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DYNAMIC PIANO TEACHING

A/tllOug/l thss work is primarily intended for aspiri


and practicing piano teachers, the table of eontents shows that the bol
should be of use also lo serious music students, to instructors of other instrument;
and to eoery educator or parent interested in muste and in peopk
To 611/ muste looers, then, 1 hopefuliy dedícate my too:

19<-

CONfENfS

PART ONE: THE TEACHER


Chapter 1. The Music Teacher: His Training, Motivations, and Talents
Cha pter 2. The Music Teacher as Educator
Chapter 3. The Music Teacher as Artist

PART 1WO: THE STUDENf


Chapter 4. Typical Characteristics ofthe Beginner: Child US. Adult
Muscular Control - Impressionabiliry - Curiosity - Imagination and Reasoning -
Self-Control - Span of Attention - Memory - Interest - Motivation - Musíc,
Sensibiliry
Chapter 5. When to Begin Musie Lessons: TheEarly and the Late Beginner
Advantages of Beginning Between 7 and 10 - Pre-School and Late Beginners -
Specific Problems of the Adolescent - The Adult .Repeater"
Chapter 6 Simple Musieality Tests ..
A Set of Questions Concerning Rhythmic, Melodic and Harmonic Sensibilities -
Influence of Envíronmental Factors
Chapter 7. The Student's Indivi4ual Cñaracteristics: The Preferred Sense.
Visual, Auditíve, Motor Dispositions - Their Effect on the Pupil's Musical Attitudt:
- Indications for the Teacher - Different Kinds of Imaginative Assoeiations to Mus
- Extra-Musical Interests as Incentives - Examples of Utilizing Them - Misuse
Norunusical Devices .

PART THREE: TEACHER AND STUDENf


Chapter 8. The Piano Lesson
Specific Demands on the Piano Teacher - Examples of Correcting, Eliminating ar
Preventing Mistakes - Beethoven's Letter to Czerny - Tempo of Progress and Degre,
of Perfeetion to be Expected - The Private Lesson: Planning and Improvisation
Chapter 9. On Discipline
Personaliry and Attitudes of the Teacher - Formation of Habits and Setting
Consecutive Goals - Working Discipline and Drill- Minor Details of Basic Disciplir
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 467

Chapter 10. On Authorlty


The Role of Authority in Dealing with Dífferent Age Groups - Genuine and Arbitrary
Authority - The Dictatorial Teacher - Destructive and Constructive Uses of Authority
Chapter 11. On Empathy
Becoming .Attuned" to the Student - Flexible, Understanding Teachers Creating,
and Rigid, Egocentric Teachers Preventing Ernpathy - Dangers of Indiscriminate
tmenaed for aspiring
shous that the booe
IS Identification - Maintaining Personal Separateness and Authority - Examples of
<ti oeher instrumerus Resistance, Ambivalence, Natural Affmity
muste and in peopk.
::y dedícate my book. PART FOUR: TEACHING MElliODS
Chapter 12. Principies of Teacbing Musicianship
Principies Generate Methods: What Makes Thern Valuable? - Teaching the Pupil to
Think in Terms of Musíc - Development of Musicianship Coordinated with Pianistic
Traíning - Activating Both Ear and Intellect - Connecting Theoretical Knowledge
with the Structure and Texture of the Actual Playing Material - Its Musical Import and
Mood - Growth of Student's Own Musical Conceptions Endangered by Continua!
Imítatíon of Teacher - Ultimate Goal of the Iatter: to Make Hirnself Dispensable
Chapter 13. Principies of Teaching Technique
Mechanical Elements and Musical Purposes - Need for Both Arm Weight and Finger
Technique - Definition of "Natural Posture" - Preparatory Exercises for the Muscle-
1
Bound and the Loose-Jointed Pupil - Curriculurn for the First 1 12:-2 Years of Study,
Divided ínto Four Steps, Each Including the Technical Agenda as Well as Parallel
Exercises in Musicianship - Introduction of Additional Technical Forrns - Technical
Proficiency as a Craft and as a Means of Artistic Expression
Chapter 14. On Practicing
How Not to Practice - Sorne Elements of Practícing Must Becorne Automatic in Order
to Achieve Economy of Attention - Experimental Method for This End - Importance
of Developing Sight-Reading Along with Technícal and Musical Training - Reflex
Actions and Conscious Actions - Practicing Routines and Their Changes frorn
Czerny's Time to Ours - Close Observation of the Printed Page - Practicing Tempo
- Different Stages of Practicing, with Dífferent Aims - Planning of the Practicíng
Sensibilities - Period - Have Several Irons in the Pire - Concéntrate Alternately on Details and 00
tbe Whole - Avoid Overplaying Major Works in Putting them Aside for a While

IN PREPARATION
Chapter 15. On Sight-Reading and Memorizing
Chapter 16. Deuelopment of Taste andJudgement
1
PART FIVE: TALENT PROBLEMS
Chapter 17. The Wunderkind
Chapter 18. Amateur vs. Professional
Chapter 19. Bmotionai Blocks and Other InhibitiotlS
Chapter 20. Talent and Personality

i Chapter 20 i. e. a sketch thereof, is included here after me completed chapter 14, Part four, chapters
17 through 20 could easly form a separa te publication.
(Two of the chapters .In Preparadon" (17 and 20) have been published as separate essays but me
others were not wrinen.)
PART ONE: TIIE TEACHER

The Musie Teaeher


The Music Teacher as Bducator
Tñe Musie Teacher as Artist

The Music Teacher: His Training, Motiuations, and Talents

Private teaching is a highly important component of our musical life, not onJy
because of the vast number of unaffiliated instructors (estirnated at 1/3 to 1/2 of a
million), but also because a great part of our best audíences, countless active rnusic
lovers, and not a few perfonning artists come from the studios of these teachers.
Thís is borne out by reliable surveys índicatíng that .sorne 70% of young people
who pursue muste seriously on the college level attribute the motivation for this
interest to theír private music teacher ... "
Strangely enough, this fact has not yet met with general recognition. Nor has it
received all the attention it deserves in the training of young musicians who plan
to go into private teaching. In most pia no pedagogy courses, the prospective
instructor is given a great deal of information on teaching methods and material;
but neither the needs of the candidate's prospective students nor student-teacher
relationships are sufficiently díscussed - if they enter the picture at all. Yer, of all
educators, it is the musician who, by virtue of his médium, can establísh the closest
contact with bis pupils. And, sínce the private lesson provides the best opportunities
for the developrnent of that contact, the poínt should be particularly stresse,
Slighting it is tantamount to a serious omission, for there are several questions tÍ'
demand an answer besides, • What do 1 want to teach?" For example. • When shou
1 teach it?" .How wilL 1 go about it?" And finally, »Whom do 1 have to teach?" The
answer ro the last question is of crucial importance since it modífíes the answers to
all the other questions. The modifyíngfactor is, of course, the individualíty of studem
Whether child, adolescent or adult; beginner or advanced, bis musicality, intelli-
gence, and receptivity cannot faíl to influence the work of a teacher observan
enough to take it into account. And yet, the relevance of the personal, humar.
element in priva te instruction is hardly ever brought horne to the aspiring mUSÍ...
teacher. Nevertheless the interest is these matters exist:s; ir has continued lO grow, anC.
with it the need for complementa.ry information and guidance. Witness the variou.-
surnmer study courses, piano pedagogy seminars, etc., that have spning up all over tlk
country during the last few decades. The working program of one of me best summer
sessions shows clearly where the general interest lies. It lists the following features:
1. Demonstration TeacJting. You'll observe teaching methods with "live" begin-
ning students. Observe, first hand, unique ways to teach reading ... rhythm ... tec:hnK.
... composing ... musical performance ... how to practice.
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 469

2. Lesson Planning. See .how to apply simple and effective lesson planning
principIes applicable bo.th to group or private teaching. Sample assignments ... will
help you plan lessons for al! your students.
3. Remedia' Teaching. Learn how to retrain transfer students more skillfully ...
especíally late elementary and íntermediate students who dídn't get the right start.
4. Keyboard Theory. An imaginative new program for leaming traditional theory,
composition, accompanying and ímprovisíng 4-part harmony right at the keyboard.
5. Outstanding New Teaching Music. You'll be excited and stimulated by the
faculty's presentation of important new teachíng musíc ...
AH of this is supposed to be absorbed by the participants in a five-day .week."
And even this all-too-brief time compares favorably with the usual three-day
refresher courses, which promise the participant to "enlarge rus horizon, enhance
rus technical skills, solve rus teaching problerns," etc.
As things stand today, such courses have their raison d'étre, but only as stop-gaps.
They cannot compensate for the prevailing lack of thorough, systematic training in
al! those matters which could be called "Human Relations in Priuate Teaching."
To be sure, every music student working toward a degree must take a course in
psychology. Profitable though such basic courses may be, there still rernain many
things tbat cannot be leamed in class. As William James says .in rus famous Talks to
Teachers. .Psychology is a science, and teaching is an art; and scíences never
generate arts directly out of themselves. An intermediary inventive mínd must make
the application ... " In this memorable statement, the stress evidently is on the talent
for adapting psychological insight to actual teaching situations. But how can a novice
hope to acquire and develop thís talenr?
The only way is experience. Ir is a way open to all; but relatively few aspiring
teachers enjoy the advantage of graduating from an instítution where they can gain
such experience through demonstratíon, supervised practice teaching, and discus-
sion of its results. Those who do not have this opportunity rnay attend sorne of the
mushrooming courses mentioned aboye, or, at best, one of the summer classes now
being offered by a few leading schools of music. Yet, essentíally, they must get their
professional training through self~development and self-criticism. At the ourset, the
undirected acquiring of experience may involve more trial and error than does
weH-directed experiencej but it also has its advantages: nothing becomes so much
one's own as insights discovered unaided.
In either case, the practicing music teacher will soon find that he is confronted with
various problems. To mentíon but a few critical situations: What would he say and do
to encourage a badly taught advanced student who resents being temporarily reduced
to elementary technical work? ... How would he manage to keep up the flagging interest
of an adolescent who is tempted to switch to popular music or to quit altogether? ...
Suppose a child has an initial resistance to music, or to himself as a teacher? ...
Whether be will he able to solve rus pupils' problems depends to sorne extent on
whether he has problems of rus own concerning rus profession. If so, his troubles
are usually linked t-o rus motivations. Was his choice motivated by sincere interest
in music and in people? Does he feel that he has specific aptitude foc rus work and
clear ideas of what he wants to achieve? What does he see .in rus futuce career: a
means to a decent livelihood, a personal mission, or a poor substitute foc artistic
ambitions that failed to materialize? These are weighty, yet delicate questions, but
- though apparently disparate - tl1ey all may hang together. A rugh concept of the
470 S:zoveggyújtemény

profession can very well go hand in hand with practícalíty, or - to put it differently
- teaching for love and teaching for money are not incompatible.
It ís the disappointed, thwarted artist who faces the gravest difficulties. Wrapped
up in rus personal problems, he looks upon teaching as a chore that has to be done
for lack of something better. Thus he deprives himself and rus pupils of the joy that
lies in dedication to a cornmon cause. Apparently these troubles stern not so much
from a prernature, mistaken choice of career as from the false idea that the one and
only place for an artíst ís the concert stage. If such frustrated persons would only
realize that there is no branch of musical activity that does not benefít from the
artistíc qualities of those engaged in it; and that one can be an artist in the classroom
or in the studio as well as on the concert platform, they still could find satisfactior
in imparting the best of their knowledge to others.
Fortunately, not every instructor has to struggle with similar problems. There are
boro teachers, as there are bom artists, who in following their natural bents, achíeve
harmony between their aims and capabilities. Even so, the private instructor mus¡
become reconciled to the fact that bis work attracts leas attention than that of me
concert artist or the teacher at a well-known school.
For sorne reason, people who talk profusely of gifted composers or performers
will hardly ever speak of gifted teachers. Yet, glamorized or not, there is such a thing
as talent for teachíng, Witness all those who had talented teachers and who gratefully
remember the man or women who opened up the world of rnusic for them, or the
master-teacher who guided them toward their own goals.

The Music Teacher as Educator

No music teacher can obtain completely satisfactory results unless he is an educator


- not only of rus pupils, but also of himself. As an educator, he rnust be able to form
an objective inner picture of rus talents and shortcomings, aims and motivatíons
and an outward picture of himself as others see hím, Only thus will he remaín
teachable. And only thus can he eventually develop the qualitíes that spell the
difference between the run-of-the-mill instructor and the true music teacher.
At this point the question arises: What, exactry, are those qualities? They are
self-control, patience, consistency, empathy, adaptability, helpfulness, inventive-
ness, and the continua! striving for higher goals.

None but the inveterate optimist would expect to encounter a combination of a..
those qualities in one person, and noné but the innocent novice would believe theo:.
all to be within his reach. Yet there are, and always have been, exceptional teacher-
who come very close to the ideal. They are not necessarily virtuosi. But evidenm
all of them possess the art of bringing into harmony the seemingly díverse
accomplishments which go into the making of a master teacher.
Sorne instructors believe, for example, that self-discipline is incompatible win,
spontaneity, consistency wíth adaptabílíry, planning with improvisation, and
forth. Hence they consider it almost a miracle when such apparently irreconcilalxe
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 471

qualities are made to work hand in hand. Yet, this.ís precisely what happens under
the guidance of an outstandíng educator. There is no magíc, no miracle involved, or,
if so, its secret sources lie in the master's personalíty. After all, personality is one of a
teacher's foremost assets, and not only on the highest leve! of ínstruction. It is important
on every leve! because it is a decisive factor in student-teacher relationships.
Good personal relationships are generally considered to be conducive to the
students' progress. But they cannot be expected to come ínto being by themselves.
Though under exceptionally favorable circumstances, a perfect rapport may be
achieved at once, this cannot be taken for granted, Evidently, as in almost aUhuman
contacts, even the more intimate ones, sorne "gardening" is required in arder to
establish, nurture, and maintain a fruitful relationship. 1,for one, believe that teaching
music or teaching art, person to person, is a rather intimate re!ationship. The private
musíc teacher can have a closer contact wíth rus students then any other instructor.
The mediurn of this contact is musíc, and in rnusic, direct emotional responses
become more evident than in any other teaching situation. Thus, there is little that
teacher and pupil can hide from each other. Consequently, the establishment of
constructive human relatíonships should be regarded as an integral part of the private
oc performers instructor's work rather than as a mere by-product. If achieved, both parties are
LS such a thinz bound to derive benefit from it.
1';\-00 grarefullv
'ibero, or dk

What a teacher can give depends not only on what he has to offer, but also on what
the pupil is able to accept. In this regard, though differences in receptivíty, talent
and personal makeup are of major importance, the pupil's age further modifies the
role the teacher has to assume.
At the beginníng of his career, the private teacher is most likely to deal with
children. Since very few pupils exhibit outstanding personal qualities (exceptional
musical talent, unusuaUy quick u ndersta nding , uncommon dexteriry), the teacher
has to deal mainly with the typical characteristics of the age group to which tbe
child belongs. Therefore the teacher must know not only that an eight-year-old
thinks, feels, and acts differently from a thírteen-year-old; he must also know
wherein these differences líe. Otherwise he may fínd himself exposing a seven-year-old
beginner to explanations beyond-hís mental grasp, or an adolescent beginner to the
playing material that would befit a much younger child but holds no challenge for him.
In either case, the student is like!y to lose interest in what he is supposed to learn.
The keynote of the relationship with children is friendliness coupled wíth fírmness,
Much is gained if, at the outset, the teacher succeeds in -awakening and sustaining
interest in the common task. Expedence shows that the active co-operation of almost
any child can best be obtained by placing the responsibility squarely on his
shoulders. lf treated like adults, most children will behave like adults, and leam to
accept the praise or blame they have earned. Even children who are notoriously
undisciplined and intractable at home prove perfectly manageable by a teacher who
commands respect, and who appeals to tbeir best qualities.
The more self-reliant one can make the pupil, the better. lf a child 1S too dependent
on the support of bis home environment, it 1S not easy to wean him from it. Should
the teacher need an understudy, he must give appropriate directives to the person
who practices with the child Cusually a parent). In any case, limits must be set to
472 Szoveggyiijtemény

the well-intentioned (but not always wel1-qualified) collaboration of the .sílenr-part-


ner", The areas of authority musr be well defíned, so as not to jeopardize the
agreeable parent-teacher relationship whích, in priva te instruction, is notneglígible.
In the eyes of many children, the teacher is, so to speak, an ambassador of rnusíc,
so much so that a beginner's attitude toward music is often influenced, for better or
for worse, by his relationship to the first instructor. A child will diligently practice,
not out of sheer musical interest, but so as not to dísappoínt a teacher to whom he
is attached. At the outset, this may be all to the good. For the sake of the pupil's
growth, however, it is desirable that such dependence be gradually replaced by a
more mature rnotívatíon. the genuine ínterest in music itself. But how can this
.rechannelíng" be brought abour? Only by example - onJy through the teacher's
contagious enthusiasm for music.
A device that rarely fails is to make the pupil a partnerin the common enterprise:
initiating him into the plans we have mapped out for him, keeping up his interest
in the actual assignments, by engaging bis curiosity in che steps to follow. Another
means of focusing interest on music itself is the introduction of pleasant, very easy
duets as soon as the chlld can control his fíngers on five keys. Here, while the
pupil is allowed to experience real partnership in bringing forth enjoyable results,
the stress Hes on making music, not on personal relationships. The regular
cultivation of duet-playing should be pare of every currículum, for it has still other
beneficial effects: it promotes the pupil's síght-reading and gíves him a foretaste
of the pleasure of ensemble work.

