Teaching Philosophy
The basic principle behind my teaching philosophy is to pass on the tools to tackle any musical obstacle. Essentially, I teach my students to become teachers: of themselves, and someday of others. I find that the most effective instructions are those that a student understands and accepts as their own; directly given instructions, while useful, do not last as long. At the same time, students must learn to listen and to identify issues. Over the course of time, I encourage students to develop their own voice, and to make some of their own musical decisions.
Some of my “teaching tools” are aimed at immediate improvement. These are the variables that are relatively simple and easy to articulate: for the right hand, bow speed, pressure, and sounding point; for the left hand, hand posture and finger position. These issues are easy for the student to understand. Unfortunately, they are also easy to forget, until good habits are established. By the end of a semester of teaching, I am typically asking the student what he or she could do to fix an issue, and they are responding with the correct fix. Even passages that are difficult for the left hand are made immediately less difficult through proper preparation and anticipation by the fingers. Rather than simply starting slow and speeding up the tempo, I devise exercises for the left hand that train the fingers to be where they need to be, before they need to be there.
But not all the problems of violin are so simply solved. Certain traits can only be long term goals, to be achieved through constant vigilance. Among these: consistent and conscious sounding point; purposeful vibrato; and proper and non-injurious posture. Intonation is also a habit, to be constantly trained and improved. I liken it to hitting a target with an arrow. Sure, one can be successful simply by hitting the bullseye. A true marksman will aim for the center of that bullseye, and the best of the best will aim for the center of the center. I rely on both digital tuners and perfect intervals (fourths and fifths) to train the ears of my students. Those who study with me also know that I myself use these tools; the battle for intonation is never complete.
All of this would be useless without conscious listening. This is as much a matter of will as it is something learned. It is all too easy to hear what one wants to hear, rather than what is actually coming out of the instrument. A musician should make decisions about bow control based on the sound that is being produced. Although certain things are universal among violins, I am careful to occasionally demonstrate on a student's instrument, partly to show that it can be done and partly to discover what weaknesses in their playing might be due to their equipment. I also encourage my students to record themselves for the purpose of listening to themselves. Often one can discover issues through this new perspective. This is also why I believe in the importance of studio class. Hearing a classmate make the same mistake is much more powerful on the memory than hearing a teacher point something out repeatedly.
In the midst of all this instructing, I am acutely aware that I am also helping a student to craft his or her individual voice. Historical performance practice and knowledge of editions is something that comes up often in lessons. However, I prefer that my students do not all sound identical, and I strive to help a student make their own individual decisions. I will point out when an idea is not convincing, but I will not enforce a single way of interpreting.
In the end, my approach to teaching is about finding out what a student wants, and helping them get there. If a student wants to become a professional musician, then I can help them to achieve that goal: showing them the standards that must be met, giving them the tools to reach those standards, and guiding them to the schools and teachers at the next level of education. For those who seek music simply out of joy rather than as a means of sustenance, I can help them to achieve their own goals--and perhaps push them just a little bit farther than they would on their own. The lessons that I teach--active listening, identifying issues, and coming up with solutions--will accompany them in any field, music or otherwise.
Some of my “teaching tools” are aimed at immediate improvement. These are the variables that are relatively simple and easy to articulate: for the right hand, bow speed, pressure, and sounding point; for the left hand, hand posture and finger position. These issues are easy for the student to understand. Unfortunately, they are also easy to forget, until good habits are established. By the end of a semester of teaching, I am typically asking the student what he or she could do to fix an issue, and they are responding with the correct fix. Even passages that are difficult for the left hand are made immediately less difficult through proper preparation and anticipation by the fingers. Rather than simply starting slow and speeding up the tempo, I devise exercises for the left hand that train the fingers to be where they need to be, before they need to be there.
But not all the problems of violin are so simply solved. Certain traits can only be long term goals, to be achieved through constant vigilance. Among these: consistent and conscious sounding point; purposeful vibrato; and proper and non-injurious posture. Intonation is also a habit, to be constantly trained and improved. I liken it to hitting a target with an arrow. Sure, one can be successful simply by hitting the bullseye. A true marksman will aim for the center of that bullseye, and the best of the best will aim for the center of the center. I rely on both digital tuners and perfect intervals (fourths and fifths) to train the ears of my students. Those who study with me also know that I myself use these tools; the battle for intonation is never complete.
All of this would be useless without conscious listening. This is as much a matter of will as it is something learned. It is all too easy to hear what one wants to hear, rather than what is actually coming out of the instrument. A musician should make decisions about bow control based on the sound that is being produced. Although certain things are universal among violins, I am careful to occasionally demonstrate on a student's instrument, partly to show that it can be done and partly to discover what weaknesses in their playing might be due to their equipment. I also encourage my students to record themselves for the purpose of listening to themselves. Often one can discover issues through this new perspective. This is also why I believe in the importance of studio class. Hearing a classmate make the same mistake is much more powerful on the memory than hearing a teacher point something out repeatedly.
In the midst of all this instructing, I am acutely aware that I am also helping a student to craft his or her individual voice. Historical performance practice and knowledge of editions is something that comes up often in lessons. However, I prefer that my students do not all sound identical, and I strive to help a student make their own individual decisions. I will point out when an idea is not convincing, but I will not enforce a single way of interpreting.
In the end, my approach to teaching is about finding out what a student wants, and helping them get there. If a student wants to become a professional musician, then I can help them to achieve that goal: showing them the standards that must be met, giving them the tools to reach those standards, and guiding them to the schools and teachers at the next level of education. For those who seek music simply out of joy rather than as a means of sustenance, I can help them to achieve their own goals--and perhaps push them just a little bit farther than they would on their own. The lessons that I teach--active listening, identifying issues, and coming up with solutions--will accompany them in any field, music or otherwise.