Curiosity over Correctness: Sparking Engagement in Piano Students

One thing I learned from my time as a music student and commiserating with others, is that it’s a terrible feeling to put work into your music, just to show up to a lesson and be met with only a list of things you’ve done wrong. If you’re lucky, you might have a teacher who puts those corrections in a “compliment sandwich” to soften the blow. 

Even worse, is to be corrected on things in the lesson not directly regarding your playing. If you’re a teacher, how many times have you had to tell your younger students to “sit still, put your hands in your lap, and for the tenth time don’t play while I’m talking!”?

I’ve been there. But I’ve also been in the student’s shoes. In my experience these correctives from the teacher are rarely accompanied by any curiosity at the cause of the issue. Teachers aren’t perfect, and I believe that it’s important to frequently audit our own methods using the often subtle feedback our students give us. 

I’d like to tell a story of auditing my own teaching with an elementary aged student, who is by all standards, very well-behaved in lessons. Sometimes with students who are great at following directions, it can actually be more difficult to personalize lessons to them, because you get less feedback from them on what is interesting to them. It’s easier to get stuck in a rut and rely on your old teaching methods when students don’t actively push back.

When this student and I began work on a repertoire piece we’d been on for a few weeks, I noticed he was noodling around while I was talking. It was out of character for him. What was I talking about? Things we needed to fix in his piece.

I stopped for a second and just listened to him. “What’s that?” I asked. 

He smiled, and replied, “something I just wrote.” 

I asked, “have you ever thought of writing your own music before? I can show you how to write it down.”

His demeanor completely changed when I said this. The distant student who was stuck in a rut was suddenly bright, eager, and curious. 

He had idea after idea for his composition. We started to write it down, and worked on it for several more lessons. 

The dynamic of our lessons totally changed. This student went from silently following my directions to speaking up with ideas, questions, and experimenting with an adventurous spirit. I could see the new ownership he was taking over his writing and playing, and how this process was helping him develop a voice in his musical journey. 

Now, I think about how I could have just told this student to stop playing while I was talking. But instead, I chose to use his boredom cue as a signal that something wasn’t connecting. I learned that curiosity is not a one-way street, and that student engagement, regardless of behavior, is never guaranteed. 

When I met this student’s signal of disengagement with curiosity, we found the flame that ignited his spark for music. Meeting my students with compassion is a priority in my teaching, because I know my young students especially often don’t have the words and the power to give me true feedback. That’s why it’s so important for me to meet them where they are, and guide them forward to music making that makes them light up. 

Growth like this (for my student and myself) is why I love teaching piano, and why I find it so important to stay flexible with my students and my own teaching methods. Yes, correctness matters, but never at the expense of a student’s engagement. Most importantly, giving your students the gift of curiosity can give them a connection to music that correctness never can. This is how we make lifelong musicians. 

—Keytress