The Musie Teacher as Artist

A teacher with sound musical taste and judgement, adequate technical profíciency,
and psychological insight, can be said to have the wherewithal for the teaching of
pupils in the so-called middle grades. On the higher levels of instructíon, however,
the qualities that make fOI a competent teacher-educator must be rounded out by
certain artistic qualities. They are not easy to describe. Nevertheless, we shall try to
delineare the traits that add up to a reasonable likeness of an artist-teacher. This
term itself can have different connotations. Most frequently it is used to specify
performing artists who take on a few .selected disdples bound for the concert
platform. But it can also mean a rnusician whose artistic gifts fjnd a perfect outlet
in his teaching activities. Thus one could perhaps differentiate between the
artist-teacher and the teacher-artist, since the two qualities are rarely of equal
excellence in one persono
Let us take, as illustrations, two master close enough to our own time: Leschetizky
and Cortot. Both were performers as well as teachers. Bllt Leschetizky, who was a
chlld prodigy at the age of twelve, withdrew froro the stage when he was twenty-two,
to devote himself exclusively to the art of leaching; whereas Conot remained in the
limelight all his life as pianist, conductor, organizer of chamber-.rnusic groups, etc.
Even as a teacher, he was at his best in front of the international audiences watching
his piano courses at the Ecole Normale de Musique in Paris. Leschetizky, on che
other hand, preferred to display his musical knowledge and artistic imagination in
cam,era, i.e., in the privacy of individual lessons and exclusive master-classes.
Dynamlc Piano Teaching, 1966 473

of the "silent-part- Consequently, today Leschetizky's fame rests on the world-wide renown of bis
to jeopardíze the outstanding disciples - interpretive artists such as Paderewsky, Schnabel, Ossip
is not negligible. Gabrilovitch, and others - whose talents he brought to fruition. The fame of Cortot rests
r--'''''''.LUl of rnusic, on his own recorded perforrnances of the work of César Franck, Debussy, and Ravel.
for better 01' The French master-pianist and the Viennese master-teacher represent the two
..... ¡S"'.·.u y practice, types in their highest perfection. However, both types can also be met on a less
to whom he exalted level. In the following, we shaU try to draw a sketch of the music teacher
of the pupíl's as artist. If a11- or most - of our questions can be answered in the affírmatíve, we
replaced by a shaU have traced, at least approxímately, a "profile" of the music teacher as artist.
how can this
the teacher's

1. Does the teacher perforrn, or has he performed, in public?


Though not absolutely necessary, it is to his and rus students' advantage if he has
done so - at least for sorne time and with sorne success. Having stood the test of
bis pianistic abilities, bis memory and self-control, he should have gaíned experience
valuable not only to his, but - indirectly - also to rus pupils. Remembering the
difficulties he himself had to face, he can give them pertinent counsel if they become
nervous when they have to prove their abilities at an exarnínatíon, competition, or
recital. He may tell thern, for example. allow ample time for the preparation of your
piece or programi play it repeatedly for others and, if possible, record it on tape,
for listeníng to one's own performance as others hear it makes it easier to judge it
objectively; whíle playing for an audience - any audience - don't stop, whatever
happens - go on as best you can untíl you reach the nearest, pre-establíshed
"landmark" (e.g., the beginning of a phrase, 01' a harmoníc turning-point) that will
put you "in the groove" again ...
2. Does the teacher haue an extensioe knowledge 01piano literature, old and new?
This is a essential point! The teacher must be conversant with compositions in all
styles, rangíng froro baroque to classical, romantic, post-romantíc and 20th Century
music. Apart from those works he may have thoroughIy studied in bis formative
years, and beyond those wruch form rus teacrung repertory, he must be familiar not
only with the standard music literature, but also with the instructive piano works
designed to enable students of any grade to do justice to the music they learn.
3. Can the teacher be expected to play jlawlessly, on the spur 01 the moment, any
composition a student might submit to him?
Perhaps not in every case (even seasoned artists can rarely do so); but he must be
prepared, thanks to the experience he has gathered, to sketch it so that its basic
structure and main features become clear to the student. This answer leads directly
to the following points:
4. Is the teacher's pianistic equipment versatile enough to allow the translation 01
his aesthetic concepts into technical execution? And is it systematic enough lor the
explanation and demonstration 01 the technical and musical prob/ems that may
be involved (e.g., details concerning co-ordination, touch, pedallíng etc.)?
Except perhaps for compositions of high virtuosity, he should indeed be prepared
to elucidate problems of technique or musical expression, and to advise the student
as to how to solve them.
474 SzOveggyííjtemény

5. 1s his critical sense acute enough. fa detect stylistic flaus, and ouer-done or
neglected details in the performance of a student down to minute mistakes in
phrasing and articulation? Furthermore, is he verbally articulate enough (O
forrnulate his judgments, and musically articulate enough to illustrate them at the
piano, presenting both faulty and correct solutionsi
6. 1s the teacher able to inspire his students with a high concept of the goals the;
are strivingfor, and with the unll to do their best in the pursuít o/ these goals? Finany_
does he gioe eacn student a chance to grow in his own uiay, guiding him unth
mature experience but without being authoritarianr

'i'

Let us suppose now that all the above questions have been answered in the
affirmative, still, the resulting poruait would be incomplete without a fínishíng touch:
a teacher-artíst must be able and anxious to detect artistic qualities - even the mere
promise thereof - in pupils of every age and stage of development. To mention but
one telIing example from my own experience:
Years back, in Budapest, Bartók sent me an eíght-year-old boy who gave signs
of musical talent and showed great eagerness to learn. That child made amazíng
progress in a short time. Although he had three lessons a week, he would call
me up in between to ask what fingering or touch he should use in a passage
that would not come off. He had such intense curiosíry that 1 could not feed
him enough music, and that he became impatient when, fOL the sake of bis
technical training, 1 had to keep hirn busy with the same assignment for any
length of time.
After two years, 1 gave him Mozart's Fantasy in D minoro He worked at it
enthusiasticaUy and with unprecedented assiduity - partly, perhaps, because he was
sufficiendy rehearsed, 1 told him that it was now in pretty good shape for the recital
except that a few spots could be done more beautifully. "Bnt are you not tired of
the piece?" 1 asked hirn. "No," he replied passionately, "as long as 1 can make j¡
more heautiful, 1 shall not get tired of-it ..." His tÍnexpected answer revealed to me
that this child was a budding artist since, at the age of ten, he already was capable
of looking at his work exactly as a mature, responsible artist would. The future
justified the bopes kindled by bis revelatory remarkj the boy grew into an excellen:
performer, weU known in European concert halls.
His case, of course, was just one among others with different outcomes. Early
talent-prognosis is subject to many hazards, as borne out by the not-too-infrequen:
case of the Wunderkind whose career fades out after a dazzling start. (C.f. the chapter
on Talent Problems.)

'i'

It would be a grave omission to close this chapter without at least mentioning one
of the key figures of aU music education the pedagogue par excellence: the teachet
of teachers. He is the bearer, transmitter, and transformer of a long tradition. Hencc:
he infIuences - perhaps unintentionaUy, but unavoidably - the mw¡ical practice anL
aesthetic outlook of a generation.
SzOveggyiijtemény

and ouer-done or PART TWO: 1BE STUDENT


minute mistakes in
enough to
'tustrate them at the
Typical Characteristics of the Beginner: Child vs. Adult
01 the goals they When to Begín Muste Lessons
ihese goals? Final/y: Simple Musicality Tests
guiding him with The Student's ¡"dividual Characteristics: The Preferred Sense

answered in the
a finlshíng touch: Typical Characteristics ofthe Beginner: Child vs. Adult
- even the mere
To mention but
The students of the private music teacher - in our case, of the piano teacher - fall
into three age groups: children, adolescents, and adults. The pupil's age, however,
,y who gave signs
is not the onIy factor to be considered; a11groups may include beginners as welI as
Id made amazing
advanced students, each endowed with different talents, each pursuing different
he would call
a iros. Hence the two factors that must be taken into consideration are the typical
characteristics cornmon within each age group and the individual characteristics
that set students of the same age apart from one another.
In chIldhood, individual peculiarities usually are not so sharply defined as at a
later age, thus leaving chronological factors dominant. A1l the sarne, the traits of
each individual naturally modify the typical group characteristics. Suppose, for
exarnple, that two pupils about the same age, background, length of study, and
technical prepar.uion perform the same compositions. Not only an expert, but any
sensitive lístener will unhesitatingly declare that A played "more musically" than B,
even though he may not be able to specify the dífference, We shall not try here to
discuss the nature of these individual differences (sorne of them will be examíned
in the chapter on Individual Characteristics); we want onIy to point out that they
exist, regardless of whether they can be ascribed to talent, to personality, or to the
ínfluence of a teacher.
The standard pedagogíc and psychological literature affords us little help in the
evaluation of varying individual characteristics. However, in considering the typícal
outcomes. Early
traits of different age groups, the music teacher finds sorne clues in works on
--roo-infrequenr
developrnental psychology. Though none of these works fuIfills our specífic needs,
CJ. the chapter
they provide at least sorne general orientation in analyzing the phases of develop-
ment from infancy through early and late childhood. These pbases have been divided
into periods according to different schools of thought, sorne stressíng the child's physical
and mental growth, others the growth of bis social adjustment, and so forth.
For our purposes, the best theory is that which divides childhood ínto periods
according to the prevalence of certain spheres 01 interestwruch follow one another,
e.g., imaginative thinking, realistic observation, logical reasoning, etc. However, the
practicing teacher often finds that the growth of intellectual, imaginative, and
emotional aptitudes cannot be neatly and rigidly separated. Sorne tendencies may
be just burgeoning while others are in full flower, and still others are beginning to
476 Szoveggyiijtemény

give way to new interests. Tbus, in actual practice we deal wíth »modulato!)'
transitions" rather than wíth abrupt changes. But while many works on individual
psychology pay due attention to this fact, references to our specific field are at best
so sporadic that a summing up of my recorded observations from many years of
practica] music teaching appears to be in order here.

~ \

We shall begin by exarníning some typical traits common to most pupils between
the ages of seven and twelve. Since the characteristics of a certain age group stand
out more elearly if compared with those of another age group, it seems appropriate
to draw a comparative sketch of sorne of the divergent traits that must be taken into
account in teachíng music to the child begínner and the adult beginner, respectively
(The problems of adolescents do not fit into eíther group, and will be referred to in
other contexts as we go along.)
By its very nature, the following sketch cannot be entirely free from generaliza-
tions. Therefore, the reader should make allowance for the variations due to
dífferences in the pupils' - and the teachers' - individual makeup.

Muscular Control
The first general impression we gain of a pupil comes from rus physical presence:
from the way he walks and talks, and from his attitude at the keyboard. Generally
the movements of a child are characterízed by a certain ease. At the piano, bis
rnotions are more relaxed and spontaneous than those of the adult, whose motor
co-ordination is often ímpaíred by sorne kínd of manual work involving specific
muscular functions or by self-consciousness, Nonetheless, an adult usuallv
acquires muscular control faster; hence an older beginner should receive
technical training right from the start. With the child, such training can wait untu
he has absorbed the rudiments of note-reading and ear trainíng - at all event
until a favorable approach to rnusíc has been buílt and rus interest in musíc-rnak-
ing has been established. Experience shows that premature finger drill and drv
techoical exercises deter more youngsters from learning to play the piano than
any other factor.
Impressionability
In the course of instruction one cannot fail to notice that children usually are
more receptive and impressionable lhan adults. Thus they are also more:
amenable to che teacher's authority than adult students, who will accep
leadership only íf ít is adequately justified. Furthermore, children are generalh
inelined to imitate rnodels, and to do so uncritically if sufficiently írnpressed by
their teacher. This inelination should be countered by allowingthem occasíonally
ro make their choice of different musical selections and to perform them in thei~
own way. Adult students are not accustomed to following any model unquesti-
oningly, and must sometimes be persuaded to study music they find at [irst sigl'·
uninteresting. If they can be ·convinced of the usefulness of such sturues, thei-
objections are likely to rusappear.
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 477

