“The Case of the Piano Dropout” by Albert Rozin
Music Journal February 1967
“Andy, tell your new teacher what is your favorite key on the piano,” suggested Mrs. Miller to her nine-year-old son. “The key that locks the piano,” answered Andy sulkily, much to his mother’s embarrassment. I found his answer very amusing and disturbing at the same time. Why should this young boy have this hostility toward the piano, and how could I possibly succeed in winning him over? These challenging thoughts ran through my mind during the interview prior to his first lesson.
After talking to this boy for a while, I didn’t blame him for his precocious answer. He told me that during the six months that he “studied” his teacher hardly allowed him to play the instrument. All he was taught were scales and theory, with promises that this background was essential towards eventual good piano playing. I was amazed to learn that he did know the signatures of the major keys, but alas, he could hardly read a simple five-finger position piece. Oh yes, he did play some early pages from Beyer’s book. Why should his mind have been so cluttered with such irrelevant information at such an elementary level? When I left him that day he was able to play a few brief pieces from an easy, up-to-date book, and it took me a few months to regain his confidence and interest in music and piano.
I have met many like Andy. I have interviewed youngsters who showed me postcards which their former teachers would mail them a few times a week. They read like a doctor's prescription. “Dear Joan: Play your scales twelve times a day, practice your Hanon six times, twice daily. Play the second page of the Sonatine five times a day, and don’t forget to always keep your fingers curved.”
Some teachers still apply the ancient practice of balancing pennies on their students’ knuckles during scale practicing. What about the “one piece” student? He plays the first movement of the “Moonlight Sonata” fairly well, but cannot read an elementary piece. No wonder! The teacher kept him at it for six months, forbidding him to pay any other piece until this one was perfected. One can safely say that this composition was learned chiefly by rote, since this student has had little experience reading and playing anything else. Have you ever seen music pages that are so marked up with directions that they look like a Jackson Pollock canvas? Teachers who deface music in this manner are over-conscientious in a misguided way.
The above are but a few examples of behavior to be held responsible for many piano dropouts. How can a teacher retain a child’s interest with such a rigid approach? This teacher applies the same approach and method to everyone. This is often the teacher who doesn’t belong to a teacher group or forum, and does not attend conventions. He doesn’t attend workshops where new ideas for modern teaching and new materials are discussed. He sits in an ivory tower, limiting himself to the methods and materials of a generation ago.
Most of the youngsters are average musically, and a teacher must not envisage in every prospect a potential Van Cliburn. Once must work with the material he possesses and I strongly believe that every child should be given an opportunity to study music. If a child is gifted, he will grow naturally, and even an inadequate teacher will not be able to thwart his desire to play. In most cases, the “greats” we know, beginning with Mozart, were not forced to practice. MOre often than not, it was hard to tear them away from the instrument.
Truthfully, the rigid teacher is not the only one to block the development of the child’s progress in music. Much blame must also go to the parents, predominantly the mother. I have had to telephone mothers on numerous occasions and lecture them on their self-defeating attitude. A case in point. The scene-provoking type of mother. On one occasion, after I had complimented one young student on her fine preparation of an assigned lesson, the mother immediately proceeded to negate it by complaining about her child’s poor report card from school. This episode concluded with a crying session for the embarrassed child. This is the same type of parent that keeps the piano in the basement so the child’s playing won’t annoy the father who comes home “too tired” to have to listen.
Then there is the threatening mother who warns, “If you won’t practice, I’ll stop your lessons.” This mother needs a good education. I usually suggest to her not to threaten in the first place, as she will succeed only in antagonizing the student. If, however, she does threaten, she must be prepared to carry it out. The child will one day say in disgust, “Okay, Mom, stop my lessons!” Then what? The mother has played her last card and there is no backing out. If she does, her further threats will be meaningless. I advise her to avoid nagging the child about practicing and leave this problem to the teacher who will handle it in his experienced way.
A lesson should be a pleasant experience for the child and not without some laughter, and a child should not fear his teacher. If the teacher’s personality is warm and projects enthusiasm, the child will in turn respect him, like him, and work productively. This brings me back to my own piano teacher, when I was about ten.
