Here in Portugal, we say “Abril, águas mil”—“April—a thousand rains”. But instead, I had “Abril Kleenex mil”, which I believe needs no translation…
(Note to self: don’t skip the flu vaccine!)
So it was, frankly, a miserable month. Congested lungs bode ill for flutists. One must wait, let them clear out, not stress. Which means, don’t play much! It is frustrating. Absence (of playing) makes the heart grow fonder.
What kept me afloat?
Students!
For whatever reason, April overflowed with teaching: my “big” students, “little” students, “old” students, prospective students, masterclass students, and more.
While it is preferable to feel 100% in control of one’s playing when teaching, I’ve discovered it is not strictly necessary. Maybe one’s temporary disability can actually be enabling to a student? Maybe it’s A-OK to admit one is not always in tippy-top form, to allow the student to be the one who shines? Or to be, by necessity, a bit removed from the “doing”, all the better to notice just how many things each student—beginner or advanced—is doing very well!
Such as:
—My “little" students (when not exhausted from their long school days), whose use of the self is so full of ease, even with relatively little experience balancing a slippery, expensive flute they hope very much not to drop! “Use of the self” is a clumsy-precise expression from the Alexander Technique lexicon; a way to avoid using the word “posture”, which implies something static, fixed, or even rigid.
—My “big” students, who show up every single week well-prepared, and frequently amaze me with the individuality of their expression, proving that every artist draws or plays a “self-portrait” regardless of the particular assignment.
— Prospective students who eagerly accept my proddings and suggestions. (I fear that at their age, I was already quite intransigent—thank God “me-at-17” never shows up for these sessions!)
— A friend’s daughter who is into jazz flute. I show her a bunch of “classical flute” stuff, so she won’t get her hands and spine all in a twist, and a few other things. She, meanwhile, shows me the FEARLESSNESS of improvising and “scatting” and basically skittering all over the place—“technique” be damned. She show me…freedom, especially from fear. Go girl!
— An “old” student appears with her new piccolo and sounds beyond amazing. We work on some CPE Bach written for baroque flute, which by its construction has a lot in common with the modern piccolo (don’t tell Theobald Boehm…). Several years after graduating, she continues to grow musically—the thing every teacher most desires! (Piccolo being less taxing on the lungs, I get mine out and have a ball!).
These vignettes were my salvation, along with lemon-ginger-honey tea, and the aforementioned Kleenexes.
For the future, I’ve learned that it’s OK to not always be the “boss”.(Perhaps even to never be the boss?) Teaching is, above all, a mutual sharing of experiences—and if we pay attention, our students have quite a lot to teach us, too.