2lríosity
.:Jfie trait that wears off all too often in later life is me child's wonderful curiosity
_00 the pIeasure he takes in every new discovery. He is eagerly gathering
"Iperiences, while many adults limit tbemselves to those they have already
ccumulated. The joy of discovery can be kept alive if the chíld is led to notice -
pparently by himself - every n€w feature (e.g., modulation, variation, imitation,
_c.) that turos up in bis rnusic, and if he is also allowed to deduce and formulate
. own conclusions. One child, for example, after listeníng to a brief theme with
aríations, .remarked "It's the same thing, but all dressed up wíth fancy notes." A
-even-year-old called the coda he was made to notice "an extra," while a rwelve-
ear-old defmed it as "sometbing that comes after what could be the end of the
--rece and tíes it up ;.." Having reeorded a direet musical experience in bis own
=ords, the child is prepared for the teacher's more formal definíríons.
magination and Reasoning
illother youthful quality that diminishes with the passing years is the free access to
subconscíous lífe, and thereby to the sources of imagination. In rnaturity, those
ources remain open mainly to the creative artist; in early lífe, they ínform me
-pontaneous actívitíes of the pre-school "playing child" as well as the constructive
..md creative experiments of the oIder .Iearníng child." Whenever a pupil shows
.aterest in picking out and harmonizing familiar tunes, 01' in improvising bis own,
such tendeneies should be encouraged rather than frowned upon. Of course, they
must never be over-rated. In nine out of ten cases, a child's eompositional efforts
-ubsíde when he reaehes adolescence, i.e., when the heightened self-criticism typical
l' that age makes the would-be composer lose interest in bis fledgling creative
exploíts - unless he is a budding genius.
In pre-adolescence, even a bríghr child ranks far below the adult in objective and
.ogícal thinking, partieularly in the grasp of abstraet eoneepts. Definitions, 5ueh as
By interval-we understand the relation of two tones with regard to pitch, carry no
meaning for a young child if he has not already heard, sung, played, and identified
::m the printed page intervals of all severalltinds. The more eoncretely and tangibly
~ piece of information i5 presented to the child, (especially in the form of his own
diseovery,) the better will it be remembered and eonnected with other knowledge.
For a child, knowledge gathered thtough spontaneous experienee is infmitely more
fruitful than the most precise explanations (which, on the other hand, may be just
me right thin,g for an adult beginner).
Self-Control
Children - provided they are not exposed ro hypercritical parents or teaehers -
usually are Iess self-conscious and inhibited than adults. Their self-discipline,
!lowever, is often inadequate. Conversely, a eertain degree of self-eontrol Can be
expected from adult students, since it is foreed upon them by the social requirements
"1f daily life. In their work, ehildren are more or less dependent on their environment;
;..he quality of an adult's work depends mainly on himself. It is parrieularly in the
praetice habits of young pupils that the stimulating or hampering influence of the
environmerit can be felt. lf praeticing eonditions are aH too unfavorable, the teaeher
must try to ehange them, if need be by exercising diplomacy on the parents. If tbis
oc any other problem can be resolved directly between teacher and student, so much
me better. One question that has to be settled strktly between the two of them is:
478 Szoveggyiijtemén}

how long, when, and especially howthe pupil should practice. An adult can be told
a child must be shown.
Span 01Attention
The span of attention and the degree of concentration a child can maintain ;::
considerably shorter than that of the adult. Besides, the chíld has a greater need fa-
variety and change within a planned continuity. Consequently he should leam severa,
shorter pieces instead of one or two longer ones, until he bécornes capable of a sustaine;
mental effort. The child works best toward short-term goals, whíle an adult is capabk
of long-range planning and endurance in carrying out a challenging project.
Memory
Although the perseverance of the child beginner does not measure up to that of th,
adult beginner, he frequently surpasses his grown-up counterpart in rnusica
memory. Whether this is so because there are too many heterogeneous dernand,
on an adult's memory, or for other reasons, the fact remains that the memory of _
well-taught, musical child is to all appearances self-operaring, while an adult often
has to rely on conscious, intellectual side. Fortunately, these can be provided through
the use of certain harmonic and rhythmic .landmarks" in a composition as memory
supports. Visual and motor memory may also be of help.
Interest
No student can be expected to progress steadily unless his musical interest ~
nurtured and maíntaíned through al! means available. Ir is this interest that reconciles
the pupil to the toils of practicing and that leads him on to ever higher musicaJ
experiences. Unlike boro musicians whose interest is abiding, whether they have
good or bad teachers or no teacher at all, the interest of most children is conditioned
not only by their teacher, but also by environmental circumstances, It makes quite
a difference whether me child lives in a home where rnusic is actively cultivared
and habitual!y listened to, or grows up in a family completely indifferent to music
In the case of older persons these facrors are negligible. An adult begins to stud-
music because he wants too Children alas, can be coaxed or forced into taking musí;
lessons that are lost upon thern. Unfortunarely, they often can be tricked into a false
sense of achievement with gratuitous praise, undeserved little gold stars, etc; bu
unless they make genuine progress, the lessons will come to an end sooner or larer
Mouuations
The interest an adult takes in bis pianistic work can best be sustained by giving him
material that challenges him to utilize all his capabilities. A child's interest in ID'
musical work is often enhanced by the keen pleasure he takes in his 0'\XT.
achievements and by the recognition they receive. This does not mean that adui
students are unaffected by the pleasure-and-praise motive; but while a chik.
responds to praise under any circumstances, with an adult me praise must be ÍP.
exacr proportion to his efforts. Undeserved praise lowers a discrin-!inating student
respect for the teacher, particularly if the student feeIs that he is capable of doin~
much better. (1, for one, left two of my teachers as an adolescent.forthis very reason
The spirit of competition is anotb.er motive that lends additional zest to the warl.
of many children. Ir is not that important to rhe adult beginner, concemed mostt:
with bis self -deve1opment. To be sure, children who are strongly beot on competitiO'"
should be given some opportunity to measure rhemselves against others in littJe
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 479

recitals and the líke. But as they grow up, they must leam to compete not only with
others, but also with the best they themselves are capable of.
But who can put a finger on all the motives that activate tbe ínterests of a child?
Who can guess at the origins of his likes and dislikes? Many juvenile motivations
remain hidden to the adult observer.
Musical Sensibility
Finally, a few words about the direct reactions of both groups to the emotional and
intellectual qualítíes of music. The chíld's sensibilities are in the main emotional,
and bis responses are usually on a level with the state of hís general development.
The more intellectual aspects of music have little attraction for him. Yet, altbough
the musical experiences of an adult are potentially more differentiated, those of a
sensitíve child can be equally intense and moving, as 1well rernember from my own
past. Since tbeory and form are not tbe child's cup of tea, the only way to awaken
rus dormant interest in tbe constructive elements of rnusic is to connect thero directly
with his actual music-making.
The adult beginner, on the contrary, is ordinarily willing ro study theoretical
subjects (harmony, counterpoint, etc.) for the sake of gaining a broader view of the
music he hears and plays. In fact, some adult beginners can best be reached from
these intellectual angles.

In the light of our comparisons between rypícally juvenile and typically adult
characteristics, it becomes apparent that certain peculiarities cornmon to most
children could be considered as shortcomings which, however, are balanced by
certain typícal assets the adult does not possess to the same degree.
Before we go any further, we roust stop for a moment to draw the practica!
pedagogic conclusions ímplícit in the foregoing ten points.
The assets that are the child's, e.g., freshness of perception - iropressionability
and curiosity - spontaneity of motor functions - make childhood a favorable time
of lífe for the beginning of musical activities, But if we consider also fue other side
of the coín, e.g., the child's relatively ímrnarure íntellectual and reasoning powers,
we must ask ourselves precisely what period of childhood is most favorable for
comrnencing regular music lessons.

When to Begin Music Lessons: The Bar/y and the Late Beginner

In making our coroparison between the child beginner and the adult beginner, it
was convenient to assume the child's age as between seven arrd twelve. For the
specífíc purposes of instrumental rnusic teaching, however, as also for deterrni-
ning when such teaching should begin, finer shadings in the periodization of
chi1dhood become necessary.
On tbe basis of my experiences in teaching hundreds of young pupils - from the
ages of six through sixteen - 1 have found the subdivision from seven to ten, ten to
thirteen, and thirteen to sixteen proved to be fairly appropriate. These divisions
coincide not only with the typical changes occurring in the pupils' physical and
480 Szoveggyiij~

mental developrnent, but also with noticeable changes in their readíness to 0"".
responsibilities and challenge. Moreover, three-year periods tum out to corresp-
wíth characterístíc changes in the pupils' relationships to musíc, to the teacher, ~
to themselves. From every point ofview, the ages berween seven and ten appea.
to be the most favorable for the beginning of regular music lessons. In cer
instances we might extend the desirable age span over two more years, but -
the recornmendation that music lessons start preferably before the age of twe
but hardly ever before the age of seven.
The rnain thing is to begín musíc instruction during the relatively calm ínter
after the first year in grade school and before the onset of puberty, the two 1Ilóa.
tuming-points in a child's life.
The transírion forrn the playing child to the learning child is a critical phase
every child's development, comparable in magnitude onIy to che shake-up of
whole personality in adolescence. The pre-school child enjoys many 'privileges:
freedom to play or to rest, to jump around or to keep quiet, and to change the oh¡ ~
ofrus interest as he pleases. With the commencement of regular schooling, the
privileges are suddenIy curtailed. The child has to keep a strict schedule, to sir
in class, to concentrate upon the subjects presented to him. He has ro adjust to '
spirit of the school as well as to his classmates, and to show rus mettle in competíts -
All these obligations entail thorough changes in the child's social behavíor.
A significant change takes place also in the mental attitude of the first-grader, 1"
center of rus activities is being shifted from the emotional, imaginative side, wru....::.
dominated rus pre-school days, to the volitional and intellectual side. In learnínc
read and to write, to count and ro spell, the child begins - but just begíns - to '::;
the meanlng of symbols such as letters and nurnerals. Since che accepc-
physical and mental discipline involves a great expenditure of energy in .it.~
burdening al che child wítb tbe addítionaI concepts and symbols of rnusic ís deí,
too rnuch of a strain, as is me training of me hands for an instrument just when .
are being conditioned for writing. All in all, 1 do not consider it wise co begin regi,
instrumentallessons during the fírst year of school, unIess the extraordínary rnu:
gífts oE a child EairJy cry out Eor systematic guidance.
It is, of course, stillless advisable to commence regular music instruction
school age. Normally, a cbild oE five in not yet fully equipped for it, partly be...
of bis lim.ited attention-span and physical endurance and part1y because rus P'
of reasoning is usually not sufficiently developed to grasp the elementary nor..
of time, meter, and so foM. Every educator knows that trying to teach a
something before he is physically or psychologically ready will invariably leaé
failure. That is, the pupil will come to detest the subject, the teacher, or both.
Not only is the going much smoother and faster once the necessary stage
maturity has been reached, but an abortive beginning often deters the pupil frr.
ever ta.king music lessons again. For pre-school youngsters, a course in rhythrr
gymnastics (eurhythmics) is a good preliminary to muslc lessons. Even simr
calistherucs or ballet exercises, if connected with sorne sort of music, help to prepz
the child for the audio-motor co-ordination he will need in playing an instrume"
The period of late childhood we advocated for the beginning oE musical instructi
recornmends itself also for che following reasoos:
Physically, it is a penod of slow and relatively uniforrn growth. Moreover, chanks
their organized games, :most children acquire a certain skill and interest in muSCU1.··
co-ordination. Hence chis is a good time for laying the foundations oE technique.
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 481

Psychologically, it is a period of fewer emotional ups and downs, and of more


sustaíned interests than either the period to come or the one that preceded it.
Thanks to these stabilizing factors, a progressive development of both technical
skills and musícíanships can be planned and carried through; the more so since, at
this age, many other resources can be tapped to enliven the pupils' receptivity for,
and interest in, music.

lo the instruction of pupils belonging to the next age-group, the teacher has to
reckon with new problems. No other time of life affects the development of the
individual so profoundly as the períod of physical and mental transforrnation which
coincides with the four years spent in high school. The general characteristics of this
critical age are so well known that we can limit ourselves to those peculiarities which
influenee the musical progress of our adolescent pupils. Broadly speaking: on the
physica1 side, the teacher must reckon with the fluetuating well-being and increased
nervous tension of teen-age gírls, and with the clumsiness and impatience of boys of
the sarne age. On the psychologica1 side, it ís chiefly the unsteady mood and the
aggressive need for self-assertion, so natural to young people, which create difficulties.
At periods when schoolwork absorbs the greater part of the student's time and
energy, it is advísable to cut down on technical exercises and to stress instead the
development of musicíanship. To this end one mayplay carefully chosen duets with
the pupil, analyze for him sorne of the compositions he likes to listen to on records
or on the radio, and recornmend good books dealing with the history of music and
with the lives of great composers. Adequate listening assígnments may be given to
further the adolescent's interest in orchestral and chamber musíc or opera.
Sometimes a hígh-school student suddenly decides to switch to popular music,
mostly beca use playing hit songs rnakes him more popular within his age group
than playing classical compositions. Usually, the worried mother will ask the teacher
what stand to take. In my opinion she should be told to let the youngster have his
or her) way. If an adolescent sticks to his new choice and is happy wíth it, then
this type of music is what he was cut out foroIf he tires of it and wants to go back
ro serious music, nothing is lost. On the contrary, the pupil may have learned a few
things, e.g., to move around more freely on the keyboard (especially with the left
hand) , to keep an unvarying, steady tempo, and to make the first steps in
.mprovisation. At any rate, both the pupil and his guardian must be made to
understand that the music of the masters is much too precious to be forced upon
anybody. However, the door of the studio may be left open just a crack for the
eventual retum of the deserter.
The eagerness with which high-school youngsters aU over the country enroll in
school bands and orchestras is to be welcomed, even if it means temporarily giving
(Ip piano lessons. As a rule, the pleasure young people derive from a well-directed
collective activity greatly stírnulates their interest in rnusic, which may have been
flagging while they had to practice on a .solítary' instrument. Being part of a groups
rhey take pride in, they will gladly practice on the flute, the clarinet, or any other
.nstrument because they get more satisfaction out of it. And if this end - the joy in
making music - is attained, one means is as good as another.
482 Szoveggyújtemé~

It is not always easy to pilot a pupil who already has studied music for a fe>l
years through me shoals and eddies of adolescence. It ís still more díffícult to d
the right thing by a fífteen- or síxteen-year-old beginner. The trouble is that if
student decides to take piano lessons at this age, he usually does so to find a,
emotionaJ outlet in music-making superior to that of merely listening to musí
Unavoidably, this desire is thwarted as long as he does not acquíre the techníc,
means of musical expression; and many a frustrated adolescent loses heart in vi~
of the long way that stretches before him, particularly if he has not learned to rea
music. Still, a talented and determined student can be helped to .get there", if he
gíven study material which, without being trite, serves the purpose, and íf he
suffícíently chalJenged as welJ as encouraged.
The prognosis is more favorable when college students, after having díscontínue
music lessons in high school, penítently come back to the piano. Because they ha,
fewer díffícultíes to overcorne than a mere beginner, their enthusiasm is usual.
more enduring. Such, at least, are my experiences with the rnajority of adolescen..
1 have taught in this country.

