But first, do no harm

My relationship with teaching

I attended a concert of 21st-century string quartets where one of the composers spoke about his teacher and mentor of over 50 years. He asked the audience to think of their first mentor and the significance that they made in their lives. I felt blessed to have so many names swirling through my head; many of them are reading this very newsletter. And what was the thing in common among my mentors? Compassion and care. 

As I’ve been building up my voice studio, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I needed in a teacher when I was my most insecure, confident, inspired, and confused. Singing is such a vulnerable art form, regardless of level and experience. Our voices are our bodies and minds and it can be a reflection of the state we’re in. Criticism of our instrument can feel like a direct attack when people aren’t careful. Remy Bazerque of Enfant Terrible wrote an excellent piece on constructive criticism, and I highly recommend you check it out.

I remember a teacher once saying “ew” when I made a sound he didn’t like. And I was very young. I remember feeling highly frustrated in undergrad and then having a coaching that changed my life. It felt as if no one was invested in my growth, nor did people think I had anything to offer. I was singing Duparc’s Chanson Triste, and as the piece ended, my coach looked at me teary-eyed and said, “You are not finished.” I still get emotional every time I think about it. I wish she was still around today to see how far I’ve come. I remember being proud of a performance only to see a text from a teacher criticizing my body rather than a congratulations. Years later, I was still deeply frustrated about what my voice was doing, and I felt that I didn’t have the team I needed to help me. I walked into a lesson with a new teacher expecting him to tell me what a mess my instrument was and how it would be a lot of work, but that he’d do me a “favor” by helping me. Instead, he told me I had a beautiful voice and that I already knew how to sing, and we were just going to build from where I was. Once again, I felt seen.

So, as I continue my teaching journey, I think of what I needed at different points. It all comes down to compassion. There’s a shortage of it in our industry, but it doesn’t have to continue that way. We remember how people made us feel more than what they said. Doing no harm is a mantra I aim to live by and I will do everything in my power not to be a memory of pain for any student.