There are so many aspects in learning music. There’s the obvious mechanics and techniques. And then there’s the understanding of music itself. What are you trying to convey with your technique? Are you re-iterating in sound the 2D score or actually transforming it into 3D reality? And then there’s the profound skill of listening, where it needs to expand past the contextual (listening for wrong notes, or intonation, etc.). Moreover, it is a somewhat intangible skill that could be easily lost if not being worked on constantly. (Sensitivity - about anything- requires continual cultivation.)

The following videos are an example of the multitudes of factors involved in learning how to play (even just something this simple) that involve both the broad and the deep. The cognitive work that helps a 6 year-old understand what they’re doing, and to learn discernment (that’s a BIG one in my belief). The very demanding and even tedious intonation work. An element of play in the process where they are also allowed the freedom to be expressive and, hopefully the teacher being able to recognize or learn about what they need precisely from said expression. We were working on the movement of the feet when he started to play-sway, against my instructions. I stopped him at first, but immediately realized that his was a great idea and in fact probably what he needed. So we incorporated that into what we were doing and it was made 10 times more effective! (As you can see in the first video-this natural slight swaying with the music and movement of playing.)

And to to do all of this work while helping students develop the intrinsic motivation to learn, to improve. So it’s also play. So it’s fun. FUN. I often have a hard time with the word “fun” in music, because so often having fun is used in a way as in we don’t have to be so serious about something. Like it’s not a “serious” concert or occasion, that we could get away with stuff. (I don’t mean that I feel we should be harshly perfectionistic all the time. I like a casual chamber music reading party as much as the next person… it’s a nuanced thing.)

You know how some people have a handful of self-defining stories where our whole system of values rests on. Here’s one of mine:

Many years ago I took a day trip to this lake with my friend Jennifer and her son Camillo. He was building a sandcastle by himself when a boy he didn’t know came to join him. It was fascinating to see the whole interaction between the two boys. There were no big introductions - it was almost an implicit agreement that they would now play together. They were playing mostly silently, only talking when they needed to discuss the task at hand, and I was struck by just how serious they looked! They could’ve been two adults at work on a project. Watching them, it occurred to me that those boys basically exemplified everything I believed what work and play to be. The total immersion, the intrinsic motivation, the reward in the doing itself. And probably no judgment involved in the outcome. (Now that one is rather difficult for many of us when the playing is also our job, but it still doesn’t make it any less true.) And their utter seriousness in the doing of the fun. I’d imagine that if someone had told them that they could just take it down a notch and not be so serious about it, they would’ve looked at them like they were an alien. What would’ve been the point? Think about any kid playing any game, the seriousness IS the fun. Whether looking dead serious like these two or vivacious and cheery - the fun is in the total engagement. And watching them work together too, it was simply about making the version of a sandcastle that they wanted to make together, and everything was geared towards that goal. Talk about a simple and clear illustration of serving the greater good. The self while not being in the center, also doesn’t lose its distinctness and its unique consequential contribution in serving the bigger purpose. That thing that everyone says about “serving the music”? The sandcastle-building shows clearly what it means at its heart. The essence of their simplicity and innocence being something very different from the agendas of the ego and hypocrisy hidden behind lofty-sounding ideals-such a great peril in the arts, and similarly in the world of the learned, the intellectuals, the academic elites. This is partly why I value working with kids, too. They help to keep one honest, among other things, if one chooses to learn from them. (It wasn’t so long ago that these beings were practically a foreign species to me, but that’s a whole other story.)

I normally have the memory of a goldfish. My brain cells are probably not even designed to retain memory, but this sandcastle vignette has been forever etched in my mind as what I believe to be the essence of so many things. Work, play, fun. Partnership, friendship, collaboration, companionship, how to teach. Presence. That scene serves as a reminder to myself when I get overwhelmed by the clutter of complication.

While no one taught Camillo how to improve his sandcastle-building skills, my point is that I believe how he and his playmate built the sandcastle that day can be the guiding spirit for how we teach, learn, and work. Studying music while cultivating a love for it (and a love for learning itself), can be fun and serious at the same time. Serious is not just furrowed brows and grind. Serious can be fun, and fun can be serious. Work is play and play is work.