It is altogether different with adults. When a mature person decides to embark ~


music lessons, that decision is invariably motivated by an inner need, and from th;
need he draws his strength to pursue hís goal. An adult beginner, for exarnple, ,,~
put up with the prímitive exercises most adolescents reject as boring, particulady
told that a rnature student able to grasp and apply príncíples can accornplish _
weeks what a child accomplíshes, at best, in months.
After the first few lessons, the srudy plan for an adult beginner begins to díffe
from that of a very young pupil, The reason is that rnost of the musical materi.
suited to the average child cannot satisfy a fairly sophisticated adult. Fortunatel-
there are sorne good music books compiled specífícally for the adult begínne-
as well as many short, easy píeces (classícal or modern) that can cornplemen
the basic music book - or method. Furtbermore, elementa1y keyboard harmoo'
obligatory for both juvenile and adult beginners, can be supplemented With ar
adequate theory book and written exercises. Sucb individual modification:
added to those mentioned in the previous chapter, cannot faíl to stimulate tr.
student's interest. 1have yet to meet an adult beginner who does not enjoy doin_
his pianistic and musical work on the intellectuallevel to which be is accustomee
Even so, occasional difficulties may crop up, owing to a student's impatienCt"
physical stiffnes$, lack of practicing time, etc.; but they can be taiked over al!
eventually remedied.
All in all, the instruction of late beginners entails fewer problems for the teaciK
than the work with adults resumi.,nginstrumentallessons after a long pause. To th.
latter, it must be made cIear first of all that they cannot possibly start frorn wher
they left off, but must be willing lO start a few notches lower - without resenting
Rere, the judicious setting of consecutive goals attainabJe by the student is one e
the most critical points; another is the reassembling of scattered,or half-forgotter
musical notionsj and yet another is me reorganization and/or completion of t!
student's technique - rusty or neglected as often as noto
Dyn.amicPiano Teaching, 1966 483

Simple Musicality Tests

When taking on a young pu pil, it ís in the interest of the teacher to find out as much
as possible about the child's personal make-up and family background. But though
mese points are by no rneans negligible, the most important quality to look for is,
of course, the pupil's musical disposition.
With children of unmistakable 'talent, thís.ís an easy task; but not so with the
garden variety of beginners. In case the child can play something he has learned
with another teacher or by hímself, one can form a cautious, tentative opinión of
hís gífts (or lack thereof). If, on the other hand, the child is without previous
ínstructíon and has nothing to show but sorne signs of musical interest (say,
eagerness to study, readiness to sing tunes remembered, responsive listening, etc.),
then the teacher can ooly do sorne hopeful guessing at the student's potentíalities.
In either case, the teacher's first ímpressions are inconclusive; but they can be
substantiated by giving the new student a little tryout before lessons actually begin.
~o formal experíments are needed. 111e child's reactions to a series of simple
questions give the teacher enough clues. Although the outcome of the examínation
may be quite important for the teacher, the child must never sense that he ís in a
.esting situation. He should feel completely free and at ease,
Here, then are the questions 1 usually put to the child, occasionally skípping a
.e« points that seem unnecessary in a particular case:
1. Is the child able to sing or play sornething by himself? Tunes learned in
school? Nursery rhymes? Folk or popular songs? (This questíon should neuer
"te seipped !)
2. Is he able to reproduce, i.e., síng, hum, or whistle, various single sound within
'lis voice range, as they are presented to him Oh the piano? (He should not see
'''le keyboard.)
3. Is he able to reproduce (sing) correctly Hule rnelodíc motives?

For example:
!
®J n ti 11 fJ#J> J J J)
y I 11
~
4 jjJ 4 11

4. Is he able to reproduce, i.e., to tap or clap, different rhythmic motives? A rhythm

mm~
-ach as that given aboye may be used, plus:

n)~ J1n )~ J ~
.r~)~ 11 11 ~ 1 ~ I 11 11J )J )1 ~ etc.
5. Is the child able
a. to pick out on the keyboard the little motive he has sung and clapped cor-
rectly? Does he notíce it when he makes mistakes?
b. if unfamiliar with the keyboard, to pick out all the C's or F-sharps on the key-
board after having been shown?
6. Can he discern by ear whether two or more sounds have been struck
-nultaneously on the piano? Can he state, when two tones are given consecutively,
hích was hígher, which lower? (With young children, the lack of an articulate
-iswer should not be rashly interpreted as a musical defect. It has more to do with
_t"'1eral intelligence and quick reaction than with musicality. Many children do not
-:.ow the meaning of n1ow" and "high" as applied to sounds.)
484 SZ6veggyfijtemény

7. Can he distinguish the major triad from the minor, if they are 'adequately
presented in the form of solid, as well as of broken, chords in root position, the
third being accentuated? Question. Which tone has been changed? Low, rníddle, high?

4JJr ~ IJJEErJ
8. Is he able to síng rhythmíeízed intervals (e.g., fourths), broken triads, or little
rnelodíes starting from a new tonie?
9. Does he read musíc, or know the names of the sounds and keys? Did he leam
to .sol-fa" in school? (íf so, it often causes confusion.)
10. Finally, fue child ís asked to sit at the piano. After having been shown borb
posture and hand position, he is asked to place his hands lightly on the keyboard ín
five-finger position. Bis motor reactions as well as his response to corrections complete
the preliminary picture the teacher can form of what he will have to work with.
Moreover, the tryout (which should. take about ten minutes) affords excellent opportn-
nities for observing some characteristic individual traits in the new pupil's behavior- Does
the child seem timid or bold, quíck or slow, eager or indifferent? These, of course, are bu-
rough impressions, which may be revised in the course of instruction. r, for one, have me
several children, for example, who were mentally quick but unusually slow in theír
motions. Their facial expressions showed that they understood ímrnedíately what th~
were expected to do, but the motor execution did not follow the mental impulse
automatically, as it norrnally does. Rernarkably enough, 1 know of only one case where
this anomaly could not be corrected. In this case, the impediment was constítutional.
There are rnany personal details about the child with which the teacher shoulo
get acquainted. Sorne of them cannot be leamed at the outset, but must be gathered
in the COUIse of the lessons. To mention but a few of them:
a.) Is there a musician in the family? (If so, beware of parental or professiona.
interferencel) ...
b.) Are the chíld's brothers or sisters studying musíc? or
so, and particularly if tite
teacher has to ínstruct two children in the sarne family; avoid the potential sibling
rivalry by giving different playíng material to each pupilo Conversely, whenever ~
tendency toward family musíc-makíng is noticeable, it can be made good use of.) ..
c.) Does the child take other private lessons, e.g. ballet or languages, besides lu...
piano lessons (sports)? (If so, an adjustment must be made in the amount of hí-
assignrnents and rus available practicing time.) ...
d.) Can he practice undisturbed, or does he have to work, so to speak, in Grane
Central Station? (The latter must be avoided by all means!)
Though these and other circumstances may influence the student's progress, the basK.
and decisive factor in his development is rooted in his musical endowments. If a student'~
musical talent and the interest it generates in him are strong enough, extramusica.
incentives can be dispensed with. In cases where music does not hold the center
interest, it may be possible to utilize sorne of the pupil's extramusical interests as auxiliar
stimuli. But in order to do this, the teacher must find out what those distinctive interest"
are. It stands to reason that specific interests stem from specific personal inclinations.
These inclinations, in tum, are closely connected with a peculiarity known to ~
psychologist as a person's .preferred sense." It is fue preferred sense that yields not oc.
the welcome "auxiliary troops," but sometimes the best avenue of approach to a PUP'-
Dynamic Plano Teaching, 1966 485

The Student's Individual Characteristics

a. The Preferred Sense


It is well known that some people respond most readily ro what they see, others to
what they hear, whíle still others respond by way of expressive gestures to any
strong impression. It has become customary to speak of visual, auditory, and motor
types ever since Charcos, the famous 19th Ceotury French neurologist, first made
these distínctions. Subsequent scíentífíc research has shown that the preponderance
of the visual, auditory, or motor disposition has a defínite bearing upon the way in
whích a person grasps knowledge and acquires skills.
Playing an instrument necessitates the co-ordination of all of these functíons.
Followíng his natural bent, one pupil will be better in ear-trainíng, another in
sight -reading, and a third in matters of technique. Since these individual peculiarities,
combined with the peculiarities characteristic of a pupil's age, and group determine
his receptivity toward the things he has to learn, it is in the interest of the teacher
to familiarize himself with the distinctive traits of the type to which the pupil belongs.
One may even venture ro add a fourth type ro the accepted list: the logica!. This
seems appropriate, for there are persons - though perhaps not too many - with
whom intéllectual responses to everything they perceive through the senses are so
prevalent that one wonders if this may be ascribed to their higher mental traíning
or to the repression of spontaneous reactions. In such cases one is reminded of the
words ofthe Bible: .They have eyes and see not; they have ears and hear not." Persons
of this type live in a world of systems, theories, abstractions, in which they feel as much
at home as do others in the world of visible, tangible, audible things. Ir is important to
.remember that one must not expect to encounter purely visual or auditory or motor
types. These terms selVe only to designare the predominance of a certain sense.
However, it can be safely assumed that me dorninating visual or auditory, motor
or logícal disposition of a person holds the key to his attitude toward the world and
toward music. There obvíously can be no question as to the "preferred sense" of a
painter, musician, baseball champioo 01' mathematícian. In the case of young music
students, however, indications are rarely so unequivocal. Nevertheless, the teacher
can draw inferences from certain indications. Por example, in studying a new piece,
a pupil with a preferred motor sense will immediately tackle the task from the
technical side. He will enjoy dexterity and speed, and may have ro be reminded
that there are things in music which go beyond this pleasure. To students of this
rype, memorizing comes easiest if it is coordinated with the motor execution of the
music. Their fingers seem to acquire a memory of their own; but unless the student
ID G.r2.Ilé
has a well-trained inner ear, sheer finger-memory may leave hirn in the lurch
whenever a mental short-circuit occurs. Pianists of the motor type often are able ro
play detached chords or whole pieces with closed eyes, even on a cloth-covered
keyboard, but they will not always be able to tell wbere a certain passage of the piece
lhey are studying is located in the seore - at the top, or bottom, or rniddle of the page.
This, on the other hand, is a thing an .eye-minded" player is able to tell at all
times. He will use visual helps in bis techniques of practicing and memorizing. Sorne
persons possess a so-called photographic memory. They are the ones who see the
printed page in imaginatíon after having played a piece a few times, and who can
likewise visualize the pos.¡tion of their hands on the keyboard while memorizing
.lway frorrí the instrumento
486

It should be emphasized, however, that for the rnusic student, a visual or motile
bent is of real value only if coupled with a primary auditive disposition. For after
all, the judgment of the ear is the most important factor in the intrícate complex of
auditory, visual, motor, intellectual, emotional and imaginative elements, whích are
al! brought into play whenever the smallest piece of music is performed satisfactorily
For an alert teacher, it is not too hard to take notice of rus pupils' natural bents, since
the children themselves give hím the clues. Their spontaneous questions and rernarks,
theirreactions to tbis explanation reveal the prominent traits in their make-up, If a young
music student is attached to fast, brilliarit pieces, one may be reasonably sure that he
belongs to the motor type. On fue other hand, only a predominantly visual child w:it
hit upon fue idea of memorizing a melody by rnaking a drawing of it. Here is a concrete
example: the little melody I played for an eleven year old beginner with the
understanding that she should write it down at home from memory,

$1: kitO h~:tJ 1 1 e J JI"


and the drawing she rnade o( it right in the lesson: .
11 ®
When she had finished her bqle sketch, she said contentedly, .Now 1 am sure lI..
remembet itl" Thus she unwittingly revealed that she trusted her eye more than her ear
Children belonging to the auditive type rely instinctively , if not exclusively, upar
their ear in assimilating and memorizing music. Frequently these students also Iearr
their verballessons faster by oral thanby silent reading. They will have no díffículr-
in remernbering and transposing melodic and harmonic patterns (Gestalten); bu,
they mayhave difficultíes in note-readíng. An excellent ear is a double-edged gib
A child who has thís gift retains irnmediately what be has heard or played once o:
twice, and he will be tempted thereafter to guess ar, rather then to read, fue rnusic,
If bis auditory dispositions are' coupled with a vivid imagination, he will fi.n¡_.
pleasure in extemporizing melodies to a given rhythm, or in free improvisation
If he is also endowed with naturally well coordinated rnovements, such a studea;
can be said to possess the essential potentialities of a fine pianist, Whether he reall-
will grow into an artist depends on the development of his entire personality.

'i'

A young student's spontaneous associations to music may reveal rus preferred sens,
as well as a specific mental and emotional disposition. There is, for example, tbe
student who belongs to the intellectual type. He is the one to have inquired b
nursery school if the adventures in a faíry tale had really and truly come to pass
He wants concrete, rnatter-of-fact explanations in music, too, and probably will shov
inclinations for the study of theory.
Conversely, there is the child who does not ful1y respond to rnusic unIess he grafu
his own imagery onto it. Sorne children have definite color associatiqns in copnecti<r
with music. Such a child will say, for- instance, of a certain modulation that it h:t-
brought in a new color; another will say of a folk-song repeated with differer'
harmonizations that the color of the melody, which at fi.rst was quite lighl- "lig
blue" - gets darker and darker - "purple" - but ends up light blue again. ln the ea
of other children associations to emotional attitudes prevail.
As a last example, here is the record of a little experiment 1 improvised a fe'"
years back with four of my young pupils in order to compare their imaginativ'e
Dyñamic Piano Teaching, 1966 487

reactions by playing the same musical selection. The children were of about the
same age (berween eight and ten), and the selection was a short piece by Bartók
(no. 14 in the First Term at the Piano), which 1 had chosen to introduce simple
syncopared rhythms. After calling the children's attention to the new rhythmic
feature, 1 repeated the first four rneasures severaL times, and then asked them how
they felt abour it. "This is a funny piece," one child said; "ir sounds as if one tried
to step on somebody else's heels, but the other one is always a step ahead." The
second child calIed syncopation .the limping rhythm," and acted it out by hobbling
tbrough the room. The third one said, .This is how ir would loo k," and he made a
drawing of overlapping bricks on the blackboard, while the fourth proposed, .Let's
sing the two voices and cJap on the heavy beat."
As it happened, the imaginative reactions of the four children were closely related
to their varying preferred sense. Thís correspondence, of course, is rarely either that
obvious or that well defined.

b. Extramusical Interests
Every piano teacher may have students whose interest can best be stimulated either
by utilizing some specific outside actívity of the pupil, or by making reference to
his ordinary experíences in the external world of objects and situations.
It is rare that a youngster does not have sorne interest or hobby - building
airplanes, drawing or modeling, dancing, sports, or reading - to which he gíves his
spare time. Eventually alI of these outside ínterests, íf mobilized at the right moment,
can help him in his musical activities.
Let us consíder the pupil with a pronounced interest in the functioning of
machinery. He will be interested not only in the operating mechanism of the piano
itself, but also in the operating of his own playing apparatus, i.e., of his fíngers,
wrist, and armo Because they lie within the sphere of his interest, he will immediately
understand the principies, and apply analogies with the functioning of a crane arm,
lever, or spring. (For example: the arm acts mostly like a lever with its fulcrum in
the shoulder joint; the wrist works sometimes as a bridge, connecting the hand with
the forearm, and at other times like a spring, rebounding after an arrndrop, and so
fOM.) However, specific technical analogies are only a means of engaging the
particular student's interest for a higher end. At the piano, every motion has an
esthetic importo The proof of the right playing motion Hes in the resulting tone
quality. Playing motion and tone must be closely assocíated in the student's
imaginatíon. Otherwise, he will not be able to judge, or to expect (hear in advance),
the tones he wants to produce.
If a young pupil does not show much interest in mechanical matters, the teacher
can refer to habitual movements used in everyday life in order to induce specífíc
playing motions. For exarnple, if one says, .Set your hand and forearm as if you
were to turn a doorknob", this will automatically produce the so-calIed .rollíng-mo-
tion." Likewise, prevíously experienced sensory impressions may be used to bring
about a particular kind of touch. For instance, in order to obtain a sharp staccato,
a child can be told to imagine that the keyboard is burning hot. Or it may be
suggested, when he has difficulties in playing a melody forte and its accompaniment
piano, that the right hand is .wadíng" in the keys, while the left .steps on tiptoe."
Some children call such casual hints magíc words; and indeed, an evocative mental
picture is almost always sufficient to make the pupil sense and perform the desired
488 Szóveggyüjtemény

motions. Of course, in order to find the right word at the right time, the teacher
must be bighly motion-conscíous.
We have already mentioned the visually oriented child who drew a picture of the
melody she had to memorize. lo the case of aoother cbild with a preferred visual.
sense, it was the teacher who had to resort to visual side in order to clarify a musical
point, A níne-year-old girl, in her fifth lesson with me, had to learn a:n exercise in
triple meter. Having previously played only exercises in 2/4 and 4/4 meter, she
invariably prolonged (doubled) the last beat of the 3/4 pattern - obviously because
she sensed the three-beat measure was incomplete or truncated. Tryiog to make her
realize the narure of her rnisconception, 1 played the begínníng of a march aod that
of a waltz with strong metric accents; we counted aod we clapped; nothing helped.
Finally, in desperation, 1 drew a square and a triangle for her on the blackboard,
Only then, when she saw that both are complete entities, although consisting of
four and three units respectively, did she realize her místake and correct it.
It does not follow, of course, that the teacher should always approach a pupil
from the motor, or the visual angle, since his main concem is to develop the auditory
faculties of the student. But, as can be seen from our examples, a teacher familiar with
the individual propensities of bis pupils may find a way to reach thern from many sides.
Sorne children are ínclined to weave fanciful little stories into their musical
experiences. Children who have that kind of ímagínative bent should be left to make
free use of ít, until it is superseded by a more rnature musical approach. Unfortu-
nately, sorne teachers have the habit of imposing their own stories on the musíc, or
of indiscriminately using those infaotile books which purport to stimulate the child's
ímagination with pictures aod little ditties. Believing that every chíld needs sorne
kind of iroagery, they forget that no imaginative youngster will accept somebody
else's illustrative associations in Iíeu of his own.
Extramusical devices that are futile in any case can be seen, in so-called rnernory
aíds, líke the one of teachíng.the beginner to remember the notes on the treble-staff
lines by meaos of the silly phrase; every good boy deserves fun; instead of being
helpful, they are as maoy detours to the child's natural, maner-of-fact ioitiation into
the world of sounds. Fortunately, we possess a fair number of well-graded, sensible
books for beginners - and great respect is due their authors. Why, then olle may
ask, should so many beginners past the age of six be kept at the mental kindergarten
level? Incidentally, the colorful titles designed to make the study material of second-
aod third-graders mOre anractive fall fiat as often as noto What's the use, the pupils
ask, of naming th~e exercises Merry-go-round, or Frisky Lamba} or Bicyele Race?
They're nothing but the sarue old scales and broken chords apyway!

