"I'm being patient with you. I need you to be patient with you."
Sometimes, when I'm trying to phrase things in the most direct way possible for my youngest students, I stumble upon an idea that I didn't know I had. This comment was directed at a precocious seven-year-old, who was not understanding a concept right away and was sure that he simply wouldn't be able to. I had complete faith in his ability to understand it, and my ability to explain it, but he simply lost his own patience -- and rejected mine.
I can be patient with you, student. I need YOU to be patient with you!
I can remember being on the other side of this, being a self-conscious graduate student at Indiana University. Though I had an undergraduate degree in music, I was not studying music in graduate school. But I was taking violin lessons and while doing so, I was getting a complete overhaul of my bow arm. I knew I needed it. I was keyed up to do whatever my teacher said, and I thought I was being patient. But after about the fourth week of martelé strokes on open strings (no repertoire, no etudes) I was sure that my teacher, Henryk Kowalski, was rolling his eyes, ready to check out of having to listen to this student with her boring open A strings. After all, I was also a lowly non-major.
One lesson, after about a half-hour of deep concentration on open-string bow strokes, I couldn't help asking. "Are you tired of listening to my open 'A' strings?"
He looked at me like I'd hurled the biggest insult imaginable at him. "Absolutely NOT!" he boomed. "I am VERY INTERESTED in your open 'A' strings! CONTINUE!"
I was completely flabbergasted, and I wasn't even sure why. I did know one thing: I had a real teacher. He was ready to stay with me until I'd figured this thing out. It wasn't so simple, to completely change my right-hand technique and then produce an absolutely pristine sound with every stroke. But he was determined that I was going to get there, and we weren't about to stop short of the goal. Maybe I was beginning to think that there was a shortcut, but he knew there was not. He was going to show me the way, the long and necessary way.
He actually did lose patience with me, but it was only when I lost patience with myself. After that, we both stayed the course, and in a few months, my bow hand and arm was truly transformed, something I'd been seeking for years.
So be patient with yourself and trust a teacher who is patient with you. It may seem like your teacher wishes you'd move along faster, but oftentimes the only person trying to hurry the process is you!Tweet
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