Teaching Philosophy

Music is deeply personal. The action of music-making is vulnerable, expressive, and passionate. It is intrinsic to our very nature as humans—and yet, performing in the presence of peers is one of the most terrifying concepts for a developing adolescent. All too often, secondary school students turn away from their instruments with the defeated mentality that they will never be good enough. In high school, I remember watching my classmates break down into tears when they messed up a playing exam or received a chair ranking that was lower than the previous semester. I, too, would shake uncontrollably when it was my turn to share my individual progress with the class, because I put all of my self-worth in my ability to manipulate the mechanics of an instrument. I began to resent the violin, the stifling walls of the orchestra room, and the critical eye of my conductor.

 

In my sophomore year of high school, I joined the marching band. On a secondary instrument, there was none of the pressure to be perfect. I wasn’t afraid of being judged for my mistakes or playing ability, and everyone worked together instead of against one another. Rehearsals were loud, free, and alive. I had forgotten that music could be—should be—fun. What was stopping orchestra class from feeling the same way? When I became orchestra president my senior year, the very first thing I did was organize a class cookout in the park. We played games, learned each other’s names, and established ourselves as people, not just instruments. The classroom culture shifted almost immediately once we started listening to each other to connect, not compare. I found myself looking forward to orchestra class and finding joy in the aspects of my playing that made me unique, not imperfect. This was the year that I discovered my passion for music education.

 

As an educator, I strongly believe that all students are musicians the moment they create sound. I strive to create a comfortable environment for my students where they feel inspired to create, experiment, and express without the fear of judgment or competition. Instead of being caught up in the comparison game, I want my students to understand that musicianship is not measured through technical ability. Of course, playing in tune is important, but notes lose their meaning if there is no emotion or conviction behind them. For many students, music functions as a major part of their identity and can even provide them with a sense of purpose. However, I understand that most of my students will not go on to pursue music professionally—and that’s okay! My main goal as a music teacher is to equip them with the skills to experience basic music-making in their daily lives. If just one student feels more comfortable singing “happy birthday” at their friend's birthday party, or can clap along to the radio in the car, then I have succeeded in adding even a little more music and joy into their lives. As a teacher, I play a delicate role in encouraging them to be the best musician they can be while also respecting the rawness and vulnerability of their musical offerings.