Froro the ranks of children with great auditive sensibility come our genuinely musical
pupils. To these, music is meaningful enough in itseLf; they have no need for
extramusical imagery. In order to roake the most of their natural gifts, they must
leam what to listen for in music in rerros of melodic aod harmonic happenings.
(Aaron Copland's What to Usten for in Music can be of great help to teachers and
adolescent students.) And tl1ey must also acqoire considerable facility in sight-rea-
ding, equal to tl1at with which tl1ey read a book. Only mus will they gain the direct
access to the world of music that they have to literature.
Dynamic Piano Teachiog, 1966 489

Relatively few pianísts will attain this goal. Nonerheless, they must never lose it
from sight. Even in the case of students who appear to have little chance of attaining
thern, the highest goals must be maintained - the means alone remaining flexible.
It is not the purpose of music teaching to have the pupil polish up a number of
píeces for the amazement of friends. Music should be studied for itself. It is a
language to be leamed and used for a better understanding of the masterworks as
well as for self-expression. Sorne favored people take to it as to a second mother
tengue; others must work hard in order to assimilate it through persistent lísteníng,
playíng, and thinking, Be thís as it may, the joys and satisfactions of making music
to the best of one's ability are worth every effort.
PART TIIREE: TEACHER AND STIIDENT

The Piano Lesson


On Discipline
On Authorlty
OnEmpathy

The Piano Less011

As an educator, the music teacher shares sorne obligations with his colleagues
otherfields. Like the teacher of literature, or of mathematics - in fact, of any disciplic
at all - he must establish a receptive attitude toward his subject, work out
technicalities with the students, explaín and correct mistakes, and so forth. But,
addition, the music teacher has sorne obligations that are unique.
In the fírst place, he has ro build a musicianly approach not only to the snx,
material, but also to the instrumeru itself. He has to establish and develop a spec,
techníque of expression which entails the co-ordinatíon of audítory, visual and rnoc
elements, not to speak of the mental and emotional factors involved. And, sir-,
technical ability can be acquired only through practice, he has ro create efficíer
practicing habits. FinaJly, he must not only correct or forestal! the various místake
that may occur in the student's musical comprehension and technical execution;
must also be prepared to demonstrate how the passage, section, or entire comp
sition should be played. And, since his performance is meant to serve as a modei
it must be accurate as weU as convincing.
The mistakes a pupil makes while practicing elude us: those he rnakes in tt
lesson are al! too obvious. The mistakes of advanced students will be discusse
la ter; those occurring most frequently in the work of less advanced pupils ;t-
the following:
a.) Paulty rhythm and pitch, caused by superficial reading. Correction: clan;
meter and rhythm (clap and count); play wrong and right version. Prevention: sper
five to ten minutes in going over the next assignmem with the pupil, stressing L
weak points.
b.) Disregard 01 accidentals in force within the same measure. Correction: ciad.
key signature, tonality, modulations. Play faulty harmonies with conspicuo;
accent and make pupillisten to the bad effect. Ask him to play the scale or cho-
into which the disregarded accidental faUs. (I cannot resist reporting a n=
conversation with a ten-year-old pupil, guilty of this particular fault. After havir =
explained once more the difference between key signature and accidenta.
1 warned him, .And now, when you practice your new piece, look out for
the accidentals ... do you finaUy know what they are ?" nThe things O"
overlooks," he answered promptly.)
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 491

c.) Faulty articulauon, i.e., disregard of slurs, ties, staceato and legato, forre and
piano, crescendo and decrescendo. Correction: show right execution and rnark slurs,
n and ties eI'¡ in the printed rnusic, don't tolerate accents in the wrong
plac~s. Demonstrate how dulI music sounds if played without dynamic and phrase
ínflexíons. Then explain why composers take the trouble of jotting down alI those
markings: it is the only rneans they have to teli us how they want the rnusic
performed. It happens repeatedly that youngsters, hitherto insensitive to finer
shadings, do their best to bring them out when told, .The composer has written
them in expressly for }üu!" The identification sometimes works wonders.
d.) Negligent phrasing, faulty articulation, and rnísplaced accents often go
together. Correction: accustom the student to think not in terms of bars, but of
musical units, whích may cover less than a measure (motives), or extend over several
bars (phrases or themes). Make him feel that every melody, every phrase .goes
somewhere", i.e., starts, arrives, and has a natural clímax at speciíic poinrs. Show
several examples, each with the clímax occurring at a different point, and play every
example with convincingly appropriate dynamics. And don't ever give assigrunents
by lines or pages, but only by smalIer or larger sections. Always check both the
phrase and the articulation markings in the music the student uses, for in sorne
editions, they are utterly misleading. (There is plenty of room for confusion anyway,
the sign - ~erviog to indieate legato and phrasing as well as slurs and tieso
Not to forget f rr the sign for .portato", i.e., half-legato, half-staccato.)
e.) Uneven playing, hesitations, and slowdowns are often eaused by wrong
fingering and inadequate playing movements. Correction: check the fingering of the
music the pupil is about to study, write in the ones best suited to the size of the
pupil's hand and to rus playing habíts. Once it has been agreed upon, rnake him
stick to it. Ask the pupil oceasionally to devise and mark down rus own fingering.
Convince hírn of the necessity of practical, well-planned fingering. If a reluctant
student experiences often enough that by using a sensible fingering, he can master
a run or passage whích had stumped him, he will be willing to devote more attention
to it. And, last but not least, insist on regular fingering habits in the practice of seales
and broken chords, they will prove to be time-saving devices.
f.) Faulty, Le. musicalIy objectionable pedalling. The two most frequent rnistakes
are: failure to change the pedal with changing harmonies, and obliterating rests
through prolonged pedaliing. This subject will be further discussed in a Iater chapter.

Whatever mistakes a student may make, it must be brought home ro him that euery
mistahe has the tendency to repeat itselJ. This is a psychological fact that cannot be
emphasized too often. Even a child will understand when told, .You don't stick to
your mistakes, but they certainly do stick to you ... "
Toe teacher must differentiate, of course, between major and minor mistakes. A
slip of the fínger, an occasional false note or fingering is not a blatant musical mistake.
One does not shoot at mosquitoes with cannon-balls. Liszt saíd to one of rus pupils,
distressed at having missed his mark on the keyboard: "So what? ... Hit a wrong
note once in a while, just play the music right."
Nothing is more disturbing to a student - particularly a fairly advanced one - than
to be stopped because of slight mistakes, while he tries to present his conception
492 Szoveggyújtemény

of an entire composition to bis teacher. .There I was, putting my heart into that
rnusic, and she quibbled about my fíngeríng ...", a talented boy of seventeen
complained. And even a beginner may lose his enthusiasm if he is constantly
interrupted. Each teacher should follow the advíce Beethoven gave Czerny in behalf
of his nephew Karl:

My dear Czerny!

Please, do treat Karl with as rnuch patience as possible. Even if bis progress is
not yet what you and I would want it to be, 1am sure it would be even less otherwise.
He is not supposed to know it, but through the bad arrangement of his lessons and
classes in school, he is overburdened. This cannot be changed right now: therefore
1 ask you to tteat hirn with as much understanding as possible, although wíth
seriousness, He will then do better under these unfavourable circumstances.
As far as bis playíng with you is concerned, 1 ask you to begín with the teaching
of interpretation only after he has learned the right fingering, counting (Takt) and
the notes without too many mistakes. When he can do all this, don't interrupt hím
because of little rnistakes and only correct them at the end of the piece. Although
1 have taught very ímíe, 1 always have fol1owed this method. It trains musicians,
whích after al! is one of the first airns of art and is less tiresome for Master and pu píl."

At this point, the question arises. what degree of perfection should we expect from
our pupils? 1 believe that a teacher who is a perfectionist vis-a-vis bis students as
well as hímself does them more harrn than good - except in the case of aspiring
artíst-students, where the highest standards are none too hígh, In al! other cases,
the degree of perfectíon we can reasonably demand ís inseparable from the
individual ternpo of progress, which depends on the pupíl's musical and mental
capabilities. If tbe tempo of progress is slowed too much by the instructor's concem
for perfection, if the music the pupil has to study becomes stale under hís fingers
and his.endeavors are unrewarding, he is likely to lose interest,
Provided that the pupil's playing material has been carefully chosen, and provided
that he has tried for a reasonable time to do bis best at a certain assignment Cthough
with indifferent success), it then seems wise to move on. This does not mean
condoning superficial or slipshod work. But if the student, at a given time, is not
able to fulfill a task intended to solve some basic pianistic or musical problem, we
must come back to it at a later time, and we should make our inrention known to
the pupilo .You will see", we can tell hirn, .that after you have leamed a few more
things, what was difficult for you today will become easy, for everything we learo
is sure to add up." 1 do indeed go back important problems, after due preparatíon.
Those of lesser .importance 1 just dismiss, for there is no point in enforcing the
practice of anything that has outlived its usefulness. A child cannot tarry too long
in one stage of development; nor does he willingly turo back to a past stage, unles."
it brings demonstrable results. And what holds true for the child appUes, by and
large, to students of any age and level of proficiency.
Yet, learning is a continual proceSSj consequently the student's deveIopmenr
cannot,be severed frQl,Tlbis past. In order to maintain continuity, we must insist that
Dyoamic Piano Teaching, 1966 493

:!le studentkeep up a periodically changing program of a few finished pieces ready to


"le playedfor others at any time; and we must accustom him to identifyingspecificmusical
~ technical features he has already encountered when they recur in new assignments.

n view of the many things to be done, the music teacher's first concern is the
Janning of the lesson. Complete lack of planning leads to waste of time and effort;
.;D overdose of it to pettiness and pedantry. The problem is how to work out an

rerall programo Organization and subdivision of the lesson should follow a fairly
.xed pattern, but it must leave sorne room for improvisation. (For example, in
zuídíng two different students toward the same goal, an experienced teacher may
.nd it desirable to use short cuts for the one and a detour for the other.)
Suppose the instructor is just drawing up a general plan that ineludes everything
good lesson should contain: listening to the current assignment, correcting
-ustakes, preparing the next assignment, and occasionally reviewing a polished
=íece, If he keeps track of the time al! this requires, he will find that thirty minutes
-re by no means sufficient, and even forty-fíve minutes are barely enough to fit in
everything. No teacher should settle for less.
Yet it should not go unnoticed that however well-devised a lesson plan may be,
~needs rechecking now and then. For although young pupils will derive a sense
¡securíty from constantly repeated behaviour patterns, such patterns do not work
so well with more advanced students. With thern, the fírst thing to be taken care
f is always that which is currently most important for fue student's progress and
- hich therefore needs rnaximurn attention. The salient point may be techníque, but
. may also be a particular musical problem or sorne theoretical matter. The lesson
-nay even begin with sight-reading, if it happens to be the point ro be emphasized,
.nd it may end in the discussion of sorne pertinent question brought up by the
mdent. The sequence within the lesson period is irrelevant for such students as
ong as essentials are taken care of and no one thing ís allowed to dominate for any
ength of time.
The variability of the procedure has its attractiveness, especially to students who
enjoy being treated as individua1s - and who does not? But whatever its structure,
lesson invariably iocludes sorne fresh assignments. It is easy for the teacher to
.;edde how much work he should give to a pupil he already knows; new pupils
-:rustfirst be sounded out. To this end, 1 usually give the newcomer simultaneously
maximum and a minimum assígnment, leavíng the choice up to him. It does not
matter - 1 may tell him - if you are not able to leam aIl of it for the next lesson; if
-ou can do so, or accomplish even more, 1 will be very pleased. But in any case,
..'O welt whatever you do, It is quality that counts, not quantity!
The way in which the student reacts to the challenge will soon show the teacher
-bat to expect of him.

On Discipttne

:be atmosphere of every music lesson should be relaxed and .well-rempered". Since
: is the teacher on whom this depends, he is greatly helped by a naturally even
.;jsposition. Those, however, who have not been endowed with this blessing and
494 Szoveggyüjtemény

are inclined to be temperamental or erratic have to keep themselves well in hand.


The music teacher does not share the psychoanalyst's privilege of being removed
from sight; he must reckon with the fact that his pupils watch hirn, just as he watche
them. Inevitably they react to his gestures, his facial expressions, and to the
inflections of his voice, even though their reactions may not be fully conscíous. Ir
the teacher acts tired or depressed, uninterested or bored, their performaoces wi.!:
fall a few notches below par; if he is nervous or impatient, his pupils become tense
insecure and awkward. On the other hand, if they find him in a cheerful, alert mood
it gíves them a lift and augers well for a good lesson - provided, of course, the-
come to the studío fully prepared. For we must not forget that a teacher is - o
should be - a source of strength to his students. His dynarnism keeps thern moving
His intensity kindles theirs. And if he is passíonately interested in hís work, tha
interest will somehow find its echo in the pupil's: for enthusiasm is contagious, ano
so - alas! - is índífference.
Along with bis professional knowledge, it is the teacher's -personality and poise
which establishes and maintains rus position of leadershíp in the gíve-and-take wit;
the pupilo Young and inexperienced teachers often find it difficult to live up to the
challenge, either because they feel insufficiently prepared for the job at haod e
because of a general lack of self-confidence. (The two handicaps usually interaa
Be this as it rnay - until such shortcomings have been remedied, even an insecun
newcomer to the profession must manage to hold rus own, lest he be take,
advantage of by unruly or arrogant students. However, in putting on a front, as
were, he must see to it that it does not degenerare into a mere facade. Too ofte:
the inexperienced instructor tends to pull the disciplinary reins too hard, possíb
because he needs to assert himself in order to overcompensate his insecurity.

