SO WHAT REALLY HAPPENED?:

At our next session, we both sat on the piano bench and Isabella began to play “Oh Susanna,” reacting to each mistake as she had in the previous lesson. The next time she paused, I said, “Isabella, look at me.” She turned around. I said, “I know what it feels like when you want to figure something out by yourself, but someone keeps trying to “help” you (showed quotes with fingers). We grown-ups do that a lot, and I’ve done it with you myself, right?” “Yup!” She nodded enthusiastically. “So I will make a deal with you. I will sit here next to you, but will not say one single word. I won’t correct your mistakes, give you suggestions, or help you in any way unless… you turn around and BEG me. Until you do that, not a sound will you hear from me. This is a promise. Do you trust me?” Isabella seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. “Yes,” she said.

I am sorry that I did not have a video camera to capture the transformation. Isabella’s shoulders and hands relaxed. Her breathing deepened. Although there was still some tongue clucking when she made a mistake, her shouts of “No—wait—just a second!” entirely disappeared. Although it was a quite a challenge to refrain from offering suggestions, and kind of awkward to just sit there in silence, I stuck to the deal. Why did I choose to remain at Isabella’s side rather than walk away? Because I wanted her to know that it is possible for a teacher to be right there showing interest and support without imposing her will. As time went on, staying out of the way came to
feel more natural—even Zen—and my willingness to take on the role of space holder did wonders for Isabella.

CONSIDER...

All creative endeavors sprout from problem solving: learning from one’s mistakes to move beyond them. Would Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony have been as great an achievement had he not struggled to write it? But because our culture favors getting information quickly and easily, the value of process, along with the possibility of the teacher facilitating process, gets overlooked. Children are, by nature, problem solvers. From infanthood, their intuitive way of learning is to experiment and figure things out. As adults, we marvel at young children’s ingenuity, and delight in each child’s unique way of strategizing. But beginning at around age 5, when children are considered ready for formal schooling or lessons, learning takes on a whole different meaning: Teachers input and students respond. From then on, and for the duration of the child’s schooling, students will be trained to look to external sources for results rather than to internal processes for strategies. By feeling the need to be always inputting, teachers miss the opportunity to stay out ofthe way in order to allow students time and space to connect with their own minds.

This would explain why Isabella was so agitated by the mere presence of a teacher. She must have known from experience that if she made a mistake or stopped for any reason, the teacher would jump in to fix, show, critique, suggest, or explain. Some students are able to accept this as being the nature of the teacher-student relationship. But to the Isabellas of the world, there is a feeling of something precious having been stolen. By trying to “help” her, I had placed myself squarely between her and what she wanted to achieve. Choosing to remain silent yet available had the powerful effect of restoring to Isabella what was rightly hers: the chance to connect with her natural process.

Suppose you want to figure something out for yourself. How would it feel to know that whoever was in charge of your experience was never going to allow you to do that?