ inner voices—not as something previously unknown, mere teacher imi-
tation, or something students eventually achieve. Rather, teachers inspire and val-
idate the inner voices that were already there and that continue to drive students’
own evolving and highly personal relation to music.
2.4 Final Thoughts
This chapter began with several thought provoking questions. How would my
teaching reflect who I am? How would I view my students? What would I draw
from to initiate and sustain the long journey of working with my students? From
these questions, themes of our relation with music, student independence, and
personal authenticity have emerged to initiate and sustain my teaching for over
thirty years. What’s interesting about this trio of themes is how they represent a
particular aspect of teaching that might be referred to as—what is. While, at the
same time, they also signify a contrasting aspect of teaching that might be described
as—what might be.4
4
In a similar vein Swinkin (2015) proposed that teachers may take on a transformative stance
wherein their prime imperative is to open up new and numerous possibilities for the student
(pp. 222–23). Allsup (2016) addressed possibilities from another angle, suggesting teachers are
directed to “something just outside the possible” (p. 141).
2.4 Final Thoughts 15
I use the expression what is to describe our massive accumulation of knowledge

and experience. It’s things we already know, what we do right now, where we are,
and where we’ve come from. From a musical perspective, what is encompasses the
musical traditions that surround us, the instruments we play, what students bring to
their musicianship, teachers’ backgrounds and expertise, educational attitudes and
trends, our societal and individual values. What is embodies where we are right now
—musically, personally, and in life. In contrast, the expression what might be taps
into the vastness of things we have yet to imagine. What might be directs us toward
expanding the space of what’s possible, uncovering what no one has ever thought
of before. What I find remarkable is that teaching what is and what might be are not
unrelated instructional strategies. Teaching isn’t just about getting acquainted with
or mastering what is. Nor is teaching just about uncovering what might be.
Teaching may be understood as the deliberate and repeatedly cyclical process of
opening up spaces of personal possibility by exploring where we are right now.
Teaching what is serves as the excellent foundation and active inspiration for
uncovering what might be. For what piano teacher and author Barbara Skalinder
described as “drawing out the possibility in every student” (2016, p. 137).
What stands out for me in this exploration is how our relation with music,
student independence, and personal authenticity may stimulate infinite possibilities.
As a teacher, I am greatly influenced by the musical traditions I carry forward. That
means I pass on the breadth of musicianship with immense dedication and purpose.
Yet, my teaching isn’t so much about perpetuating entrenched ways of thinking
about music as it is about teaching what is and what might be in order to broaden
what students come to know, feel, and do as musicians. On this view, music
teachers emphasize two things. Firstly and perhaps most obviously, that music
teaching is devoted to fostering and upholding the value we have for music and
artistic meaning making. While secondly and perhaps with less apparent intentions,
music teaching embodies a grand adventure that pulls each of us to consider not
only who we are and where we come from, but also what we have yet to imagine
about ourselves, about each other, about music, and about life.
2.5 Before We Move on
1. What comes to mind when you examine your own relation with music?
How does the idea of flow as a range of personal experiences come into
play in your musical experiences? How might the combination of critical
thinking and playing around contribute to your teaching and learning to
play a musical instrument?
2. What is your own experience of independence? How might you apply
what you’ve learned about independence and ownership in this chapter to
your own teaching? What changes will you make?
3. By understanding, accepting, and caring for their students’ authentic self

at all levels and ages, teachers reinforce the meaningful connection
between who students are and what they do as musicians. How do you
feel about this statement? What stands out for you?
4. This chapter concluded by suggesting that teaching what is serves as the
excellent foundation and active inspiration for uncovering what might be.
Which is more comfortable for you as a teacher—What is? Or what might
be? Why?
5. Your own musical autobiography consists of the many musical events,
moments, and experiences that occurred over your lifetime. Taking into
consideration your relation with music, independence, and personal
authenticity, identify how each of these themes may have impacted your
own musical autobiography and sense of musicianship.
References
Allsup, R. (2016). Remixing the classroom: Toward an open philosophy of music education.
Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.
Aloni, N. (2002). Enhancing humanity: The philosophical foundations of humanistic education.
Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kulwer Academic Publishers.
Barry, C. T., Kerig, P. K., Stellwagen, K. K., & Garry, T. D. (2011). Narcissism and
machiavellianism in youth. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association.
Brookfield, S. D. (2006). The skillful teacher. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.
Carey, B. (2015). How we learn. New York, NY: Random House.
Cranton, P. (2001). Becoming an authentic teacher in higher education. Malabar, FL: Krieger
Publishing Company.
Coats, S. (2006). Thinking as you play: Teaching piano in individual and group lessons.
Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1991). Flow. New York, NY: Harper & Row.
Cumming, N. (2000). The sonic self. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.
Hotchkiss, S. (2002). Why is always about you? The seven deadly sins of narcissism. New York,
NY: Free Press.
Jorgensen, E. R. (2008). The art of teaching music. Indianapolis, IN: Indiana University Press.
Kemp, A. E., & Mills, J. (2002). Musical potential. In R. Parncutt & G. E. McPherson (Eds.), The
science and psychology of music performance (pp. 3–16). Oxford, UK: Oxford University
Press.
Kivy, Peter. (2002). Introduction to a philosophy of music. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Kreber, C. (2013). Authenticity in and through teaching. Routledge.
Lasch, C. (1979). The culture of narcissism. New York: NY: Warner Books.
Niemi, H., Toom, A., & Kallioniemi, A. (2012). Miracle of education: The principles and
practices of teaching and learning in Finnish schools. Rotterdam, Netherlands: Sense
Publishers.
Nisbett, R. (2004). The geography of thought. New York, NY: Free Press.
Palmer, P. J. (1998). The courage to teach. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Publishers.
Pollei, P. (1991). Our evolving profession. The Piano Quarterly, Spring, 153, 54–55.
Rogers, C. (1969). Freedom to learn. Columbus, OH: Charles E. Merrill Publishing Company.
References 17
Schnabel, A. (1945/1961). My life and music. London, UK: Longmans.

Skalinder, B. (2016). The music of teaching: Learning to trust students’ natural development.
Milwaukee, WI: Hal Leonard Books.
Swinkin, J. (2015). Teaching performance: A philosophy of piano pedagogy. Dordrecht,
Netherlands: Springer.
Taylor, C. (1991). The ethics of authenticity. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Westney, W. (2003). The perfect wrong note. Pompton Plains, NJ: Amadeus Press.
Wolfe, T. (1976). The ‘me’ decade and the third great awakening. New York Magazine, August 23,
26–40.
Chapter 3
What Does Music Learning Look like?
Abstract In order to help teachers understand what happens when beginner piano
students take their initial steps, this chapter examines the concept of learning from
several relevant perspectives. Firstly, an overview of education theories indicates
that learning is frequently interpreted as involving: (1) linear progressions,
(2) making meaning from experience, (3) cyclical processes focused on exploration,
and (4) the influence of individual and collective worldviews. Next, given the
parallels between language learning and music learning, this chapter explores the
process of language acquisition and transposes the principles of language learning
to music learning. Finally, this chapter demonstrates how beginner piano students
may move through three fundamental stages of musical development. The
Background Stage involves how students informally acquire aspects of musician-
ship prior to formal lessons. The Foundation Stage focuses on tonalization devel-
opment of technique and tone production as well as learning to play by ear. The
Reading Stage continues to build on the Foundation Stage through the additional
element of learning to read music.
When we learn, we take on, reinforce, or modify our own knowledge, behaviors,
values, and skills. On certain occasions, we may learn intentionally, while on
others, we may unintentionally learn something about ourselves or others. Learning
may be goal oriented, may be internally and externally motivated. Learning is
something we do under many kinds of circumstances—learning to play the piano
being just one example. Yet, our understanding of what goes on when we learn or
what’s involved may be incomplete. So, it seems prudent to be purposeful in
considering what’s involved for beginner students learning to play the piano. In this
chapter, I take a look at learning from several different perspectives including
pertinent educational models of learning, language learning, learning to play by ear,
and stages of learning to play the piano.

20 3 What Does Music Learning Look like?
3.1 Models of Learning
Educational theorists, philosophers, and researchers have long debated the notion of
learning within various cultural and historical frameworks. One model that has
retained longevity is the depiction of learning as a linear process similar to the
step-by-step way we might construct a building or assemble a car. Learning as a
linear process has a certain kind of practicality to it, because under no circum-
stances could we learn everything at once. So, it seems appropriate to approach
learning through sequences in which we move from one bit of information to the
next or one part of a procedure to the next. Learning as a linear process tends to
encourage automaticity or immediacy through deliberate and repetitious practice,
focusing intentionally on mastery of each step before proceeding to the next.
In a second model, learning is depicted as the way we make sense of the world
by relating new experiences to our own experiences and interpretations. Learning
involves personal meaning making in which we’re constantly putting things toge-
ther, taking them apart, and reconfiguring how we think in an effort to maintain a
coherent yet personally relevant picture of ourselves and the world around us. In
learning as meaning making, we interpret the world complete with the messiness
and discomfort associated with making mistakes. That’s not to say that we only
learn from experiences that disrupt our existing knowledge. Rather, it means that
what we know of ourselves and the world is continually being affirmed, challenged,
and updated by the breadth of new, familiar, interruptive, and affirmative personal
experiences.
A third model with particular resonance in current educational theory portrays
learning as a cyclical and explorative process more concerned with what’s possible
than what’s predictable. Learning isn’t merely accumulating more knowledge, more
skills, more information, nor moving towards a pre-determined goal or destination.
Learning is driven by our self-initiated desire to experiment, to try things out, and
test what we already know or do in attempting to transform what we already know
or do. In this creative and recursive model, learning contributes to the way we might
evolve in terms of flourishing, maturity, deterioration, and irresponsibility. The
underlying principle in exploring what’s possible is that learning isn’t about
knowing where you’re going, it’s about finding out where you might get to.
A final model important to our understanding of learning has to do with the idea
of nested forms. Nested forms is a term used by educational scholars Davis et al.
(2015) to describe how learning integrates the biological, cognitive, social, cultural,
and ecological dimensions of life. Learning doesn’t take place as an isolated
activity. Learning, as educator Jensen (1995) explained, “happens on many levels at
once” (p. 18). It occurs as an integrated experience involving the simultaneous
engagement of physical, emotional, interpersonal, auditory, and environmental
themes even without our awareness. Notably, learning also has connections to
spiritual dimensions including: relations with nature, anima mundi, faith in God,
and indigenous belief systems. The guiding principle in this model is that learning
draws not only from who we are, but also from our connection to life and the world
3.1 Models of Learning 21
around us. Learning isn’t something that occurs only within the narrow confines of
thinking about things. It’s something that embodies and triggers an expansive
overlapping that extends from the cellular to the behavioral, emotional to physical,
scientific to spiritual, from the personal to the ecological—from each of us, to all of
us, to life, and to the world.
Looking at learning thusly, we see that learning isn’t defined by a singular
course of acquiring knowledge, skills, or understanding. Learning arises within and
in response to the diverse opportunities of everyday life. While an extensive inquiry
into learning would undoubtedly reveal further depictions, this brief examination
indicates that learning is an adaptive process shaped by the natural interplay of
various overlapping dynamics. Learning involves the potential integration of linear
learning structures, individual meaning making, cyclical processes of experimen-
tation, and the influence of personal and collective worldviews.
3.2 Language Learning
One of the most common ways music educators have interpreted music learning is
through its parallels with language learning. As music educators Gellrich and
Sundin (1993) indicated, learning music is “very similar to the acquisition of a
child’s first language” (p. 141). For children, language learning is something they
accomplish in stages that begin with babbling, followed by learning to speak actual
words, and subsequently learning to read.
Language learning occurs because children are surrounded by spoken language
and because they have something to say. Children as young as four months of age
demonstrate distinct preferences for speech patterns typical of their own language.
They respond to and select sounds that have meaning. Before speaking words,
children begin with babbling, a period of experimenting with making sounds and
imitating the rhythmic characteristics of speaking their language (MacWhinney
2001, p. 469). Gradually, they learn to speak, using experimentation and imitation
to progress from one- or two-word sentences to joined sentences. They learn to
recognize and reproduce sound patterns and meanings as essential to their
becoming members of a language and social community (Bruning et al. 1999).
Learning to speak doesn’t really start by prescribing the sounds children are
allowed to make. Language learning begins with explorations in which children
connect the sounds they’re trying to make with what they hear, with what they want
to communicate. They develop their own auditory sensitivity, distinguishing one
kind of sound from another as well as producing one sound instead of another with
nuance and precision. They create their own physical or technical competency,
experiencing how breathing and moving their tongues, lips, and mouths may
change the sounds they’re making.
Subsequent to their learning to speak, children may broaden their language
learning by learning to read written words. What’s important in this stage is that
children learn to read by connecting the words they already speak with the symbols
that represent them (Bruning et al. 1999). However, the purpose of learning to read
is more than simply matching visual clues with spoken vocabulary. Similar to
learning to speak, learning to read has value as a matter of personal communication
and meaning making. Reading expands language fluency by introducing new
contexts, thoughts, and ideas that may confirm, expand, and challenge how people
envision the world around them.
Language learning operates through recursive cycles in which exploration,
experimentation, and imitation stimulate the development of auditory sensitivity,
physical coordination, and visual perception, and vice versa. Yet, these cycles also
depend on active participation or meaningful involvement to prompt exploration
and development. Active participation keeps learning in motion. Through this
process, children foster ownership of what language means and represents. This
means that language learning is neither a distant nor passive process. Language
learning occurs as something meaningful, as something personally relevant that
children actively accomplish in fulfillment of their desire to communicate.
From this broad example of language learning, several points stand out as
important for learning to play the piano. Firstly and above all else, meaningful
music learning depends on students’ genuine participation. When students are
meaningfully involved in music learning, they actively connect with various aspects
of their musical explorations—it’s fun, it feels right, it may be hard but it works.
They take ownership of their own learning, no matter where it leads them. In
contrast, students who aren’t meaningfully involved may have limited or nonex-
istent connections to their music learning—it’s not fun, it’s a requirement, it’s
temporary. They may surrender ownership of their learning, choosing instead to
continue as passive, obedient, or compliant participants. Meaningful participation
means that music learning is something students not only enjoy, it’s something they
take pride in doing for themselves.
Secondly, children begin language learning by experimenting with and imitating
the characteristic sounds of their spoken language. Similarly for music learning,
making sound takes priority as the foundation for music learning. This idea is
reflected in students’ learning by ear explorations of tone production and physical
coordination as the first learning step. This idea of experimentation and its rela-
tionship with imitation also has implications for a third point.
Thirdly, what’s interesting about experimentation and imitation is how these
explorative tools operate as back up plans for each other. For example, when
students have in mind a particular musical element—technical, rhythmic, melodic,
harmonic, interpretative—they may use either experimentation or imitation to get
closer. When experimenting doesn’t work, they can try imitating their teacher, a
recording, or another performer. And conversely, when imitation doesn’t work,
they may experiment with any number of emotional, physical, intuitive, or spiritual
variations. However, musical experimentation and imitation have benefits and
drawbacks. Experimentation is especially valuable when there’s no immediate
model at hand, yet it loses value when fatigue or frustration sets in. While under all
circumstances, the value of imitation is completely reliant on meaningful student
involvement.
3.2 Language Learning 23
A fourth point takes into consideration the fundamental connection between

auditory sensitivity and physical coordination. In language learning, children’s
ability to distinguish sounds provides the vital link for how they produce sounds.
Similarly in music learning, listening and performing are intimately connected.
There’s a reciprocal relationship between the sounds students hear or anticipate
hearing and what they do to make those sounds. While listening and performing
may be approached as separate musical aspects, their inter-relationship reveals that
each may be experienced in the other. In other words, listening is reflected in
students’ performance—both as input and output; and performance relies on what
students hear—also both in terms of input and output. And, because listening and
performing take place on many levels at once, their back-and-forth relationship
encompasses the possibility of imaginative, physical, auditory, emotional, inter-
personal, and spiritual dimensions.
Finally, music learning is an “ear-before-eye” process, similar to the way in
which language learning proceeds from speaking to reading. When students begin
music reading, they connect what they play by ear with the symbols that represent
what they’re playing. This means that students’ initial music reading experiences
are more about reading what they already know how to play, than about perpetu-
ating interval recognition and the mathematical relationships of note values.
Learning to play by ear provides the much-needed auditory context for learning to
read music, while music reading is essential to the ongoing expansion and evolution
of fluent musical performance.
3.3 Learning to Play by Ear
Prominent educators and musicians throughout history have consistently advocated

learning to play by ear as the first step in music learning. Educational principles
developed by the Swiss educator Pestalozzi (1746–1827) are particularly relevant.
Pestalozzi believed that direct experience was the basis of all education and the
purpose of education was to develop the whole person. Learning, according to
Pestalozzi, proceeded by moving from the “known to the unknown” (Schleuter
1997, p. 21). Although Pestalozzi never taught music, European and North
American music teachers have applied his ideas. Mason (1792–1872), an esteemed
American musician who taught in Boston during the early 1800s, is just one of
many music teachers who acknowledge Pestalozzi’s educational ideas in the
emphasis on “sounds before signs” (McPherson and Gabrielsson 2002, p. 101).
Moving to the twentieth century, the idea of “sounds before signs” learning has
taken on various descriptors including ear-before-eye, learning by ear, sound to
symbol, and playing by ear. The Suzuki Method has been a strong voice in
advocating ear-before-eye learning through a Mother Tongue approach—the idea
that children learn to speak before they learn to read. While Founder of the Suzuki
Method, Suzuki (1969) based the Mother Tongue Theory on his casual observation
of children, formal research from music educators around the globe has affirmed the
value of ear-before-eye learning. In Great Britain, music educator Mainwaring

(1951) was among the first researchers to study the acquisition of ear-before-eye
playing skills. For Mainwaring, the most natural way of learning to play a musical
instrument is by proceeding “from sound to symbol, not from symbol to sound”
(p. 12). As another British music researcher Sloboda (1978) explained, the rationale
of an ear-before-eye approach is that “without some musical knowledge a beginner
has no expectancies which can be used in reading” (p. 15). In the United States,
Gordon (1971) affirmed that hearing music and playing by ear form the necessary
readiness for every other level of musical learning. “Because music is an aural art,
one must first acquire aural perception and kinesthetic reaction in order to develop
musical understanding in a conceptual sense… That is, ‘sound’ must be taught
before ‘sign’ can be given meaning” (p. 61). In a similar vein, results of a three-year
longitudinal study of 101 instrumentalists by music education scholar Gary
McPherson also confirmed that “playing by ear helps student musicians learn to
coordinate ear, eye, and hand and to perform on their instrument what they see in
notation and hear or imagine in their mind” (McPherson et al. 1997, p. 126). Based
on the above researchers’ observations, music learning clearly has its anchor in our
auditory relationships with music.
3.4 Learning to Play the Piano
Thus far, this chapter has examined multiple perspectives relevant to the process of
learning to play the piano. Four models of learning shed light on linear learning,
meaning making, cyclical experimentations, and the nested influence of personal
and collective worldviews. Investigation into language learning revealed
“ear-before-eye” learning processes involving experimentation and imitation,
auditory sensitivity, physical coordination, visual perception, and active participa-
tion through meaningful involvement.
According to our investigation, learning to play the piano brings together an
interweaving of structure, development, and meaning.1 As a linear sequence, music
learning may use a structure that begins with learning by ear and subsequently
involves learning through reading. Music learning stimulates development through
experimentation and imitation in the areas of auditory sensitivity, physical coordi-
nation, and visual perception. Development also involves the exploration of possi-
bilities. In addition, music learning relies on the meaning students derive from their
active participation and the nested influence of personal and collective worldviews.
The challenge is that children and adults may have different and slightly
incompatible interpretations of structure, development, and meaning. Whereas
1
I use the term meaning in reference to the individual ways students may interpret or make sense of
their music lessons and the various aspects involved in learning to play a musical instrument.
Meaning is also concerned with what’s behind students’ active participation in terms of the diverse
reasons that may support their own meaningful involvement.
3.4 Learning to Play the Piano 25
adults may respond to structure as a matter requiring personal discipline or

responsibility, children may understand structure as primarily involving play. Part
of what makes play valuable as a mode of learning for children is that it lowers the
emotional stakes of failure (Jenkins 2009, p. 38). It allows them to take risks and
learn through trial and error. For adults, structure may indicate the need for plan-
ning and control, while children may view structure as something that sponta-
neously unfolds.
Music educator Gordon (1993) provides a noteworthy insight into development,
in that adults emphasize quality whereas children may focus on quantity. Adult
attitudes towards development may be selective in comparison to children who may
absorb whatever the environment has to offer. Development as a matter of quantity
often shows up in children’s desire to play fast and loud—a development most
adults consider as noisy interruption.
Finally, the meaning adults attribute to music learning may differ from children,
wherein adults may create hierarchies of value associated with certain musical
achievements like performing with no mistakes or intentional results. In contrast,
children may be less discriminating of their musical experiences that range from
satisfying involvement to complete distraction. This is not to say that performances
without mistakes are equal in value to distracted musical wanderings. However, it’s
easy to see how an exclusive no-mistakes mindset might inadvertently generate a
fear of making mistakes or trying something new, as well as unintentionally stifling
imagination and creativity. Additionally, children may make meaning as a matter of
immediacy rather than the delayed gratification approach of adults.
This means that structure, development, and meaning aren’t so much the hard
and fast rules of music learning. Learning to play the piano isn’t about deciding
whether children’s or adults’ attitudes and insights should lead the way. Structure,
development, and meaning are more about providing a framework for what Davis
(2004) referred to as “opening up new spaces of possibility by exploring current
spaces” (p. 184). They act as reminders for both where we are and where we might
consider going. So, with this in mind and with the understanding that music
learning involves exploring what we know in order to uncover what we have yet to
imagine, the following linear sequence takes into consideration the results of our
exploration into music learning thus far:
• Background stage—individual musical experiences
• Foundation stage—tone production, physical coordination, learning by ear,
tonality
• Reading stage—vocabulary, sound to symbol, learning by reading.
3.4.1 Background Stage
Even before children begin formal music lessons, structure, development, and
meaning show up in their background experiences. There’s a structure of play in
their dabbling with instruments and learning through auditory experiences. Using
experimentation and imitation, children develop their own informal yet amazing
musical applications. And, there’s meaning in the way students draw from their
individual experiences with music and create their own personal ways of making
sense of music.
Music is something students get to know through ordinary everyday encounters
in their families, with friends, on TV, on the computer, and in their communities.
Children demonstrate their ability to make sense of their musical experiences in a
number of ways. For example, children are able to remember musical selections and
distinguish one musical example from another. When asked to recall music they’ve
just heard, they can make plausible approximations. They can recognize harmonic
textures in terms of discordant inconsistencies within a musical selection. And, they
can identify the mood or emotional intent of a musical passage (Sloboda 1993).
Children learn about music simply by living in their cultural environment, and the
musical grammar they develop is a direct result of the sounds that come into their
ears. As Campbell (2006) has affirmed, children “sing because they must, they
move because the music prompts them, and they dabble with instruments and sound
sources out of curiosity, a need for tactile experience, and because it ‘feels good’ to
do so” (p. 433).
Noah’s Background Story—At five years of age, Noah is the second child in
his family to learn to play the piano. He’s already learned to sing songs at
daycare, in church, and at home. Recently, he attended his older brother
Patrick’s piano lesson. After Patrick’s lesson was finished, Noah jumped on
the piano bench and proceeded to plunk out various portions from Patrick’s
pieces. Soon after, Noah started lessons of his own.
Bella’s Background Story—Bella is the only child in her family. She knows
how to sing many songs from school, movies, and TV. She also likes to
dance, but not in any formal kind of way. At a birthday party, her friend Erica
played some pieces on the piano. Soon after, Bella started tentatively
depressing the keys on her piano at home.
3.4.2 Foundation Stage
Structure in the Foundation Stage of learning to play the piano consists of a linear
progression involving: (1) tonalization exercises, (2) right hand and left hand
melodies, and (3) right hand melodies with left hand accompaniment. Development
focuses on a composite of tone production, physical coordination, listening
awareness, and learning to play by ear. Meaning involves a spectrum of explo-
rations from specific goals to playing around to making music (see Chap. 2—our
relation with music).
Similar to the way children’s language learning involves manipulating the