All instructors agree on the need for discipline, but each one has a dífferent answ ..
to the question óf how much it should be stressed and to what ends. rr it is enfor
rigidly and pedantically, the students will chafe under it; if too loosely, matters r,
out of hand. So what is one to do? Generally speakíng, the degree of discipL
required depends on the age of the student and on his individual a iros. Childre,
usually need more of it then adults, and the budding professional much more th
the amateur. In a specific sen se . t he main purpose of discipline is to guide •
formation of ha bits. There is hardly a student who does not need dísciplinary he
in building up fue good habits of lcurning, practicing and memorizing without wh..:
no satisfactory progress can be made.
Children rarely acquire the necessary workíng discipline unaíded. Consequerr
as already noted, they must not only be told, they must be shown how to snx,
The safest way for the reacher to give them good leaming habíts ís to actually praa
with them in the lesson during the first few weeks of instroction, until they can !;
for themselves. Thls is cornmendable even a little later 00, wheoever a snag is
To be sure, by thus working with their teacher, young students canoot emulate h
but they can learn to apply themselves to a task - be it pleasant or unpleasar
and to stick to it until it is Hnished. If they have learned this, they have made
first step toward self-discipline.
With students of any age, it is in matters of purely technicaJ drill that discip¡
reatiy comes ioto its own. By drill we mean the continual development of cer:
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 495

actívities which must become habitual in arder to save thought and energy for
simultaneously needed superior functions. Consequently, ro quote WiLLiamJames
again, nWe rnust make automatic and habitual as early as possible, as many useful
actions as we can."
There ís no getting around the fact that a certain amount of clrill 15 indispensable.
Anybody who wants to play an instrumentfairlywell has to learn how to use hísfingers,
hands and arms automatically to best advantage. Only so can be freely tum rus attention
to the music he performs, and only so can he learn to listen to bis own playing.
A few judiciously chosen sets of daily exercises (besides the tirne-honored scales
and chords) should be sufficient for the amateur to keep his techníque in working
order. Those, however, who wish to become artists at an instrument must subrnit to a
rigorous discipline of thorough training, induding all the technical means of musical
expression. They must leam their craft before they can become full-fledged artists.
Few aspirants to the coneert platform have a just appreciation of how much
dedicated, unceasing effort thís involves, but all great performers know it. Rachma-
ninoff said ro one hopeful candidate for glory: "Young man, if you want to beeome
an artist, you must develop not only your talent for musíc, but also your talent for
work." And Heifetz wamed a would-be virtuoso that "it takes the nerves of a
bullfighter, the vitality of a night-dub hostess, the taet of a diplomat and the
concentration of a Tibetan monk to lead the strenuous life of a concert violinist."
These reflections shed a olear light on the unrealistíc view far too many people take
of the proportion between effort ínvested and results obtained. And, lest we forget,
the truth contained in the words of Rachmaninoff apply to every level on which
teacher and student have to work.

How often have you heard children exclaiming: ,,1love to play the piano, but 1 hate
(O practice!" By practicing they evidently mean finger exercises, technical studies,
scales, and the like. Their distaste is understandable, as long as they cannot see any
purpose in the tiresome .mechanícal" work they are expected to do. Experience
hows, however, that as soon as a seemingly purposeless task has been made
meaningful for them, almost all children will do the required exercises without
demurring. In other words, the picture changes as soon as their efforts are directed
toward a pleasurable goal. We have seen that while adults may enjoy embarking
'ln some long-range project, children work best toward an immediate, tangible goal.
Hence, in telling them, for example, that if they do certain exercises really well, they
"".i.l! get a new piece they couId not master otherwise, we are hglding out an incentive
"ew youngsters can resist; motivation turns the trick.
The necessary technical studies can be made palatable in many more ways. But
-.bould they always be sugar-coated? 1, personaUy, do not think so. 1 believe that our
"lUpils must leam at a quite early stage that wid10ut hard work, neid1er knowledge nor
-;ru! can be acquired. This is a fact mat the currently favored "soft pedagogy" .is apt to
i5cure in the minds of both teacher and student. Learning cannot always be enjoyable.
"1lis is another fact mat has to be rediscovered from time to time.
Both these facts were generaUy accepted in the ambience in which 1 grew up, as
.ey were indeed all over Europe. The piano graduate of every self-respecting music
.'1001 had to work his way through the studies of Gzerny and Cramer, and through
496 SzOveggyfijteméJl'"

Clementi's Gradus ad Parnassum up to the Chopin Etudes. And a good part


these labors was also obligatory for students of any privare teacher worth rus s,
Probably we were all over-disciplined. But the harm that could have been wroug;..
by the pressures of a strictly rnethodícal training was counterbalanced byappreciab.
results. In the end, the graduating student found himself in possession of a soc.
technical and musical foundation which stood hím in good stead ever after, :;
practically all conservatoríes, the master under whom one studíed had liferim'.
tenure. He could delegate assistants for the technical training of new students ac
merely direct the work from on high. But the professor who wholeheartedly worke
with and for his students thereby acquired tremendous prestige.
By and large, this still was the general situation sorne thirty years back, when
late Alexander Raab, whóm many píanísts in this country remember as
outstanding pedagogue, visited a number of musical instítutions in various Europea
countries, Asked on his return what difference, if any, he had observed betwee
our music instruction and theirs, he said: "1 can sum it up in a few words. here ti.
teacher works, and over there the student works." Since then, it must be admine,
things have changed considerably .over here". More and more young people ~
their studíes seriously. Apparently, Sputnik had its effect even on music teachín,
Under present conditions, private music teachers in this country could fínd
practicable cornpromíse between the two divergent trends if they made grea;
demands on the student but at the same time gave him the feelíng that good w
has its own rewards. Every student should be made to realize that these rewards
in the satisfaction afforded by one's own achievements. The joyful discovery tt
he can do today what he was unable to do last week, last month or last year, bnc.;
the meaning of progress home to any young student, and acts as a powerful stimulzr

In the lower and middle grades, the music teacher must often function as
educator. He has to take a hand not only in creating good learníng habíts, bur a,
in forming or reforming the behavior and customs of the tribe. Some of the han
that have to be inculcated into most young (and even sorne not so young) studer
are: coming to the lesson punctually, with all the needed paraphernalía, and v.
well-groomed hands; not interrupting the teacher out of sheer eagerness when
is explaining or demonstratíng sornethíng, and not leaving unfinished any task i...:
has been willingly undertaken. Last, but far from least, is the ha bit of keeping reg¡...
practice hours, always consulting rhe instructions written in the assignment bo...
Although such minor details of basic discipline may seem petty or non-essential ;-
instructor of young people can afford to neglect them, for they contribute to .
effectiveness of his teaching.
Let us now see what we can learn froril the various observations presented in
foregoing.
We cannot expect from our students virtues we do not practice ourselves. If-
are without discipline, we canuot hope for discipline on their part; if we
unpunctual, we cannot blarue them for their failure to be on time; if absent-min
we canuor upbraid them for their lack of concentration; and so on, down the ~
Finally, most students are inclined to imitate - if not always to emulate - ~
teachers. The more a pupil identifies with the master, the more will he unwittin._
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 497

a good part of adopt rus master's habits and copy rus mannerisms. Thus we teachers are continually
worth rus salt. confronted with living mirrors - sometimes distorting, but always revealing. Many
have been wroughr of us should look into them more often than we usually do!
byappreciable
-sessron of a solid On Authorlty
ever after. In
had lifetime In Europe, not too many years back, a teacher had to be authoritarian in order to
new students and be taken seriously. He demanded respect whether or not he deserved iti indeed,
Helleartedlv worked respect was his generally acknowledged due. This sort of thing would not work
here and now, it never worked with me. 1 always felt - as we all do today - that
respect has to be earned and that authority cannot be enforced. By wielding rus
authority in the old-fashioned manner, the master delíberately created an
insurmountable distance between himself and rus pupils. Yet, if it be true that
familiarity breeds contempt (or, as Aldous Huxley puts it, .índífference"), it
certainly ís also true that aloofness breeds neither respect nor confidence. Rather,
in the present social climate, authoritarianism ís apt to provoke criticism, especially
in this country, where everyone - children included, - stands on rus inalienable
right to criticize everything and everybody, and where authority, as a means of
education, is used but sparingly.
Nonetheless, the principle of authority must not, and cannot, be thrown over-
board. If not misused, it has its rightful place in student-teacher relationships as well
as in family situations. The teacher certainly needs it in every branch and on every
level of instruction.
Discipline is the handmaiden of authority. The one is ineffectual wíthout the other.
Of course, there are various ways to bring authority into play. In dealing with
children, for example, firmness coupled with friendliness is of the utmost impor-
tance. Well-considered rules, once laid down, must be adhered tooJustly meted out
rewards and reproof play their role in keeping the pupil at rus work.
With adolescents and adults, subtler means can be employed to good advantage.
For instance, when a pupil is rerníss in rus studies, it is sometímes sufficient to sit
back impassively, just let him play on, and then tell him when the situatíon becomes
uncornfortable: .Now listen; if you are not interested in your work, 1 cannot be
interested in it either. If you don't do your part, 1can't do mine ..." It is amazing how
bracing an effect the sudden withdrawal of interest can have, particularly if cornbined
with a few encouraging words, such as, .You are able to do better than that. just
work a little harderl"
But however irritated the teacher may become, he must never allow írony or
sarcasm to tinge hís remarks, for both are ignoble misuses of his superiority and
authority. The student feels the sting and reacts accordingly, i.e., negatively ... On
the other hand, the severest criticism can have positive, benefícíal effects if tempered
with a touch of humour.

Somehow, all students have an uncanny sense of the professional and personal qualities
of their teacher. They will instinctivelyconcede or refuse him the authority he seeks. If
sufficiently impressed by the teacher's competence and poise, they will spontaneously
bow lo his authority. They will do so willingly because, unknown to themselves, all
498 Sz6veggyíijtemény

students - chíldren and adolescents as well as adults - want to look up to the person
who is supposed to impart knowledge and skills. This is one of the important thíngs
we can learn from our teaching experience, in case we have not learned it from the
frustrations of our student years, which tell the same story in reverse.
In speaking of authority, one must distinguish between the genuine authority of
an .expert, that is, of a master who can draw upon rích resources of experience,
knowledge and practical skill; and the arbitrary authority of a dictatorial pedagogue,
whose credentials do not measure up to the standards of true authority. Nonetheless,
such self-appointed authorítaríans can exert full power over their charges, dernand-
ing unconditional obedience - and mostly getting it, too. How can this strange
phenomenon.be explained? One possible answer may be that teachers of this ilk
derive suggestive power from the unshakable belief in their own excellent skill and
infallibility. Another answer may be found in the lack ofinltiative and imagination
on the part of those who forever submit defenselessly to the aggressrve impact of
a stronger personality.
In real life, of course, the two categories cannot always be kept so neatly apan,
There are instructors of unquestionable knowledge and effíciency whose work Is
marred by a dictatorial slant. They are me ones who foist their individual style, taste
and technique on all who come under their ínfluence. To the experienced listener,
students of such teachers are recognizable by the mannerisms of their master. One
cannot help wonderlng how any fine musicían can bear having hís own ímage
reproduced again and again without getting tired of it - especially if one compares
this attitude with that of an artist like Artur Rubínstein, who dislikes listening to tili
own recordíngs beca use, as he said: nI would want id make them again; 1 have
learned something and they haven't."

When an over-authoritative teacher has to deal with students of indifferent capabi-


lities, seemíngly no great harm is done if he substitutes bis musical conceptions fc..-
theirs. However, the question remains open whether, in so doíng, the teacher does
not stunt bis pupils' growth. Perhaps those slow or unimaginative ones could ha~
been helped to think for themselves and to find their way to adequate self-expfe5-
sion. It is a ·moot question; but not an irrelevant one.
The situation is much more serious when a genuine talent becomes involved wiI!:
an artist-teacher who swears by the authenticity of his own interpretation aOL
tolerates no deviatian from it. Understandably enough, a musically gífted, bu
irnmature, stuJent is inclined to fall into the partern set for him. Eager to leam an
awed by the master's prestige, an admiring disciple will strive to satisfy his teame'
and model by perforrIung the music exactly as he is expected too As long as he ca:
wholeheartedly accept the master's readings, an aspiring artist may grow, even under
tyrannicalleadership. But trouble is lurking when he is forcing himself to confor!"
to the master's interpretation, despite more and more frequent stirrings of criticisn:
doubt, or dissent. And catastrophic consequences are almost inevitable if the disci¡:i
does not detach himself from the master's influence while still capable of developic;~
his Own artistic conceptions.
But even so, it may happen that a mature musician, long after he has attained fu.
and indeperident artistry, still canflot completely shake off. the impact of the mod.::
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 499

enforced upon hírn in bis youth. For exarnple, here is the story of a highly
distinguished concert pianist, the late Severin Eisenberger, as he told it to me himself:
"While still in my teens, 1 studied intensively with Leschetizky, tbat most farnous
and redoubrable master. DuJy prepared by an assistant, lfinally was adrnitted to che
sanctum, anxious to fulfill every wish of the master whom 1 revered and feared. For
ayear or two we concentrated on severa! Beethoven sonatas, which 1 worked out
to the last detail accordíng ro Leschetízky's dírectives, His readings became so
ingrained in my whole being that they were virtually indelible. Many, many years
after 1 bad left rny master, strange things would bappen to me on the podium.
Sometimes when 1 performed a composition which 1 had studied with him, in my
way, instead of in his, 1 would feel a sudden pang of guilt and palpitation that almost
threw me off. The shock of Leschetízky's authority still worked like a time-bornbl"
It would be unfair, of course, to put the entire responsibility for the neurotic reactions
of one gifted disciple on Leschetizky's shoulders; the more so since this master-
teacher has turned out more great artists than any other - Schnabel and Ossip
Gabrilowitch among them. The latter said to his student, Cécile de Horvath, that
when he carne to Leschetizky after having acquired hís technique in Russia, the
master refrained from interfering with the personal style he was deveLoping on his
owo. Leschetizky, he rernarked had a geníus for bringing out all the musical
potentialities of a pupil. This goes to show that in evaJuating teacher-student
relationships on any level, one must carefully weigh the contributions of al! sides
before forming a judgment.

Fortunately, for each master who - perhaps unwittingly - weakens or destroys his
students' self-reliance, there are many more who manage not only to keep up the
self-confidence of their pupils, but also to nurture it, if need be. How such teaehers
go about ít, they themselves probably would not be able to tell, for they are guided
more by natural taet (i.e., by the instinetive knowledge of the right course to take)
than by reasoning. The fact rernains that gifted students of profícient and sympathetic
.general practitioners'' usually bave a better ehanee to emerge from years of study
without Joss ro their self-esteem than have the gifted disciples of farnous egocentric
.specialists". Since we are mainly concerned with the activítíes of the general
practitioner, let us see by what means he builds up hís pupils' moraJe. Sorne of the
most effective means can be formulated as so many "do's and don't's".
A teacher can hope to steer his pupils cLear of dangerous shoals:
rf he does not intirnidate them, but rather encourages them to do their best - thus
creating an atmosphere of mutual trust.
If he takes care to develop their potentíalíties, but does not burden them with
tasks that exceed their capabilities - thus furthering their growth and avoiding
frustratíon.
If he accustoms bis pupils to say, ,,1 cannot do thís as yet, ,. instead of saying, ,,1
cannot do this"
If he accustoms them to playing in the presence of fellow-students or visitors
without attaching particular importance to it - thus forestalling self-conscíousness
or stage-fright.
- rf an occasionaJ failure at sorne special occasion is not made too much of.
500 Szoveggyiijtemén}

If the teacher encourages rus pupils to use their imagination in matters of musica,
self-expressíon as weU as in matters of performance (provided there is no das!
with the cornposer's intentions) - thus awakening or fostering initiatíve an:...
potential creativeness. Finally:
- If rus students can feel free to seek bis advice whenever they encounter díffícultíe
or problems they cannot cope with alone.
Measures of this kind will serve their purpose only if supported by the teacher
authority. Not an imposed authority, of course, but one that grows out of
student's implicit faith in his master. It is only this kind of authority that makes tb,
student feel secure in his relations to the teacher as well as to the outer musica.
world. A student who can rely on his rnaster's integrity, sincerity and sound judgmer..
has a standard by which to rneasure rus own attainments as well as those of others
And what better use can a teacher make of his authority?

