Practicing in the Great Beyond

It has been almost a full year since I graduated from the master's program at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. For many conservatory-trained students, the first year out of school is potentially the most difficult year, musically, financially, and psychologically. It's been no less for me, and I feel this is a natural time for reflection. In one year, I have faced many obstacles: a knee injury, a chronic respiratory infection that didn't leave for four months, moving to a brand-new city where I knew three people, and the onset of student loan payments! Somehow, I overcame all of these to take seven auditions, compete in the finals of a national competition, and establish a teaching studio! In the coming year, I have a South American tour to look forward to, as well as connections to new students at Pacific University.

Musically, it is the first year in my entire life as a musician when I have not had regular weekly lessons with a teacher. It has been a challenge (and a blessing) to begin to teach myself in earnest. I am the only one responsible for my own progress. I don't have someone wagging their finger at me because I haven't been doing my long tones. It is entirely on my shoulders -- but my teachers from the past are still with me in every practice session. I can hear in my head what they would probably say. I assign myself exercises that they would have assigned.

Interestingly, the most difficult part of teaching myself has simply been the lack of positive encouragement I show myself. I would usually leave my lessons feeling uplifted, like I had a lot of work to do, but that I was fundamentally a good musician, a good person, and that I would figure things out in the week to come. In my solitary practice, I am my worst, most cruel critic. I feel that my next step in my own practice is to find nice things to say about myself! Otherwise, my practice begins to take on a self-flagellating tone. And music becomes something that hurts, something that is to be feared and resented.

The best book I've ever read about practice habits and practice psychology is The Perfect Wrong Note. William Westney outlines a philosophy of practice based on creative problem-solving, not perfection. Of course, "perfection" is the goal: but being constantly perfection-oriented in practice is often counter-productive. Not only does it increase tension (and thus the likelihood of injury) but it also closes doors to possible round-about solutions.

For my students, I hope to impart a sense of lifelong learning and the ability to solve your own problems. I can offer guidance and possible solutions, but only you will be able to know which ones will work best for you. You will probably think of things that I've never considered! That way, whether you enter a conservatory, go on to be a professional, or quit the flute in high school, you will have the ability to pick up and play autonomously.