Recently, a colleague and friend decided to go on a trip to New York. While he was there, he made a post on Facebook about the reasons music majors choose to perform or teach. Since that post, I've been rolling over in my head why it is some people are drawn to teach and some are drawn to perform.
On a basic level, there is some practicality to it. Some people know they don't practice enough, too much competition for their instrument, don't want to deal with the financial realities of freelancing, etc. But we all know music teachers who are legitimately good enough to perform professionally (and many do, when the schedule allows it). So that's not all it. And those of us in the profession certainly know music teachers who chose that practical route without realizing the reality of teaching and all the politics and struggle---and they either become cynical and bitter or they burn out and quit.
The only conclusion then is that, for the majority of music teachers and performers, there is something more going on. A more subtle pull one direction or the other. And while I was out in my garden this afternoon cutting herbs and pulling vegetables for dinner I think I may have stumbled upon it. *sidenote* I may also have to give credit to a random tweet by Dr. Mitchell Robinson asking about the appeal of Blue Apron....
For performers, rehearsing and learning are a necessary tool to get the product they are aiming for. They may love or hate it, but in essence it is just part of what makes performing "work."
For teachers, we absolutely revel in the process of learning. It's what gets us out of bed in the morning (or keeps us up late at night). And I think that distinction specifically, is one of the reasons that performers who go to teach are often not totally satisfied with their career choice.
Going back to my garden to clarify. We moved into a new house this year. The soil in this neighborhood is quite different from anything I've ever put a garden in. So I made deliberate choices based on my prior knowledge to see how successful I could be. Seattle doesn't get that warm in the summer, so I chose a spot for my tomato plants up against the house facing west, where they not only get the warm afternoon sun for several hours, but also the extra heat coming off the house. In the Willamette Valley, I had trouble growing root vegetables because of maggots and slugs, in part because the riverbed soil holds a lot of water. The easily drained sandy soil I have now requires me to water more often, but I've had zero soil pests. So I planted carrots and grew them successfully with no trouble at all!
The point is that I don't get satisfaction just from the finished product (although that soup smells pretty amazing right now) but also from watching and experiencing the process. Think of this in terms of teaching. You plant a seed deliberately in a specific place in the soil. Maybe you put too many seeds in that spot. So you thin the seedlings out. Fertilize. Water. Protect from pests that might destroy the plant. Fertilize and water some more, until the plant is big enough to grow on its own. Maybe bolt and go to seed and replant itself! Find out where things have gone wrong, maybe the spinach was in a spot that got too hot and when you replant, you choose a different place in the soil. Is this not also how good teaching works? Plant, feed,
But the analogy follows that factory teaching, like factory farming, may give us more quantity of the product, but not better quality. Tomatoes grown in sand in Florida for McDonalds don't taste as good as the vine-ripened beefsteak in your own yard. Diversity prevents pests. Planting too close together keeps the roots from getting deep enough, and often stunts their growth. But the point is that the successful gardener not only knows how to correct these problems, but is always looking for the better way to improve yield, and enjoys watching other people go through the process.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some seafood chowder to eat.
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