On Empathy

In speaking of discipline or authority, one can draw upon observations made


others. Thís is not so when one wants to talk about subtler, more delicate thing
like empathy or inner motívations; here nothing counts but one's own experience
- as far as it can be made fully conscious.
The term empathy (once not so current in English pedagogic parlance as i:.;
counterpart, Einfühlung, was in Gerrnany) has lately become part of our pedagoga,
vocabulary. Translated Iíterally, it means .feelíng ínto", i.e., feeling one's way im;..
a work of art, a piece of music, or into a persono 1 would translate it as being (o
becoming) attuned to somebody, or, in plain English, putting oneself ínto anotbe
person's shoes.
It is through empathy that we gain direct insight into another person's thought,
and feelings, and more specifically ínto the reasoning and imagination of youn ,
people. Putting ourselves into the place of the pupil enables us to understand hi.!
needs and motivations intuitiveiy. It is a kind of passing identífícatíon, invaluable
and irreplaceable in the relationship between teacher and taught. 1 am inclined t'
believe that it is a natural gíft, líke a good ear or a good sense of rhythm. But it, \\~
not bear fruit unless we can fall back upon mernoríes of our own childhood ao...
adolescence, mernories connected not only with musíc, but with any other ínner
experience that has left its mark on our personal development. To put it a littJ
differently: The teacher's .remembrance of things past" plays a decisive role in lru
understanding of the pupils' needs and motivations.
Engaged in a profession that entails many contacts with many kinds of people, "
like to exchange experiences and ideas with colleagues who are interested i::'
working with students of different ages, backgrounds and aptitudes. Hence '
particularly vaJue conversations with colleagues who, like myself, teach with tlk
same dedication on different levels of instruction, without belittling the lower (Yo
over-rating the higher.
In one of the conversations that 1 recall, such a colleague remarked that she r
glad to have taught people .from six to sixty", for her work with children makes •
easier for ber to "size up" and understand not only adolescent but even graduatl.
students. Of course, she emphasized, one must take into account the historical peri~
in which che individual development occurSj a nine-year-old of today is different t:.
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 501

many ways from a nine-year-old of ten or twenty years ago, and an older student
is as much a product of the time during whích he grew up as of his family
surroundings or of the schools he attended.
Although the word empathy had not been mentioned in the course of our
conversation, the idea itself was implicit in everything she had said. Wishing to go
deeper into the matter, 1 brought up the subject under its proper name, and we both
recounted sorne relevant experiences of identification with sorne of our students.
One of my favourite authors, E.M.Forster, says in an essay: .Smce, in referring to
things which go on within a person, one is best infonned of those which are going
on within oneself, and since mine is a case in point, 1 hope ro have sufficient excuse
for taIking about myself ... " Encouraged by Mr. Forster, 1 plead the sarne excuse for
the reminiscences which follow.

1 had the first inkling of how empathy actually works in connection with a
Schumann sonata. 1 had studied it with the greatest enthusiasm as a girl of
eighteen, but, at a more mature stage, 1 neither wanted ro play nor to hear it
again. Yet, when a young student who had fallen in love with ir brought ir to a
lesson, 1 at once recaptured the old entbusiasm, and was wholeheartedly "with
ir"; for an hour or so, as if 1 had been eigbteen years old again, and thus could
reach my student on her own level of development.
That this kind of identificar ion is not lirnited to actual contact with a pupil was
revealed to me by other experiences. Once, for exarnple, while playing through a
stack of rnusíc for fírst- and second-graders, 1 suddenly realized that 1 unwittingly
hesitated or stopped wherever an average seven- or eight-year-old beginner would
have stumbled or stopped. It could be argued - and 1 would agree - that this kind
of identification with the capabilities of a certain age group has little to do with
ernpathy, which is an exquisitely personal matter.
1 became more conscious of the workíngs of true empathy as 1 discovered that 1
could almost always accurately guess where, in a certain composition, student "A"
would encounter difficulties that did not exist for student "B" (and vice versa). 1
asked myself how this could be explained. Identification again, of course, not just
with the student's level of technical proficiency, but identification .under the skín",
identification with the state of his musical imagination and insight, bis temperament
and taste. Thus it is the flair for, and intimate knowledge of, me individual student's
assets and shortcomings that shows (he teacher what to do in order ro remedy
weak.nesses or to refine strong points. In this sense, empathy can have definite
constructive uses in a gíven teaching situation.
On the other hand, self-centered teachers - for example, the one who indiscri-
minately assigns the pieces he knows and likes best, or the one who, athletic hímself,
expects a frail student ro practice devastating octave and chord etudes by the hour
- such teachers betray a regrettable lack of empathy, and the student suffers,
Like the gift of so-called absolute pitch, empathy has a somewhat mysterious,
inrriguing quality which seems to be related to a spedal kind of memory that enables
one to relive deep inner experiences at any time. Those who possess it have no
difficulry in re-thi.nking and re-feeling past stages of their development; conse-
quently, "they can be any age al will", according to the needs of the moment. This
502 Szoveggyfijtemény

flexibility ís extremely helpful in the music teacher's work as well as in other


educational pursuíts, where it tends to lesson the gap that so often separares one
generation from the next.
Of course, a strong proclivity toward identification wíth others has its pitfalls. k
a teacher, one must be careful not to let empathy infringe upon rus identity an<..
authority. Conversely, an overdose of identification on the part of the teacher cae
weaken the student's individuality as much as excessive authoriry.
Particular caution is indícated in working with children. Teachers who identify
indiscrimínately with the child lower themselves to the child's level, As mentíoned
elsewhere, this danger is always present if the teacher relies exclusively on those
playful, infantile music books cluttering our music dealers' exhibits, whích retard
rather than promote the pupil's growth. One should not forget that ídenrífícatíon
has no other legitimate purpose thao to raise the pupil from one level of developmen;
to a higher leve!.

In work with advanced, adult or adolescent students, empathy often works in borh
directions - from teacher to student as well as the other way around. Where there
exists a certain natural affinity, mutual empathy develops almost by itself. Trouble
is brewing, however, when the teacher's individuality is all too different from the
pupil's, or when the latter is altogether on the defensive. Disparities in makeup an<i
ternperament can ofteo be bridged over with patience and uoderstanding. But when
a student, for sorne reason that may have nothing to do with music or with the music
teacher, is deeply committed to hís resistance, there is not much one can do. H those
reasons remain unclarified, this leads almost inevitably to the end of me relationsbip.
Such cases belong in the domain of the psychoanalyst rather than in that of the
music pedagogue.
Borderline cases of this kind are relatively rare. All the more common Is that a
certain waveríng, chaogeable attírude toward the reacher emerges, known as
ambivalence. Such feelings often originare in a typically adolescent contradiction
between the desire for guidance and the desire to remain inviolate; and sometimes
in a feeling of doubt or mistrust carried over from frustrating experiences wíth a
former instructor. Or it may simply be the lack of self-confídence an insecure studenr
projects upon his teacher.
A last word about empathy: it may playa minor role in the teaching of pupils
who progress more or less satísfactoríly and smoothly; it is all-important in cases
where sorne traumatic experience - a death in the family, an unsuccessful exami-
natioo or recital, a frustrating love-affair, etc. - causes the student to lose all interest
in bis work. In such cases, only empathy wiU help the teacher in alleviating
listlessness, depression, or self-doubt. And for his good offices to befully effective, !hey
must be not only rnotivated by empathy, but -aIso sustained by the conviction that there
is nothing to replace the meaning that an active pursuit of music can give to OUt Uves.
SzOveggyüjtemény

PART FOUR: TEACHING MElliODS

has its pitfalls. As


bis identity and
Principles of Teachtng MusiciafJShip
of the teacher can
Principies of Teaching Piano Technique
On Practicing
ta<:hers who identify
beL As mentioned
on those
~U.'UJU':', whích retard
t:hat identificatioc
of developmen:
Principies of Teaching Musicianship

Principies play a decísíve part in all instruction; they are primary not only because
they give rise to various methods, but also because they determine the spirit in
whích those methods are carried out. The rightness of a principie can best be judged
by the results it produces. Another test of its worth líes in whether it remains valid
on every level of instruction.
One does not come into possession of good working principies from one day co
the next, unless one swears by sorne eh osen authority, they take time to develop
and to mature. Thus, in my formative years as a teacher, 1 tried out many ideas,
principies, and rnethods - learning something or other even from those 1 could not
agree with - until, by and by, 1 formed definite eonceptions of what 1 wanted my
musie teachíng to be. These conceptions fínally crystalízed in certain principies
which I have professed for many years, and to whích 1 still adhere. Before specifying
them, a few preliminary general remarks are in order.
Music can be approached and assímílated through direct emotional response, or
through what we call .understandtng". The first way is open to all who are born
with that specific receptivity or who are conditioned to it by early environmental
influences. The second is, so to speak, a toll road, of easy access mainly to those
with a more intellectual approach, In the interest of the student, it is desirable that
the two ways be brought to complement each other - and this is where the teacher
comes in. To quote E.M. Forster again: .The secret door to muste has a double lock;
love holds one key, knowledge the other. .."
To be sure, nobody can be inured to musical .feeling"; but any person endowed
with it can be taught ro think in terms of music. "Through thought, feelíng becomes
knowledge", and sinee it is the teacher who holds the key to that knowledge, it is
one of his responsibilities to raíse bis students from the status of untutored, to that
of educated music-lovers. In order to prepare the ground for "musical thinking", it
should be explained that music is a language in its own right: a meaningful, though
untranslatable language that has its own grammar, syntax, and logic. This fact can
best be brought home to the student in its practica! application, and most
convincingly within the framework of the regular piano lesson. If "grarnmar and
syntax", i.e., theory and forro, are not taught separately, but in close connection
with the actual playing material, even a child can leam by degrees to th.ink in terros
of music Cthat is, in terms of chords, phrases, rhythmic patterns, modulations, and
so forth), without losing rus unsopbisticated receptivity.
504 Szoveggyiijtemény

In adding intellectual comprehension to the practice and enjoyment of music, the


teacher contributes directly to his pupils' musicianship, and indirectly to their
personal developrnent and general culture. One need not fear over-íntellectualíza-
tion if (he esthetic, expressive side of rnusíc receives at least equal attention with
the intellectual, and if sufficient room is left for extracurricular musical activítíes.

'i'

The development of musicianship must go hand in hand with pianistic training frorn
the very beginning, that is, the student must always understand what he is playíng.
Or, to put it a little differently, he should play only what he is able to understand
To this end, all pupils - even beginners - rnust be given some insight into tbe
constructive elements of the music they are to study. Any child over seven years of
age can learn, for example, to observe the patterns on which his exercises are built,
as well as the "musical punctuation", i.e., the correct phrasing of the simple melodies
(mostly just periods with a .stopover" on the dominant) he has to play. Likewíse,
any second-grader can be taughr to discern the element of repetition in short A-B-A
pieces and plain rondo forms, as weU as the element of melodic imitaüon in httle
canons (rounds), and simple pieces written in two-part counterpoint. Children as
well as adults enjoy using their intelligence; hence there is no good reason why
they should not be taught to use it in musical activities as weU.
Both intellect and ear are brought into playas soon as elementary exercises in
keyboard harmony are introduced. In my opinion, they should be introduced ver)"
early (in the fírst two months of instruction), but at any rate before the pupil has to
play homophonic pieces, l.e., melodies with a chordal accompaniment. It ís
advisable to assign such pieces somewhat later than usual, on the one hand beca use
the pupil will perform thern more musically if he has already learned to sírnultane-
ously use twO kinds of touch; and, on the other hand, beca use he wíll understand
them better if he has learned from his harmony practice to recognize the broken
chords in the accompaniment for what they are.
By means of well-planned exercises at the keyboard (which require only a few
minutes of the piano lesson and can be spread out over several years), he becomes
familiar with the simples! elements of harmonic thinking, such as triads, dominan;
7th and diminished 7th chords with their inversions. If he learns, moreover, to playand
write basic chord-connectíons such as I-N-V-I, and if he gains a clear idea of their
cadentialfunction within a simple piece of rnusic, he knows about as rnuch of harmony
as he needs for me understanding of rus playíng material during the fírst two years.
Scales should be introduced concurrently with chords, but should be assigned for
regular piano practicing only after the pupil has been taught how to build major
and minor scales, and how to pair them off correctly. Again, for the sake of applying
theory to musical practice, he should always be asked to decide at once whether
the pieces he has to learn are in a major or a minor key, and be prepared to play
the respective scales with their cadences on the spot.
Any new elements that turn up in his music - be they of a rhythmic, melodic, OI
harmonic nature - should be explained in the context of the particular píece, and
then further illustrated. This practice must be continued even as structure and texture
of the playing material become more complexo
Naturally, such insíght can hardly be achíeved without sorne guidance from the
teacher. But once a student has come reasonably close to it, he should be able to
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 505

approach any kind of music unaíded, and to fínd bis way through its intricacies on rus
own, unless it is written in a style completely unfamiliar to him (e.g. contemporary music).