For four years, I was the most frightened boy in Brooklyn. How I dreaded Sundays when I would take a long trek to the upper Bronx. The Professor, a Russian who spoke no English, assigned to me Czerny, Op. 299 and the Little Preludes and Fugues of Bach, plus all the major and minor scales. This material was way above my level and I struggled painfully trying to learn it.
He would have me play my assigned music, always playing along one octave higher. His vocabulary was limited to two words which he was in the habit of repeating three times. They were, “Yes, yes, yes!” and “Practice, practice, practice!” It didn’t take me long to catch on, when he said, “yes, yes, yes,” he really meant “no, no, no,” as he would utter them shaking his head negatively. In the years that I was with him he never gave me a compliment or an encouraging comment. After the lesson, his usual parting words were “Practice, practice, practice!” Never did he explain to me the polyphonic style of Bach’s music, the harmonic analysis of the compositions I was practicing at that time. It was many years later when I began studying with a new teacher (who possessed a radiant personality), that I discovered to my amazement that the keyboard was composed of semitones. This man, who held no title of Professor, taught music in the school system. He was able to impart to me enthusiastically all the ABC’s of music that I lacked. He taught me theory and harmony, form and analysis, and at this time I also began studying the organ. Mr. G was an ardent student of the noted composer Rubin Goldmark, and my new teacher also encouraged me to compose. (Incidentally, when I attempted to play some of my compositions for the Professor, he would shrug them off and admonish me for taking time away from further practice.”
One may wonder why I didn’t drop the lessons with the Professor. Father, being a musician (French horn player) would often take me to concerts and operas, and to rehearsals whenever he performed. On those memorable occasions I had the opportunity to observe and listen to giants like Chaliapin, Rachmaninoff, Gabrilovich, and many other greats of that period.
When I began full-time private teaching, I vowed that I would be a sympathetic and warm friend to my younger students--to make a lesson a mutually joyful experience. I attempt to find something funny to say about the mistake that a student makes. If the student distorts a composition I say, “Well, I didn’t know you were a composer.” I take my pencil and lighty cross out Beethoven, and write the student’s name underneath. When a student complains about too many pages to learn, I say, “Take less but do it right.” When the student still protests when the assignment consists of but one page, claiming that he has too much school work, I say, “with tongue in cheek, “Why don’t you just learn the title for next week?”
I believe in giving the young student some familiar music of the day. Over the Rainbow has revived many sluggish young students. There are now fine and simplified editions on the market of music that children hear on TV or in the movies. They can learn phrasing and general musicianship from folk songs and other popular music of the better type, like The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, and Mary Poppins. It goes without saying that this form of music should be used as supplementary material to the classical, romantic, and contemporary forms of music.
Some teachers frown on arrangements. I have taught arrangements of well-known concertos with satisfying results. The argument that a student must play the original is fallacious. How many of our students ever reach the grade to enable them to play the original Grieg Concerto in A minor? A good modified arrangement will stimulate the young student. It is also a good way to acquaint the player with piano literature and it is also an excellent form of music appreciation.
Never assign a young student material that is above his level, as this practice will prove frustrating. He will rarely get the satisfied feeling of accomplishment if he has to study music that is technically too difficult for him.
I have stopped the irksome (to the student) habit of interrupting him at every measure to make a point. In most cases, I’ll let him complete the entire composition and always look for something complimentary to say about his work, be it only one line or even just a phrase, before discussing the faulty section.
When a mother complains in the presence of the student that her son hates to practice, I always shock her by saying (making sure that the student hears me), “I don’t blame him. I too hated to practice, but, I am not sorry I did, for my life is much richer because I did practice.” I always manage to add, significantly, that I have yet to meet the person who is sorry he learned to play the piano, but I do meet plenty of people who regret that they didn’t study. This is effective in most cases.
If we can adopt a flexible approach toward the young student, he will not fear us. He will produce and grow musically, and the number of dropouts will be reduced considerably. At times, I met parents of students I had when they were young children. Most of them are now away at college, and some are married. These parents tell me how grateful they are to me for instilling the love of good music in their children, and they are happier as a result of their early musical training. When I hear these compliments, I feel generously rewarded for patience and endurance. In the long run, a piano bench is preferable to the psychiatrist’s couch, and that applies to the teacher as well as the pupil.