sounds and rhythmic characteristics of their spoken language, learning to play the
piano begins by developing students’ fluency in tone production and physical
coordination. Music education scholar Schleuter (1997) has affirmed the importance
of beginning with tone production, “Musical sound and tone quality are always
emphasized first. The student’s goal is to produce familiar musical sounds”
(p. 125). In the 1930s, violinist Shinichi Suzuki introduced tone production as the
fundamental starting point for music learning (Suzuki 1969). More recently, music
education scholars Duke and Byo (2011) proposed developing “beautiful tone” as
essential to students’ very first experiences of music learning (p. 5). One advantage
is that students may develop listening and performing skills without the distraction
of reading notation. Because students may have difficulty learning more than one
thing at a time, beginning with tone production allows students to wholly focus on
the listening and performing skills needed to produce good tone.
As the overarching focus in the Foundation Stage, tone production involves
students’ fluency in producing expressive sounds reflective of the instrument’s
resonant potential and their own personal attributes. Piano students start with
tonalization exercises that facilitate right hand and left hand skills of producing
tone. With a focus on tone and technique, tonalization exercises may use a “theme
and variations” type model that facilitates student development of tonal and tech-
nical fluency. Examples of tonalization “themes” may include melodies such as Hot
Cross Buns, Queen’s We Will Rock You, and Mary had a Little Lamb. Tonalization
exercises “variations” develop legato and non-legato tone qualities (and combina-
tions thereof) in each hand through exploration of rhythmic patterns. What’s
important is that tonalization exercises incorporate repetition of a relevant
tonal/technical aspect and that individual tonalizations may be broken down into
smaller units and expanded to larger units as appropriate to students’ development.
Teachers may use small amounts of rote teaching to assist students in learning
tonalization exercises notes and fingerings. Following adequate mastery of tonal-
ization, students may progress to right hand and left hand melodies.2
Right hand and left hand melodies facilitate further development of tone pro-
duction and physical coordination skills by reinforcing students’ comfort with basic
5-finger melodies and gradually exploring melodies that gently move out of 5-finger
positioning. Students learn these melodies by ear through listening to CDs or video
recordings similar to the way they learn to speak their surrounding spoken lan-
guage. Listening to repertoire recordings helps students become familiar with pieces
before they play them and avoid getting completely off track with their own per-
sonal distortions or exaggerations once they’ve learned a particular piece. However,
the most important outcome of this aspect is that students acquire a sense of
2
At a workshop I facilitated for all instruments studio music teachers, wind instrument teachers
indicated their preference for beginning with 3-note and 5-note scale passages as tonalization
exercises. String teachers emphasized the importance of beginning with open string tonalization
exercises.
tonality. Students get familiar with where pitches are located on their instrument
and a sense that pitches have unchanging relations with each other.
When piano students progress to hands together melody and accompaniment
repertoire, the focus on tone production and physical coordination continues.
Teachers may assist with small amounts of rote teaching and Playback Games to
help students gain familiarity with basic chord accompaniment patterns. Through
adequate listening to the repertoire CD, students gain understanding of chord
progressions, in particular the way chords function in relation to the melody. In this
view, learning to play hands together not only reinforces tone development and
physical ease, but also nurtures students’ ability to recognize harmonic textures
within a musical selection. Students experience for themselves what it means to
assemble the melody and accompaniment of a musical selection.
Through the Foundation Stage structure of tonalization exercises, right hand and
left hand melodies, and hands together melodies and accompaniments, students
experience what it means to produce, listen for, and evaluate their own tone pro-
duction. They learn how their own personal involvement—body posture, inten-
tionality, breathing, hand position, fingers and arms, attitude, gestures and motions—
affects the sounds they produce. They also develop the ability to learn by ear, dis-
covering that their instrument isn’t an impenetrable field of unknown pitches; the
piano is intimately connected to the music they already hear inside their own heads.
Finally, in this Foundation Stage of learning, there’s a word of caution regarding
rote teaching—a process in which students copy various aspects of the teacher’s
performance model including: notes and rhythms, fingerings, hand position and
body posture, and desired qualities of tone. While rote teaching has its obvious
merits in terms of assisting students in learning repertoire, an over-subscription to
rote teaching may be detrimental. Students may miss out on the benefits of listening
to their repertoire CD and their own experimentations. Excessive rote teaching may
overtake the benefits of students’ natural learning progression involving recog-
nizing mistakes and figuring how to actually learn by ear. Rote teaching has
immense value in terms of acquiring certain repertoire details and noticeable dis-
advantages for students’ proficiency in learning the repertoire by ear.
David’s Foundation Story—During his first few months of piano lessons, I

helped six-year-old David work through four non-legato and legato tonal-
ization exercises. I used Suzuki’s “Twinkle Theme & Variations” because
each tonalization exercise follows identical fingerings and notes. To facilitate
David’s learning at his first lesson, I broke down the first tonalization into
small chunks I could teach by rote. With a few weeks’ practice, David could
perform the first right hand tonalization with adequate tone, good notes and
fingerings. So, I helped him start the first left hand tonalization, making sure
he incorporated appropriate left hand fingerings (David already knew the
appropriate notes from his right hand tonalization). As each tonalization
became more secure, I used minimal amounts of rote teaching to introduce
the non-legato and legato aspects of subsequent tonalization exercises. By the

end of his second month, David’s tone production and physical coordination
were sufficiently secure, signaling his readiness for right hand melodies.
Listening to his repertoire CD and performing his tonalization exercises gave
David the sense of where notes are located on the piano necessary for him to
learn melodies by ear. To ensure his independent success in melody learning,
I always made sure David could find the melody’s first note with an appro-
priate fingering, knowing that he might never master “Mary Had a Little
Lamb” if he started with right hand thumb on C. Singing the melodies with
words helped him get familiar with entire pieces. When David could fluently
play five right hand melodies and two left hand melodies (hands separately),
along with his tonalization exercises, he seemed sufficiently secure in terms of
tone production, physical coordination, and learning by ear to begin hands
together pieces.
After teaching David the left hand C and G chords for “Mary Had a Little
Lamb”, I asked him to play/experiment with the left hand chords while I
played the melody. Similar to David’s experience in learning melodies by ear,
listening to his repertoire CD gave him the sense of where the chords needed to
be played. At home, David successfully completed “Mary Had a Little Lamb”
hands together. As David become more comfortable with “Mary” hands
together, I introduced a Playback Game to help him get familiar with Alberti
bass patterns CGEG and BGDG. This game involved covering my own hand
with a sheet of paper to obscure David’s view, playing various left hand
combinations (CCC, GGG, CDEFG, GFEDC, CGC before trying CGEG &
BGDG), and David playing back the combinations. Using CGEG and BGDG,
I asked David to play/experiment with the left hand patterns while I played the
“Lightly Row” melody. At home, David successfully completed “Lightly
Row” hands together. Listening to the repertoire CD made it easy for him,
because as he said, “I can hear the left hand in my head.”
David completed his Foundation Stage tonalization exercises and a total of 16
Foundation Stage pieces during a one-year period. Throughout that time, I
repeatedly used the above strategy of learning the right hand melody by ear,
using Playbacks to get familiar with left hand patterns, and continuing to
reinforce tone production and physical coordination throughout David’s
progressive journey.
3.4.3 Reading Stage
In keeping with the framework of structure, development, and meaning, the

Reading Stage structure involves: (1) reading what students already know how to
play, (2) reading “Music Reading Books”, and (3) reading new repertoire.
Development builds on the Foundation Stage vocabulary, keyboard geography, and
visual symbols to promote connections between learning by ear and learning by
reading. Development also continues to build tone production, physical coordina-
tion, and listening awareness. Similar to the Foundation Stage, meaning involves a
spectrum of explorations from specific goals to playing around to making music
(Chap. 2—our relation with music).
To understand what’s involved in learning to read music, it may be advanta-
geous to examine the parallel process in learning to read words. At a most basic
level, children learn to read words through a step-by-step process. Once they have
fluency in speaking their language, learning to read involves: (1) memorizing the
alphabet, (2) learning to visually recognize the printed alphabet, (3) connecting
spoken sounds with the letters of the alphabet, and (4) transforming printed words
into combinations of sounds. In their early stages as readers, children learn to read
words they already know. They use only a limited portion of the alphabet in reading
simple words that are part of their spoken vocabulary. Some three- to five-year-old
children learn to read familiar words like picking out their name on a birthday card
or identifying the logo of a recognizable location such as a restaurant name. Over
time, children gradually acquire skills of rapid decoding that eventually become
automatic processing necessary for reading effectively and accurately (Bruning
et al. 1999).
Following the example of learning to read words, students may learn to read
music using a step-by-step process that starts with various practices leading up to
music reading. In the Foundation Stage, teachers sow the seeds of music reading as
a matter of practical communication from the outset. For example, students learn
how note names—A, B, C, D, E, F, G—refer to particular pitches and designated
places on the keyboard, or how the term treble clef makes reference to high-pitched
notes, or how the words legato and staccato describe specific types of tone. Their
musical vocabulary is grounded in the experiences of listening and performing.
When students’ listening, performing, and musical vocabulary are comfortably
established in the Foundation Stage, teachers may sow another seed associated with
music reading. They help students get familiar with the visual music notation that
represents the sounds they play. For example, students learn how the notes they
play—A, B, C, D, E, F, G—are represented on a five line staff, how the sounds of
legato and staccato are indicated in a musical score, how the quarter notes they play
look different from half notes. Students connect the individual letters/notes and
signs of music notation with their corresponding sounds, similar to the language
learning experience of connecting letters of the alphabet to specific spoken sounds.
They learn how music notation represents individual aspects of sound and specific
places on the keyboard. With fluency in terms of their musical vocabulary and a
basic introduction to music notation by the end of the Foundation Stage, students
may be ready to begin formal music reading.
According to music education scholars McPherson and Gabrielsson (2002), the

most advantageous way for students to learn music reading is by reading repertoire
they already know how to play. This process resembles the way children learn to
read their language by reading words they already know and by reading printed
words as combinations of sounds rather than individual letters. Here, students
generate musical units or groupings from music notation in contrast to the
Foundation Stage recognition of individual letters/notes and signs. They read music
notation as units of sound. An immediate problem with reading already learned
repertoire is that once students have read the first bar of an already learned piece,
there may be no incentive to continue reading because they know the piece from
memory. So, it’s not entirely productive for students to read repertoire they’ve
already learned.
A possible solution for reading students’ already learned repertoire involves the
practice of scrambles—a simple reading exercise that deconstructs a four-bar phrase
into individual bars and repositions the bars in a scrambled order. This means that
students read scrambled four-bar phrases of material they already know, but have
never seen in this particular scrambled context. The benefits of scrambles are
enormous because students experience music reading as a matter of musical units or
groupings. They learn to read music as the experience of confidently knowing what
musical units sound like.3
Learning new repertoire also has importance for learning to read music. With
their initial experience of having learned repertoire by ear in the Foundation Stage,
students are equipped to subsequently augment their repertoire learning strategies
with music reading. While students fluent in learning repertoire by ear will
undoubtedly continue to benefit from listening to repertoire recordings, music
reading has several practical values. Firstly, when students have difficulty figuring
out a certain pitch or rhythmic pattern by ear, reading the music may help clarify
individual notes or rhythms. Secondly, music reading permits students to refine
select portions of pieces without starting at the beginning. Students may attend to
specific details and passages unachievable through learning by ear. Thirdly, reading
the new repertoire means that students’ music reading skills keep pace with their
musical development, therein contributing to their success and satisfaction as
musicians.
Jasmine’s Reading Story—Beginning in the Foundation Stage, six-year-old

Jasmine gradually got comfortable with the note names (A, B, C, etc.)
through various note-name-based activities I introduced such as: “Find all the
Cs”, “Show me the first note of Twinkle. What’s its name?” “Which piece
starts on G?” “Let’s say the note names going up (and down)”. Midway
through the Foundation Stage, I used flash cards to help her get visually
3
For an example of a scrambles-based reading methodology, please see the forthcoming publi-
cation: Thompson, M.B. PLAY & READ.
familiar with notes in the treble and bass clefs. I asked Jasmine to tell me
“What’s this note’s name?” as well as show me “Where is it on the piano?”
and “What does it sound like?” I also helped her get familiar with simple
rhythmic notation through recognizing and clapping.
Following completion of the Foundation Stage, Jasmine’s formal reading
development included two long-term activities: (1) Reading scrambles as the
precursor to “Music Reading Books”, and (2) Reading her new repertoire.
Firstly, reading scrambles involved reading the scrambled versions of 4-bar
phrases Jasmine already knew how to play. Each week, Jasmine worked on
two pages of scrambles from a single piece with a different focus: writing
note names and finger numbers, clapping with the beat, identifying one-bar
units of notes, singing the scrambles, playing the scrambles, and writing her
own scrambles. Over a period of six months, the reading scrambles process
helped Jasmine get familiar with hearing the score and feeling the rhythms
before she played them. Subsequent to this activity, Jasmine gradually pro-
gressed through a number of “Music Reading Books” continuing the same
holistic process of writing, singing, playing, hearing the notes, and feeling the
rhythms.
Secondly, Jasmine’s music reading development involved reading her new
repertoire and building purposely on her Foundation Stage skill of learning to
play by ear. By listening to her repertoire CD, Jasmine always had a basic
sense of each new piece in her ear. To handle the increasing difficulty in each
new piece, I encouraged Jasmine to actively utilize the score as her most
practical learning resource. Initially, Jasmine meticulously wrote in the note
names and finger numbers for every single note in a piece. Whenever she
struggled with note names, fingering, or rhythms, I’d help her to write in an
appropriate solution. Writing in this information meant that Jasmine could
confidently learn her new repertoire on her own. She could also practise
hands separately and practise specific bars that needed extra work. She had all
the information she needed—learning by ear and by reading—to practise
independently. Of course, Jasmine sometimes showed up with errors in her
reading. Rather than interpret her errors as a sign of incompetence, I used her
misreading as opportunity to clarify the details of music reading.
Interestingly, Jasmine continued to write note names and finger numbers in
her repertoire pieces for about a year. Then, over the period of a few months, I
suggested she gradually reduce her reliance on writing. Two years later,
Jasmine had very little reliance on writing and only wrote in the information
she considered to be absolutely necessary much like any professional musi-
cian. Currently, eleven-year-old Jasmine reads a variety of music from pop
music to duets to guitar chord sheets and her formal classical repertoire.
3.5 Growth and Rest 33
3.5 Growth and Rest
My goal in this chapter has been to shed light on what happens when students take
their initial steps in learning to play the piano. Through a sequence of Background,
Foundation, and Reading Stages that fulfill overlapping and distinct purposes, these
stages sometimes act as reminders for where we are. At other times, they remind us
about where we might consider going. Yet, having looked at music learning from
various perspectives, a final thought remains. It’s the idea that music learning
involves a cyclical pattern of growth and rest, wherein teachers acknowledge that
some days are better suited to growth and other days are more about rest. There’s an
interdependent relationship between growth and rest, just like in our ordinary daily
lives. Periods of growth necessitate periods of rest. When students have the time to
rest their body, mind, and soul, it means they’ll soon be ready for growth. With this
final observation, it seems appropriate to describe music learning as a reflection of
everyday life—one that inescapably and fortunately involves the ever returning
exchanges of joyful celebrations, unanticipated setbacks, and welcome rejuvenation.
1. What does this chapter’s description of language learning have in com-

mon with your own development as a musician? What similarities do you
notice between your experience of learning to play a musical instrument
(or sing) and language learning’s emphasis on the surrounding environ-
ment and learning by ear?
2. With the understanding that music learning may begin with Background
Stage, describe as fully as possible your own development prior to
beginning formal music lessons? What events and people were most
influential?
3. The Foundation Stage of music learning emphasizes beginning with tone
production and technique. What are the benefits and disadvantages of this
approach? How does this stage of tonalization compare to your own
autobiographical experiences related to tone production and technique?
4. Music education researchers have frequently proposed that music lessons
begin with students learning to play by ear. Yet, a majority of current
student method books perpetuate the tradition of learning by reading. Why
do you think publishing companies continue to produce music reading
methodologies when research indicates learning to play by ear processes
may be more in sync with beginner music students?
5. The Reading Stage of music learning describes how students’ first efforts
in learning to read may involve reading repertoire they already know how
to play. What similarities and differences with this approach to music
reading do you see in your own musical development?
6. How does this chapter reinforce your music teaching? What might you
want to adjust in your teaching?
References
Bruning, R., Schraw, G., & Ronning, R. (1999). Cognitive psychology and instruction (3rd ed.).
Columbus, OH: Merrill.
Campbell, P. S. (2006). Global practices. In G. McPherson (Ed.), The child as musician
(pp. 415–438). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Davis, B. (2004). Inventions of teaching. New York, NY: Laurence Erbaum Associates.
Davis, B., Sumara, D., & Luce-Kapler, R. (2015). Engaging minds (3rd ed.). New York, NY:
Routledge.
Duke, R., & Byo, J. (2011). The habits of musicianship. Louisiana State University.
Gellrich, M., & Sundin, B. (1993). Instrumental practice in the 18th and 19th centuries. Council
for Research in Music Education, 119, 137–145.
Gordon, E. (1993). Learning sequences in music. Chicago, IL: GIA Publications.
Gordon, E. (1971). The psychology of music teaching. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Jenkins, H. (2009). Confronting the challenges of participatory culture. Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press.
Jensen, E. (1995). Super teaching. San Diego, CA: The Brain Store.
Mainwaring, J. (1951). Teaching music in schools. London, UK: Paxton.
MacWhinney, B. (2001). First language acquisition. In M. Aronoff & J. Rees-Miller (Eds.), The
handbook of Linguistics. Malden, MA: Blackwell.
McPherson, G. E., & Gabrielsson, A. (2002). From sound to sign. In R. Parncutt & G. McPherson
(Eds.), The science and psychology of music performance (pp. 99–115). Oxford, UK: Oxford
University Press.
McPherson, G., Bailey, M., & Sinclair, K. (1997). Path analysis of a model to describe the
relationship between five types of musical performance. Journal of Research in Music
Education, 45(1), 103–129.
Schleuter, S. L. (1997). A sound approach to teaching instrumentalists. New York, NY: Schirmer
Books.
Sloboda, J. (1993). Musical ability. In G. R. Brock & K. Ackrill (Eds.), The origins and
development of high ability (pp. 106–118). Chichester, UK: Wiley.
Sloboda, J. (1978). The psychology of music reading. Psychology of Music, 6(2), 3–20.
Suzuki, S. (1969). Nurtured by love. Hicksville, NY: Exposition Press Inc.
Chapter 4
What Does Teaching the Piano Look like?
Abstract Teaching beginner piano students is an endeavor that builds implicitly

and explicitly on teachers’ beliefs, musical ideals, and personal values. This chapter
begins by exploring how many twenty-first century teaching resources and practices
have their origins in the piano’s history, influential educational movements, as well
as scientific and industrial developments of the 1800s. As alternatives to this
pedagogic history, teachers may incorporate principles of democracy and parenting
as models for instruction—two approaches that highlight how teaching is concerned
with the relationships between teachers and students. Democratic music teachers
draw from the ideals of freedom, equality, and dignity to solicit their students’
thoughts and opinions. Democratic teaching emphasizes how the teacher’s role has
inherently moral and ethical undertones. The parenting model highlights how
teachers begin by leading because students may not know the way, they hand over
the musical tools students need for successful mastery, and they expand students’
ongoing mastery of musicianship.
When we consider the process of teaching, many interpretations come to mind

because teaching is a practice embedded in centuries of tradition, philosophy,
ideologies, and social practices. As a consequence, today, we connect teaching with
numerous synonyms and descriptive metaphors—
Teaching as “instructing” Teaching as “training”
Teaching as “nurturing” Teaching as “mentoring”
Teaching as “enlightening” Teaching as “indoctrinating”
These synonyms and metaphors shed light on various perspectives of piano
teaching. On occasion, piano teaching is all about showing or leading the way. On
others, it’s about empowering. At times, piano teachers (as well as their vocal and
instrumental colleagues) endeavor to draw out the student. Yet, this collection of
synonyms and metaphors doesn’t really tell us why music teachers teach the way
they do. Or, in particular, why piano teachers might approach teaching in a certain
way.

