Masterclasses
One of the more enjoyable aspects of being a musician is that one gets to travel to so many different and vibrant cities. On tours, there are frequently invitations to give classes at the music schools of the places where one is performing. This can be great fun – and is a very good way of making friends in foreign parts, with both students and staff. (Also, since they will know the local scene, one can often get advice about restaurants etc in the area – VERY useful!) Since I take no private pupils, giving classes appeals particularly to the didactic part of my nature; apart from anything else, it gives me the chance to pass on the values which I inherited from the many great musicians with whom I studied – who were also in turn conscious of the importance of handing on the knowledge they’d acquired from their teachers. So on the whole I really enjoy these classes. In a way it’s of limited value to the students, I know, since it’s generally only one lesson, and a short one at that; but one can at least try to put across some fresh ideas (or familiar ideas in a fresh voice) to be pondered when the young players are next working by themselves.
There are a few rules, though, which I think should be followed both by teachers and by students. A few years ago, I was foolish enough to click on a newly-posted video that featured a class I gave at a German festival ages ago. I couldn’t believe how unnecessarily sarcastic I was – to someone whom I liked a lot. (Actually, I’m now godfather to his son, so my attitude can’t have done any lasting damage to our relationship; but that’s because he’s a very forgiving type. If I treated anyone else with sarcasm at that time, I apologise now!) Sarcasm, although an integral component of British humour, should only be used at public classes as a last resort, when one feels that the student is failing to treat the music with the respect it demands. I think that generally we teachers should assume that the student is doing his or her best; our job is to help them achieve their musical goals, We should NOT (note to my younger self – or perhaps to my present self too, a bit) make jokes at the student’s expense, if that might undermine their confidence.
We should also refrain from criticising their teachers. I experienced that from the other side at the age of 15, and it was traumatic. I played for Antonio Janigro, a very great cellist whom I admired (and still admire) hugely. I played him the first movement of Brahms’ E minor sonata. There was a pause; and then he said, through an interpreter, that I was very talented, but that he disagreed absolutely with everything my teacher had taught me – basically, that I was being taught all wrong. As a 15-year-old, I was completely confused; who was right? It ended up with my very nearly leaving my teacher Jane Cowan and going to study with Janigro instead; I’m very glad now that I didn’t in the end follow that course, fine teacher though he was. On the other hand, as a guest teacher, there have been many occasions where I have seen young musicians struggling with technical issues, or completely ignoring the score and its meaning, where I have felt that bad teaching has been the problem. What to do then? Subtlety is, I think the order of the day. If it’s a child, one can have a quiet word with the parents, and at least alert them to the issue; if it’s an older student – hmmm…that IS a conundrum. One can only point out that they shouldn’t be struggling in the way they are, and hope that they will be motivated to find a solution to the problem themselves.
So my conclusion is that we visiting profs must treat both students and their teachers with respect, and do our best to inspire the young players to reach a higher level. We’re all, in our various ways, just trying to do justice to the music, after all.
And rules for the students? Well, as a teacher I know I can speak for all of my colleagues when I say that what we like is a young player who comes to a class, not to show off what he or she can do, and not with a defensive attitude, but hoping to learn something. I get annoyed when, in the short time available, a student brings some virtuoso piece with which they merely want to show off their dexterity; or – conversely – a student massacres some great work and then informs you (and the other listeners) that they’re sorry, they only looked at it for the first time yesterday. What good is a lesson going to do if they haven’t yet learned the piece? Or there are students whose one aim is to tell you about their theories, and to score points. I have a good friend who was teaching a piano class, in which a young boy was playing one of the major Schumann works. The boy finished, got up, and gave a huge bow to the audience, who dutifully applauded. My friend complimented him, and then made a suggestion about over-pedalling at one point. ‘Oh,’ said the boy, looking at the audience meaningfully. ‘So you don’t think one should use the pedal in Schumann?’ (Sarcasm is not allowed for students either – especially not stupid sarcasm!) I think that, as we teachers must assume that the student is generally doing the best they can, students have to assume that we teachers are there because we really want to help.
It’s amazing how much difference a good attitude can make to the atmosphere. I remember once giving a class in an American college. A friend who was a professor there informed me that one of the participants wanted to play some modern work, about which I knew nothing. I threw a prima donna fit, saying I didn’t want to teach that piece, wasn’t going to do it, etc. The teacher sensibly ignored my tantrum, assuring me that I wouldn’t have to spend long on it – I could just listen to the boy play, make some general comments and then go on to the next player. The allotted time arrived. I sat onstage sulking, dreading this lesson; and then the door opened, and the young boy came on with a face so open, so positive, so obviously wanting and expecting a good experience that all my sulks melted – and I think I can say that it was a useful session for us both.
So to sum up: in order to give a useful, worthwhile class, I’d say to teachers ‘you’re there to support, not to show off’; and to students ‘you’re there to learn, not to show off.’ And then hopefully a good time should be had by all…
