I never took piano lessons as a kid, no guitar lessons either.
I did take trumpet lessons forever as well as double bass lessons for a few years.
The sum total of my piano lessons was a semester course in college where we did class piano in a keyboard studio. There were about 25 Wurlitzer electric pianos that were tied into the mothership that the teacher sat behind.
We were outfitted with state-of-the-art technology, looking like air traffic controllers with headsets and microphones.
All the keyboards were connected to the mothership with ¼ cables.
MIDI wouldn’t be invented for another twelve years.
My teacher was the kindest sweetest woman in the department, Miss Nannis.
The music wasn't that hard because it was a course design for non-piano players. I quickly resolved to make my goal to be able to look at the music, analyze it, keep my eyes on the page and not my fingers, and play it in such a way that was easier but still sound reasonably, like what was on the printed page. With a lot of practice, I became adept at matching the harmonic and melodic content while keeping the texture and density approximately the same.
Miss Nannis didn't realize I was doing this until the last day of class but she still gave me an A in the course, primarily because of my resourcefulness.
In college, when I had trio or folk gigs accompanying others, I rarely used music. I kept my eye on the audience and smiled. If it was a reading gig, I was usually buried in the rhythm section – but I still knew I should create eye contact with the audience.
When I eventually had to front a band and was responsible for many tunes, I used lyric sheets but followed the “80/20 Rule”: 80% of the time looking at the audience, 20% of the time peeking at the lyrics, and never looking at my fingers.
Flash forward a few decades.
I was playing piano and guitar every day while accompanying choruses or teaching in general music class. Everything I played I either had memorized or could figure out on the fly.
At the beginning of every general music class, we all sang “The Hello Song”. I either played it on guitar or piano, and some days I would ask the kids before I started, “What's your choice? What do you want me to play, piano or guitar?”
It always began in a very subdued mood and built to a raucous ending, complete with jazz hands and fist-pump “Yeah”.
One day late in my career as we were getting ready to start our opener, a member of admin came into my classroom to do an unannounced observation. Most teachers get a little nervous with a surprise visit that is going to impact their performance rating for the year but I had been doing this for so many decades that it was just a little wrinkle that would made the next 45 minutes more interesting.
As I started “The Hello Song” on piano, the administrator was rapidly typing on their laptop. They weren't looking at the class, they weren't looking at me, they were looking at their fingers as they typed. This administrator might as well have been in another room listening to an audio feed of our class. This person was missing every nuance that I was adding to the song. They were missing the fact that I was playing piano and maintaining 100% eye contact with my students.
This administrator was looking at their fingers!
At the end of the raucous ending of our opener, I gave the class some “go time” and walked over to the administrator.
I whispered from behind their chair, “You know, the expectation when I play piano is that I don't look at my fingers, that I know where the notes are that I have to play without looking. That's the only way I can look at the class while I play, by not looking at my fingers.”
The administrator kept their eyes glued to their laptop, typing away.
I continued.
“Given that you looked at your fingers through the entire “Hello Song”, would you like to have a pad of paper and pencil so that might be easier to glance up every once and a while? Or maybe you would like us to do the tune again so you can observe the kid’s flawless vocal technique? Or would you rather simply do this observation on another day? A day when you don’t have to look at your fingers?”
Every time I started teaching in a new elementary school and played piano for the first time for the kids, they would instinctively think that it was an opportunity to talk, make faces, not sing, etc. because after all, the piano player has to look at their fingers and not the class, right?
At which point, I would stop playing and perform this small prepared script:
“Oh, you think I'm like those other music teachers who have to look at their fingers when they play piano, right?
Well, I'm not like them. I can play piano and look at you at the same time.”
I would then start to play something like Mozart’s “Minuet in G” and continue staring at them while I spoke.
“I can tell when you're not doing the right thing even though my fingers are playing the piano. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. I can do the same when I play guitar. I can go “Lionel Richie” with this no-look stuff. I can go “All Night Long”!”
Eye contact is one of the most crucial elements to master when teaching elementary music.
And while you’re at it, don’t blink. It conveys a sense of weakness while a consisted gaze creates intensity.
If you are in front of a class, don't look at your fingers.
If you’re in front of an audience and using music, apply the 80/20 rule.
Music teachers, pianists, and guitarists should be looking at their students looking at them looking at their students.