36 4 What Does Teaching the Piano Look like?
This chapter turns to the immediate historical past to examine the roots of our
current approach to studio music teaching. It explores how piano teaching has a lot
to do with the piano’s history, influential educational movements, as well as sci-
entific and industrial developments. As an alternative to traditional authoritarian
music teaching models, this chapter draws from music education scholars Allsup
(2007) and De Lorenzo (2003) to consider the ideals of democratic teaching rela-
tionships involving liberty, equality, and human dignity. This chapter also proposes
the example of parenting as a model of instruction wherein teachers play a vital role
in leading, handing over, and expanding the diverse layers of students’ musical
development.
4.1 Piano Teaching from a Historical Perspective
Prior to the 1850s, musicianship was primarily regarded as a craft passed from one
generation to the next through a musical apprenticeship. The goal of teaching
keyboard instruments like the harpsichord or clavichord was to develop versatile
musicians comfortable with performance, improvisation, composition, and con-
ducting. In keeping with the traditions that had served centuries of musicians,
musical masters encouraged their students to reproduce the rules handed down from
previous masters, elaborate on the masters, and invent their own pieces. Keyboard
music teachers often taught their beginner students on a daily basis, blurring the
separation between lessons and practice, and purposefully helping students settle
into the routine of making music. Inventing pieces was time consuming but nec-
essary as printed musical scores were rare and expensive. Students studied their
teacher’s compositions as a source for their own inventions, and copying and
composing music played an important role (Gellrich and Sundin 1993).
For keyboard instructors during the 1700s and 1800s, the evolution of musical
styles brought changes to music teaching. The fuller resonance of orchestral music
no longer required the harpsichord as part of its texture, and solo piano repertoire
assumed a prestige that solo harpsichord or clavichord literature had never
achieved. Piano performance took on a cultural status equal to that of composing or
conducting. Teaching the piano moved away from the versatility of a musical
apprenticeship because playing the piano was interpreted as an activity in itself,
rather than part of or means to the broader achievement of musicianship. While the
noticeable evolution of musical styles occurred as a result of aesthetic, cultural, and
personal expressions, changes related to the Scientific and Industrial Revolutions in
addition to educational developments of the 1800s also have significance for a
historical understanding of music teaching.
One development from the Industrial Revolution with a surprising influence on
studio music teaching occurred in 1818—the invention of the lithograph and high
speed printing machines. By 1830, publishing companies were able to mass-
produce relatively inexpensive musical scores in large quantities (McPherson and
Gabrielsson 2002). Whereas the previous generation of musicians had limited
4.1 Piano Teaching from a Historical Perspective 37
printed resources, easy access to printed materials effectively brought an end to the
tradition of a comprehensive musical apprenticeship. As a result, the nature of
music teaching shifted its emphasis from music as a creative art involving impro-
visation and composition, to an emphasis on music as a reproductive art that
focused on technique and interpretation. Keyboard composers like Clementi (1752–
1832), Cramer (1771–1858), Czerny (1791–1857), and Hanon (1819–1900) pub-
lished numerous volumes of exercises and studies as the cornerstones of piano
teaching. Piano methods and teachers of the nineteenth century were, in large part,
concerned with technique (Uszler et al. 1991, p. 113). An unfortunate consequence
was that repetitious practice of technical musical exercises replaced the spontaneity
and creativity associated with the apprenticeship model. So, while greater access to
printed musical scores meant music teachers and their students could connect with a
broader musical repertoire, the pervasiveness of printed technical exercises meant
students frequently practiced for long hours to develop specific skills that had
limited practical application in performing the repertoire.
An educational development during the 1800s with relevance to music
instruction was the emergence of compulsory public schooling. With the goal of
efficiently providing education for all citizens, public schooling moved quickly to
implement instructional processes highly reminiscent of an industrial assembly line.
All subject matters, including the fine arts, were deconstructed and linearized,
allowing for uniformity of delivery and mastery. Students’ learning process focused
on rote repetition of routinized procedures—a “drill and kill” educational approach
that incorporated excessive duplication of isolated skills without regard for stu-
dents’ holistic understanding of the subject. Teachers were tasked with controlling
students’ progress or lack thereof, much like supervisors in a factory. Indeed, the
entire school building and its classrooms were constructed in a manner that facil-
itated teachers’ watchful surveillance and authoritative control at all times (Davis
2004). Compulsory public schooling functioned as the logical, carefully planned
progression through isolated aspects of subject matters in which grading and exams
provide the measurement of successful learning. With evident links between edu-
cational developments and the prevailing scientific and industrial models of the
1800s, it’s interesting to note how the deconstruction of subjects, teacher control,
systematization of isolated skills, rote repetition, and graded learning would show
up as staples of the conservatory approach to music instruction.
The notion of a conservatory wherein aspiring musicians devote years to refining
their musical skills dates back to Italy in the 1500s. During the early 1800s, many
conservatories were founded in central Europe, but it was the establishment of the
Leipzig Conservatory in 1843 that provided the catalyst for an explosion of such
institutions in German-speaking countries (Parakilas 1999). Under the direction of
composer Mendelssohn (1809–1847), Leipzig Conservatory students participated in
a three-year curriculum that balanced theory with practice—the goal being to
acquire a well-rounded musical education similar to the previous generations’
musical apprenticeship model. However, Mendelssohn’s influence was cut short by
his untimely death, and the ideal of a balanced curriculum was quickly abandoned
in favor of a systematized curriculum focused on virtuosity. Music teachers closely
monitored their students’ technical development, requiring students to learn pieces

from a standardized repertoire list and participate in annual performance exami-
nations. By the latter half of the 1800s, the Leipzig Conservatory and those schools
modeled after it became known as virtuoso factories, reflective of the systematic
approach that emphasized drill and uniformity at the expense of imagination and
individuality. While many students obviously achieved a high level of artistry and
musicianship through a conservatory approach to music instruction, others found it
boring and uninspiring.
Looking at these various historical developments, it’s easy to see how
twenty-first century music teaching remains firmly rooted in the musical resources
and instructional principles of the 1800s. Printed music, graded learning, isolated
technical skills, repertoire study, examinations, teacher direction, drill and repeti-
tion, these are all valuable devices that music instructors use in developing students’
musicianship. It’s also easy to imagine how such instructional principles might
produce conflicting outcomes, on the positive side stimulating stable, sequential,
and predictable methodologies, while on the negative side promoting student
obedience stifled by uniform and impersonal delivery. Yet, many music teachers
continue to incorporate these resources and principles because of their proven
effectiveness and long track record of success. Tracing these devices to their
development in the Scientific and Industrial Revolutions, it’s noteworthy that music
teaching may benefit from the effectiveness of an assembly line process. And,
teachers as supervisors of student development may have practical application.
However, such music teaching may have little in common with or relevance to
students’ genuine musical interests. While there’s a noticeable practicality to these
resources and principles, it seems they don’t really tell the whole story of music
teaching. So, how can piano teachers assist students in their musical development
without falling into the trap of assembly line teaching practices?
4.2 Piano Teaching and Democratic Relationships
I begin by acknowledging that for certain individuals, democracy may be a concept

more associated with notions of government and electoral processes than with
musical explorations. Yet, the concept of democracy has significance relevant to
music teaching, especially in terms of the values and beliefs teachers may aspire to
share with their students in addition to the current trends towards student-centered
teaching and project-based learning.
According to music education researcher Allsup, democracy is concerned “with
the effort to ensure the equal rights of all members of a given society” (2007, p. 1).
Music scholar De Lorenzo describes democracy in terms of the essential freedoms
that ensure “human dignity in a good society” (2003, p. 35). In democratic com-
munities, there’s an emphasis on cooperation and collaboration rather than com-
petition. People see their stake in others and arrangements are created that
encourage people to improve the life of the community by helping others (Apple
4.2 Piano Teaching and Democratic Relationships 39
and Beane 1995, p. 11). Thus, democratic applications reach beyond governmental
operations or electoral processes. The ideals of democracy—liberty, equality, and
human dignity—are real life attributes that impact the explicit and implicit ways
people interact with one another. Each person has the potential to play meaningful
roles in fostering, promoting, and protecting democratic ideals in everyday inter-
actions with others.
For music teachers to convey or promote democratic ideals in their teaching,
their everyday interactions with students must genuinely comprise liberty, equality,
and human dignity. As real life examples of democracy in action, teachers must not
only demonstrate the abovementioned characteristics, but also inhabit them hon-
estly and genuinely. They must provide students with an ethical and moral model
that encourages independent thinking, appreciation for others, and potential for
change. Music teaching helps students prepare for lifelong participation in a
democratic society, while imploring and empowering teachers to purposefully
embody their own moral and ethical beliefs.
Strong connections between education and democratic teaching may be traced to
the iconic 20th century educator Dewey (1859–1952) among others. Known for his
advocacy of democracy, Dewey argued for the importance of educational institu-
tions not only as places to gain knowledge, but also to learn how to live.
The school must itself be a community life in all which that implies. Social perceptions and
interests can be developed only in a genuinely social medium—one where there is give and
take in the building up of a common experience…. Unless the learning which accrues in the
regular course of study affects character, it is futile to conceive the moral end as the
unifying and culminating end of education (Dewey 2008, Chap. 26).
Dewey conceived of education as guiding children in acquiring the skills, knowl-

edge, and attitudes to fully participate in a democratic community. Education offers
students the qualities that characterize a democratic society: shared interests, free-
dom in interaction, participation, and social relationships.
Founder of the Suzuki Method of music instruction, Suzuki (1898–1998)
advocated the moral dimension associated with democratic relations, envisioning
music education as developing “noble hearts and minds in children” and creating
“the better world through music” (1969, pp. 7, 114–115). With music study as
vehicle for meaningful personal growth, Suzuki emphasized teachers’ preparation
for guiding students.
Everything depends on the teacher…. The teacher, if he is a teacher at all, must seriously
study… develop himself, correct himself, and make efforts toward his self-growth. In other
words, he must be a human presence that ever continues to advance (Suzuki 1982, p. 45).
For Suzuki, democratic teaching relationships are strongly connected to teachers’

own intuitive and intentional awareness. Teachers impact their musical community
through deliberately critical and reflective self-development.
Education researchers have also indicated that the tone of teacher/student
interactions affects how students function in educational environments. An inves-
tigation cited by Mueller and Fleming (2001) found that an authoritarian teacher
approach resulted in students more academically frustrated, aggressive, and less

able to initiate work, whereas democratic teaching relations resulted in students
who were happier, more productive and creative (p. 259). In an examination of
creativity in elementary music students, Claire (1994) made comparisons between
two instructional approaches: hierarchical teaching as incorporating a “linear
delineation of power and control over decision making” in contrast to a mutual
approach that favors a “collaborative structure for sharing decision making among
teachers and students” (p. 23). Claire observed that mutual instructional settings
tend to promote voluntary sharing and exploration of ideas in contrast with the
control and “getting things right” attitude of hierarchical settings. Thus, democratic
teaching relationships may benefit students’ cognitive, creative, and social skills
while fulfilling the equally significant ideals of equality and human dignity.
Democratic instructional relationships begin with teachers’ understanding that
liberty, equality, and human dignity are living and breathing values that impact how
teachers genuinely and thoughtfully inhabit their interactions with students.
Democratic interactions in music instruction are more nuanced than, for exam-
ple, teachers allowing students to choose between metronome at full speed or half
speed, or giving students the opportunity to practise sight reading before technique.
Democratic music teachers solicit their students’ thoughts and opinions in order to
find out what students think, rather than looking for students to regurgitate what
teachers think. They invite multiple musical interpretations—ones that endorse
students’ unconventional explorations and others that reflect our musical traditions.
Unfortunately, many music teachers may be under equipped to implement
democratic practices into their teaching because, historically, the authoritarian
practice of teaching has occupied a significant portion of music teaching. Teachers
become authoritarian in their approach because they equate success as musicians
with explicitly following their teachers’ authority and controlled outcomes, without
acknowledging how such teaching may rob students of the opportunity to critically
evaluate or understand their own performances. There’s a fear among many music
teachers that taking away the discipline associated with teacher authority results in
unpredictable, indulgent, and unstable student outcomes, masking as child-centered
instruction that caters to the whims of students. What seems possible is that many
teachers rely on authoritarian teaching in order to streamline students’ learning, in
particular to curtail students’ acquaintance with things like wrong notes, awkward
fingerings, and exaggerated interpretations. It’s as if they associate their
well-intentioned control of students with security, predictability, and unwavering
improvement. Democratic teaching relationships may offer a solution by blending
freedom and structure.
In blending freedom and structure, a kind of crosspollination takes place wherein
freedom and structure are neither antonyms nor oppositional. They depend on each
other to achieve meaningful wholeness, to achieve individual and social signifi-
cance. As music education philosopher Reimer (2015) explained, it is this interplay
between freedom and structure that stimulates and sustains artistic endeavors.
4.2 Piano Teaching and Democratic Relationships 41
Freedom in the arts is the prerogative, in fact the necessity, for the imagination to range
abundantly, widely, and deeply, exploring whatever directions it takes to discover mean-
ings not yet revealed. Yet freedom without structure to give living form to what is being
discovered, is empty, an appearance of meaning with no foundation for it to come to life.
Structure puts bones into imagination, giving it the wherewithal to survive, to matter, and to
be consequential. While freedom without structure is empty, structure without freedom is
meaningless…. Our particular obligation as educators is to make available to our students
the challenges and delights of musical making and musical sharing, engaging them with the
ways of creative thinking and doing that our art depends upon (Reimer 2015, pp. 110–111).
When teachers incorporate freedom and structure, they draw from a blending of
their own expertise and their students’ interests. They adjust their focus to incor-
porate traditional musical values while acknowledging such traditions may serve to
both stifle and stimulate student’s musical experimentation and innovation. As
democratic instructors, they pay close attention to their students’ likes and dislikes
as vital information in order to avoid shutting students out of their learning process.
In other words, teachers purposely share their musical expertise with their students,
while openly welcoming students’ contributions. For example:
During five-year-old Jordan’s first few months of lessons, I focused on

meticulously demonstrating piano tone production and technique. In response
to my demonstration of fingers scampering on the keyboard, Jordan said,
“Looks like spider fingers to me.” As his lessons progressed, I welcomed
Jordan’s descriptive insights (“dinosaur tone, pencil fingers, butterfly tone”,
and more) many of which I continue to use with other students to this day.
Several years ago, my student Keegan broke down during a lesson per-
formance and exclaimed, “I can’t possibly continue when all I’m doing is
thinking about all the things I need to get right!” In response, I suggested he
consider the dilemma all performers face in “trying to do everything right”.
How on the one hand, it’s a good idea to do things “right”, but at the same
time, focusing on “doing things right” can result in self-paralysis.
When my student Erica brought up the topic of positive thinking, we
discovered that positive thinking has great benefits on the day of performance
especially when preceded by critical thinking in the weeks previous. Without
some kind of effective preparation, positive thinking could easily lapse into
wishful thinking, and we doubted if it could really guarantee successful
performance.
What’s extraordinary about the above examples is how democratic teachers

aren’t afraid of students’ input, unexpected questioning, and spontaneous devel-
opments. These lessons demonstrate how democratic teaching may prompt dis-
cussions between students and teachers, how students’ thought processes may
surface and benefit from teachers’ welcoming response. In this approach, music
teaching isn’t just about getting things “right”, it’s about guiding students so they
may authentically participate in their own development.
Democratic teachers are interested in recognizing and empowering students.
They are able to move past the vision of students as necessarily quiet, obedient
individuals waiting to be filled with teachers’ knowledge. Instead, they recognize
that students come with their own ideas about music performance, their own active
interests, a desire for experimentation, and fleeting concentration. Democratic
teaching isn’t about repurposing or reformatting real life students as neutral
receptive vessels. It’s about the moral and ethical ideals of human dignity and how
music teaching gives spark to the flame that is the student’s sense of self.
Democratic teachers aren’t concerned with only doing things the teacher’s way.
They accept and engage students’ input knowing that neither democracy nor
musicianship may be defined by a single idyllic and unchanging scenario.
Musicianship comes with ups and downs, celebrations and frustrations that serve to
remind us of how much we value both our traditions and the unheard musical
future.
From this examination, we see how the moral and ethical themes of democratic
music teaching stand at a distance from the various models of the 1800s.
Democratic teaching distinguishes itself from the predictability and control of
authoritarian teaching through an emphasis on cooperation and collaboration.
Democratic teachers facilitate cycles of freedom and structure in their teaching,
knowing that such a blending encompasses a wide spectrum of highly desirable
successful and frequently conflicting outcomes.
4.3 Piano Teaching and the Model of Parenting
Music teaching is an activity with uncanny resemblance to what parents do in

raising their children—the lengthy process that incorporates parents’ mindful and
multilayered involvement as caregiver, guide, protector, and resource. Parents pass
on their knowledge of life because they want what’s best for their children. They
foster their child’s self esteem by advocating for and validating their child as a
person. They’re sensitive to their child’s needs, viewpoints, innate characteristics,
and abilities. Yet, parenting isn’t just about parents attending to their child’s desires
or needs. Parents also draw from their own values and sense of self in raising their
children. They help their children prepare for and understand the joyful and chal-
lenging complexities of life by tapping into their own extensive background of
parental knowledge and wisdom, while never losing sight of their child’s own
personal temperament, emotional interests, and social wellbeing.
Similar to the way parents’ knowledge and values come into play, music
teachers also draw from their own sense of musicianship, musical background, and
awareness of music traditions. Likewise, music teachers take into consideration
their students’ needs, viewpoints, innate characteristics, and abilities in order to
support and challenge students’ ongoing authentic and independent musical
4.3 Piano Teaching and the Model of Parenting 43
development. This means that music teaching isn’t something arbitrarily imposed
upon or separate from students. Rather, as students move through the various stages
of musical development, teachers pay close attention to their students’ musical
interests, temperament, and abilities; while with equal importance, teachers tap into
their own extensive background of musicianship in order to help students prepare
for, appreciate, and participate in lifelong relationships with music.
As children grow to adulthood, the long-term interaction between parents and
their children naturally evolves or adjusts in three pertinent ways. Firstly, parents
lead the way. Parents begin by leading yet paying attention to where their children
might want or need to go. Parents introduce their children to how things may be
done—like eating nutritious foods. Secondly, leading turns into handing over, much
in response to children’s desire to do things for themselves. Parents hand over tasks.
They give their children responsibility for getting things done—like feeding
themselves. Thirdly, parents expand awareness. They fill in the gaps by expanding
their child’s awareness, introducing their children to things they might never find on
their own—like the subtle flavors of new foods. Using this model of parenting as a
guide, music teaching encompasses teachers as leaders of students’ musicianship,
teachers as handing over the skills of musicianship, and teachers as expanding
students’ unimagined musicianship. What’s fascinating about this music teaching
framework—leading, handing over, and expanding—is how each aspect naturally
synchronizes with the Stages of Music Learning (Chap. 3).
The Teacher’s Role as Leader—When Peter was a student in the Foundation

Stage, my principle role was that of leader in terms of tone production,
technique, and learning to play by ear—while acknowledging that Peter’s
active participation was vitally important. Knowing that Peter learned through
experimentation, imitation, and meaningful participation, I led through a dual
process of demonstrating and recognizing. As demonstrator, I provided Peter
with the visual and aural model of what playing the piano looks and sounds
like. I showed how to make sound. I demonstrated hand positions and finger
movements. I modeled the musical motifs. As Peter’s recognizer, I used
words and gestures to prompt and validate his role in leading the learning
process. I used expressions such as “Show me your…” and “Let me see
your…” to reinforce his independence and ownership. I encouraged him in
self-evaluation by modeling, by referring to, by asking for, by talking about
tone production, how he played, what he played, mistakes, etc. I played along
with Peter to strengthen his ability to keep a steady beat. My role of leading
paid attention to the practicalities of tone production, technique, and learning
by ear without losing track of Peter’s personal interests, much like the way
parenting draws from parents’ values and the child’s inherent temperament or
personality.
The Teacher’s Role in Handing Over—When Peter began the Reading Stage,
my role shifted to handing over the skills of musicianship. Specifically, I hand
over the skills of tracking the score and keeping the beat at the beginning of
the Reading Stage so that students may get comfortable with these skills in
relatively easy repertoire. Using this approach, students develop their own-
ership before encountering repertoire that really requires them to use it. With
the musical score as a visual resource, I helped Peter get comfortable with
tracking the score with one hand while playing with the other. As Peter’s
tracking skills progressed week by week, he was soon able to use this skill to
work on isolated sections of pieces, making improvements to his fingerings,
rhythmic and note accuracy. Handing over also included reinforcing Peter’s
ability to keep a steady beat by playing with one hand and keeping the beat
with the other. Once Peter was accustomed to keeping the most fundamental
beat (i.e., four beats in 4/4), I introduced a cyclical process of exploring larger
groupings (i.e., two beats per bar and one large beat per bar), always aware
that small groupings may be easily handled by small physical movements and
large groupings by the entire body. To validate Peter’s growing ownership, I
continued to use expressions such as “Show me…” and “Let me see your…”,
with a specific emphasis on statements like “Show me your tracking” and
“Let me see you keep the beat” to reinforce his confidence with taking charge
of notes, fingerings, beat, expression, and dynamics, in addition to carrying
forward his confidence with tone and technique. So, Peter started to do many
things for himself that I could do for him, but he might rather I didn’t. For
example, did Peter really need my assistance to figure out wrong notes,
rhythms, or fingerings? If he did, that’s all right—because I am definitely
there to help him out. But if he didn’t, I suspect there’s nothing more dis-
empowering than Peter being told he’s making mistakes he already knows
about.
The Teacher’s Role in Expanding—In the expanding stage of formal music
instruction, my role was all about furthering Peter’s musical awareness.
Expanding meant shedding light on areas of musicianship Peter may not
access on his own, or had forgotten about, or ways in which Peter might
never even consider. Whereas my earlier instruction involved expressions like
“Show me…” or “Let me see…”, my language in the expanding stage
involved a lot of “Tell me about your…” and “What are your thoughts on…”.
Frequently, I asked Peter, “What should I know about…” or “Can you tell me
about…” I used these expressions to find out what Peter practised, how he
practised, how successful or unsuccessful he thought about his efforts. In this
way, I encouraged Peter to utilize the knowledge and experience he had
accumulated throughout his studies. I empowered him to look at how he
played, to hear what he played, and talk about his experiences as an emergent
musician.
What’s remarkable about parent/child interaction as an instructional model is

that leading, handing over, and expanding may effectively overlap with each other.
4.3 Piano Teaching and the Model of Parenting 45
However, an exclusive long-term focus on any one theme may have detrimental
effects. For example, leading may be a good thing; and it may also result in students
being deprived of the opportunity to develop their own thinking capacity, their own
independence, to recognize and validate their own musicianship. Handing over too
much information without considering students’ readiness may be detrimental to
their growth. Similarly, incorporating an expanding perspective too early may
inadvertently burden students with expressive requests beyond the scope of stu-
dents’ musical vocabulary and performance skills. That’s why leading, handing
over, and expanding are always in relation to where students are coming from, what
they’re doing right now, and where they’re heading to in the future.
4.4 Final Thoughts
My goal in this chapter has been to shed light on what music teaching looks like by
considering democracy and parenting as models for instruction. This examination
suggests that what teachers bring in terms of musical knowledge and expertise is on
par with their attitudes, values, and awareness. Teaching draws from the composite
of what teachers know, how they interact with others, and who they are.
Looking at the model of democracy, we see the teacher’s role has inherently
moral and ethical undertones because teachers’ attitudes towards others, their val-
ues, and awareness of others are embedded in everything they do. The teacher’s
moral and ethical disposition takes a centrally influential position in teaching.
Moreover, teachers don’t really have a choice in the matter because even teachers
who refuse to take a moral stance or remain neutral on a particular issue send
signals to others. When music teachers participate in teaching, they implicitly and
explicitly demonstrate their outlook as a combination of aesthetic, moral, intel-
lectual, and reflective dimensions. What comes with a democratic instructional
vision is that teachers inhabit teaching as the immense privilege and honor of
cultivating humane relations with others, of standing up for their right to dignity,
and developing every person’s intellectual, spiritual, moral, and aesthetic potential
as richly as circumstances and opportunities might allow.
One thing that’s remarkable about the parenting model is how parents are always
there for their children, through the most ordinary of events, the mundane chores,
the hectic routines of everyday life and more. They do what they can to get things
done for their children, knowing they must somehow help, support, and challenge
children to get things done for themselves. Similarly, music teachers develop
meaningful relationships with their students as the foundation for getting things
done—from the mundane to the sublime. They pass on their expertise, empowering
and equipping their students to do things on their own, to make meaning from their
own musical experiences, and continue the musical journey that is already
underway.
1. Music teaching in the twenty-first century is naturally embedded in our

