The circle of life...and teaching
Today I was thinking about how many of my students are long term; that is, those who have been with me since I started teaching here in Columbus. Discovering that only a handful out of 40 have stuck with me for the last 3-4 years kind of depressed me, but then I realized that most teachers probably experience the same statistics. Ryan once told me that every teacher probably only really has a couple of good students for every hundred students they ever have.
I find it interesting that the ones who have remained with me have families who are very involved in their musical endeavors and are pretty strict--or at least respect my instruction and strive to repeat what we do in the lessons. The ones who don't get any help from parents or just have a problem with a teacher who continually tells them to practice (the nerve!) have fallen off the radar and I probably will never see them again.
I used to get bitter and a little hurt whenever I received an email from a parent that basically said, 'hey, you've done a great job, but Tommy wants to play the fiddle, so this week will be our last lesson and we've already found a new teacher...." I could always tell when it was coming--usually the first sign was the deflated behavior from the student: dragging their feet into my studio, not smiling when I greeted them, continually looking at the clock to see if the lesson was almost over--those students are always the hardest for me to teach. Knowing that they have no interest whatsoever in improving makes my job that much harder. So when I lost a good number of "bad apples" this past summer, I was a little bitter, because I did put time and effort into trying to help them become better players, and I would silently blame the parents for not realizing that they should have also gotten involved. A little bitter, too, because I knew that whoever they chose next would not have anywhere near the experience or training I've had.
And then I realized--losing students like that is...good! I mean, it was sort of a blessing after several weeks went by without having to teach those types of students anymore. I was happier, I had more energy and focus to give to my good students who deserved that from me, and of course over time, I forgot about the students who "scorned" me. I know it's nothing personal on their end, and I don't get bitter anymore because I know it is inevitable: my students will leave me and move on. Some will become devoted to other things in their lives and find that they don't have any more room for music; others will stay with me for as long as I'll have them until maybe they graduate and go to college; and some will perhaps outgrow me and I will have no choice but to refer to them to an even better teacher.
Thinking about all of this today in my studio while I had a break started to make me feel sentimental, and I realized that I haven't felt like this about my students EVER. For the past three and a half years that I"ve lived in Columbus, all I could think about was the day I could get out of here. Today, for the first time, I actually envisioned myself staying and making a life here. And all because I realized that I love my students.
There are days I hate it and days I love it but I do know one thing's for certain--no matter what I find myself doing, I will always teach.
I find it interesting that the ones who have remained with me have families who are very involved in their musical endeavors and are pretty strict--or at least respect my instruction and strive to repeat what we do in the lessons. The ones who don't get any help from parents or just have a problem with a teacher who continually tells them to practice (the nerve!) have fallen off the radar and I probably will never see them again.
I used to get bitter and a little hurt whenever I received an email from a parent that basically said, 'hey, you've done a great job, but Tommy wants to play the fiddle, so this week will be our last lesson and we've already found a new teacher...." I could always tell when it was coming--usually the first sign was the deflated behavior from the student: dragging their feet into my studio, not smiling when I greeted them, continually looking at the clock to see if the lesson was almost over--those students are always the hardest for me to teach. Knowing that they have no interest whatsoever in improving makes my job that much harder. So when I lost a good number of "bad apples" this past summer, I was a little bitter, because I did put time and effort into trying to help them become better players, and I would silently blame the parents for not realizing that they should have also gotten involved. A little bitter, too, because I knew that whoever they chose next would not have anywhere near the experience or training I've had.
And then I realized--losing students like that is...good! I mean, it was sort of a blessing after several weeks went by without having to teach those types of students anymore. I was happier, I had more energy and focus to give to my good students who deserved that from me, and of course over time, I forgot about the students who "scorned" me. I know it's nothing personal on their end, and I don't get bitter anymore because I know it is inevitable: my students will leave me and move on. Some will become devoted to other things in their lives and find that they don't have any more room for music; others will stay with me for as long as I'll have them until maybe they graduate and go to college; and some will perhaps outgrow me and I will have no choice but to refer to them to an even better teacher.
Thinking about all of this today in my studio while I had a break started to make me feel sentimental, and I realized that I haven't felt like this about my students EVER. For the past three and a half years that I"ve lived in Columbus, all I could think about was the day I could get out of here. Today, for the first time, I actually envisioned myself staying and making a life here. And all because I realized that I love my students.
There are days I hate it and days I love it but I do know one thing's for certain--no matter what I find myself doing, I will always teach.
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