When I began my teaching career, I was all business. I felt like it was my job to cram as much content as possible into each lesson – after all, I had to make sure my students would learn as quickly as possible and that they were getting their money’s worth out of their time with me!
So you know verismo now? Show me!
The opera stage is not the Matrix, though, and I have since come to appreciate that you can’t teach voice by just trying to upload a ton of content to a student’s brain (at least not yet). You can’t learn a physical discipline like karate by installing software, and the same is true of singing. We learn to sing through the gradual development, habituation, and integration of a sophisticated collection of skills, and the mark of a great teacher is not how quickly they deliver the concepts but how elegantly they help each singer lay the groundwork for a stellar, balanced technique and then continue to expand their abilities. This requires not only pedagogical knowledge and skill but also a deep appreciation for each student’s learning process and the ability to empathize with their experiences throughout their development.
I continue to put a lot of thought into how to structure lessons to make them more effective, accelerate progress and improve retention, but lately I’ve been reflecting more on what it feels like to be on the receiving end of great instruction and the importance of the dynamic I have with each student. It’s something that we create together, but I’m the one who is responsible for setting the tone. So I’ve been considering what it feels like to be on the receiving end of good instruction, and I invite you to as well:
- I feel seen. The teacher gets me. They understand my aspirations, my learning style, and my concerns.
- I feel heard. They understand my voice, what I can and can’t do with it, and what I’d like to be able to do better.
- I feel supported. They genuinely want me to achieve my desires and they believe that I can. They hang in there with me when challenges arise.
- I am credulous. The teacher has earned my trust, so I am willing to try whatever they suggest even when it feels risky or doesn’t make sense to me at first.
- I feel safe. I have the freedom to make ugly noises, make mistakes, and expose my weaknesses because I can trust the teacher to respond with empathy rather than judgment.
- I feel like we’re in this together. The teacher is the one steering the session, but they’re responsive to my priorities and questions and are interested in my observations.
When I turn this around and put my teacher hat back on, it becomes clear that creating a learning environment that fulfills all of this for the student is at least as important as the content I want to share with them. If I want to teach them effectively, I need to understand their goals and experiences. They need to feel supported, and safe taking risks. And the longer I do this, the more I appreciate how important it is to pay close attention when students share observations about their own singing. While I can make a strong educated guess about what they are doing and what it feels like, only they know what it’s like to play their instrument and the sensory and aural feedback they are getting from their own bodies. This is really valuable information that can direct the application of my methods and the language I use to describe them.
By contrast, many of us have had voice teachers whose bedside manner, if you will, has room for improvement. Dana Lynne Varga’s recent blog post on Healthy Student-Teacher Relationships includes a list of red flags that indicate a poor or toxic studio environment, and I’ve experienced a number of these first-hand: the teacher that maligns colleagues and students, the one who regularly interrupts lessons with long phone calls, the teacher who blames the student for their failure to improve. I once had a teacher insist that I had a learning disability because I wasn’t responding well to their [inadequate] instruction. But even a voice teacher with mad pedagogical skills whose studio has produced a star or two grossly undermines their own effectiveness when they fail to create a positive, supportive studio environment.
I care a lot about the content I offer. One of the things I find most satisfying about my job is exploring ways to make my teaching increasingly accessible and effective. But if you asked me which attribute makes for the more effective voice teacher, competence or compassion, at this point I’d vote for compassion. Even given the very best instruction, singers have to figure out a lot for themselves, and learning to trust their own instincts and expressive impulses is a vital part of their development. A teacher who might not have the skill to help a student release their tongue root or get their coloratura up to speed but who exudes encouragement and helps them feel strong enough to take risks is preferable to the teacher who does have these skills but inspires a level of dread that makes them shut down their breathing and tighten up their neck muscles for fear of making a mistake. And the compassionate teacher is more likely to have the humility to realize that they don’t have everything the student needs and will either expand on their skills or encourage them to seek additional help elsewhere.
In my opinion, the fundamental qualities that make for a great artist are vulnerability, creativity, authenticity, empathy and generosity. These qualities may manifest through displays of great vocal beauty, power, virtuosity and stamina, but for me they are prerequisites. While we can point to examples of brilliant, successful artists who do not have a reputation for kindness, we can also see that those who do embody qualities like empathy and generosity are able to have a much greater impact on our community and become powerful ambassadors for the art form. They are probably also happier, more fulfilled people.
It begins in the studio. When we show our students kindness and help them to feel supported and seen, we send a message that their voice, what they have to say, who they fundamentally are, matters. Whether or not they go on to have a career in singing, that is perhaps the most important lesson any of us can learn.
Thanks for reading! For more information on my voice studio, teaching philosophy and other offerings, please visit my website.
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