historical past. In what ways does your musical development demonstrate
influences related to the advent of printed music and the introduction of
compulsory public schooling? How have these movements stimulated and
limited your musical development?
2. This chapter examined the democratic principles of liberty, equality, and
dignity. In what ways have each of these principles contributed to or been
absent from your own musical autobiography? What does this mean for
your musical development? Why are these principles important to music
teaching?
3. What are some personal examples of leading, handing over, and ex-
panding from your own musical development? Which one of these
approaches do you think currently dominates your teaching? Why?
References
Allsup, R. (2007). Democracy and one hundred years of music education. Music Educators
Journal, May, 52–56.
Apple, M., & Beane, J. (1995). Democratic schools. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision
and Curriculum Development.
Claire, L. (1994). The social psychology of creativity. Bulletin of the Council for Research in
Music Education, 119, 21–28.
Davis, B. (2004). Inventions of teaching. New York, NY: Laurence Erbaum Associates.
De Lorenzo, L. C. (2003). Teaching music as democratic practice. Music Educators Journal,
90(2), 35–40.
Dewey, J. (2008). Democracy and education.
Gellrich, M., & Sundin, B. (1993). Instrumental practice in the 18th and 19th centuries. Council
for Research in Music Education, 119, 137–145.
McPherson, G. E., & Gabrielsson, A. (2002). From sound to sign. In R. Parncutt & G. McPherson
(Eds.), The science and psychology of music performance. Oxford, UK: Oxford University
Press.
Mueller, A., & Fleming, T. (2001). Cooperative learning: Listening to how children work at
school. Journal of Educational Research, 94, 259–265.
Parakilas, J. (1999). Three hundred years of life with the piano. Yale, CT: Yale University Press.
Reimer, B. (2015). Response to Randall Allsup: “Music teacher quality and expertise”. Philosophy
of Music Education Review, 23(1), 108–112.
Suzuki, S. (1982). Where love is deep. St. Louis, MS: Talent Education Journal.
Uszler, M., Gordon, S., & Mach, E. (1991). The well-tempered keyboard teacher. New York, NY:
Schirmer Books.
Chapter 5
Piano Tone and Technique
Abstract Piano tone and technique comprise two inseparable aspects of teachers’
work with beginner piano students. Historically, tone has been considered as a most
essential ingredient in the world of music because mastery of tone production
enables artistic expression. This chapter examines how tone may be characterized
as sound vibrations—intensities of energy—that range from soft to loud, light to
heavy, bright to dark, short to long, flat to round, and more. Pianists bring immense
variations in tonal intensity to their performances by tapping into their emotional,
spiritual, intellectual, intuitive, and physical energies. In a departure from treating
piano technique as a kind of mechanical training, this chapter considers piano
technique as something we may already know about because of how we use our
fingers, hands, arms, and body in ordinary everyday life. Specific examples of how
beginner piano students may explore five technical basics include: grabbing fingers,
walking fingers, arm circles, our body, and appropriate posture at the piano.
5.1 Piano Tone
Although the piano is a percussion instrument, pianists typically talk about the
piano’s sound as if it were a non-percussive instrument. Often, they refer to the
piano’s sound by using active words borrowed from the human voice and
descriptive terms from the visual, emotional, and tactile world. For example,
Hungarian pianist Sandor (1981), who studied with Bartok and Kodaly, described
the piano’s “ability to talk, to sing, and to shout if necessary, as well as to whisper”
(p. 179). Visual descriptors refer to tone in terms of such shapes as flat or round
tone, or such colored references as dark, bright, and dull. Emotional descriptors
include a vast array of feelings: love, passion, happiness, joy, and sadness. Tactile
descriptors include warm, harsh, smooth, heavy, velvety, light. The importance of
these descriptors is that they provide a meaningful language for talking about tonal
experiences.
Historically, tone has been considered as a most essential ingredient in the world
of music because mastery of tone production enables artistic expression. Neuhaus,

48 5 Piano Tone and Technique
renowned teacher at the Moscow Conservatoire, identified tone production as the

first and most important among other means of which a pianist should be possessed,
while cautioning that tonal mastery remains a means of musical expression, not its
purpose. Neuhaus considered tone at the core of music making, entreating musi-
cians to elevate their performances and the inherent value of music by “ennobling
and perfecting” tone (1973, p. 56).
The experience of tone may be captured in a simple expression—intensity of
energy—the idea that tone is characterized by sound vibrations that range in
spectrums of intensity from soft to loud, light to heavy, bright to dark, short to long,
flat to round, playful to serious, jubilant to melancholy, shallow to deep, and more.
Tone isn’t something we merely hear as commonplace sound. We perceive or
interpret tone in terms of intensities that have aesthetic and personal significance.
For example, we experience the intensity of tone as having qualities from beautiful
to ugly, pleasing to displeasing, sympathetic to harsh. So when music teachers
make reference to a round, sonorous sound, we know that such depictions call for a
particular intensity of tonal energy in performing and listening. When music
teachers ask that the sound should carry, or have a body, or be expressive, or ring,
or have a lasting quality, they’re talking about the way performers can directly
influence tonal intensities by transforming their own personal energy into sound.
What seems extraordinary in approaching tone as intensity of energy is that
pianists bring immense variations in intensity to their performances by tapping into
their emotional, spiritual, intellectual, intuitive, and physical energies. They play
from the heart, mind, and soul of who they are. Tone and technique embody the
energy of sound and the performer’s individual energy. Yet, pianists rely on their
fingers, hands, forearm, whole arm, and whole body as the practical physical means
for generating tone. They transform the multilayered physicality of piano perfor-
mance into the vibrating energy of sound. That explains why music teachers spend
so much time focusing on tone and technique—because tone and technique are
intimately bound to each other through intensities of energy.
5.2 Piano Technique
Ever since Bartolommeo Cristofori constructed the Gravicemabalo col piano e

forte in 1709, there has been ample ongoing discussion amongst performers and
teachers regarding piano technique. Clementi (1752–1832), Czerny (1791–1857),
Matthay (1858–1945), Breithaupt (1873–1956), Cortot (1877–1962), Neuhaus
(1888–1964), Ortmann (1889–1979), Gieseking (1895–1956), Kochevitschy
(1903–93), Sandor (1912–2005), Gát (1913–67), Bernstein (b. 1927), and Fink
(b. 1929) are just a few of the iconic musicians who have contributed to our
understanding of the diverse physical aspects involved in piano technique. Some
aspects are concerned with finger articulation, while others promote arm weight and
relaxation, while still others involve a multilayering of physiological mechanics.
5.2 Piano Technique 49
Certain approaches incorporate scientific research, while others draw from highly
personalized idiosyncratic pedagogical approaches.1
My goal is to examine piano technique as something we may already know
about because of how we use our fingers, hands, arms, and body in ordinary
everyday life. This means that piano technique is something familiar and normal
based on the fundamental actions, movements, and motions of our body. This
approach stands in direct contrast to the literature’s tendency for treating piano
technique in terms of specifically acquired actions or piano technique as a kind of
mechanical training in keeping with the piano’s mechanical construction. However,
in exploring how ordinary everyday motions can contribute to piano technique, I
want to stress that piano technique is not merely a matter of physical movements.
As discussed above, intellectual, spiritual, emotional, and intuitive energies are
involved as well. Furthermore, I want to emphasize that piano technique isn’t an
end in itself; rather, it’s a very important and relevant tool in tone production,
making music, and expressing ourselves as musicians. As From the Stage to the
Studio (2012) music lecturer Cornelia Watkins and professor of music Laurie Scott
have affirmed, all technique exists to serve the music and all musicians must listen.
Aural feedback is what tells us whether our technique is doing what it is supposed
to do (p. 41). The whole point of developing piano technique is so that we may
bring to life our relevant thoughts, motives, and feelings in personally meaningful
and rewarding musical expressions. In the following sections, I describe five basics
from ordinary everyday life that I introduce to all my beginner students during their
first year of piano lessons.
5.2.1 Basic #1: Grab and Release
Most of the time in ordinary everyday life, we don’t really think about what we’re
physically doing with our hands or our fingers. Most likely, we’re concerned with
what we want to accomplish by using our hands, things like locking the door,
washing our face, putting on our shoes, brushing our teeth, and the list goes on and
on. To say that we use our hands or our fingers a lot is something of an under-
statement. In ordinary everyday life, we use our hands and fingers all the time and
in an infinite number of ways. Grasp, grab, hold, let go, pick up, hug, stroke, grip,
drop, caress, rub, press, touch, pinch, flick, pat, tap, and poke. Each of these
motions is a descriptive variation of the universal capacity we all have to grab and
release. Just take a look at an infant the next time you have the opportunity and you
might observe something remarkable yet easily overlooked: the child’s fingers ever
so gently grabbing and releasing. It’s almost as if the child’s purposeful preparation
for a lifetime of using his or her hand is already underway.
1
On the topic of piano tone and technique, see: Bernstein (1981, 1991), Breithaupt (1909),
Clementi (1973), Cortot (1928), Czerny (1839), Fink (1992), Gieseking and Leimer (1972),
Kochevitshy (1967), and Matthay (1903).
When it comes to piano technique, the question is—How do these basic motions
of grabbing and releasing transfer to the piano? Start by examining your own
hand’s grabbing and releasing motions. You’ll notice that when you grab, your
fingers and thumb converge in the palm of your hand from different directions.
Your fingers grab from the top of the palm while your thumb grabs from the palm’s
side. The grabbing motion requires a certain amount of engagement dependent
upon how much and how long you grab. Release occurs by letting go of the fingers
and thumb, or by lengthening the fingers and thumb in order to open the hand.
At the piano, the performer’s ability to grab and release has immediate appli-
cation. For the fingers, because the length of the key is parallel to the fingers, it’s
easy for fingers to grab the key (depress the key) to produce a sound, and release the
key (let the key come back up) to terminate a sound. For the thumb, grabbing and
releasing involves moving the thumb across the key’s width rather than its length.
This is in keeping with what you noticed above—that fingers and thumb create the
grabbing function by converging in the palm from different directions. What’s
remarkable about producing sound in this way is that every person has ample
experience in grabbing and releasing motions long before they ever get to the piano.
They also understand the subtle but important differences between grabbing a
feather, an ice cream cone, and a dog’s tail; and likewise the differences between
releasing a pencil, a balloon, and a glass of water. Using grabbing and releasing
motions for piano technique and producing sound at the piano is a continuation of
how we basically use our hands and fingers in ordinary everyday life.
One of the discussions that frequently appears in literature on piano technique
has to do with using curved or straight fingers (Gát 1965; Ortmann 1925; Parncutt
and Troup 2002). By paying attention to fingers that grab/release, I’ve noticed that
using curved or straight fingers takes on a new meaning—that piano technique isn’t
so much a matter of how we hold our fingers in one position or another. Rather,
piano technique involves fingers that are constantly moving to create tonal inten-
sities by adjusting the velocity, the fullness, and the subtlety of grabbing and
releasing. As Ortmann described, piano playing is all about “movement, not
position” (1925, p. 33). At any moment, you might be able to take a picture of
curved or straight fingers, but in the overall process of tone production, the terms
grabbing and releasing provide the most accurate description of the movements our
fingers go through. Additionally, grabbing and releasing is always in relation to the
intensity of tone we desire in performance as in the following scenario:
At Natalie’s first lesson, I helped her to explore grabbing fingers with an

introductory non-legato tonalization (detached sound). However, when
Natalie demonstrated her non-legato tonalization during her second lesson, I
realized her enthusiasm for grabbing fingers completely overshadowed her
listening. In place of the calm tone and gently grabbing fingers of week one,
Natalie played with an abrupt sound and flicking fingers. “Let’s listen to see
which one has calm tone and which one has flicking tone”, I said before
demonstrating the two variations in sound. “Both have grabbing fingers”, I

added just to make sure Natalie got my point. It was a good reminder for me
that developing fluency with grabbing fingers always needed to consider the
desired tone quality.
A few months later, Natalie’s fluency in grabbing fingers would be essential
in playing solid triads with the left hand. Initially, Natalie stiffened her fin-
gers, pushing them into the keys in order to play a solid chord. “Let’s try just
two fingers, 1 and 3, with grabbing,” I suggested. “They can hug the keys and
we’ll listen to the gentle tone.” And so, we tried different combinations: 1 and
3, 1 and 5, 3 and 5, before attempting 1, 3, and 5 all together. Always
listening for the tone quality.
5.2.2 Basic #2: Walking Fingers
Although I use the term “walking fingers”, this particular technical aspect is con-
cerned with the arm’s role in tone and technique. In a manner similar to the above
examination, it seems we may not really think about what we physically do with
our arms in ordinary everyday life. Instead, we might be more concerned with what
we want to accomplish by using our arms, like reaching for a book on a shelf,
opening and closing a door, reaching out to shake hands, moving the iron back and
forth as we iron our clothes, and more. In these examples, our arms function in
terms of lengthening and shortening or reaching out and retracting motions. Our
arms move in, out, down, up, to the back, to the front, on one side, the other side,
farther, and closer. Through a lengthening and shortening or reaching out and
retracting motions we move, position, place, and reposition our hands/fingers in
many directions and locations.
So, in terms of piano technique, the question is—How does this basic aspect of
lengthening/shortening transfer to the piano? Let’s begin with an experiment related
to the arm’s function of lengthening and shortening that involves a simple
comparison.
1. Sit in a comfortable position with your hands resting on your mid-thigh. Let
your hand take a spider shape (your fingers are the spider legs, the back of your
hand is the spider body). Let your hands/fingers comfortably grab and release in
walking forward and backward with your spider fingers on your thigh. Let your
forearm follow along. Be conscious of the energy in your hands and fingers.
2. Sit in a comfortable position with your hands resting on your mid-thigh. Once
again, let your hand take a spider shape. This time, let your hands/fingers
comfortably grab and release as you walk in place with your spider fingers on
your thigh. Do not go forward or backward, only grab and release with your
fingers and thumbs. Be conscious of the energy in your hands and fingers.
For over 30 years, I’ve been asking teachers and students to perform this experi-
ment always with the same results. Specifically, that it’s easier for your
hands/fingers to grab/release when your arm is in motion. It’s easier to play the
piano with walking hands/fingers than with hands/fingers held in position by sta-
tionary arms.
In The Craft of Piano Playing (2002), Alan Fraser describes a similar experiment
using wiggling fingers with the same conclusion. He explains “putting your arm in
motion frees all its muscles to activate more effectively, even those involved not in
the arm movement itself but in finger movement” (p. 144). In other words, it’s
physically easier to move your fingers when the arm’s muscles are actively in
motion than when the arm’s muscles are held in place. This exploration has
important implications for piano technique in two overlapping ways: (1) in terms of
how we use our hands/fingers, and (2) in terms of how we consider hand position as
a stationary matter or as a moving matter.
Firstly, in terms of how we use our hands/fingers. Acknowledging that it’s easier
to grab/release with our fingers when we lengthen and shorten our arms, I use the
expression walking fingers to facilitate this exploration with my students. That
means we explore the keyboard by using walking fingers to travel from any place
on the key to the fallboard, and back again, and forward again, and more as
beneficial. We use walking fingers to move in big steps and small steps as
appropriate, taking care and having fun to exaggerate how much and how little we
can walk with our fingers. Walking fingers is equally versatile in its application to
one finger playing repeated notes or to combinations of fingers playing. The point is
that lengthening and shortening our arms or walking fingers allows for greater
freedom and agility in grabbing/releasing our hands/fingers.
Secondly, in terms of how we consider hand position as a stationary matter or as a
moving matter. Here, I appreciate Ortmann’s reminder that piano technique isn’t so
much a matter of position or how we hold our hands/fingers, as it is about how we
move our arms and hands/fingers in ways that promote freedom and agility. Looking
at the natural connection between lengthening/shortening our arms and facility in
using our hands/fingers, we see the immediate deficiencies in thinking of hand
position as a stationary placement. This is because in holding our hands/fingers in
place, we greatly limit or restrict their potential freedom and agility. It’s a limitation
that Thomas Mark identified repeatedly as a danger in What Every Pianist Needs to
Know about the Body (2003). Thinking of hand position as a moving matter prompts
an interesting shift in our awareness—one that considers hand position as the
motions we use to travel the length of the 6-inch white key and the 4-inch black key.
From this perspective, hand position refers to the stable way I move my hand/fingers
rather than the insistence on a specific shaping of the hand. While walking fingers
might seem counterproductive to a stable or supportive hand position, my experience
indicates that using walking fingers is enormously beneficial in taking advantage of
the arm’s practical connection to the hand/fingers. We gain stability in hand position
not by confining the hand’s movements, but by including the arm as a natural and
welcome participant in piano technique. By combining the action of lengthening/
shortening our arms and the motion of walking fingers, we develop piano technique
that allows for maximal finger agility and freedom while paying attention to the need
for a stable yet completely moveable hand position.
I introduced seven-year-old Spencer to walking fingers around his third or

fourth lesson. Initially, I showed him walking with fingers 2 and 3 stepping
from the edge of the key to the fallboard and back, prior to exploring fingers 3
and 4, 4 and 5, and finally thumb and finger 2. During his weekly lessons, I’d
check his walking fingers and encourage him to continue walking in his home
practice.
Approximately one month later and after Spencer had completed several right
hand legato melodies, l noticed his wrist consistently dropped below the
keyboard soon after he launched into a melody. I asked him to try walking
fingers in the first few bars of each piece. Remarkably, as long as Spencer
used walking fingers, his wrist never dropped below the keyboard. Of course,
sometimes Spencer’s fingers got caught up in the black keys, but with each
passing week, the black keys and dropping his wrist became less of an issue.
His moving arm provided the necessary wrist support. My responsibility was
to come up with creative ways to revisit walking fingers as an ongoing and
valuable technical exploration.
One year later, when Spencer encountered scales in his repertoire, I once
again noticed his wrist dropping whenever he played with his thumb.
I pointed out how walking forward with his thumb could provide a solution. It
was a small adjustment with an immediately positive impact on his playing.
Thus, walking fingers became and has remained an important part of
Spencer’s ongoing technical development.
5.2.3 Basic #3: Arm Circles
Continuing the exploration of how we use our arms, another perspective comes into
play. This time I want to consider how we use our arms in horizontal actions like
stirring a pot of soup, wiping a counter top, and more. Try these exercises for yourself:
1. Sit in a comfortable position at the piano. Move your forearms horizontally in a
circular motion over the keyboard. Pay attention to the energy in your
hand/fingers and arms.
2. Sit in a comfortable position at the piano. Move your forearms horizontally in a
straight line parallel to the keyboard. Pay attention to the energy in your
hand/fingers and arms.
What difference do you feel between moving in a circular motion and moving in a
straight line? Which motion feels easier? Why do circular motions feel less
intrusive and more comfortable than straight line motions? The answer to this final
question is remarkable. Circular motions feel more comfortable because they move
only in one direction (round and round), because they have no end, and because
there is no stopping involved in circular motions. In contrast, straight line motions
actually move in two directions (one going and one coming). Straight line motions
incorporate a readjustment in encountering two end points and straight lines
motions naturally consist of multiple movements in terms of moving, stopping, and
reversing. So, once again in terms of piano technique, the question is—How does
this basic aspect of circular arm motion transfer to the piano?
What I appreciate about the above comparison between circular and straight line
arm motions is that it builds on the previous exploration of walking fingers.
Recognizing the difference between circular and straight line motion is important
because it sheds light on the difference between piano technique based on the
body’s natural motions and piano technique based on the construction of the piano.
Of course, when we look at the piano, we see the keys arranged in nothing but
straight lines. So, it might seem logical that our corresponding motions at the piano
would also be based on straight lines. Yet, in exploring the difference between
straight line and circular motions, it’s easy to see how using circular motions
reinforces piano technique in keeping with the body’s natural movements. As
Neuhaus (1973) explained, “The shortest path between two points on the keyboard
is a curve” (p. 132). Neuhaus’ statement might be interpreted as—the most natural
movement between two points on the keyboard is a curve.
I introduced six-year-old Aleesha to circles in an elementary piece with a left

hand broken octave ostinato pattern of Low C—Bass C—Low C—Bass C.
Played by finger 5 (Low C) and thumb (Bass C), I showed her how to use a
counterclockwise circular arm motion wherein finger 5 moved/grabbed from
the fallboard to the key edge and thumb moved/grabbed from the key edge to
the fallboard in a continuous cycle. (In contrast, right hand arm circles
incorporate a clockwise circular motion.) This circular arm motion was
beneficial given the smallness of Aleesha’s left hand, in particular as it
avoided the tension caused by stretching her hand beyond its natural
limitations.
5.2.4 Basic #4: Our Body
Looking at piano technique as more than fingers/hands/arms, the aspect of how we

use our body comes into play. Here, I’m thinking about how we use our body in
swinging a bat, throwing an object, bouncing a ball, and more. When we use our
body, we are able to draw additional strength and weight from the larger muscles of
our arms and shoulders and the weight of our body mass. We use our body to
facilitate an entire array of pulling, pushing, lifting, hitting, bouncing, pressing, free
falling, thrusting, and diving movements. We draw energy from breathing in and out.
And, we may also tap into the immense store of energy in our own internal core—our
own emotional, spiritual, intuitive, and physical grounding. I incorporate this aspect
into my own teaching in order to expand my students’ palette of sound qualities.
Using our body to increase energy, strength, weight, and mass makes up an
important part of piano technique in terms of two highly valued physical motions—
down and up.
To explore downward motion with my student Garrett towards the middle of

