Life Lessons from the Piano Bench
Guest Post by Thinking Is Power
“Most of you will fail.”
It was the first day of Organic Chemistry, and I was terrified. The professor, of course, wasn’t helping. He had literally just told the lecture hall full of students that most of us were going to fail.
Organic Chemistry is the “weed out” course for students dreaming of PhDs and MDs. Most students take it their sophomore year, after general chemistry, biology, and physics. Like most four credit science classes, in addition to the three hours of lecture each week, there was also a three hour lab. However, the university I attended didn’t want to waste valuable lab space on students that were likely to fail, so they didn’t bother with an Organic Chemistry I lab. Your “reward” for surviving the first semester was two labs each week in Organic Chemistry II. Yep. Six hours of lab a week. Just for organic chemistry.
So, here I was, sitting in the lecture hall on day one, being warned. Make sure you’re on top of things. Make sure you study.
Then the professor said something that has stuck with me to this day. In his experience, he said, the students who tended to pass the course were musicians, because they knew how to practice.
My ears perked, and something clicked.
As a child, I took piano lessons, and later voice lessons, for years. I participated in recitals and contests and masterclasses, performing all over the state by the end of high school. At the time, I assumed I was learning a hobby that would bring me life-long enjoyment. And I was right. But it was so much more.
I learned how to practice.
I hadn’t realized, during those endless hours sitting at my piano, that I was learning an incredibly valuable life skill, one that is transferrable to nearly every aspect of my life.
It felt a little like the Karate Kid. Wax on, wax off!
In all seriousness, I think many people take for granted the amount of time and energy that goes into honing a craft. And I guess that’s the point. It’s not easy, and it’s not always fun. But you have to learn what you need to do to succeed.
The art of practice requires concentration, self-motivation, and self-reflection. You need to know both what you want to accomplish and how to get there.
Does the piece seem too complicated? Remember, an elephant is eaten one bite at a time. Break the piece into sections. Start at a slower tempo (with a metronome, of course.) Play one hand at a time. Slowly increase the tempo. Play both hands at a time, at the slower tempo. Rinse, wash, and repeat.
(As a silly side note, I’m having childhood flashbacks of sitting at my piano practicing, and my little brother yelling, “Mom, make her stop!”)
How long do I have to practice? Until I’ve accomplished my goal for the day.
How many times do I have to play through that section? Until I’m satisfied.
When is it good enough? The standard I’ve set is my own, and it’s up to me to honestly evaluate myself against that standard.
And if it’s not good enough? It’s my job to figure out a solution.
Now it’s my turn.
In an ironic twist of fate, I now teach biology at a college. One of my biggest frustrations is how few students have the skills necessary to be good students. They’re used to being task-oriented. Completing assignments, or writing papers. Most of them don’t know how to study until they learn something, or how to evaluate their mastery of a topic. And most of them don’t havethe skills to figure out how to improve.
In short, they don’t know how to practice.
Back to Organic Chemistry. I passed, thank you very much. It was challenging, and I hated every minute of it. But thanks to years of piano lessons, I had skills.
About the Author: Melanie Trecek-King is a science educator and communicator who teaches skills not facts. (I wonder where she got that from?) Thinking Is Power provides accessible critical thinking content to the general public through entertaining stories and approachable language.