History of Music House

 It is, in fact, nothing short of a miracle that the modern methods of education have not entirely strangled the holy curiosity of inquiry; for this delicate little plant, aside from stimulation, stands mainly in need of freedom.  –Albert Einstein 

Music House was created in the year 2000 when a parent – one of many – approached me with an unhappy story of his son’s piano lessons. The child had started out full of enthusiasm and hope, but now, after several months, was feeling bored, stifled and discouraged. The lessons had no personal relevance for him, and now he wanted to quit. His father was, understandably, distraught.

Alas, this was not the first such story I had heard; Far from it! For a long time, parents at the school where I was teaching had been coming to me with stories that were amazingly similar: Their child hated to practice, had lost interest, and the excitement initially felt at the prospect of lessons had entirely disappeared! So without being aware of it, I had been pondering the situation for quite awhile.

Therefore, by the time Charlie’s dad came to me, I was ready with a response, and I blurted out an idea I didn’t even realize I had! I began to expound on a new way of approaching lessons: one that would be exploratory in nature and personalized for the needs, interests and readiness of the student. I went on and on: “I’m not a pianist or a piano teacher,” I said, “but if I were teaching piano to a beginner it wouldn’t be about black dots on a page or proper fingering. It would be about using the keyboard as a map of music, experimenting, becoming familiar with tonal relationships, discovering what happens when you play these notes together, learning how to play by ear. I went on and on, expounding on an idea I did not even realize I had. Dad held out his hands in a gesture of supplication. “Take him,” he said

So it was that Music House came into being in 2001. I acquired a keyboard and started my Music House program with Charlie. But why just a keyboard? Why not replicate my childhood home and the environment in which my children were raised? I collected more experiment-friendly instruments: ukulele, guitar, assorted percussion recorder and, of course, an autoharp. With all the variety and the freedom to choose, Charlie was thrilled, and after a few months, his dad reported that Music House had become the high point of his son’s week.

More children came, each to a private session, and as I encouraged true individuality to emerge, it became clear that no two were alike. One child wanted to explore a variety of instruments while another preferred to focus on only one or two. A three year-old was fascinated with anything that had strings, and spent all her time with the ukulele, autoharp and guitar, while a boy with natural ease and brilliance at the piano was baffled by stringed instruments – Could not make head or tail of them. There were singers, players, movers, creators. The children themselves defined my different roles according to their needs: Guide, Model, Partner. Some liked it when I suggested options while others seemed to want me to follow them around as a silent presence. Staying on the sidelines granted me the privilege of observing diverse raw material: pint-sized musical arrangers, improvisers, would-be instrument makers, tiny sound technicians, musicologists, and several fledgling conductors. A few children were interested in reading notes; many were not, and others came upon it suddenly when they were ready, reading, writing, and playing notes all at once in a glorious epiphany. Some children wanted to keep a log of their accomplishments; others didn’t seem interested in accomplishments. By giving them freedom to gratify their impulses, I got to know who these children were, each possessing a unique brilliance.

The feedback from parents was gratifying. “I don’t know what you’re doing with Lucy, but we can’t get her away from the piano.” “This is the high point of David’s life.” As for the children’s “success,” I measured it in terms of eagerness and engagement. We learn music by doing music, so it is all about motivation. Children did not want to leave when the session was over. They would beg to do “just one more thing,” dawdling and fingering various objects on their way down the hall until we finally made it to the door.

Many students who started with me in the early years of Music House have, as teenagers, continued their musical adventures, finding their respective niches as serious pianists, bass guitarists and composers. These young people express gratitude for an approach that allowed them the space to discover their musical selves. In virtually all cases, even in those where music has been set aside, students’ recollections of their Music House experiences are nostalgic and positive. Not everyone stays musically involved throughout life, and there are many reasons for this, but the Music House experiment appears to have achieved a victory: to offer an approach that can remove music lessons as a reason for someone abandoning musical pursuits.

After eleven years, it is still a rare day that I do not run to the phone at the end of a session, eager to rave to a friend or relative about some new revelation or wanting to share an anecdote. This is because the nature of the approach takes itself from the nature of children, spontaneous, authentic, and utterly defying pigeonholing. I document each session in terms of what happened and what meaning can be inferred. I have come to see certainty as the enemy of education, and find that it is from the fertile field of uncertainty that the most sublime seeds sprout. I am thankful for the privilege of doing work that never gets old.