his first year of piano lessons, I used the example of a belly flop where a
person stands at the edge of a diving board and simply falls into the water.
My demonstration included: (1) raising my hand above the keyboard,
(2) getting ready to drop, and (3) belly flopping with my hand/fingers into the
keyboard. Then, I demonstrated a piano belly flop with only one finger
depressing a key as my hand fell into the keyboard. I demonstrated a piano
belly flop with my finger grabbing the key as it depressed the key, therein
making sure to cushion the pressure of my arm. Finally, I demonstrated what
happens when I add my entire body to the belly flop process. After each
demonstration, I asked Garrett to try out his own piano belly flop and together
we enjoyed the excitement of sharing a new exploration. “Did you notice how
the tone has changed,” I’d ask. We would compare belly flop tone to our
usual tone, compare the difference between belly flopping without a grabbing
finger and belly flopping with a grabbing finger, and make note of a belly flop
with the arm and a belly flop with our entire body.
To explore upward motion with Garrett, I used the experience of jumping on
a trampoline and the burst of energy that propels the body upward to inspire
our explorations. I demonstrated the trampoline exercise by (1) placing my
hand on my lap (the trampoline), and (2) using a burst of arm/body energy to
propel my arm upward. Similarly, after placing my hand on the keyboard (the
trampoline), I used a combination of grabbing finger and arm/body energy to
propel my arm upward. “Give it a try,” I’d say to Garrett and we’d talk about
the tone, in particular comparing the sound when there’s no arm/body energy
involved and when there’s lots of arm/body energy involved. We made note
of the difference between a trampoline that involves only the arm and a
trampoline that explodes from our internal core.
In exploring these basic downward and upward motions, it’s vitally important
for me to pay attention to the core of my body—the physically grounded place in
the lower third of my torso—because as Ortmann’s research revealed, the smallest
movement of piano technique involves the “trunk as well as the arm, hand, and
fingers” (1925, p. 71). Made up of diverse muscle groups, the nervous system, and
numerous bones, the core occupies the area above the pelvis and the base of the
spine. Involving the core of my body is essential in downward and upward motions,
especially in terms of stabilizing and mobilizing piano performance. In downward
motions, I consider the core as the anchor for my entire body. It’s the physical
grounding that holds me in place, providing stability and a kind of centered energy.
I use the anchoring energy in my core to bring additional strength, weight and mass
to my hands/fingers as appropriate to an entire palette of tone colors. While from
the upward motion perspective, the core of my body acts as a kind of energy
mobilizer for tone production. Here, I use my core as the support in lifting, pro-
pelling, and carrying the movements of my torso, arms, and hands/fingers.
Using my core as an anchor and mobilizer, I bring attention to breathing in and
out. Watch what happens to your core when you inhale and exhale. When you take
breath into your lungs, there’s an immediate feeling of upwardness, a lifting of your
torso as supported by your core. When you exhale, it’s interesting to observe how
your torso sinks into the core, resulting in a kind of fortification of the core or
grounding of your anchor. When you change the speed of inhaling and exhaling,
there’s a corresponding modification to the intensity of sound and the intentionality
of piano performance on many different levels. As pianist Arrau described,
“phrasings have to do with the movement of breathing” (1982, p. 102). Similarly,
Sandor affirmed, “The closest connecting link between the performing apparatus
and music itself is breathing, which guides and controls both the phrasing and the
pace of muscular activities” (1981, pp. 30–31). How we use our core/breath is
intimately and indisputably connected to our thought processes, our emotional
heartfelt feelings, our physical experiences, our sense of spirituality, and more.2 For
example, on an emotional level, just watch how emotions may transform the
engagement of your core/breath into purposeful and meaningful movements, as
well as infinite tonal colors. On another level, watch what happens when you
introduce a spiritual or soulful meaning to the gestures of core/breath. Appreciate
how the intensity of sound and the intentionality of your performance may be
influenced by the way your core/breath takes up a spiritual direction.
Examining the movements of down and up, the core as stabilizer and mobilizer,
breathing in and out, the dynamics of thought, emotion, and spirituality—certain
things stand out. Firstly, I like the idea of how down and up are inseparable from
each other; how inhaling and exhaling follow each other; how the core as stabilizer
permits mobility, and mobility depends on stability; how thoughts, emotions,
physicality, and spirituality overlap with each other, sometimes with tension and at
other times in synchronization. These basic aspects benefit from reciprocal con-
nections that take advantage of the ebb and flow of relationships rather than the
dominance of a one-rule approach. Secondly, what stands out for me is the
familiarity we have with each one of these aspects of piano technique—downward
and upward movements, our core as anchor and mobilizer, breathing in and out, our
2
For further examination of the interrelation between breathing, movement, and musical expres-
sion, see Pierce and Pierce (1989, pp. 167–194).
emotions and spirituality. While these aspects of ordinary everyday life play
important roles in piano technique, they also demonstrate who we are as persons,
the way we express ourselves, the attitude and outlook we carry through life. Just
think about how every person moves, or breathes, or takes on emotional situations.
These aspects are shared by all of us, yet, we acknowledge that each person has his
or her own signature ways of moving, breathing, and responding to emotional
situations. So, I want to develop piano technique in a way that’s familiar by using
these aspects from ordinary everyday life. Using this approach, piano technique
isn’t something foreign that we take on as an artificial requirement. Piano technique
involves tapping into universal ways of moving, breathing, and emotional
responses while welcoming each person’s individually authentic and genuine desire
for expressing who they are as a person.
5.2.5 Basic #5: Posture
As an aspect of piano technique, the performer’s piano posture plays an undeniably

important role (Bastien 1973, pp. 124–5). Piano posture can either enable or restrict
the performer’s ability to control or manipulate tone production in an efficient and
personally expressive way. A comprehensive approach to posture takes into con-
sideration the performer’s entire body from head to toe, even though the per-
former’s hands/fingers, arms, and torso are the most practically involved. While
literature on the topic of piano posture is vast, there is general agreement on several
guiding principles: (1) the body sits comfortably upright and balanced, (2) the
forearm is parallel to the floor, (3) height of the forearm is in line with the keyboard,
and (4) feet are grounded on the floor. These principles are not to be interpreted in a
fixed or immovable manner, rather, as a basic setup that allows for the ebb and flow
of appropriate movements. Pianist Gyorgy Sandor provided the following
guidance:
In maintaining our balance at the piano we seek both stability and mobility; we also seek
minimum effort in maintaining balance at the piano. By stability I mean a position that
enables us to sit comfortably, and by mobility I mean a position that enables us to move
freely and effortlessly all over the keyboard. Most of the body weight rests on the bench,
but some of it is support by the feet, especially when the body is in motion. Whenever our
hands are in motion, the balance of the body changes, even though the change is very slight
(1981, p. 31).
Taking into consideration this concise view of piano posture, I draw attention to a
pertinent drawback related to the dimensions of the piano—specifically, an issue in
terms of the height of the keyboard and the height of the bench. The drawback
being that the piano and its bench have been designed for adults, rather than
designed for children. Generally speaking, the dimensions of pianos and benches
are consistent with the keyboard of a piano at 28 inches from the floor and the
bench height at 19 inches from the floor. While these dimensions may be appro-
priate for most adult performers, the physical proportioning of most children under
the age of 13 means they’ll require a minimal bench height of 21 inches in order to
position the forearm parallel to the floor and in line with the keyboard.
Try the following exercises for yourself:
1. At the piano, perform any musical selection while seated on a bench that has
been lowered two or more inches from your usual height. Take notice of
alterations in your piano technique.
2. Sit on a table or counter top that can support weight. Let your feet dangle as you
sit with your arms in piano performance position. Take notice of how you feel,
particularly in your thighs and lower back.
In What Every Pianist Needs to Know about the Body, Thomas Mark explained
how a person sitting too low may “hunch the shoulders or lift the elbows or clench
the fingers as if to grab the piano” (p. 53). Unfortunately, such actions compromise
the ability to use our arms, hands, and fingers in the natural ways we have explored
thus far. Similarly, when children sit with dangling feet, the effort of sitting bal-
anced upright puts pressure on their thighs. That’s why many children tend to
slouch when sitting with feet dangling, because slouching relieves or reduces
pressure on the thighs.
Fortunately, any mismatch in seating can easily be resolved by using an
adjustable piano chair with a height of 21 inches or more and by supporting the
child’s feet with a footstool at an appropriate height. It’s a suggestion that Czerny
put forward nearly two centuries ago in his Letters to Young Ladies on the Art of
Playing the Piano Forte (1837). “And if your feet should not reach the ground,
have a dwarf stool, or ottoman, made of a proper height, to place them on” (p. 5).
5.3 Final Thoughts
This chapter has focused on piano technique through the familiar and natural ways
we use our fingers, hands, arms, and body in ordinary everyday life. This approach
has an immediate and ongoing practicality for beginner piano students, as pianist
Camp (1981) described, “piano teaching should involve the presentation of con-
cepts which will appear over and over again in more complex settings throughout a
student’s musical experience.” (p. 2). Consequently, I repeatedly engage my stu-
dents in increasingly sophisticated explorations of piano tone and technique from
their first efforts as beginners to their thoughtful interpretations as advanced per-
formers. Grabbing fingers is an application that I’ve found to be beneficial in
everything from a simple legato melody, to the solid chords in Schumann’s The
Happy Farmer opus 68 #10, and the staccato accompaniment of Kabalevsky’s Song
of the Cavalry opus 27 #29. Walking fingers may assist with wrist stability in
repertoire from Mary had a Little Lamb to the 16th note scale passages in Mozart’s
K.331 Rondo alla Turca. Using arm circles means I’m able to provide students with
a practical alternative to over-stretching their hands, no matter how manageable or
unmanageable the leaps. Furthermore, downward and upward movements, the core
as anchor and mobilizer, breathing in and out, emotions and spirituality are aspects
of daily life that have practical application for beginners and beyond. In this way,
the process of teaching piano technique involves a long trajectory of revisiting the
fundamental ways we use our body—all with the goal of producing the intensities
of resonant energy I refer to as tone.
1. Tone production has been considered a most essential ingredient in the

world of music because it enables artistic expression. How has your
musical development been shaped by the exploration of tone production?
2. How does the expression of tone as intensity of energy align your own
interpretation of tone?
3. Piano technique involves the familiar and natural ways we use our fingers,
hands, arms, and body in ordinary everyday life. How do you feel about
this theme of everyday movements? For non-keyboard musicians, how
does this focus on everyday motions shed light on your technical approach
to tone production?
4. This chapter examined using the core as an anchor and mobilizer with
particular attention to breathing in and out. How is this aspect evident in
your own experience as a musician?
References
Arrau, C. (1982). Conversations with Arrau. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf.
Bastien, J. W. (1973). How to teach piano successfully. Park Ridge, IL: Kjos.
Bernstein, S. (1981). With your own two hands. New York, NY: Schirmer.
Bernstein, S. (1991). Twenty lessons in keyboard choreography. Milwaukee, IL: Hal Leonard.
Breithaupt, R. (1909). Natural piano technic (Trans. J. Bernhoff). Leipzig: Kahnt Nachfolger.
Camp, M. (1981). Developing piano performance: A teaching philosophy. Chapel Hill, NC:
Hinshaw Music.
Clementi, M. (1973). Introduction to the art of playing the pianoforte. New York, NY: Da Capo
Press.
Cortot, A. (1928). Rational principles of pianoforte technique (Trans. Le Roy-Metaxas). Paris, FR:
Salabert.
Czerny, C. (1837). Letters to young ladies on the art of playing the piano forte. Boston, MA:
Oliver Ditson.
Czerny, C. (1839). Complete theoretical and practical piano forte school. London, UK: R. Cocks.
Fink, S. (1992). Mastering piano technique: A guide for students, teachers, and performers.
Portland, OR: Amadeus Press.
Fraser, A. (2002). The craft of piano playing: A new approach to piano technique. Oxford, UK:
The Scarecrow Press.
Gát, J. (1965). The technique of piano playing. Budapest: Corvina.

Gieseking, W., & Leimer, K. (1972). Piano technique. New York, NY: Dover.
Kochevitsky, G. (1967). The art of piano playing: A scientific approach. Evanston, IL:
Summy-Birchard.
Mark, T. (2003). What every pianist needs to know about the body. Chicago, IL: GIA Publications.
Matthay, T. (1903). The art of touch. London, UK: Longmans.
Neuhaus, H. (1973). The art of piano playing. Wolfeboro, NH: Longwood Academic.
Ortmann, O. (1925). The physical basis of piano touch and tone. New York, NY: E. Dutton.
Parncutt, R., & Troup, M. (2002). Piano. In R. Parncutt & G. McPherson (Eds.), The science and
psychology of music performance. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Pierce, A., & Pierce, R. (1989). Expressive movement: Posture and action in daily life, sports, and
the performing arts. New York, NY: Insight Books.
Sandor, G. (1981). On piano playing. New York, NY: Schirmer.
Watkins, C., & Scott, L. (2012). From the stage to the studio: How fine musicians become great
teachers. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Chapter 6
Teaching the Student
Abstract An important aspect of teaching beginner piano students may be

described in terms of teaching the student as different from teaching the repertoire.
This approach specifically involves the teacher’s ability to go beyond the repertoire
to stimulate comprehensive student musical development. Also relevant to the
aspect of teaching the student is the accumulated repertoire approach wherein
students review and refine pieces they know how to play, instead of dropping pieces
after they’ve been learned. Teaching the student may also require teachers to
consider their roles as student advocators and agitators. Advocating is all about
welcoming students into unconditional learning processes that respect students’
personality. As agitators, teachers challenge their students by taking them beyond
their comfort zone. Finally, this chapter examines what happens when students’
concern shifts from fulfilling their own self-interests to care for the wellbeing of
music.
Music teaching is a complex and multilayered endeavor that teachers take on for
many different reasons. Some teachers feel an empowered connection to musical
sounds, tones, and textures. Some teachers love working with children. They
experience immense satisfaction in encouraging children of all ages in musical
explorations. Other teachers acknowledge their commitment to tradition, operating
as respectful stewards who protect, carry, and pass on the legacy of our musical
past. For others, it’s the repertoire no matter how modest or grand that pulls them to
teach. And of course, there are many teachers for whom it’s the instrument itself
that underscores their passionate embrace, the way it feels in their hands and alters
their breath. Teachers bring multiple perspectives to their teaching, some of which
have a lot to do with teaching musical repertoire and some of which focus on
teaching the student.
My goal in this chapter is to examine what it means to teach the student as
something that differs from teaching the repertoire, while acknowledging that for
some teachers, it may be difficult and even undesirable to separate teaching students
from teaching music content. In recent years, educational researchers have been
particularly attentive to this idea in terms of promoting the difference between

62 6 Teaching the Student
curriculum-centered (also know as knowledge-based or content-based) teaching

and learner-centered (student-centered) teaching (Caposey 2014; Weimer 2013). In
the former example, knowledge is an object/thing and teaching involves delivering
content by telling “students what to do, giving orders, and directing practice”
(Davis et al. 2015, pp. 45–46). In the latter, teaching is less about transmission of
information and more about transformation of students. Students are no longer
passive agents to be controlled. Teachers present students with choices, challenges,
and tasks appropriate to engage students as active participants in their own learning
experiences (Ibid, pp. 107–08).
So, what does this mean for teachers of beginner piano students? How does
teaching the student differ from teaching the repertoire? Take a look at the fol-
lowing scenarios and see if you can figure out which teacher is teaching the student
and which is teaching musical repertoire.
Scenario One: Student plays through Beethoven Sonatina in G major: First

movement. Teacher says, “This piece needs more dynamic contrast on the last
page. Play that section again, please.” Student responds by playing forte and
piano in the designated bars. Teacher says, “Could you make your forte
sound more like this? In performing Beethoven, your arms should move like
this.” Teacher demonstrates and student imitates teacher’s demonstration.
Teacher says, “That’s what that section needs. Now try to make your piano
softer like this. See how I move my fingers.” Teacher demonstrates and
student imitates teacher’s demonstration. Teacher says, “Nicely done. Now
just practice those sections like that ten times daily at home.”
Scenario Two: Student plays through Beethoven Sonatina in G major: First
movement. Teacher says, “Let’s explore some dynamics on page 2. I’m
curious to see how loud you can play the forte section.” Student responds by
playing forte in the designated bars. Teacher says, “Sure. Let’s see what
happens when we use our arms to play forte.” Teacher demonstrates and
student imitates teacher’s demonstration. Teacher says, “Got it. What hap-
pens when you use your whole body?” Student experiments. Teacher says,
“Cool. What about piano? How about just fingertips?” Teacher demonstrates
and student imitates teacher’s demonstration. Teacher says, “Okay. What
about no-tone?” Student experiments. Teacher says, “Nice. Why don’t you
practice ten times arms, ten times whole body, ten times fingertips, and ten
times no-tone every day and see where you get to for next week.”
At first glance, it may seem as if there is, in fact, no difference between the above
scenarios. In both situations, teacher and student engage in an exploration of
dynamics. Both scenarios incorporate affirmative statements and demonstrations.
Yet, there is a subtle and significant difference between Scenario One and Two.
Namely, that Scenario One explores forte and piano only as they apply to the
6 Teaching the Student 63
performance of Beethoven’s Sonatina, whereas Scenario Two explores forte and

piano from a much larger, investigative, and more personal perspective belonging
to the student. Scenario Two’s teacher deliberately initiates the exploration of
Sonatina as an opportunity to refine the student’s evolving tonal mastery. This
teacher uses the music of Beethoven as a launching pad for teaching the student,
recognizing that comprehensive student musicianship includes more than
Sonatina’s specific performance needs.
With the goal of looking at teaching the student from several perspectives, this
chapter addresses—what separating repertoire needs from student needs might look
like, the accumulated repertoire approach to developing students’ mastery of
musicianship, teachers as advocates and agitators, and how caring for music comes
into play as part of teaching students.
6.1 Separating Students’ Development from Repertoire

Requirements
One of the most vital aspects concerned with teaching beginner students may be
described in terms of the teacher’s ability to separate teaching the student from
teaching the repertoire. This means teachers differentiate between students’
development as musicians and performance requirements dictated by the repertoire.
For example, teachers who separate teaching the student from teaching the reper-
toire make the distinction between teaching articulation in Schumann’s Wild Rider
and developing fluent articulation as part of students’ entire range of
musicianship. They recognize how teaching rhythmic control in Beethoven’s Ode
to Joy is different from developing students’ own internal sense of pulse.
When piano teachers purposefully separate students’ development from reper-
toire requirements, they stimulate and reinforce students’ fluency with two basic
musical aspects: tone quality and rhythmic continuity. In this respect, they follow
the example of Heinrich Neuhaus from the Moscow Conservatoire, who asserted:
Tone and rhythm go hand in hand, help each other and only jointly can they solve the
problem of ensuring an expressive performance (1973, p. 53).
Tone quality and rhythmic continuity (also known as the beat or pulse) form the
foundation of students’ musical development. (For vocal and non-keyboard
instrumental instructors, the aspect of intonation is also paramount.)
Even before students begin learning to play a musical instrument, they’re already
well acquainted with tone and rhythm from their everyday experiences of life. They
know how the tone quality of their parents’ voices may change the meaning of
words and how their own inflections will indicate whether they’re asking a question
or making a statement. They’ve experienced rhythmic continuity in walking, run-
ning, and dancing, as well as the rhythm of language. They know how the meaning
of words may change with the beat of language.
In my own teaching, I build on students’ prior rhythmic experiences by engaging

my students in the basics of feeling the beat, encouraging them to integrate their
internal rhythmic beat with clapping their hands or moving their bodies. In keeping
with the influential American piano teacher Whiteside (1881–1956), an all-
encompassing rhythm “must be at the bottom of all beautiful music” (1961, p. 4).
Similarly, pianist Max Camp proposed, “A student can learn to make music only if
a rhythmic impulse is generated in that person and the ear is brought to life” (1981,
p. 49). During the Foundation Stage of learning (Chap. 3) and the leading stage of
teaching (Chap. 4), I play the repertoire along with my students, providing them
with a kind of stable rhythmic anchor. With students in the Reading Stage of
learning, I start handing over the ability to play with one hand and keep the beat
with the other, while never forgetting the advantage of playing along with students,
or getting off the piano bench to dance, swing, or march through a piece. By
returning again and again to explorations of the beat, I deliberately and progres-
sively reinforce students’ rhythmic awareness and control in increasingly complex
settings throughout their musical development.
In terms of tone quality, I incorporate fundamental and explorative strategies to
assist students with their tonal awareness. Firstly, from a fundamental perspective
of basic tone, I draw students’ attention to the sound they make, what it means to
listen, and how what we do with our body comes into play. Secondly, from an
explorative perspective, I help students get familiar with exaggerated tone qualities,
incorporating activities that promote tonal extremes and expand their tonal
awareness. By exploring extremes and exaggerations, students develop a
strengthening—a deep internalization—of tonal awareness and control. Extreme
and exaggerated explorations function as the necessary and complementary tools in
establishing the basics of tone and how the body produces it.
While it might seem like tone quality and rhythmic continuity are exclusively
related to the body’s physicality, that’s not really the case. Here, it’s also important
to consider a complete range of emotional intensities, intellectual thought processes,
intuitive understandings, and spiritual connections in regards to tonal and rhythmic
awareness and control. Things such as: the disadvantages of teaching curved fingers
and fixed body positions in contrast to the benefits of moving fingers, arm motions,
and upper body flexibility; the advantage of getting off the bench and dancing; how
tone production changes with emotional intensity; the danger of students thinking
too much; what happens with letting go and being inside the performance; openness
and trust as prerequisites to spiritual sensitivity. Through this multilayered and
overlapping approach—physical, emotional, intellectual, intuitive, and spiritual—I
purposely separate what the repertoire needs from what students need. I help stu-
dents develop the competencies they’ll need to perform the repertoire and beyond.
By differentiating between students’ musical development and repertoire
requirements, teachers may concentrate on whether students’ competency is
insufficient, sufficient, or more than sufficient to successfully perform the repertoire.
Then, based on their observations, they address their students’ needs by introducing
appropriate follow up strategies. For example, when students’ competency seems to
be insufficient, teachers find out what’s going on and why things might be missing
6.1 Separating Students’ Development from Repertoire Requirements 65
from their teaching. When students’ musical development appears sufficient,

teachers explore how they got there, what they need to stay there, and how they
might extend what’s going on. When students’ musical mastery seems to be more
than sufficient, teachers challenge themselves and their students to find out what
they might be taking for granted and what might happen if they went deeper. The
advantage of teaching in this way is that no matter students’ competency—insuf-
ficient, sufficient, or more than sufficient—the students’ own development comes
into play, not as fixed musical interpretations, but as ongoing and evolving pro-
cesses of exploration and refinement.
6.2 Accumulated Repertoire, Review, and Refinement
Similar to the way children develop fluency in speaking through endless experi-
mentation with their accumulated vocabulary, teachers may help students develop
performance fluency through review and refinement of their accumulated repertoire.
This means that instead of dropping pieces after they’re learned, teachers encourage
students to continue to refine the pieces they know how to play. They help students
to internalize performance skills to a high degree of fluency so that when students
start a new piece, they’re able to incorporate their accumulated fluency rather than
starting from scratch.
Traditionally, many studio music teachers use a process wherein students work
on one piece at a time. Following successful performance of piece #1, students
subsequently drop piece #1 in order to move on to piece #2 and they restart the
process once again. In a similar manner, exam-based teachers may focus on four or
five pieces for an entire year, with each year starting from a clean slate. The
problem is that students may confidently perform their repertoire only for a brief
time in contrast to the extended period they spend learning and refining before
restarting the process with new repertoire. Students may actually spend less time at
a high-level of mastery and more time on fixing undesirable performance traits or
eliminating mistakes.
As an alternative, I propose using students’ accumulated repertoire to facilitate
review and refinement as the secure route to performance mastery. In an accu-
mulated repertoire review/refinement approach, the first step of mastery is identical
to the above traditional processes—teachers help students to learn, refine, and
perform piece #1 over a period of time. However, rather than dropping piece #1 in
order to move on to piece #2, teachers subsequently assist students with
review/refinement of piece #1 while students add piece #2 to their repertoire.
Teachers use review/refinement of students’ successful accumulated repertoire as
the secure building blocks for moving on to the next piece. Following students’
successful performance of piece #2, teachers facilitate review/refinement of both
pieces #1 and #2 while students add piece #3 to their repertoire, continuing in this
manner until a reasonable number of pieces are accumulated. Using this approach,
teachers not only reinforce and validate what students do well, but also deepen or
broaden students’ emergent fluency with tone quality and rhythmic continuity.
They support students’ competency as performers by developing consistency in
students’ musical achievements. As music education scholar Robert Duke affirmed
in Intelligent Music Teaching (2005), because week after week teachers system-
atically guide students through the fundamentals of performance, the likelihood is
high that students “will perform each component accurately and successfully”
(p. 96).
After approximately six months of piano lessons, Yumiko’s accumulated

