Teachers: Don't Let the Tiger Parents Kill Your Joy!
by Jennifer Warren-Baker(Copyright 2015, all rights reserved. Please share and link to this article, but for permission to reprint this article on another site or publication, please e-mail info@musicbyjennifer.net.)
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Teaching in a Hyper-Competitive Parenting Culture
In December of 2013, I closed a three-teacher piano studio. It was a move that I hoped would allow me to focus more on my own children and less on the headache of running a business. Unfortunately, I was in a place of hurt when I closed the studio. With emotional scars from a few well-meaning, but confrontational Northern Virginia parents, I simply could not abide with grace any longer. A certain segment of Northern Virginia parents are notoriously pushy and over-involved. Sometimes, this can extend to an attitude of self-righteous arrogance ("I know better how to teach piano to a special child like mine better than you [the expert]"). With the advent of texting and e-mail, an endless flow of communications from parents at all hours can sap a teacher's energy and enthusiasm. Even as a private piano teacher, I found this barrage of parent communication to be exhausting. So is parent over-involvement simply an isolated occurrence in our competitive Northern Virginia climate? Perhaps a little background on the environment I live in will shed light on why I nearly cracked as a Northern Virginia piano teacher.
The Washington, DC metro area where I live and teach is the most highly educated region in the United States (47% have a college degree, as opposed to 29% nationally) . In my county (Loudoun County, VA), the educational level is even higher, with more than 58% of residents possessing at least a Bachelor's degree. My county also boasts the highest per-household income in the United States, at $117,000 per year. Most of my clients have masters degrees or law degrees, and they expect their children to follow a similar path. These families have the funds to put into music lessons, SAT prep classes, tutoring, full-time daycare, ballet, travel soccer, and even expensive home school co-ops. I'm not sure if this is good or bad, because many children are then over-scheduled and over-loaded with structure, all under the well-intentioned guise of "great opportunities." In my impression, parents seem to compete with each other to have their child in more activities and sports. For children, the pressure to achieve becomes present in every dimension of their lives, and childhoods are often devoid of freedom and playtime.
An Unfair Burden
Many students are expected to excel in virtually everything they are signed up for. They are often coaxed into lessons reluctantly because their parents want them to be culturally savvy, smart, self-disciplined, and classically trained. A popularly-held notion is that piano and other activities will "keep kids busy and out of trouble." Other parents tell me "I want my kid to have this." Wait a minute: did you ask your kid if s/he wants this? As a nine-year old girl, I begged for lessons because I wanted to master the piano. I have heard similar stories from many fellow musicians.
Teachers in our region frequently get the blame for a student's failure to achieve because, of course, "John is very smart," just like his parents. It must be your teaching, because my child IS talented. A "B+" on a test often warrants an e-mail to the teacher for being unfair ("My Suzy will not get into UVA with a B+ in an AP class")! These are experiences shared by my colleagues in local schools. I bring this up because, almost always, the parents who take issue with a policy and attack me verbally are the pushy parents with the all-honors kids involved in EVERYTHING. They not only have high aspirations for their children, but also for their teachers. They expect -- even the piano teacher -- to usher their child to star status, despite the unfair burden they have placed on their child to excel in a ridiculous number of activities. Here are two examples:
Case 1: Pre-Olympic Tiger-Mom. I once dealt with a mom who coddled and micro-managed her pre-Olympic high-school athlete. As if 7 days of intensive athletic training and all-honors classes weren't enough, she insisted that he take piano lessons with me. It seemed as if this student could not manage his materials or his practice time without his mother organizing and managing him. As the athletic training increased from 5 to 7 days per week, she began to point the finger at me. Why wasn't he progressing with his piano? I must be the reason he wasn't progressing. She never imagined that it might have to do with the fact that her child was in intensive sports training 7 days a week and in oppressive course-load. The thought never occurred to her that he was overwhelmed and unable to practice. So she asked me to intensify his repertoire and curriculum, even specifying composers and exercises to work on. Eventually this student left my studio, and I was relieved.
Case 2: Indian Math Pressure. My mom teaches in a public elementary school in our county, and there is a high contingent of Indian children in her classroom. She says that ALL of all of her fourth-grade Indian students receive extra math tutoring at Kumon after school. These students, she says, are always above grade level in math. Of my current piano students and friends' children, many hire private tutors. One recently shared that his son's math tutor was totally worth the $150 per hour price-tag. (Gasp/ Choke/ Spit) R E A L L Y???? While I'll admit that I've signed my son up for tutoring twice, I would never pay that price. Are our children really going to die if they aren't math super-stars? Can we possibly allow our children to stumble a bit and find their own way through failure and recovery? And the bigger question: can one BUY a child's success?
