Tell Them Something Good

It might change their life

Entering the house, he forcibly hurled the front door open. The door bypassed the door-stopper, causing the doorknob to leave a dent in my wall. He dutifully kicked off his shoes, albeit 3 feet apart, and bounded down the seven steps to the piano room. As I finished up the lesson with my current student, my body was already tense. I mentally began my silent pep talk. 30 minutes. I can do 30 minutes. If his mom can love him 24/7, I can love him for 30 minutes a week. Lord Jesus, please give me patience and love for Joseph.

I smiled and invited him to join me at the bench. He sat down and began bouncing up and down, and then began rocking the bench back and forth. Hubby had already fixed the bench once and requested that I stop students from leaning the bench on only two legs.

I’m excited to hear your music today! I put my hand on the bench to prevent the rocking. Remember the bench rule? All four legs on the floor. You did so well last week. I know you can do it again!

Joseph smiled at me and stopped rocking.

What was your favorite song this past week?

He opened his book to “The Singing Donkey.” Placing his hands in the wrong position with flat fingers, a slouched back, and forgetting to count, he completed the song without noticing anything wrong. This tells me that he probably practiced it like this all week long. I glanced at his tally sheet to see how much he had practiced. Joseph had faithfully played “The Singing Donkey” 25 times this past week.

I am SO proud of you for practicing! You did an amazing job of getting to the piano! Thank you so much!

He beamed with pride.

Pointing to the score with my pencil, I asked, Could you tell me the name of this note?

I could see his brain working, counting the lines and spaces using the acrostic “All Cows Eat Grass.”

“C.”

And what finger should go on ‘C’?

“5.”

That’s right! Could you please put your hands in that position? Thank you! And what is our time signature?

“4/4.”

Yes! Before you begin a second time, let’s count an imaginary measure so we can feel four beats in every measure before we play. Ready? 1-2-3-4.

He played through the second time with remarkable improvements.

That was amazing! You made the piano sound like a donkey!

Joseph spontaneously threw himself at me and hugged me tightly.

“I love you, teacher!”

I love you too, Joseph.

I learned early on that my job as a piano teacher is to tell people what they are doing wrong. People pay me to come to my house, play a piece of music, and have me tear it apart - every nit-picky little detail. Even when it is the last lesson before a big piano competition, there is still some tiny minute detail we can change to make the piece even better.

But who wants to be told they are wrong?

Nobody.

Who in their right mind would pay me to do such a thing?

So I shifted my teaching style to be an encouraging question asker instead of a ruler-yielding dictator who smacks students on the back of the hand for every violation (I have never done this, but I have heard many reports of ladies wearing habits using this technique - but I have verified none). Instead of kids feeling like failures, they feel empowered because they have the tools and knowledge in their brains; they just aren’t always quick at determining which tool to use. By asking questions, I am helping them sift through their piano knowledge to find the right tools to use in playing the piece.

I wish I could claim ownership of these ideas, but credit for their origin in my life goes to Dale Carnegie. In his Golden Book of Rules, he shares many ideas on having smooth communication in all relationships. A few that I apply at the piano are:

• Begin with praise and honest appreciation: Soften the delivery of feedback.

• Call attention to people’s mistakes indirectly: Correct errors without causing offense.

• Ask questions instead of giving direct orders

• Praise the slightest improvement and praise every improvement: Be hearty in your approbation.

But the true origin of these ideas is Jesus. In the four Gospels, Jesus asks over 300 questions. A favorite is found in John 1:38, where he asks two disciples, “What are you seeking?” This question alone, asked repetitively over and over again, could kick-start a spiritual journey in an atheist. What are we seeking? Even my students at the piano are seeking more than music. My job is to love them well, and when they are ready to discuss the deep questions of life, I am here, ready and waiting.

Joseph continued piano lessons from 4th grade through his senior year. He was eventually diagnosed as high-functioning autistic. As he got older, my stress level during his lessons completely evaporated and turned to pure joy. We laughed together, played music together, and eventually he was singing into a microphone while playing the piano. Joseph invited me to every performance he had in the high school musical productions, where he eventually landed a supporting lead role. As he sang his solo in front of hundreds, I couldn’t prevent the tears from streaming down my cheeks. Nobody knew how many times he and I sat together on the floor, hitting blocks together and counting to four. Nobody knew how long it took for his voice to match the pitch of the piano key. Nobody knew how long it took to get him to sit on the bench. Nobody except Joseph and me.

As we sat at his last piano lesson, reminiscing over the past nine years together, he looked me in the eye (something he had been unable to do when we first started) and said,

“Thank you for being so nice to me. Nobody else is nice to me except for you, my mom, and my dad.”

It’s a sad statement, but one that echoes in my head as the next Joseph walks into my studio. I will encourage him, love him well, and tell him something good.

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Photo by Kateryna Hliznitsova on Unsplash