repertoire consisted of ten beginner pieces. Every week, I heard all her pieces
in order from the easiest and most fluent to her most recent and least fluent.
On the occasions when Yumiko couldn’t wait to show me her newest piece, I
heard it first—knowing it would satisfy her need for recognition. Hearing
Yumiko’s accumulated repertoire in order every week meant that she could
confidently anticipate the activities of each weekly lesson. She knew that
we’d always begin by revisiting her successful repertoire, not in some kind of
superficial replaying of pieces, but in a deliberate effort to create excellence in
terms of concentration, piano tone and technique, and steady beat. To
maintain Yumiko’s interest in refining her accumulated repertoire, I made
sure we had lots of fun coming up with challenges to engage her practice like
playing with eyes closed, grabbing fingers, and no mistakes from beginning
to end.
In his third year of piano lessons, Joshua’s accumulated repertoire con-
sisted of six junior level pieces. Similar to Yumiko, I made sure to hear his
entire accumulated repertoire at each lesson. However, for students at
Joshua’s level of study, I always begin with the newest piece. To maintain
Joshua’s interest in refining his accumulated repertoire, I encouraged a
cyclical approach in which Joshua explored various themes like playing with
dynamics, keeping the beat, arm freedom, playing my favorite way, playing
Joshua’s favorite way, and more.
This accumulated repertoire review/refinement approach has several benefits for

students like Yumiko and Joshua. It means they may develop their fluency in
repertoire they’re most comfortable with. They develop the consistency in perfor-
mance they’ll need prior to learning their newest pieces. As the ratio between
review/refinement pieces and brand new pieces increases, students spend more time
enjoying fluent performances than struggling with unsuccessful explorations. It also
means that Yumiko and Joshua always have lots of polished repertoire ready for
impromptu performances, especially when relatives drop by for a visit or their
schoolteachers make a performance request. That’s why I fully encourage students
to play a high number of review/refinement pieces during their home practices,
6.2 Accumulated Repertoire, Review, and Refinement 67
knowing that they’ll most likely find it more interesting to play a number of
pieces rather than focus exclusively on refining one piece. What’s key in an
accumulated repertoire approach is that students have a manageable number of
review/refinement pieces, that teachers prioritize students’ engagement by assigning
relevant and meaningful explorations, and that teachers provide follow up in each
weekly lesson.
One of the questions teachers may ask regarding an accumulated repertoire
instructional approach is—How can teachers possibly respond when students arrive
with 10 pieces in one lesson? While this might seem impossible due to time
restrictions, most beginner pieces are thirty seconds or less, so hearing 10 pieces is
well within the limitations of a 30-minute lesson. This challenge is more likely
related to students’ independence and ownership (Chap. 2) of their successful
performance and the possibility that on occasion they take ownership of errors or
perform poorly. So, it’s important for teachers to guide students in accurately
recognizing their accomplishments because when teachers facilitate students’
awareness of their own performances, teachers strengthen students’ habits of flu-
ency. They increase students’ potential for a high proportion of success. This means
that when students make errors or perform poorly, teachers need to figure out
whether such inconsistencies are a reflection of an individual piece or group of
pieces and respond appropriately. In this respect, there’s no danger that students’
errors will completely derail the positive impact of review/refinement.
An accumulated repertoire approach supports student growth by encouraging
positive behaviors and productive awareness necessary for building students mas-
tery of musicianship. Teachers who promote high amounts of successful perfor-
mance naturally strengthen the consistency of students’ fluency. How teachers
choose to stimulate and support students’ mastery of musicianship will determine
the extent to which students successfully achieve the long-term goals of learning to
play a musical instrument.
6.3 Teachers as Student Advocates
When teachers teach with an attitude of advocacy, they welcome students into
unconditional learning processes that respect their personality, their home life, and
their relentless desire for self-expression. Teachers provide leadership by bringing
extensive knowledge and expertise to their instructional approach. However,
developing student musicianship isn’t about the teacher’s journey. It’s about the
student’s journey. Teaching with an attitude of advocacy means teachers appreciate
who their students are. They trust what their students have to say—literally and
musically. Teachers who advocate on their students’ behalf accept and engage
students for whom they genuinely are, not for whom teachers might want their
students to be—as the following story demonstrates.
Five-year-old Benjamin has distinct preferences for slouching at the piano,

moving around, and playing with a low wrist. He also has undeniably
double-jointed fingers. My job is to guide Benjamin by getting to know who
he is as a person and finding out how his worldview fits into learning to play
the piano. That means every week, I check both his slouching and sitting tall,
both moving around and not moving around, and both playing with a low and
a not-low wrist—making sure Benjamin has opportunity to examine the
positive or negative impact on his playing.
So, in my teaching, I advocate on my students’ behalf. I stand up for their

preferences while acknowledging that advocating doesn’t mean I neutrally respond
to whatever they have to offer. It means I incorporate teaching strategies that help
them see beyond their own particular perspective.
6.4 Teachers as Student Agitators
In contrast to teachers who are student advocates, teachers as student agitators

challenge their students by taking them just slightly beyond their comfort zone.
They introduce explorations that break away from doing only what’s easy, knowing
that developing musicianship is a process that necessarily involves risk, instability,
tension, and agitation.
Prominent educators have established a fundamental connection between edu-
cational processes and tension. The esteemed American education philosopher
Dewey (1859–1952) describes how our thinking typically begins with what he
terms a “felt difficulty”, the interruptive occurrences that prompt us to search for
solutions (1909, p. 72). He points out how our own doubt, perplexity, and mental
difficulty serve as the stimulus for inquiry into material that will resolve doubts,
settle and dispose of perplexity. In a similar vein, transformative education spe-
cialist Nadira Charaniya explains how learning processes are constantly being
“formed and reformed through contact with the unexpected, the unfamiliar, and the
challenging” (2012, p. 234). Learning experiences depend on teachers’ and stu-
dents’ collaborative openness to the risks and tensions associated with new ideas
and challenges. In this context, learning involves what might be referred to as
acceptable tension—challenges that students feel are personally worthwhile, in
contrast to challenges so hard that students cannot succeed, or so easy that students
feel their time is wasted. As music education scholars Gembris and Davidson
(2002) affirmed, “It is important for the child to always be sufficiently challenged
and stretched without being overwhelmed or threatened” (p. 27).
Acceptable tension shows up in learning to play a musical instrument because
successful, satisfying, or meaningful musical performances are not merely con-
cerned with getting rid of tensions. Successful performances allow for, tap into, and
6.4 Teachers as Student Agitators 69
generate the dynamic interplay of acceptable tensions comprising the performer’s

physical, emotional, intellectual, intuitive, and spiritual commitment to performance
in juxtaposition with the musical score and the instrument’s tonal temperament, not
to mention the audience. The idea of acceptable tension sheds light on the funda-
mental characteristics of performance, often comprised of variable, changing, and
oppositional elements such as feeling and thinking, tension and release, active and
passive engagement, and impulsive and determined qualities.
Students may take on acceptable tensions because such challenges remind them
of who they are (Chap. 2—authenticity). Manageable tensions and conflicts serve
as intimate and fruitful avenues for exercising, experiencing, and exploring stu-
dents’ own sense of self. This is not to say that tensions and conflicts are the only
avenues for meaningful personal exploration. Not in the least. Rather, that students’
sense of authenticity is reaffirmed in their response to tensions and conflicts.
Perhaps that’s why students commonly introduce reasonable challenges like play-
ing fast and loud as a way of testing or proving to themselves who they are as
persons, as their own way of purposely demonstrating to teachers and parents the
self-affirming value they derive from themselves.
With all levels of students, teachers may act as student agitators by incorporating
such reasonable and manageable challenges as playing with eyes closed, playing
without mistakes, and keeping a steady beat. When teachers agitate, they make sure
students buy into the notion of challenging their own learning, and that students
participate in actively stimulating their own musical development. This means some
challenges have greater value than others, some have age-appropriate considera-
tions, and others have limitations concerning the level of repertoire. And because
tensions come in all sizes and shapes, certain reasonable conflicts and manageable
discomforts may be worthy of attention, while the extremes of uninspiring and
overly intense challenges may nullify and even extinguish student enthusiasm.
6.5 Caring for Music
As a musician, I confess to caring deeply about music. Caring seems to characterize

my relationship with music because in many ways music seems to be part of who I
am. So, it’s not surprising that I was somewhat unprepared for the following
conversation:
At nine years of age, Emily had been my piano student for five years, more
than half of her entire life. In that time, I’d learned that if I was going to ask
Emily a question, I needed to make sure it was one worth answering. So, after
a particularly poor performance during her lesson, I took my time to find the
right words.
“Emily, why do you think sometimes kids play well and sometimes they
don’t?” I asked.
Emily shrugged her shoulders. “Well… kids who play well, want to,” she
began. “And kids who don’t, don’t really care,” followed by another shrug of
her shoulders.
I waited a moment before asking, “Could you play it with care?”
It’s hard to believe that in all my years of piano teaching, studying the piano,
having relationships, and observing people, it never dawned on me that not really
caring about how something turned out could have such an obvious outcome. Of
course, it made sense that if people did not care whether they play well or not that it
would show up in their performance. The solution to Emily not playing well, as it
turned out, was as direct as my initial question.
When I asked Emily to share her thoughts, I must admit that I was anticipating
something quite different. After five years of piano lessons, I expected her to answer
with any number of informed responses having to do with accurate notes, rhythmic
consistency, or tone quality. Emily responded to my impromptu inquiry with
remarkable insight, even though such questions can easily be dismissed by
mechanical answers that focus on anticipating what the teacher wants to hear, rather
than what both student and teacher are searching to discover or explore. I never
expected that her answer would call upon the notion of caring.
Nel Noddings, Stanford University education professor, has written extensively
on the notion of care and its importance to education. In her works on care theory
(2005, 2010), Noddings describes how human beings are born into relationships,
how our original condition is one of relations with others. However, this doesn’t
mean that human beings are universally predisposed to care for others—in fact, she
acknowledges how anthropologists have identified various social groups where
caring is not evident. In contrast, Noddings claims that people everywhere have a
predisposition or desire to being cared-for by others, a tendency that human beings
instinctively seek out for themselves. This desire to be cared-for is built into
humanity as a kind of primal element that varies between individuals and from one
life stage to another. By underscoring the distinction between being cared-for and
caring, Noddings draws attention to the fundamental difference between receiving
care and giving care, and how actively caring may require a significant shifting
away from the individually-centered desire to be cared-for.
In the context of students learning to play a musical instrument, it’s interesting to
consider Nodding’s distinction between being cared-for and caring. Being cared-for
refers to the ways in which students receive care from music, whereas caring refers
to students’ active participation in caring for music. In being cared-for by music,
students encounter the welcomed experiences of personal gratification, joy, com-
fort, ease, release, and distraction associated with music. Whether it’s through
listening to music, imagining a musical motif, performance on an instrument, or
playing around with sound, musical explorations possess vitality capable of
6.5 Caring for Music 71
satisfying students’ desire to be cared-for. Students enjoy musical explorations and

appreciate having music in their lives because of the way music makes them feel.
The safety and security associated with being cared-for may make it challenging for
students to actively shift into caring for music. Students may be so comfortable with
being cared-for by the vitality of music that they fail to recognize their role in caring
for music. Noddings provides a solution to shifting from being cared-for to caring
by emphasizing that becoming “prepared to care requires practice” (2010, p. 395).
As an aspect of teaching students, it seems I owe a great deal of gratitude to my
student Emily for her insight into caring. Her awareness of caring has a lot in
common with Noddings’ proposition that students must be given opportunities to
care. When students practice caring for music, their concern shifts from fulfilling
their own self-interests to consider the wellbeing of music. Their relationship with
music develops a reciprocity guided by the inherent needs of the musical perfor-
mance in relation to students’ values, the resources available, and students’ com-
petency. Caring for music requires students to continually practice as the means to
developing increased competency necessary for responding to the breadth of
musical explorations. It’s an aspect of teaching students vital to every teacher’s
instructional strategy.
6.6 Final Thoughts
Having examined various themes associated with what it means to teach students, it
occurs to me that teaching students places enormous demands on teachers’
knowledge and expertise. From one perspective, teachers need to know how to
separate student needs from repertoire needs as the prerequisite for helping students
explore the fundamentals of musical self-expression: tone quality and rhythmic
continuity. From another perspective, teachers need to know where students are
headed, how they’re going to help students get there, how they’ll strengthen and
promote students’ ongoing mastery of musicianship. Then, there’s the perspective
involved in moving back and forth between advocating and agitating on behalf of
students, knowing when to support and protect in contrast to those days when it’s
vital for teachers to challenge students in stepping outside their own comfort zone.
Finally, teaching students means being attentive to the aspect of receiving and
giving care, taking the time to recognize what music brings to our lives and what
music requires from each of us.
The purpose of teaching students through musical explorations may be defined in
terms of giving spark to the flame that is the child’s sense of self. Teachers use music
making as the resonant avenue for exercising, exploring, and experiencing a flour-
ishing of their students. They make teaching their students a priority. And by putting
students at the center of teaching, teachers foster the student’s sense of self. Quite
remarkably through the circuitous journey of musical studies, improvisations,
achievements, and frustrations, teachers help their students get a particular picture of
who they are. Teachers reinforce their students’ sense of self in the ways they make
music—whether it’s out-of-control fast and loud, or the loving expressions of

emotional mastery. Through the purposeful and sometimes fleeting moments of
teaching and learning, musical explorations remind each of us about who we are.
And in this dynamic environment, teachers have not only the responsibility of
sharing their musical experiences, they also have the immense privilege of listening
to what students have to say as active music makers in the resonating world of music.
1. This chapter explored what’s involved in teaching students as different

from teaching repertoire. How would you assess your own autobio-
graphical musical development in terms of these contrasting ideas? Do
you see more of one approach than the other? Which one? Why do you
think your previous music teachers might have preferred one approach
over the other?
2. How do you feel about your ability to separate repertoire needs from
student needs? Do you have a preference? How can you strengthen your
capacity for developing students’ musicianship?
3. The aspect of using students’ accumulated repertoire as the foundation for
musical development is typically missing from traditional and exam-based
approaches. What is your own experience with using accumulated
repertoire to build musical mastery? How might you incorporate this idea
into your own teaching?
4. Teachers bring support and challenges as advocates and agitators to their
students’ musical development. How have these two aspects been part of
your own musical autobiography? In your own teaching, which do you
prefer to do? How might you incorporate both of these strategies with
your students?
5. Caring for music seems to be integral to a musician’s relationship with
music. How can you include this aspect in your teaching without
diminishing your students’ desire for playing around or doodling with
music?
References
Camp, M. (1981). Developing piano performance: A teaching philosophy. Chapel Hill, NC:
Hinshaw Music.
Caposey, P. J. (2014). Teach smart: 11 learner-centered strategies that ensure student success.
New York, NY: Routledge.
References 73
Charaniya, N. K. (2012). Cultural-spiritual perspective of transformative learning. In E. Taylor &

P. Cranton (Eds.), The handbook of transformative learning. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.
Davis, B., Sumara, D., & Luce-Kapler, R. (2015). Engaging minds: Cultures of education and
practices of teaching (3rd ed.). New York, NY: Routledge.
Dewey, J. (1909). How we think. Boston, MA: D.C. Heath.
Duke, R. (2005). Intelligent music teaching. Austin, TX: Learning and Behavior Resources.
Gembris, H., & Davidson, J. (2002). Environmental influences. In R. Parncutt & G. McPherson
(Eds.), The science and psychology of music performance (pp. 17–30). Oxford, UK: Oxford
University Press.
Neuhaus, H. (1973). The art of piano playing (Trans. K. Leibovitch). Wolfeboro, NH: Longwood
Academic.
Noddings, N. (2005). The challenge to care in schools: An alternative approach to education.
New York, NY: Teachers College Press.
Noddings, N. (2010). Moral education in an era of globalization. Educational Philosophy and
Theory, 42(4), 390–396.
Weimer, M. (2013). Learner-centered teaching: Five key changes to practice (2nd ed.).
Jossey-Bass.
Whiteside, A. (1961). Indispensables of piano playing. New York, NY: Coleman-Ross.
Chapter 7
Taking Parents into Consideration
Abstract Researchers have repeatedly affirmed that parental interest in their

children’s musical development has a noticeably positive impact on children’s
musical development even without parents having any musical knowledge.
Knowing that parents and teachers naturally bring different yet overlapping per-
spectives to beginner piano students, this chapter considers the relation between
teachers and parents. An examination of interactions between teachers and parents
from a historical perspective and within musical settings reveals that teachers may
unconsciously perpetuate attitudes of assumed authority over parents. As an
alternative, teachers may establish meaningful parent relations by developing
openness and trust that includes listening to what parents have to contribute, fig-
uring out what they need, finding out what works, and drawing from what’s already
there rather than trying to reconfigure the family’s structure. This chapter concludes
by providing practical information for the first conversation with parents, musical
cornerstones for parents, welcoming real life families, and twice-yearly teacher-
parent interviews.
Students seldom learn to play a musical instrument in isolation, even though they
may spend considerable amounts of time practicing on their own. They’re greatly
influenced by their surrounding musical resources: the musical input of their
teachers, the performance models of other students, their access to recordings,
youtube videos, and concerts. Most importantly, there is widespread agreement in
education research regarding an additional influence on students’ musical devel-
opment—that is parental interest—the unconditional and supportive way parents
engage with their children.1 Researchers have affirmed that young children and
adolescents alike experience improved musical development when parents take an
interest in what they’re doing, even without any musical knowledge on the part of
the parent. In other words, it’s not what parents know about music that’s most
valuable—it’s the loving relationship parents have with their children that has the
greatest impact.
1
On the influence of parental interest and support see: Bloom (1985), Creech (2009), Davidson
et al. (1995), Gonzalez-DeHass et al. (2005), Sloboda (1993), Stitt and Brooks (2014).

76 7 Taking Parents into Consideration
With unconditional love at the core of parents’ relationships with their child, it’s
as if parents can’t resist taking an interest in their child’s development. They
exclaim with delight at the child’s first words and steps. They validate children’s
efforts to feed themselves, get dressed, play with toys, communicate, or show
affection for others. Through loving interactions with their child, parents develop
unmatched knowledge and insight into their child as a person. No other person
knows that child in the fundamental way parents know their child. Not grandpar-
ents, in-laws, or teachers, because parents know their child from the fullness of
daily life rather than from a distance, a temporary outing, or an optimal occasion.
No matter the child’s temperament, age, personality, strengths or weaknesses,
parents know what it means to provide loving support for their child under all kinds
of circumstances. They create the dynamic conditions for supporting their child’s
independent desire to explore the world and learn things like playing a musical
instrument. They provide confirmation of their child as an independent learner and
a hope for their child’s better life.
This confirmation of independence, learning, and hope bears remarkable simi-
larities to the results of an investigation by the American career analyst Pink. In his
2009 book Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, Pink makes an
outstanding observation that satisfaction in life is rooted in the deeply human need
to direct our own lives, to learn and create new things, and to do better by ourselves
and our world. Although Pink’s target audience is neither children learning to play a
musical instrument nor their parents, his remarks bring a kind of eloquent illumi-
nation to the message behind parents’ loving interest for their child. Parents take an
interest in their child because they recognize their child’s satisfaction in life, similar
to Pink, is bound to the child’s closely-held need to direct his or her own life, to
learn and create, and to live with meaning and purpose.
Long before children begin music lessons, parents may support their child’s
natural inclination towards independence, learning, and engaging with purpose.
They take an interest in their child’s endeavors because, on the one hand, they know
the joy, the inexplicable empowerment, and magical sense of satisfaction that
comes with meaningful independent exploration. On the other hand, parents also
know what it’s like to have independence taken away, to be denied opportunities to
learn, and to have their meaningful endeavors go unrecognized. So, it’s only natural
that parents would want to motivate and validate their child’s experience of inde-
pendence, learning and creating, and doing things with purpose and meaning. Even
though, as parenting author Coloroso affirmed, some parents may interpret their role
in terms of “an obsession with order, control, and obedience, a rigid adherence to
rules, and a strict hierarchy of power” (1995, p. 40).
When children start music lessons, it’s important for teachers to remember that
parents already have a supportive relationship with their child. They’ve not only
witnessed their child’s inclination for independent learning, they’ve also actively
motivated and validated their child’s accomplishments. Knowing that parents and
teachers naturally bring different yet overlapping perspectives to the child’s process
7 Taking Parents into Consideration 77
of learning to play a musical instrument, the question is—What does parental

