What Learning Music Really Teaches You
One thing that I don't think people are prepared for is that music can be a window into yourself—sometimes a side of yourself you haven't seen before.
If you asked new music learners what they thought lessons would be like before beginning, I bet a large number would give you adjectives like "fun," "challenging," "rewarding," etc. Music can be and is all those things. But one thing that I don't think people are prepared for is that music can also be a window into yourself—sometimes a side of yourself you haven't seen before. This can be confronting. In fact, I've had more than one student cry in lessons.
Now, before you go thinking I'm like one of those Whiplash-style teachers, one of the students in question is my sister. And I'm confident (or at least hopeful) that she will go on the record saying that it is not my teaching style but rather the act of learning itself that is responsible. Music exercises the brain in ways that many adult students haven't experienced before. When children learn music, they tend to accept the cognitive challenges it poses without question. They are used to new experiences—their whole life is new experiences. However, as we grow older, the world becomes more familiar. When an adult who has always loved listening to music tries their hand at it for the first time, the unique cognitive challenges it throws up can take them unawares, sneaking behind psychological guards erected over a lifetime. Add to this the fact that learning to play music is often the dear wish of the adult learner, and you can see how it's a recipe for emotional upheaval.
I think it's important to be open about this aspect of music. We always talk about learning music as a wholly positive experience—and it is, in the long run!
As someone who has taught many adult students over my teaching career, I've seen music's sneaky side play out in all number of ways. Many of my students come to me newly retired from successful professional careers. They are doctors, business people, engineers, architects, computer programmers—highly intelligent and used to tackling problems in creative ways. It can be especially confronting for such people (who are used to taking the initiative) to find that music has its own ideas about how their relationship will proceed.
One particular student stands out for me in this regard. He came to me with a dream of learning to play guitar. Initial progress was quick due to his application and overall intelligence. Spurred on by these achievements, he bought a better guitar and doubled down on his project of becoming proficient.
A couple of years after taking him on as a student, I left for an extended trip to Europe, taking several months off from teaching. He had been preparing a classical graded exam, and I suggested that a way to keep motivated in my absence would be to enroll in the exam. Upon my return to Australia, I got a call from him. He was his usual kind self, keen to hear about my travels. I was struck, however, when he said that he would not be continuing with lessons, or even with the guitar. The exam had been a harrowing experience. While well-prepared, he had seized up when it came time to play the pieces for the examiner. He had not passed, and for him that was proof enough that learning music was a hopeless pursuit. I tried to talk him out of it, pointing out that many great musicians have horror stories about exams, but his mind was made up. Music was not for him. He would, of course, continue to attend concerts and enjoy music as he'd done before learning guitar, but he was not going to be "a musician."
I felt terrible about this, especially since it was me who had encouraged him to sit the exam. There's something for all of us to learn from his story. As a teacher, I learned the idea of an exam for motivational purposes is flawed. From a student's perspective, I think it's important to realize that there is baggage that one brings to learning music. Most of us have a pretty established sense of self, and we bring this sense of self to music. Trouble is, music often wants to show us something about ourselves that we don't already know. For anyone more than 20 years old, that can be a daunting proposition.
After so many years teaching and playing music, the advice I would give to others, and to myself, is: be present with the music. Don't think you are in control. Some days, music will reward you in the way you thought it would coming into lessons; other days it will make you (and, yes, me) feel very insignificant. And that's just the way it should be.