Last week I had a student run out of my studio in tears, her frustration evident as I heard the building door slam shut.
I've been thinking a lot lately about what it is that I do as a voice teacher.
To be an effective and trustworthy teacher I must have a knowledge of the physiology of the singing mechanism, appropriate repertoire for each voice type, and stylistic differences in genre. I must be comfortable speaking at least English, Italian, German, and French, if not also Spanish (Slavic languages are also being heard more and more these days). I must posses solid musicianship and proficient piano skills. I must have an understanding of acting technique. I must know how the audition process works, establish contacts throughout the singer world, and stay up to date on festivals, programs, competitions, and auditions. Oh, and stay active as a performer.
Believe it or not, that's the easy stuff.
My job as a teacher of singing also requires:
1. listening skills
2. communication skills
Essentially there are 2 things you need to do to sing: open your mouth and breathe.
Have you ever been at the mall on a Saturday afternoon and heard the wailing of a baby, clear as a bell, over the din of shoppers? It's the physical freedom we all innately posses as infants that singers spend countless hours (and dollars) trying to recapture. And its my job to help peel away the years of tension and other baggage from the voice to reveal an authentic, healthfully produced sound.
When a student walks into my studio I must listen critically and objectively to the sounds coming from their mouth. Is the sound unfocused? What part of their technique is lacking? Is there something in their anatomy that contributes to the issue? One of the biggest challenges for the voice teacher, I believe, is keeping "fresh" ears. And of course, the vocal ideal that we steer our students toward is subjective. I tend to appreciate clear, bright, yet warm voices. I'm sure that I subconsciously steer my students toward that sound.
Once I've diagnosed the work that needs to be done, I have to find a way to communicate that to my student. There are two parts to this. First, there is a transfer of information. Many of the muscles that are used in singing are involuntary. This means that we cannot consciously control them. As a result, voice teachers often use imagery to achieve the desired results.
For example, I might have a student who has an unfocused sound. This can be the result of many different issues and one image I like to use is that of a flashlight. You know, the kind that transmits a broad ray of light and can be adjusted to a narrower beam. When the beam is narrower, the light also becomes stronger. After explaining this, I will then encourage my student to sing the passage again with that image in mind. Often this helps my students produce a more focused sound.
Some students respond very well and thrive under imagery driven teachers. Other students prefer knowing the physiology behind singing. It's my job, through trial and error, to figure out what approach works best for each student. Furthermore, the teacher and student have to develop their own language of sorts. Kind of like agreeing that red is red.
There are some days that I leave my studio feeling like I've spoken nonsense all day. This actually came out of my mouth this semester: "Your voice is like velvet, but I need it to be more like pleather. They're both good fabrics, but in this case pleather is more appropriate." Say what?! But you know, the student achieved what I was after.
The second component of communication has to do with the student as a human being who has human being hang ups and issues and personality. Some students who come to me are decidedly "type A". They have an agenda, know what their weaknesses are, and have binders organized with tabs and plastic sheets and everything. More often than not, this student will have tension and lessons will be spent freeing the voice.
The most rewarding students to teach are the ones that come in completely open. They are eager to try new things and are not hindered by insecurities. If I ask them to make noises like a siren, they are willing. If you ask them to do knee bends while singing, they go for it. They laugh at the occasional vocal crack and jump right back on the proverbial horse. Unfortunately, these students are the minority.
Ask any voice teacher and they will tell you that most days they feel like a therapist. (Ask any accompanist and they'll tell you the same thing, except they're doing therapy to help work through whatever issues have been caused by the voice teacher.)
And to top it all off, I absolutely cannot let whatever issues I have cloud the studio. Frankly, my last job messed me up. Even as I write, I think of the possibility of other singers and voice teachers reading this and judging my teaching ability. However, the minute I let my insecurities come into the studio, I am no longer serving the student. I've found that if I can answer in my heart of hearts that I've done what's right, then I can't worry what other people think.
The Hippocratic Oath comes to mind:
"I will not be ashamed to say "I know not", nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery."
and
"I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know."
And for those of you who think that I may be taking my job too seriously or placing too much value on what I do, this applies also:
"Above all, I must not play at God."
This semester has been difficult. I've had an especially needy group of students. The aforementioned student is somewhat of a special case, but jarring nonetheless.
So why do I keep doing it?
That's a hard question to answer.
These are two of my students that went to NATS this year.
Leanne is a music theater major and entered in the musical theater division. She got very respectable scores; in the high 80s.
Anthony is a music performance major and placed fifth in his division.
There were over 300 students who auditioned this year in our region.
If I'm being completely honest, their successes at NATS this year have very little to do with me. We've only been working together for 3 months and it typically takes at least a year to see significant changes.
I once had a teacher tell me, that as weird as it sounded, she needed to love her students to be an effective teacher. I get it.
And maybe that's what keeps me doing this crazy job.