involvement look like and how might teachers support parents in this matter? This
chapter examines the relation between teachers and parents from various angles.
7.1 Historical Implications
Parents and teachers share a primary bond, not to each other, but to the children
whose lives they strive to improve and inspire. For parents, their child may be the
most important person in their lives, the one who arouses their deepest passions and
stimulates their fiercest advocacy and protection. And it is teachers—those
knowledgeable and experienced adults—to whom parents turn to enrich and extend
their children’s lives. Parents seek out teachers’ advice and guidance because they
recognize that teachers may facilitate processes that speed up children’s learning
process, assisting children in making positive changes to their own knowledge and
expertise. Parents include teachers in their children’s lives, intuitively recognizing
that teachers occupy a lasting and honorable social status because of their expertise
in the arts, mathematics, sports, science, and more. In this respect, there’s some-
thing trusting and admirable about the interactions between parents and teachers.
During the past several hundred years in Western Europe and North America,
the dialogue between parents and teachers has experienced significant fluctuations
as tempered by cultural, institutional, educational, economic, and historical forces.
Prior to the late 1800s, parents in upper and middle class households took charge of
their children’s education, whereas working class and poor parents were not
equipped to provide for their children’s education due to unstable work conditions
and the family’s reliance on children as economic contributors. However, with the
introduction of compulsory public schools in the 1880s, teachers took on an official
capacity as experts with respect to issues of education and child development both
inside and outside of schools. Social reformers and educators asserted that parents
could not adequately provide for their children’s educational needs without expert
intervention. So, parents were purposely kept at a distance from the responsibility
of educating their children and teachers were placed in a position of power
(Tutwiler 2005, p. 18). Interaction between teachers and parents during the era from
1880 to 1920, as described by the American educational authority Wallis (1899–
1945) in his book The Sociology of Teaching (1932), was all about teachers getting
“parents to see children more or less as teachers see them” (p. 69).
Groundbreaking developments during the twentieth century had a noticeable
impact on parents and teachers. The women’s suffragette movement, increased
educated women, falling birthrates, and women working outside the home—these
factors all had an evolving effect on women’s parenting role. Childrearing practices
following World War II, spurred by the advice of child experts such as Dr. Spock
(1946), encouraged parents to move away from authoritarian parenting and trust
their own instincts and common sense, to be openly affectionate with their children,
and to treat their children as individuals. The Civil Rights movement, feminist
movement, and sexual revolution of the 1960s brought about changes in attitudes
towards racial equality, reproductive choice, and the emergence of gay and lesbian
rights. Resulting from this period of phenomenal change and the educational
challenges facing children, governmental institutions in Europe and North America
recognized the need for parents to be more directly involved in the education of
their children (Tutwiler 2005, p. 106). From the 1980s onward, educational orga-
nizations responded with strategies aimed at reducing the distance between schools
and families by encouraging parents’ involvement in their children’s education.
Expressions highlighting parental ‘participation’, ‘partnerships’, ‘involvement’, and
‘community’ during this period are noteworthy because, as education researcher
Vincent (1996) pointed out, these words may obscure more than they illuminate.
Such expressions evoke positive images of respectful interaction while
camouflaging the hierarchical imbalance between teachers and parents. Many
teachers continue to adhere to a mindset that places parents in a “subordinate
position in relation to the professionals” (Vincent 1996, p. 149). Teachers view
parental support as all about parents assimilating teachers’ values and behaviors,
deeming good parents as those who defer to the school and the professional claims
of its teachers.
Over the course of the twentieth century, the interaction between parents and
teachers evolved gradually starting with distancing parents from their child’s
education during the advent of compulsory public schools in comparison to the
more recent language of teacher-directed partnership and participation. However
throughout this developmental process, the dialogue between parents and teachers
demonstrates a singular consistent characteristic—namely, that teachers’ attitude of
hierarchical authority remains unchanged. What I find fascinating is how this his-
torical legacy seems to position teachers as social authorities whose expertise
allowed them to define the parameters of raising children both in terms of education
and parenting.
7.2 Teachers and Parents in Musical Settings
In literature related to music instruction, the dialogue between teachers and parents
demonstrates remarkable similarities to the hierarchical interaction of teachers and
parents in public education. Beginning with Matthay’s book on piano teaching
(1913), we may interpret Matthay’s omission of the subject of parents as in keeping
with the distancing practice of the early 1900s. During the 1950s, music teachers
maintained their position of authority while demonstrating a superficial awareness
of parents and a subtle disregard for interactions with parents. In an example from
The Young Pianist: A New Approach for Teachers and Students (1954), Last
described parents in exasperating terms—“What a help or hindrance they can be!”
(p. 4). Acknowledging the “cooperation of parents is essential”, she suggested:
7.2 Teachers and Parents in Musical Settings 79
It is a good plan for the mother to attend an occasional lesson to see how the child should
sit, and to get an idea of the work that is being done. These attendances should not be too
frequent as children are usually much easier to teach when mother is not there (pp. 5–6).
Although Last recommended teachers “have as close an understanding with the

parents as possible” (p. 6), it seems she preferred to keep parents at a distance and
regards their input as intrusive. Her authoritarian tone indicated an overt
marginalizing of parents.
Ahrens and Atkinson, pedagogy experts at the Royal Conservatory of Music in
Toronto, portrayed a similar indifference while keeping parents at a distance con-
sistent with a hierarchical teacher approach in For All Piano Teachers (1955).
In the earliest stages of a child’s music study some sort of supervision of his practicing is
almost a necessity. The mother, an older brother or sister, or even a friend of the family may
appear in the role of supervisor. Such supervision must be under the direction of the
teacher, and would cease as soon as the child may safely be left to himself (p. 48).
During the 1960s and 1970s, music teachers modified their interaction with parents
through documents focused primarily on sharing information. For example, in A
Parent’s Guide to Music Lessons (1966), Egbert enlightens parents with a
three-page article of insights into learning to play a musical instrument. Ten years
later, the amount of parental information needed to support their child increased
dramatically with a publication by Bastien, Notre Dame piano faculty member. His
70-page book A Parent’s Guide to Piano Lessons (1976) aimed to assist parents
with helping the “child get as much out of piano lessons as possible” (p. 3). While
these documents have immense practicality as sources of information, they contain
a subtle underlying message—that teachers prefer parents to view their child’s
musical studies from the teacher’s perspective. As music educator Rabin affirmed in
her book At the Beginning: Teaching Piano to the Very Young Child (1996), parents
are the teachers’ “eyes and ears at home” (p. 23). Interestingly, Rabin incorporates
the language of parents as “partners” (p. 25) evident in the public school setting
while ensuring parents occupy a subordinate position that serves teachers’
authoritarian stance.
Moving to the twenty-first century, there is a trend among music teachers to
define parental involvement through a language of clearly formalized parental
responsibilities that may include: provide a piano, pay tuition, get the child to
lessons on time, take notes at the lesson, assist the child with home practice, check
lesson assignments, make sure all materials are practiced, and complete the practice
chart. An example of parental responsibilities contained in a one-page framework
by piano pedagogue Jacobson (2006) comprises 21 parent responsibilities, 7 student
responsibilities, and 11 teacher responsibilities—a simple calculation reveals that
parents have triple the responsibilities of their children and double the responsi-
bilities of teachers in ensuring a “level of success in each student’s progress”
(p. 363). While there are obvious benefits for parents to provide a piano, pay tuition,
and be actively involved with their children’s musical development, this emphasis
on parental responsibilities bears a strong resemblance to the historical requirement
for parents to assimilate teachers’ values and behaviors in order to replicate the
teacher’s perspective.
Another aspect evident in formalized parental involvement strategies has to do
with how teachers prefer to communicate with parents. While there is general
agreement in the literature on the importance of communication with parents, it
often comes across as a one-way street. For example, music educator Fisher (2010)
suggested teachers provide parents with “written evaluations of student progress on
a regular basis”, but gives no opportunity for parental input despite the requirement
of parents’ active involvement in attending lessons and practising with their child
(pp. 181–184). Jacobson (2006) proposed teachers formalize how they prefer to
handle problems that may arise. She encourages parents to contact the teacher
immediately if they perceive problems and to keep in close contact during office
hours from 10:00 a.m. to noon, specifically avoiding discussion of problematic
areas before, during, or after their child’s lesson (p. 362). So, at first glance, it seems
teachers respectfully acknowledge problems may arise and are generous in offering
their time for discussion. However, when we look more closely, there is a some-
what hidden message that parental awareness of problems and their need for
solutions is secondary to the teacher’s agenda. No matter how actively parents are
involved at home or attentive in their child’s lesson, the hierarchical position of
teachers’ goals and focus on students during the lesson period must always take
priority over parental input.
Despite the teacher-centered nature of recent formalized interactions between
parents and music teachers, many parents succeed in supporting their children’s
musical development, even when they don’t regularly check their child’s lesson
assignments or fill out practice charts. What seems to be missing from the above
studio music settings is the acknowledgement that parents bring their own highly
relevant perspectives to children’s musical studies, they bring practical concerns
and hopeful aspirations for their children. Most significantly, parents also implicitly
and explicitly convey personal philosophies and attitudes. They reveal themselves
in conversations with their child, in their responses to music, and in the stories they
tell about themselves, their children, music, education, and life (Thompson 2016b).
7.3 Meaningful Conversations
In her book The Essential Conversation (2003), Harvard University sociologist

Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot suggests that teachers need to become skilled at “joining
forces with parents on behalf of children” in order to build collaborative and
authentic relationships with the families of their students (pp. 227–228). She
highlights how teachers who see parents as the child’s first educators are respectful
of their experience and perspective, and listen carefully to their observations and
insights about their children. Under such circumstances, parents and teachers
respect and value what the other knows and brings to the child’s experience of
learning. They’re appreciative of and empathetic towards each other, not as some
7.3 Meaningful Conversations 81
sort of gushing sentimentality, but in terms of walking in the other person’s shoes
and seeing the world from the other person’s vantage point. In contrast to the
hierarchical teacher practices described above, Lawrence-Lightfoot’s ideas stand as
a reminder for teachers to truly understand how other people lead their lives, how
parents and teachers bring overlapping yet necessarily different perspectives to the
education of children.
Music teachers may make meaningful connections between what happens in the
lesson to what’s already going on at home by getting to know parents and
understanding how parents contribute to their child’s learning. This means teachers
recognize and acknowledge that parents bring their own personal knowledge, life
experiences, expertise, lifestyle, and expectations to their child’s musical explo-
rations. Teachers comfortable with this kind of parental interaction operate as
collaborative communicators equally skilled in listening and responding sensitively
to parents. American educator Rudney (2005) suggested, teachers may create
positive relationships with parents by asking “not what parents can do for them, but
rather what they can do for parents” (p. 50). In this context, teachers aren’t afraid
that parental input might derail their vision of music instruction; rather, they rec-
ognize that good communication is a two-way street and that understanding what
parents need and want is vital.
One of the images Lawrence-Lightfoot used to describe the dialogue between
parents and teachers is that of “neighbors chatting over the back fence” (2003,
p. 245). When neighbors chat over the fence, there’s a friendliness and comfort to
their conversations about topics of mutual concern and interest. They share enough
information to get a sense of each other, without soliciting or sharing so much
information that it becomes intrusive or uncomfortable. Chatting over the back
fence signals an openness to look out for each other’s wellbeing and an anticipation
of living side-by-side for years to come.
I appreciate the image of neighbors chatting because conversations aren’t just
about what one person has to say. Conversations aren’t about teachers controlling
what parents do, nor for that matter, parents dictating to teachers. Similar to the
mutual concerns and interests between neighbors, meaningful conversations
between parents and teachers share a focus on the best interests of the child learning
to play a musical instrument. There’s a back and forth quality to chatting over the
fence that highlights how parents and teachers both contribute to children’s musical
studies. They both have something to say while, similar to neighbors honoring the
fence that separates them, there’s respect for each other’s boundaries. Fruitful
discussions aren’t about taking over each other’s lives in some sort of hierarchical
positioning of power. Both parents and teachers bring something vital to children’s
musical explorations.
In my own teaching, I like to think my interactions with parents have a lot in
common with Lawrence-Lightfoot’s conversations over the back fence. From my
first informal conversation with new parents to the twice-yearly formal parent-
teacher interviews, helping families means recognizing where they already are and
figuring out what they’ll need from me.
7.3.1 Teachers’ First Encounter with Parents
For most piano teachers, the first encounter with parents typically occurs when
parents inquire via telephone or email into music lessons for their child. As this
initial inquiry has the potential to either encourage or dissuade parents from further
involvement, it seems paramount that teachers communicate their ability and
readiness for guiding students’ future musical development. This can be especially
challenging given that parents’ rationale for music lessons may cover a complete
spectrum as the following scenarios demonstrate.
Parent A “I just want my child to have fun in learning to play the piano.
We’re going to give it a try for two years and if it’s not fun, we’ll
move on to another activity.”
Parent B “My child has a lot of difficulty with concentration. So I think the
discipline of learning the piano would be very beneficial.”
Parent C “I want my child to complete upper level RCM examinations for
extra credit in high school. That will be our primary goal for
learning to play the piano.”
So, how can teachers respond when parental expectations do not match the
teacher’s philosophy or goals? Would the teacher be wise to suggest that another
teacher might better meet their needs? What kind of communication is appropriate?
Several years ago, I conducted a workshop on communication for studio music
teachers. When I asked the participants to describe the attributes of effective
communicators, they all agreed effective communicators possess two vitally
interdependent skills: the skill of listening and the skill of speaking. However, when
I asked them to use the skills of listening and speaking to respond to the above
scenarios, I discovered they had very different definitions of listening and speaking
from my own. They all thought teachers needed to listen carefully so they could
come up with compelling arguments that would point out limitations of the parents’
viewpoint. Whereas, I thought listening carefully meant developing an under-
standing of parents so that teachers might build on—rather than tear down—the
parents’ viewpoint.
Although each of the above scenarios isolates a particular aspect of learning to
play the piano, what’s remarkable is how each one provides sufficient reason for
parents to enroll their child in music lessons. So, how can teachers realistically
respond in a manner that respects the parents’ viewpoint without relinquishing their
own teaching philosophy? My immediate response to parents is always, “That’s a
great starting point”, knowing that the complexity of my teaching draws from all of
the above parental perspectives and more. By acknowledging the parents’ view-
point, I get things underway with parental support instead of minimizing their
intentions. Subsequently as their child’s musicianship develops, I make sure to
point out how my instruction ties into parents’ viewpoint while shedding light on
aspects of musical development parents may not have anticipated. I don’t give up
my teaching philosophy to accommodate the parents’ rationale; rather, I use the
parents’ viewpoint as the fertile ground for cultivating a broad spectrum of
long-term musical growth.
7.3.2 Real Life Families
Whether parents attend their child’s lessons and practise with their child at home is
a matter that deserves flexibility and understanding from teachers. I want to be sure
parents understand that learning to play a musical instrument isn’t about parents
sacrificing themselves to meet the needs of their child or their child’s teacher.
Because teachers have the knowledge and expertise necessary to create success
under multiple conditions, they can respond effectively to a wide variety of family
situations. As education expert Rudney (2005) stated, “Families come in different
shapes and sizes” (p. 60). This means it’s up to teachers to get to know their
families so their teaching has meaningful connections with what’s going on and
what’s possible at home.
The Robinson family schedule was complex. The Mother had her own
medical practice; the Father worked in construction. So, they regularly
enlisted their children’s Grandmother’s assistance. Every week, I never knew
who would bring the children for their lessons—Mother, Father, or
Grandmother? For the children, it was extraordinarily motivational to have
the support of three adults. As the children’s piano teacher, I became the
consistent conduit, making sure Mother, Father, and Grandmother could
understand and appreciate everything that was going on. My responsibility to
the Robinsons was all about figuring out what they needed from me, finding
out what worked, and drawing from what was already there, rather than trying
to reconfigure their family structure.
In my own teaching, I find the weekly student lesson has great practicality for
sharing information with parents. However, to be clear—I’m not looking for par-
ents to duplicate the teacher’s role in their own home; nor, do I spend voluminous
amounts of time talking to parents. Rather, my goal is to demystify learning to play
a musical instrument by succinctly connecting my instruction to parents’ knowl-
edge and life experiences. My role is similar to a musical tour guide who expe-
ditiously reinforces what makes sense and proactively clarifies what might seem
completely mindboggling for parents, knowing that unexplained occurrences and
unresolved issues can easily make parents uncomfortable.
7.3.3 Input from Parents Is Vital
Parents see their children every day, while teachers see their students once a week.
So, it makes sense for parents and teachers to depend on each other’s input—not
just in discussions about problem areas. They rely on each other to meaningfully
share what’s working, to ask the questions that need answering, to be reasonable
and respectful of each other’s values, life experiences, and expectations.
Given that I welcome parental input as part of our ongoing dialogue, parents
frequently have things to share at the beginning or during their child’s lessons. In
particular, they may want me to know about their family’s challenges at home. My
response is to always listen respectfully, knowing that parents may be looking for
my assistance in resolving their challenges or they may simply want me to be aware
of and to acknowledge their concerns. Either way, this kind of immediate parental
input is vital for my teaching to resonate with what’s going on in the child’s home.
For teachers who think the lesson period is exclusively reserved for interaction with
their students and that parents should attend as silent observers, this type of
interaction with parents may seem completely out of line. However, my impression
is that parents’ input and need for clarification go hand in hand with effective
teaching.
With meaningful and at times spur-of-the-moment dialogue between parents and
teachers, music teaching connects with the realities of family life. Although phone
calls or appointments at a later date may work, such policies seem to be more about
keeping parents at a distance than welcoming parents with timely information and
support. The five to six minutes I might devote to parents during their child’s
thirty-minute lesson are a modest investment in making sure that my teaching
compliments the real life goings-on of my students’ families.
7.3.4 Musical Cornerstones
My job is to make sure parents know about the two music-related cornerstones they
can put in place to stimulate and support their child’s musical development. The
first cornerstone is listening to repertoire recordings because with adequate listen-
ing, children take ownership of learning to play by ear. Without it, independent
music learning is in jeopardy. Playing the recording is an easy thing for parents to
do that may empower their child’s independence. The second cornerstone of
independence is practising. I encourage parents to be motivators and validators of
their child’s independent learning experiences, to take a genuine interest in their
child’s efforts as emerging musicians because children who take ownership of their
musical progress develop the skills, knowledge, and confidence necessary to go on
to the next level of study. In other words, the more parents support their child’s
accomplishments as an independent learner; the sooner children make genuine
progress on their own.
“How do you feel about Jason being an independent musician from today
onward?” I asked Mr. Zhang, the Father of six-year-old beginner Jason.
“Well, that would be great, but is it really possible from today onward?” he
replied, somewhat doubtfully.
“Actually it is,” I affirmed. “By playing Jason’s repertoire CD, you can help
him get the pieces in his ears before he explores them at the piano. Just like
listening to you speak Chinese has influenced Jason’s learning to speak
Chinese. For Jason, learning to play by ear will definitely impact his
independence.”
For beginner piano students, the more parents support their child’s efforts in
learning by ear; the sooner children will be able to play by ear and subsequently
move on to learning by reading. Helping children to develop independent learning
skills while being supported by parents makes it easier for parents to become
progressively less involved in their child’s learning.
Parents’ support isn’t a lifelong commitment to direct parental involvement—
rather, as children grow in knowledge and sophistication, interaction with their
parents naturally changes. This sheds light on age-related considerations, given that
support for a beginning preschool child differs from support for an elementary
school child or a teenager. How parents show support and interact with their child
gradually evolves from direct and indirect participation with preschool children, to
guiding and stepping away from school-age students, and finally, to being sup-
portive and interested in what independent adolescent music students are going
through.
For students of all ages, parental support regarding a consistent practice routine
is often most beneficial, although some students may long for unfiltered, creative
experimentations. This aspect of parental involvement has immense significance in
view of research by music education scholars McPherson and Davidson (2006) who
revealed that most parents stop reminding their child to practice at the time when
their child most needs to be reminded. Whereas parents may continue to remind
their child to do his or her academic homework for however many years it takes,
parents frequently withdraw their support from their child’s musical studies
(p. 344). They seem to believe that children genuinely connected to music will
spontaneously and independently invest the appropriate personal time and effort.
A 2005 YouGov survey of 2000 respondents, undertaken by the Music Industries
Association in Great Britain, found that 73% of respondents regretted giving up
playing a musical instrument (Hallam and Creech 2010, p. 85). Unfortunately,
hindsight is usually 20/20 in that many adults wish their parents had made them
continue practising. Fortunately, parents’ interest and support may significantly
contribute to their children’s ability to successfully overcome the recurring chal-
lenges of practising and following teachers’ instructions associated with learning to
play a musical instrument.
7.3.5 Parent-Teacher Interviews
In her work with parents, Nova Scotia teacher Baskwill (1989) described parents as
wanting to “become involved in their children’s learning and ensure their success…
They have a wealth of information about their children to share” (p. 61). So, it’s
important for teachers to structure their teaching in ways that allow them to not only
communicate informally with parents and also welcome formal parental input along
the way (Thompson 2015). I want to tap into the vast knowledge of life and
relationships that parents bring to their child’s growth.
One of the ways I incorporate ongoing formal parental input is through 15-minute
parent-teacher interviews that take place the final weeks of December and May of
each year. During the week of parent-teacher interviews, I don’t teach any lessons,
knowing that families already have enough to do without making two trips to my
studio. Prior to the interviews, I fill out a report card for each of my students that
addresses the following: Study habits, Technical development, Reading develop-
ment, Self expression, Attitude, Events attended, and General progress (Thompson
2014). Report cards help me monitor what I’m doing as a teacher, providing
opportunity to identify areas I may consistently and inconsistently address.
Because I keep previous and current report cards, I can get a clear idea of what’s
working and what needs extra attention or a different approach at the individual
student’s level. Parent-teacher interviews provide a highly valuable and essential
opportunity to find out what parents think I need to know about their child.
After examining and talking through their child’s report card, I typically ask
parents, “What do you need from me?” I like asking this question because it
reinforces how much I value their knowledge and experience and how much I
value being part of their child’s musical development. So, I naturally want to
find out how my teaching supports their child’s growth. I welcome parental
input because I realize they have their own insight into what’s working, into
what I might possibly do differently, and areas that I might never have
considered on my own.
Of course, I realize that many teachers may be uncomfortable with the idea of
asking for parental input. What if parents don’t like what the teacher is doing? My
response is that when parents and teachers aren’t on the same page in terms of a
child’s development, it’s better to find out sooner than later. Sooner means that
teachers can do something about it. Later ultimately means it’s the child that suffers.
That’s why I remain purposefully invitational, recognizing that although my role is
to provide musical and instructional leadership, I am in this role at the parents’
request. I set up an attitude of openness and reciprocal trust where it’s not about
rolling out my own agenda, nor parents running the show. It’s about genuinely
listening to each other.
7.4 Final Thoughts
As a child, I attended twelve years of piano lessons all on my own. During that
time, I have scant memories of my parents ever talking with my piano teachers. On
occasion, they had obligatory rushed conversations following performances, but
other than that, it seems my parents had very little connection to my instructors. So,
when I began teaching piano at the McGill Conservatory in the late 1970s, I wasn’t
entirely certain how to welcome parents into my studio. Yet, in looking back on
three decades of my career, it’s easy to see how working with entire families has
influenced my teaching. In particular, I’ve learned that parents can depend on me to
create a successful and meaningful learning environment, to sensitively and prac-
tically respond to their family’s potentials and limitations.
Parents have multiple obligations. They have jobs, partner needs, laundry,
making meals, housekeeping, planning for next year and the next ten years. While
parents have astounding amounts of life experience to draw from in supporting their
child’s musical explorations, unfortunately, the distractions and conflicts of daily
life can easily disrupt their efforts. At times, it’s as if parents have a million things
on their minds. This means that parental involvement in their child’s learning
doesn’t take place in some kind of idyllic fantasy setting. It takes place within the
hectic schedule of daily life.
For teachers, recognizing real life parents means welcoming their strengths and
obstacles, rather than attempting to mold them into a teacher’s dream version of
parents. Teachers have the responsibility of opening doors for parents, to introduce
parents to meaningful ways of thinking about teaching and learning (Thompson
2016a). It’s up to teachers to make personal connections with parents’ ideologies,
attitudes, and philosophies—to link with the expansive resource that is what parents
already know about life. In this respect, teachers become a conduit for generous and
open explorations into the meaning of relationships, the fundamentals of learning,
the impact of music, and more.
1. What are some examples of your own parents’ influence on your musical
development until now? What do you appreciate about your parents’
involvement? What might they have done differently?
2. Teachers may create positive relationships with parents by asking “not
what parents can do for them, but rather what they can do for parents”.
How do you feel about this statement?
3. Teachers and parents may have very different ideas related to learning to
play a musical instrument. How may teachers respectfully acknowledge
the differences and similarities between parents’ and teachers’ perspec-
tives concerning children and music lessons?
4. What do you think is essential for parents to know about learning to play a
musical instrument? How and when may teachers convey this information
to parents?
5. Conversations between teachers and parents may occur both formally and
informally. What kind of formal interactions are part of your teaching
routine? How do informal interactions contribute to parent/teacher
relations?
References
Ahrens, C., & Atkinson, G. (1955). For all piano teachers. Oakville, ON: Frederick Harris Music
Co.
Baskwill, J. (1989). Parents and teachers: Partners in learning. Toronto, ON: Scholastic.
Bastien, J. W. (1976). A parent’s guide to piano lessons. San Diego, CA: Kjos West.
Bloom, B. (1985). Developing talent in young people. New York, NY: Ballantine Books.
Coloroso, B. (1995). Kids are worth it. Toronto, ON: Somerville House Publishing.
Creech, A. (2009). The role of the family in supporting learning. In S. Hallam & I. T. Cross (Eds.),
The Oxford handbook of music psychology (pp. 295–3006). Oxford, UK: Oxford University
Press.
Davidson, J., Howe, M., & Sloboda, J. (1995). The role of parents in the success and failure of
instrumental learners. Bulletin of the Council for Research in Music Education, 127, 40–44.
Egbert, M. S. (1966, March). A parent’s guide to piano lessons. Music Journal.
Fisher, C. (2010). Teaching piano in groups. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
Gonzalez-DeHass, A., Willems, P., & Doan Holbein, M. (2005). Examining the relationship
between parental involvement and student motivation. Educational Psychology Review, 17,
99–123.
Hallam, S., & Creech, A. (2010). Music education in the 21st century in the United Kingdom.
London, UK: Institute of Education Press.
Jacobson, J. (2006). Professional piano teaching. Los Angeles, CA: Alfred Publishing.
Last, J. (1954). The young pianist: A new approach for teachers and students. London, UK:
Oxford University Press.
Lawrence-Lightfoot, S. (2003). The essential conversation. New York, NY: Random House.
Matthay, T. (1913). The art of touch. London, UK: Longmans.
McPherson, G., & Davidson, J. (2006). Playing an instrument. In G. McPherson (Ed.), The child
as musician (pp. 331–351). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Pink, D. (2009). Drive: The secret truth about what motivates us. New York, NY: Riverhead
Books.
Rabin, R. (1996). At the beginning: Teaching piano to the very young child. New York, NY:
Schirmer Books.
Rudney, G. L. (2005). Every teacher’s guide to working with parents. Thousand Oaks, CA:
Corwin Press.
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Sloboda, J. (1993). Musical ability. In The origins and development of high ability. West Sussex,
UK: Wiley.
Spock, B. (1946). The common sense book of baby and child care. New York, NY: Duell, Sloan,
and Pearce.
Stitt, N., & Brooks, N. (2014). Reconceptualizing parent involvement: Parent as accomplice or
parent as partner? Schools: Studies in Education, 11(1), 75–101.
Thompson, M. B. (2014). “Don’t’ rush, but don’t rest”: Reflections on Dr. Suzuki’s affirmative
guidance. American Suzuki Journal, 43(1), 46–48.
Thompson, M. B. (2015). Peers, tension, and more: Reflections on working with Suzuki parents.
American Suzuki Journal, 43(2), 64–66.
Thompson, M. B. (2016a). Pictures of parents. American Suzuki Journal, 44(2), 82–85.
Thompson, M. B. (2016b). Understanding and nurturing parents. American Music Teacher.
February/March, 25–29.
Tutwiler, S. J. (2005). Teachers as collaborative partners. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum
Associates.
Vincent, C. (1996). Parents and teachers: Power and participation. London, UK: Falmer Press.
Wallis, W. (1932). The sociology of teaching. New York, NY: Russell & Russell.
Chapter 8
Coda
Abstract This final chapter invites music teachers to fuel the flourishing of inde-
pendent and authentic student musicians. This means being attentive to three
important dynamics: helping students to recognize and value their achievements,
building on students’ reflective feedback, and purposefully uncovering and
empowering what genuinely motivates students to learn. Additionally, teachers’
capacity for fuelling authentic student musicians may be influenced by deeply
understanding their own formative pedagogic experiences, by critically examining
their ongoing role in teaching, and by teachers exercising the spectrum of their own
potential and imagination. Finally, Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy calls teachers to
consider the legacy of music lessons and what they want their students and themselves
to take away from the weeks, months, and years of musical explorations still to come.
Nathan’s Notebook (January 11, 2013 to March 22, 2017)—Just over four
years of weekly entries have passed since I wrote in Nathan’s notebook at the
end of his first lesson. As I turn to the notebook’s last page, I realize it’s the
perfect time to take Nathan on a brief tour and revisit some of the moments
captured in the 200+ pages of my own writing. Of course, we find the names
of pieces, the predictable entries related to bar 7 of a certain composition,
challenges of the week, and keeping the beat for lots more pieces. Other
entries call for imagination, artistry, beauty, thinking ahead, swinging the
rhythm, flow, energy, spirit helpers, and tricks of the day. Revisiting the
words helps us with pulling out memories of distant and recent lessons. We
marvel that time has gone by so quickly and that Nathan has accomplished so
much musically and personally. I write today’s date on the final page and
underneath in bold letters—4 YEARS BRAVO!
A central idea of Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy has been how teaching