Or you could just do it another day.
I did take trumpet lessons forever as well as double bass lessons for a few years.
The sum total of my piano lessons was a semester course in college where we did class piano in a keyboard studio. There were about 25 Wurlitzer electric pianos that were tied into the mothership that the teacher sat behind.
We were outfitted with state-of-the-art technology, looking like air traffic controllers with headsets and microphones.
All the keyboards were connected to the mothership with ¼ cables.
MIDI wouldn’t be invented for another twelve years.
My teacher was the kindest sweetest woman in the department, Miss Nannis.
The music wasn't that hard because it was a course design for non-piano players. I quickly resolved to make my goal to be able to look at the music, analyze it, keep my eyes on the page and not my fingers, and play it in such a way that was easier but still sound reasonably, like what was on the printed page. With a lot of practice, I became adept at matching the harmonic and melodic content while keeping the texture and density approximately the same.
Miss Nannis didn't realize I was doing this until the last day of class but she still gave me an A in the course, primarily because of my resourcefulness.
In college, when I had trio or folk gigs accompanying others, I rarely used music. I kept my eye on the audience and smiled. If it was a reading gig, I was usually buried in the rhythm section – but I still knew I should create eye contact with the audience.
When I eventually had to front a band and was responsible for many tunes, I used lyric sheets but followed the “80/20 Rule”: 80% of the time looking at the audience, 20% of the time peeking at the lyrics, and never looking at my fingers.
Flash forward a few decades.
I was playing piano and guitar every day while accompanying choruses or teaching in general music class. Everything I played I either had memorized or could figure out on the fly.
At the beginning of every general music class, we all sang “The Hello Song”. I either played it on guitar or piano, and some days I would ask the kids before I started, “What's your choice? What do you want me to play, piano or guitar?”
It always began in a very subdued mood and built to a raucous ending, complete with jazz hands and fist-pump “Yeah”.
One day late in my career as we were getting ready to start our opener, a member of admin came into my classroom to do an unannounced observation. Most teachers get a little nervous with a surprise visit that is going to impact their performance rating for the year but I had been doing this for so many decades that it was just a little wrinkle that would made the next 45 minutes more interesting.
As I started “The Hello Song” on piano, the administrator was rapidly typing on their laptop. They weren't looking at the class, they weren't looking at me, they were looking at their fingers as they typed. This administrator might as well have been in another room listening to an audio feed of our class. This person was missing every nuance that I was adding to the song. They were missing the fact that I was playing piano and maintaining 100% eye contact with my students.
This administrator was looking at their fingers!
At the end of the raucous ending of our opener, I gave the class some “go time” and walked over to the administrator.
I whispered from behind their chair, “You know, the expectation when I play piano is that I don't look at my fingers, that I know where the notes are that I have to play without looking. That's the only way I can look at the class while I play, by not looking at my fingers.”
The administrator kept their eyes glued to their laptop, typing away.
I continued.
“Given that you looked at your fingers through the entire “Hello Song”, would you like to have a pad of paper and pencil so that might be easier to glance up every once and a while? Or maybe you would like us to do the tune again so you can observe the kid’s flawless vocal technique? Or would you rather simply do this observation on another day? A day when you don’t have to look at your fingers?”
Every time I started teaching in a new elementary school and played piano for the first time for the kids, they would instinctively think that it was an opportunity to talk, make faces, not sing, etc. because after all, the piano player has to look at their fingers and not the class, right?
At which point, I would stop playing and perform this small prepared script:
“Oh, you think I'm like those other music teachers who have to look at their fingers when they play piano, right?
Well, I'm not like them. I can play piano and look at you at the same time.”
I would then start to play something like Mozart’s “Minuet in G” and continue staring at them while I spoke.
“I can tell when you're not doing the right thing even though my fingers are playing the piano. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. I can do the same when I play guitar. I can go “Lionel Richie” with this no-look stuff. I can go “All Night Long”!”
Eye contact is one of the most crucial elements to master when teaching elementary music.
And while you’re at it, don’t blink. It conveys a sense of weakness while a consisted gaze creates intensity.
If you are in front of a class, don't look at your fingers.
If you’re in front of an audience and using music, apply the 80/20 rule.
Music teachers, pianists, and guitarists should be looking at their students looking at them looking at their students.
Or you could just do it another day.
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