The performing piano teacher

Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. It’s an ugly statement that we’ve heard many times and it lingers because underneath our teacherly indignation, we sense a whiff of truth in it. This truism is particularly relevant in music teaching. Any instructor who’s a member of any music organization in any country has seen the trend: teachers who proudly hang copies of their university diplomas in their studios and then never play publicly again. It seems odd that a performance-based art form such as playing the piano would lead to so few teachers actually playing the piano, but it’s a depressing truth seen everywhere.

I know several excellent teachers who left the concert stage to focus solely on teaching. These inspiring individuals continue to practice daily and demonstrate in their lessons. They are content with who they are and what they’ve accomplished. This post isn’t for them. This is for those teachers who buried their dreams of performing under the daily routines of life and teaching. This is for the instructors whose love of playing got blocked—pianists who look at their performing colleagues with awe or envy and don’t take the risk of sharing their own music with others.

As a performing pianist, I was in the minority in my teaching organizations. I’ve always thought this was a shame because I believe that regular performing leads to better teaching. When we perform, we practice deeply and with consistency. We become adept at managing the nerves and pitfalls we encounter when we play publicly. Best of all, our students see that we practice what we preach in lessons and they’re more likely to accept the advice we offer.

I’ve had multiple conversations with non-performing teachers about their reticence to play publicly. In every circumstance, under all the reasons they offered, lay the same root cause: fear. They feared that their technique wasn’t what it was when they were younger. They feared putting themselves out there and failing in front of their students and colleagues. Many of them spoke of bad performance experiences in their past. And in all but a few of their voices, I heard the wistful sound of lost dreams.

Fear is a tricky beast. It matters little whether it’s grounded in truth or misconception. Once it grabs hold, it takes control. Attempting to battle it directly never works. We may bolster ourselves with all the logic we want, but fear laughs at logic, takes control of the body’s responses, and doesn’t let go until the perceived threat is gone. And let’s admit it: putting ourselves on stage is scary stuff, especially if we carry memories of poor performances in the past. The threat of judgment and failure is real.

And let’s talk about another nasty little truth: many of the teachers who don’t perform are bitter. Their denied dreams eat away at them and when their colleagues dare to walk out on stage and do what they haven’t given themselves permission to do, they turn on them. These sad creatures live on schadenfreude. They thrive on the failures of others. Why? Because, in their cramped worlds, it excuses their own inaction. Knowing that one is likely to see at least a few of these bitter souls in the audience keeps quite a few teachers off the stage.

So how do some teachers work through their fear of performing and find joy and freedom at the piano? Here are some ideas that worked for me:

Identify what frightens you

Do you fear playing a solo? Are you terrified by the idea of playing from memory? Are you afraid that your skills weren’t what they used to be? This is the time to listen to yourself and list out every fear you can think of—preferably in writing. Study this list. Perhaps you can perform as part of an ensemble, or maybe you choose to use music when you play. Maybe you make the wise choice to play something below your playing level. List out possible answers to your fear(s) and see if this frees you to take an alternative route to playing in public.

Desensitize yourself

Make a list from 1-10 with 1 being the least stressful playing experience you can have and 10 being the most frightening. Make sure each thing you list is something you want to be able to do someday. Your next step? Start with number 1 on the list. Keep playing at that level until it feels easy and natural then move on to number 2. You may be surprised how quickly you find yourself playing comfortably for other people.

Play something you love

Throw away every preconception you have about what you should or shouldn’t be playing and choose a piece you love deeply and feel you play from the heart. This helps us to think of performances as less of a presentation and more of an exercise in sharing a gift.

Play something below your playing level

Why put yourself on a proverbial tight wire your first time out? Play something you know you could play well on any piano (even after a glass of wine) and you’re likely to have a good performing experience.

Play unfamiliar music

One of the benefits of playing music most other pianists don’t know is that they don’t have preconceptions of how it’s supposed to sound. If you mess up Chopin’s “Revolutionary Étude,” everyone knows it. If you botch a section of an unfamiliar piece, no one needs know.

Start Small

If you haven’t performed since university, I recommend a gentle return to the stage. Play one piece on a multi-teacher program. Consider playing 4-hand music with another pianist, or perhaps providing solo music at church or at a social event. Your goal may be to one day play a full solo recital, but give yourself a break and work into that with smaller wins.

Choose your friends wisely

Make friends with other teachers who perform. Yes, some of your non-performing friends will be supportive of your choice to play publicly, but one or two will likely attempt to undermine your efforts. Surround yourself with fellow teachers who are doing what you’re doing. They’re the ones who will be most supportive of you because they know just how difficult it is to put yourself out there by walking out on stage.

When you do begin to play for others, this is your moment to celebrate. Play with gratitude and joy. If you—like I—are living in a relatively peaceful country, bombs aren’t falling on you. You have a roof over your head and food in your fridge. And when the nerves and sense of inadequacy hit (and they will), remember this: You have beauty, vision, hope, and love in your fingertips. Through the power of music you have the ability to offer these things to others. And perhaps, through the notes all of us are brave enough to play, we can make the world a little warmer and kinder for everyone.