encompasses multiple layers of teacher involvement. Teaching beginner piano
students involves an attentiveness to musical concerns like our relation with music,

92 8 Coda
learning to play by ear and by reading, caring for music, the importance of tone and
technique, and helping students develop fluency through their accumulated reper-
toire. Teaching beginner piano students also draws from personal undercurrents like
independence and authenticity, the moral and ethical dignity associated with
democratic relationships, and meaningful conversations with parents. Furthermore,
another layer of teaching beginners acknowledges both sides of a coin in terms of
growth and rest, teaching what is and what might be, as well as advocating and
agitating student development. In this view, what teachers do from the beginning is
a reflection of their life knowledge and musical expertise. Their teaching is inti-
mately connected to the closely held beliefs and personal values that permeate
teachers’ thoughts and actions in everyday life.
My purpose in bringing together these various layers of teaching has been to
provide a pedagogical opening for piano, vocal, and instrumental teachers to
consider their own teaching. This process begins with teachers finding their own
place within the text, identifying how certain fundamentals synchronize with their
own autobiography of personal and professional experiences. It’s all about those
“aha” moments when teachers intentionally and unintentionally respond to what
they’re reading. On certain occasions, they may take ownership of ideas, even
going so far as to profess, “That’s what I do”, “That makes sense”, or “I’ve always
wanted to include that”. Such statements confirm feelings of reassurance and
competency. On other occasions, teachers may also proclaim, “Why didn’t I think
of that before?” or “How can I possibly incorporate that idea?” They acknowledge
the challenges of integrating minimally familiar and previously unknown ideas.
Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy isn’t merely a collection of ideas supported by
research and my own lengthy pedagogic career. Rather, I’ve written this book to
serve both as a teaching resource and as a catalyst for teachers engaged in teaching
from the beginning. Much like the way looking through Nathan’s Notebook offered
him glimpses of himself as a pianist, the topics contained herein may have offered
teachers similar glimpses into the many layers of their own teaching. And just as
Nathan’s Notebook relied on Nathan and me to make sense of what was written,
this book also relies on teachers to make meaning by interpreting the text and
interrogating their own pedagogical approach. Undoubtedly, this is a complex,
personal, and demanding undertaking that continues beyond reading this book from
cover to cover; much like the way Nathan’s musical journey has still more to
experience in future explorations, performances, and conversations. This pedagogic
undertaking is immensely worthwhile, in particular because it prepares teachers to
stimulate something quite remarkable—namely, the flourishing of students.
8.1 Flourishing
What seems clear in teaching beginner piano students is that teachers may fuel the
flourishing of students. For me, the word flourishing stands out because of its
momentum and positive direction. The energy in flourishing is indicative of
8.1 Flourishing 93
thriving, possibly involving adventure and risk, without losing sight of our own
contemplative thought processes. Flourishing conjures up images of living the good
life, of autonomy, mastery, and personal growth that’s always evolving and
changing. Flourishing individuals are highly motivated. They actively pursue new
goals, and possess broad skills and resources. Personal health is also implicated in
flourishing, including the wellbeing of heart and mind, our emotions, body and
soul, our intellectual capacity, even our imagination and character.
Piano teachers have ample opportunity for the cultivation of students’ flourishing
because they connect with students on a weekly basis for periods that may last
several years. So—How can piano teachers promote flourishing of their beginner
students? What’s involved? I suggest three important dynamics that demand
teachers’ attention: personal achievement, self-awareness, and individual potential.
These three dynamics are by no means the sum total of what student flourishing
may entail, but their interweaving provides an outline for meaningful consideration.
A first condition—the flourishing of students’ personal achievement/
experience—begins with teachers helping students to recognize and value their
own successes. Teachers provide ongoing guidance for students in internalizing
their accomplishments through refinement of their accumulated repertoire. They
mentor rather than monitor their students. Because teachers incorporate the over-
lapping processes of leading, handing over, and expanding, students gradually
acquire and apply increasingly sophisticated skills to their learning and performing.
Regarding a second domain—the flourishing of students’ self-awareness/
reflection—teachers prompt students’ exploration of musicianship from a multi-
ple ownership perspective. They promote students’ capacity for reflection by
welcoming and building on students’ feedback. They use descriptive rather than
judgmental language to communicate. Teachers invite students to meaningfully
examine the contrasts and similarities between various models, including students’
own interpretations and their teachers’ preferred approach to performance.
A third condition—the flourishing of students’ individual potential/
imagination—involves teachers’ commitment to uncovering and empowering
what genuinely motivates students to learn. Because teachers accept their own
musical journey is not their students’ musical journey, they’re comfortable with
teaching what students want to know (advocacy) without relinquishing what stu-
dents would benefit from learning (agitation). They’re curious to see where stu-
dents’ character, creativity, emotions, and imagination will take them.
Teachers who fuel student flourishing may also unconsciously fuel their own
flourishing as teachers. Both student growth and teacher flourishing may be pro-
foundly influenced by teachers having a deep understanding of their own
achievements and experiences, by teachers participating in the critical awareness
and reflection of their role in teaching, and by teachers exercising a spectrum of
potential and imagination.
Regarding the first condition—because teachers have deep understandings,
they’re able to use their achievements/experiences as fertile resources to share with
students, rather than inflexible or unquestionable standards students must adopt.
Flourishing teachers intuitively transform the fundamentals of piano pedagogy into
94 8 Coda
meaningful explorations for their students, often bringing in stories, images, and
metaphors that match students’ personalities and life experiences. They know that
their achievements/experiences make for good starting points, not end points.
A second domain—because teachers critically reflect on their teaching role,
they’re able to detect what’s working and what’s not working in their teaching. This
aspect has two distinct variations. On a detailed level, teachers recognize how the
specific characteristics of an activity may engage or fail to engage students. On a
broader level, teachers notice how patterns of student growth or lack of growth
resulting from their teaching may emerge over several weeks or months.
Flourishing teachers think about how they teach before, during, and after their
students’ lessons. As a result of critical awareness and reflection into the details and
patterns of piano pedagogy, they don’t hesitate to modify their approach with
numerous possibilities.
Regarding a third condition—teachers’ potential and imagination—flourishing
teachers are both resourceful and adaptive. They view their potential for growth as
evolving and changing. Because they’re secure in their own autonomy and possess
a high degree of motivation, they readily seek out information and resources to
extend their own skills and understanding of piano pedagogy. They elevate their
teaching by welcoming the imaginative input of colleagues, friends, family, and
above all their students. When flourishing teachers encounter uncertainties and
unknowns in teaching, they have the courage and curiosity to try out completely
opposite and previously unexplored directions.
8.2 Final Thoughts
On the evening before I started writing these final pages, one of my closest friends
inquired, “So, if you had to summarize the entire book in one statement, what
would that statement be?” This is the phrase I came up with:
Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy invites studio music teachers into a mul-

tilayered ear-before-eye pedagogic approach that fuels the flourishing of
independent and authentic student musicians right from the very beginning.
As might be expected, teachers in a Fundamentals model bring vast amounts of

musical and instructional knowledge to their teaching. However, effective teaching
is more than having students diligently follow teachers’ instructions in order to
reproduce what teachers know. It’s about teaching in which both teachers’ and
students’ voices are heard not through patronizing superficial exchanges, but by
teachers being curious about and genuinely valuing what students literally and
musically have to say.
Studio music teaching seems to be approaching an important crossroads—one

where teachers will need to decide whether to continue along the path they’ve
always known or turn onto a route that seems potentially inviting yet remains
somewhat unknown. For individuals with traditional backgrounds, the problem
with changing routes is that much of their success may be attributed to students
diligently following teachers’ instructions, even though an equally impressive
number of students may have quit music lessons to escape following teachers’
instructions. Admittedly, when I hear an adult say, “I took piano lessons as a child
and absolutely hated it,” I nod my head, knowing exactly what they’re talking
about. Yet, I can’t help imagining a future alternative where an adult might say, “I
took piano lessons as a child and absolutely loved it. It’s amazing how five minutes
at the piano after work can improve my day.” Somehow, it doesn’t seem unrea-
sonable to think that a Fundamentals teaching approach could help studio music
teachers achieve such an outcome.
At a most basic level, Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy is about teachers living
and teaching with awareness, gratitude, and hope. It isn’t about the search for
perfectionism or the eradication of our self-perceived flaws. The themes presented
in this book are reliable, they work in actual music studios, and incorporating them
will bring teachers more in tune with what it means to flourish as studio music
teachers. Most likely, it all starts with teachers letting go of what they see getting in
the way and continues by teachers taking the time and making the effort for the
fruits of their exploration to take shape.
In the end, the eight chapters contained in Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy
may present teachers with any number of routes for exploration. To indicate that
exploring such routes might be easy seems boldly inaccurate. On the other hand, to
imply the need for hard work seems overblown. My impression is that making the
most from this book requires teachers’ willingness to tolerate uncertainty and
unpredictability, to maintain a healthy optimism and realistic expectations, and to
hold onto challenging perspectives until they trigger new knowledge. Finally, these
highly personal processes of ongoing learning also call teachers to think critically
about the legacy of music lessons and what they may wish to accomplish in the
future—to think about what they want their students and themselves to take away
from the weeks, months, and years of music lessons still to come.
Index
A Csikszentmihalyi, Mihalyi, 6
Acceptable tension, 68, 69 Cumming, Naomi, 12
Accumulated repertoire, 4, 61, 63, 65–67, 91, Curiosity See Interest
93 Czerny, Carl, 37, 48, 58
Ahrens, Cora, 79
Allsup, Randall, 7, 36, 38 D
Arrau, Claudio, 56 Davidson, Jane, 68, 85
Atkinson, G.D., 79 Davis, Brent, 20, 25, 37, 62
Authenticity See Personal authenticity De Lorenzo, Lisa, 36, 38
Dewey, John, 39, 68
B Duke, Robert, 27, 66
Background stage See Learning
Baskwill, Jane, 86 E
Bastien, James, 57, 79 Ear-before-eye, 23, 24, 94
Beliefs Egbert, Marion, 79
parent, 5 Expertise, 1, 2, 4, 13–15, 41, 45, 67, 71, 77, 78,
teacher, 3, 38, 92 81, 83, 91
Breathing, 12, 21, 28, 40, 55, 56, 59
Breithaupt, Rudolf, 48 F
Byo, James, 27 Fingers
grab and release, 49, 51
C walking, 3, 47, 51–54, 58
Campbell, Patricia, 26 Flourishing, 14, 20, 71, 92–94
Camp, Max, 58, 64 Flow, 6, 56, 57, 91
Care theory, 70 Foundation stage See Learning
Carey, Benedict, 10 Fraser, Alan, 52
Caring for music, 63, 70, 71, 91
Charaniya, Nadira, 68 G
Circles Gabrielsson, Alf, 23, 31, 36
arm, 3, 47, 53, 54, 58 Gembris, Heiner, 68
Claire, Leslie, 40 Gieseking, Walter, 48
Clementi, Muzio, 37, 48 Gordon, Edwin, 24, 25
Coloroso, Barbara, 8, 76 Grab and release See Fingers
Competency, 13, 64, 66, 71, 92 Growth and rest, 33, 91
Compulsory public schooling, 37
Conservatory, 37, 38, 79, 87 H
Core, 5, 12, 48, 55, 56, 58, 76 Hanon, Charles-Louis, 37
Cortot, Alfred, 48

SpringerBriefs in Education, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-65533-8
98 Index
I Parent-teacher interviews, 81, 86

Independence Personal authenticity See Authenticity
and ownership, 7, 43, 67 Pestalozzi, Johann Heinrich, 8, 23
Interest Pink, Daniel, 76
and expertise, 13 Pollei, Paul, 7
parental, 4, 75 Posture, 3, 28, 47, 57
J R
Jacobson, Jeanine, 79 Rabin, Rhonda, 79
Jensen, Eric, 20 Reading stage See Learning
Jorgensen, Estelle, 7 Reimer, Bennett, 40, 41
Relation with music, 2, 5–7, 13–15, 91
K Report cards, 86
Kivy, Peter, 43 Review and refinement, 65
Rogers, Carl, 11
L Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 8
Language learning, 3, 19, 21–24, 27, 30 Rudney, Gwen, 81, 83
Last, Joan, 78
Lawrence-Lightfoot, Sara, 80, 81 S
Learning Sandor, Gyorgy, 47, 48, 56, 57
as cyclical process, 3, 15, 19, 21 Schleuter, Stanley, 23, 27
as linear process, 20 Schnabel, Artur, 7
as meaning making, 20, 21, 24 Scientific and Industrial Revolutions, 36, 38
as nested forms, 20 Scott, Laurie, 9, 49
background stage of, 19, 25 Scrambles, 31
by ear, 19, 22–25, 30, 84, 91 Shakespeare, William, 11
by reading, 25, 30, 31, 85, 91 Skalinder, Barbara, 15
foundation stage of, 19 Sloboda, John, 24, 26
models of, 19, 24, 37 Sounds before signs See Learning by ear
reading stage of, 19, 25, 29, 64 St. Augustine, 11
Student independence See Independence
M Suzuki Method, 23, 39
Mainwaring, James, 24 Suzuki, Shinichi, 23, 27, 28
Mason, Lowell, 23 Swinkin, Jeffrey, 5
Matthay, Tobias, 48, 78
Mendelssohn, Felix, 37 T
Montessori, Maria, 8 Taylor, Charles, 11
Multiple ownership, 2, 5, 9, 10, 93 Teaching
content-based, 62
N curriculum-based, 61
Nested forms See Learning democratic model of, 3, 35, 39
Neuhaus, Heinrich, 47, 48, 54, 63 knowledge-based, 62
Nisbett, Richard, 8 learner-centered, 62
Noddings, Nel, 70 parenting model of, 3, 35
rote, 27, 28
O student-centered, 38, 62
Ortmann, Otto, 48, 50, 52, 55 Technique, 3, 9–11, 19, 27, 37, 40, 41, 43,
Ownership See Independence 47–52, 54–56, 58, 66, 91
Thomas, Mark, 52, 58
P Tone, 1, 3, 8, 19, 22, 25–28, 30, 39, 41, 43,
Parental, parents 47–50, 55, 57, 58, 61, 63, 64, 66, 70, 71,
input, 80, 81, 84, 86 79, 91
interest, 4, 75, 85
Index 99
V Wallis, Willard, 77
Vincent, Carol, 78 Watkins, Cornelia, 49
Westney, William, 9
W Whiteside, Abby, 64
Walking fingers, 3, 47, 51–54, 58

Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy Fuelling Authentic Student Musicians From The Beginning

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SPRINGER BRIEFS IN EDUC ATION

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/8914

Werklund School of Education

ISSN 2211-1921 ISSN 2211-193X (electronic)

© The Author(s) 2018

Printed on acid-free paper

This Springer imprint is published by Springer Nature

5 Piano Tone and Technique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

© The Author(s) 2018 1

Fundamentals of Piano Pedagogy differs from other music education sources by

relevant perspectives. Firstly, an overview of education theories indicates that

relevant to the aspect of teaching students is the accumulated repertoire approach

© The Author(s) 2018 5

2.1 Our Relation with Music

Whether we’re performing or playing, listening or creating, music punctuates our

2.2 Student Independence

Philosophers, educators, and child experts have long identiﬁed independence as a

Multiple ownership allows students to develop broader understanding of how

2.3 Personal Authenticity

Jennifer is soft-spoken with a keen desire to express her sense of humor.

Recognizing each of my student’s authentic self has important implications related

2.4 Final Thoughts

I use the expression what is to describe our massive accumulation of knowledge

2.5 Before We Move on

3. By understanding, accepting, and caring for their students’ authentic self

Schnabel, A. (1945/1961). My life and music. London, UK: Longmans.

© The Author(s) 2018 19

3.1 Models of Learning

3.2 Language Learning

A fourth point takes into consideration the fundamental connection between

3.3 Learning to Play by Ear

Prominent educators and musicians throughout history have consistently advocated

value of ear-before-eye learning. In Great Britain, music educator Mainwaring

3.4 Learning to Play the Piano

adults may respond to structure as a matter requiring personal discipline or

3.4.1 Background Stage

3.4.2 Foundation Stage

Similar to the way children’s language learning involves manipulating the

David’s Foundation Story—During his ﬁrst few months of piano lessons, I

the non-legato and legato aspects of subsequent tonalization exercises. By the

3.4.3 Reading Stage

In keeping with the framework of structure, development, and meaning, the

According to music education scholars McPherson and Gabrielsson (2002), the

Jasmine’s Reading Story—Beginning in the Foundation Stage, six-year-old

3.5 Growth and Rest

3.6 Before We Move on

1. What does this chapter’s description of language learning have in com-

Abstract Teaching beginner piano students is an endeavor that builds implicitly

When we consider the process of teaching, many interpretations come to mind

© The Author(s) 2018 35

4.1 Piano Teaching from a Historical Perspective

monitored their students’ technical development, requiring students to learn pieces

4.2 Piano Teaching and Democratic Relationships

I begin by acknowledging that for certain individuals, democracy may be a concept

Dewey conceived of education as guiding children in acquiring the skills, knowl-

For Suzuki, democratic teaching relationships are strongly connected to teachers’

approach resulted in students more academically frustrated, aggressive, and less

During ﬁve-year-old Jordan’s ﬁrst few months of lessons, I focused on

What’s extraordinary about the above examples is how democratic teachers