The Last Straw
So in 2013, a couple of these highly educated, tiger parents chose to attack me when I enforced a policy that they didn't like. I didn't do anything other than-- nicely, in my estimation -- enforce a policy. But what I got in return was shocking. I received long e-mails full of insults and threats from people who had given me glowing reviews just weeks before. It was as if these people couldn't tolerate a difference of opinion from theirs, and my reinforcement of a policy presented to them when they enrolled their children. And even though they loved what I was doing with their children, they decided that a battle of wills with the teacher was more important than the musical joy I was bringing to their child's life. They could do no wrong, and their children could do no wrong. I was the wrong one, simply for standing up for what I thought to be sensible policies.
So instead of believing in the quality and goodness of the gift I had to share, I let a couple of impassioned killjoys deflate my spirit. The bottom line -- I allowed a few unmannerly people (who were possibly just angry at where their life was at that time) to determine my fate. Did I have some other competing stress factors, you might ask? Yes, of course. I was/am the mom of a teenager and two younger children. At the time, I was also playing at a hotel three nights per week, a church once a week, and at various Washington venues for weddings and events. I was doing the best I could with the gifts God generously gave me to share with others. I wasn't perfect, but truth be told -- in my fifteen years in business for myself, I had never experienced such vehement hostility from a couple of embittered customers. So I figured maybe this was a sign that I should take a break.
Remembering Why We Teach
After a six-month hiatus from teaching, a few of my creatively gifted students begged me to resume their lessons. I hesitated, but took them back. I didn't want to revisit the painful past of belligerent and demanding clients, so I tried to be alert for red flags when dealing with new customers. I tried to trust in my sense of purpose and service. I let my inner knowing be a lantern to my path. Gradually, a few more came on board. Thankfully, I have had no major disputes in the past year. And I am glad to be back in teaching.
Just this week, I was reminded of why I do this. I arrived at a brother/sister lesson. The two had only been taking lessons for a few weeks. And they proceeded to play a duet I had assigned them. I watched the one count off the other, and they began in perfect synchronicity. As I marveled at their focused minds and seamless teamwork, I couldn't hold back my beaming smile. I was smiling because of THEIR accomplishments, not my own. I had given them the joy of music-making, and that made me happy. It wasn't about me and my talent. It wasn't about accolades, applause, or praise from others for MY accomplishments. It was about me passing on my Godly gifts, which had also been infused in them.
Yes, but of course. That's a no-brainer, right? It is better to give than receive. Everyone knows that, right?
Well, unfortunately, this secret formula for happiness eludes many citizens of our individual-focused culture. Americans are, in general, less about community and more about the cult of individualism. "American Idol" promotes the idea of being placed on a pedestal and idolized by the masses. We see super-star idolatry as a goal in professional sports and performing arts. The idea that personal success and achievement brings happiness trickles down to children's activities, from Tae Kwon Do to music competitions. We are pushed to seek awards, rewards, praise, and even the best-paying job. There is very little focus in our culture on deriving happiness from giving to others, but that is the magic sweet spot, in my opinion.
Recapturing the Joy of Teaching
I left their lesson in a state of dizzy joy. I realized that they couldn't do anything close to this a few weeks ago. And I realized that they wouldn't be so steady, and listening to each other so well, and playing with curved fingers, if it weren't for my input and loving diligence. Their joy and hard work was evident. The happiness they experienced at the piano was unmistakable as they smiled and giggled at the end.
I knew then that I was still supposed to be teaching, because joy does not lie. But what made my week complete was this note from the mom of two sisters I teach:
"[The girls] played together tonight…I cannot tell you the joy I felt watching these sisters interact on the piano…truly special!"
Again, the word "joy." So in the future, if I encounter what I ascertain to be hostile, venomous super-parents who wish to crush my enthusiasm for teaching, I will simply issue a refund, and a "have a nice day." Because the ones who appreciate me far, far outnumber the ones who want to go into battle. And I won't let any sourpusses steal my joy and take me away from the teaching that others need and appreciate!
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(Copyright 2015, all rights reserved. Please share and link to this article, but for permission to reprint this article on another site or publication, please e-mail info@musicbyjennifer.net)