Still, the fact remains that analysís, though useful and enlightening, has no other purpose
than to enhance rnusícíanshíp, and that the student's musicianship must assert itself in
the correct and imaginative perforrnanceoi the compositions he studies. Hence.a teacher
training from who also is a good musician cannot be content unless bis students (of whatever age)
he is playing grasp the mood and musical import of those compositions, and preve it at the piano.
ro understand, The study and performance of more substantial and meaningful compositions
insight ínro tbe brings the esthetic and irnaginative components of musicianship into the foreground
seven years " - technical proficiency being supposed ro provide the adequate pianistic backgro-
~~ses are btill:. und. If a student has been encouraged in the early stages of bis development to do
simple melodíe- justice to the musical content of whatever he ís playing, he will have little difficulty
{O play. Lik~ in doing the same on a higher level. In the case of a student whose previous training
inshortA=B-!\ has been geared predominantly to the acquisltion of technícal skill, the teacher has
to use all possible means to stimulate and nurture that student's musical sense and
imagination. The simplest rneans, and the one used most frequently, is to play the
music for the student, pointing out its characteristic expressive fearures, and calling
attention to tempo, style, and changes in its prevailing mood. This is undoubtedly
useful in dealing with younger pupils or adult beginners, whose imagination needs
to be guided by model performances. Yet if prolonged índefínítely, that practice
may weaken the pupil's initiative and produce nothing but imitators.
Witl1 more mature students, entrusting them with their own interpretation almost
always provides a powerful incentive. A teacher can use various methods for activating
his students' ambition and imagination besides offering his own performance and
holding it up as a model (a frequent but mostly ineffectual procedure). He may challenge
the student to devise and carry out his own musical conceptions; or he may símply
encourage him to do so. In trying hard to live up to a timely encouragement or challenge,
a student sometimes taps resources neither he nor fue teacher was aware of. In other
words: beíng shown or told is rarely as effective as fínding out for oneself. It is only
first-hand experience and experimentation that leads to true rnusícíanshíp.
In our own day, the availability of master recordings encompassing fue entire pianistic
repertory tempts many a student to take the easy way out. He willlisten to and compare
various performances and eventually adopt the interpretation of a certain artist as rus
model - blissfully unaware that though he may succeed in irnitating details that have
impressed hím, it is the leve! of a master performance that remains unattainable.
At all events, a purposeful student must learn, sooner or later, ro follow his own
musical taste and judgement instead of relying forever on that of his teacher, even
though he may still need and appreciate some guidance.
If that teacher has artíst-students approaching maturity, he may wisely limit himself
(O his last role - that of fue critic, discussing interpretations and offeríng constructive
cornment. The ultimate goal and satisfaction of a dedicated teacher líes, of course,
in putting bis students on their own feet, and in furthering their musical self-reali-
zatíon to fue point where he, as an instructor, becomes dispensable. No teacher can
impart talent to his charges; but he can help to develop true musictanship, as far
.lS their capabilities allow, Thus, if he carmot produce concert artists, he can, at any
rate, educate intelligent and active music-Iovers, pianists, and teachers.
506 SzoveggyfijteménY

Principies of Teaching Piano Technique

What is Technique? In its broadest sense, it is the pianíst's vehicle of musia.


expression. It also could be described as the rnastery of mechanical skills in ti-
service of aesthetic communication, or as a combination of craftsmanship and artístr
- the former being the hand-maiden of the latter. In work with beginners the teachío ,
of technique is necessarily limited to mechanical skills, aesthetic elements gaínín,
more and more importance by and by. But though, for sorne time craftsmanship
unavoidably in the foreground, the desire for making music must be ever preser.
In other words, technique must always serve musical purposes. To this end, ever
technical attainment of the pupil must be applied to music that requires it. If he .
given the chance of .spendíng" tbe technical skills he has acquíred on t1-
performance of sorne suitable composition, the pupil will understand for what
has labored. The applícatíon of this principie not only breeds musícians, but als
gíves the student the right evaluation ofTechnique (which is all too often conceive
as the ability to play fast and loud as long as possible).
In teaching píano-techníque, it is time that the controversies between 11
advocates of .arm-weíght" and .fínger-actíon" be ended. The solutíon ís n
"either-or", but "as well as". Musical invention is so many-faceted that both ar
needed. Many teachers are still puzzled by the question of what to introduce firs
so-called arm-technique, or so-called finger-technique. Here, again, if we say .an(.
instead of "or", the question resolves itself, for it is evídent that the fingers cano
work properly unless the arm is adequately balanced. And since the larger muscJc..
are easier to control than the smaller ones, the functioning pf the arm musdes
govemed from the shoulder, is the first thing ro be taken care of. Yet, the cona.
functíoníng of the arm can only be achieved in securing the correct posture at tP
piano; i.e., apostille that allows fíngers, wrist and elbow to perform, with a minimu-r
of effort, the playing-motions for which they are anatomically best Rtted. This -
what 1call a natural posture.l have seen over and over again that once such akinetiau.
favorable posture has been assumed - that ¡s, once the student has learned to sir -
front of the keyboard at the height and distance proportionate ro bis size, aun-length ar.
eyesight- most of the necessary preconditions for a natural playing technique are presec
There can be no doubt: the shoulder joint ís the center 01 the entire piar
technique because, being a ball-and-socket joint, the arm can move freely on lb
keys in every direction: in and out Cforward and backward), laterally (to the ri~
and left), borizontally on the same level, as well as combined with a rolling motia'
Moreover, it is from the shoulder joint tbat the weight of (he arm is eith..
intermittently released (e.g., for a fulllegato tone), or held in balance (suspended
when the emphasis is on the work of the small apparatus Chands and finger:,
Thus, the shoulder joint can do practically everything but touch the keys. This
the privilege reserved for the ftngers, which contact the keys directly and transm.
not only all motor impulses originating in the wrist, elbow and shoulder, but a
the mental and emotional impulses that go with an expressive musical performanc ..
Speed, lightness and the finer shadings of touch a11depend ultimately on senSID'
finger functioning.
Therefore a systematic. training of che fingers is indeed indispensable. True, t:
time is gone when they had to be raised high to attack the keys like so many lit!.
hammers Ca carryover from the harpsichord-technique that has no validity on Lo
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 507

modern piano); but still, the fingers must acquire independence and precision in
depressing and releasing the keys before they can be sensitized for more subtle,
differentiated action.
1 do not believe, however, in stressing perfect finger work at the very outset. It
diverts too rnuch attention from the pupil's initiation into music and de prives him
of the sense of achievernent that onJy growing contact with music can bring about.
During the first few weeks, 1 usualiy leave well enough alone if the student's wrist
does not cave in under the weight of the arm, flattening out the fingers; if he does
not pull the arrn back, causing the fingers ro glide off the keys, or if he does not
draw up bis shoulders, stiffening the elbows. In my experience, alI these faults can
be avoided or easily corrected as the student becomes accustomed to the "natural"
posture described aboye; this is why 1 set such great store by it.
No teacher who wants to do a creditable job can fail to develop or adopt certain
principies. But adhering to a principie is one thing; putting it into practice is another.
In matters of pianistíc training, the principie that such training must include both
weight- and finger-technique certainly is a sound one; nonetheless, as often as not,
adjustments have to be made when putting the principIe ínto practice. For example,
the instructor may rely primarily on weight-techníque, yet, being an observant
pedagogue, he will not invariably stick to bis own approach. He will consider the
physical makeup and babits of the individual pupil before deciding on the best
approach in each case. Some people are rather loose-jointed, others rather rnuscle-
bound; some have compact hands with short fingers, others delicate, narrow,
long-fíngered hands, and so forth. The approach that appears to be indicated for
the loose-joínted type is the one necessitating a certain degree of fixation in the
shoulder joint and in the rwo fmger joints (not the knuckles, of coursel); i.e., the
touch with light arm and curved fíngers. Conversely, for fue muscle-bound type,
the approach that entails loosening of the joints, i.e., weíght-touch with arm drop
and reboundíng wrist, appears preferable.
Obviously, in both cases the teacher's decision is influenced by a remedial
tendency, which in ítself is completely justifiable. Logical though it may be, a radical
change in the student's physical attitudes is not always the best policy; sometimes
it is wiser to start from bis given condition and to work gradually toward fue
irnproved attitudes. In any case, whatever kind of approach fue teacher chooses,
fue novice must be made aware of [he feel of fue heavy and me light armo Since in
many people fue necessary muscle-control is undeveloped, the following test - or
let us call tbem preliminary exercises - are to be recomrnended:
Exercise a.) in order to elicit the sensation of the .heavy arm", the pupil has to
stand upright, facíng (and imitatingl) the teacher, arros hanging loosely at his sides;
now he raises them sideways, uery slowly, ro shoulder-heíght, and keeps thern
outstretched, hands dangling, until the teacher says .Flopl" Thereby me pupil
experiences the full weight of bis arms - frequently to bis o:wn surprise. Next, me
heavy armlift and drop is executed in me same fashíon but in front of fue body, as
it will be used at fue keyboard. By carrying out this exercise a few times, (he student
. gets the feel of the heavy arm, to be foUowed by. Exercise b.) for (he "light arm".
The arms, straightened down to the fmgertips Cbut by no means stiffenedO are again
raised to shoulder-height, however tI1is tim.e. very quickly, and moved around at
shoulder level from side to center and back. Then me arms, while stiU supported
from the shoulder, are lowered to keyboard-level (wifu slightly bent elbows) and
carried around again at this level, fue fingers moving in fue air, as ¡fon fue keyboard.
508 SzOveggyüjteméur

Since it cannot be assumed that every student will automatically perform


playing motions well, he must learn to localíze, direct, and control them, rernerr-
bering also the .feel", that is, the muscular sensation accompanying the wei.-
performed motion. This is particularly useful to adult students who have had r-
training in organízed sports.
Once the pupil is able to manipulate five neighboring piano keys in successior-
plans must be made for his further progress. The motto "Teach one thing at a time
still holds true; but iohat are the .things" ro be taught, when should they be taugb
and in uihat orderr The teacher must know exactly what he wants to accomplis
with each step and, after having decided on the specífic aims to be attained witb:
those steps, he must choose the appropriate teachíng material to implement therr
A big order - and a big headache for many a well-rneaning but ínexperíenced Instrucrc-
During my many years of teaching beginners of all ages, and after much trial an:...
error, 1 have worked out a curriculum for the first year (or 111z years) of instructio ..
Since scores of my teacher-students have found it to be useful in almost every case
1 shall outline it here, in the hope that sorne of my readers, too, may find it usefu,

The curriculum 1 advocate is divided into four steps, with different tasks to b,
accomplished in each one.
Step one aims at the independence of me hands in canying out parallel anc,
con~ry motions,
Step two aims at their independence in matters of rhythm; the airo of
Step three is independence of the hands in touch and dynarnícs, and fínally,
Step four brings the extension of the playíng range, as well as the furthe
development of previous steps.
Although our four steps have been devised prímaríly in view of the studenr
technical progress, reference will be made to details oí ear-trainíng and keyboax,
harmony to be combined with me playing material in each step. In so doing, v·;..
maintain the principie of the previous chapter that the development of techníqu,
and musicianship go hand in hand.
Originally, 1 did not intend to specify the teaching material wíth which to carr-
out the agenda within the Four Steps, leavíng the reader free to gather rus ()\\~
materíals once me objectíves have been understood. 1 soon realized, however, fu... :
without proper implementation, the objective themselves cannot be made suffk.-
ently clear, Therefore, 1 decided to list sorne of the teachíng materials 1 have founc
partícularly useful in solving the successive technícal tasks and in illustrating certair"
musical points involved.
1 want to emphasize, furthermoce, that interested readers wüling to give
curriculum a try as it stands should feel free thereafter to use any other material th. .
serves the same purposes. And lastly, depending on the pupil's age, ability, an...
individual idiosyncrasy, the succession of óu(Steps can also be slightly altered. F..-
instance, scales may be introduced somewhat ,earlier, oc irltellectually demandir:,_
polyphonic examples somewhat later, than indicated, without detriment to ....::.
ordered study-plan. As long as the basic idea of organized progress is safeguarda..
minor adjustrnents can be made as needed.
SZOveggyüjtemény Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 509

In music instruction, ti anywhere, it is pedantry that kills even the best principIes,
and elasticity in application that keeps them alive.
Here, now, is our succinct currículum for the fírst 111z years of instruction (or any
length of time it may take for a beginner to attain so-called Lower Middle Grade).

Curriculum for the first year (or 11/z years):

Step One
Exercises in parallel and contrary motion within flve-finger position. The same
note-values, and the same kind of whatever chosen touch in both hands:
a.) brief exercises and melodies in unison, two octaves apart
b.) similar exercíses in sixths and tenths parallel
c.) exercises in alternating parallel and contrary motion
d) basíc five-finger positions transposed into clifferent registers

Note. Por steps a) through e) 1 often use Nos. 1-20 frorn Kóhler's .Children's Exercises and Melodies" (G.
Schírrner), for d), Nos 13-17 in the fírst volume of Ban6k's "Mikrokosrnos· (Boosey & Hawkes) offer good
exarnples. 1 frequently use chis book, as well as supplernentary material by other modero cornposers,
particularly for older begínners.
different tasks to
Along with the technícal studies, the following exercises in musicianship should
be introduced: rhythm-clapping (cf.p.24 examples in nMusicalityTests"); rote- and
sight-singing of simple tunes; interval-reading (cf. the chapter on sight-reading),
transposing of short exercises, noticing the phrasing of the melodies and the
.pauern" of exercises; playing of very easy duets with the teacher.
Step Two
In working toward rhythmic independence 01 the hands; the pupil must learn to
play, simultaneously, different note values with the right and the left bando This can
be done by gívíng him either little hornophonic pieces to study (Le. melodies with
a chordal accompaniment), or purely melodíc, contrapunta! ones. Since the pupils
have so far Iearned only one kind of touch, ít is preferable to introduce the latter
first, because they can be performed musicallywiththe same kind oftouch in both
hands, whereas the pupil must first learn to produce I and/or p at will ti he is to
perform the smallest piece of homophonic music without offending the ear. Since
the proposed method of proceeding is somewhat unusual, it seems appropriate to
illustrate to it with a few examples.
a.) Preparatory exercises: two or three notes against one, e.g.:
1\
- _j .í

el I

L _l 1 --.
I I

"
el .... • • -61- • -61-. 4·

: . . . I 1
.
"-- I
.!-/
510 Szoveggyiijtemény

b.) Playing lítrle canons, e.g.:

1:;::: sa::EI :t:;1 :r:E1:3:;1 ;;::1 FrEE I a- ;

See also .Míkrokosmos" Vol. 1, Nos. 28-31 and our next example.
c.) Little píeces in free imitation, e.g., Bartók's "First Term at the Piano" (Boosey
& Hawkes), Nos. 3, 4, and 8, sorne of whích introduce ties and dotted rhythms,
Quite a few easy examples of this kind can be found in "Next Door Neighbors"
(Summy-Birchard).
Even though the comparatively early study of ,linear", two-part pieces may call
for some additional effort on the part of the student, it pays off handsomely when
- in ayear or so - he gets acquainted with Bach's music, thanks to an earíy
conditioning, counterpoint loses its terrors. Moreover, contrapuntaI thinking also
facilita tes the understanding of many contemporary compositions.
Exercises in musicianship to be introduced with Step Two: the singing of well-known
rounds, with the teacher or a fellow student, definition of the. round (canon);
demonstrating how a simple melodic pattern can be developed into a canon, e.g.:

3
1: : J !;1 J: 1: : ~ 1: : ~ 1:' r E I r r- r
(Pupil should play one melodic Une while síngíng the other, to make sure that he
reaUy hears both.)Definition and illustration of imitation and inversion, as they occur
in the student's music, clapping of dotted and syncopated rhythms, improvisation
of melodic motives and short musical phrases to given rhythrns (to be further
developed in the next steps, depending on the pupil's ability).
Step Three
Our main objective now being to work toward independence of the hands from
each other in touch and dynamics, It. ís advísable to begin wíth strong contrasts:
staccato vs. legato, p. vs. f ~
a.) Preparatory exercises. the execution of slurs, e. g.: JJ JO D
.......__... .....__ ...___

(.floating offl"),
and of staecato exercises, to played wíth wrist- or arm-motions. Musical applícatíon,
among others: Kohler No. 18, Bartók "Pirst Term" No.5, Kabalevsky Op.39, No.7.
b.) Execution of a good forte with arm-weight and of a light piano with
fínger-touch, firstcalternately, e.g.:

4 e j J J J IJ J J J IjJJJjJ1J
.f p
IjJJJjJ1J 1) J J J
.f
~tG.

and then simultaneously, in equal note-values, butjin one hand and p in the other,
e.g., arm-legato vs. finger-leggiero ("wading" vs. "tiptoeing"). When che two kinds
of touch have been sufficiently practiced, the new skill may be applied to
szoveggyüjtemény Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 511

c.) A few polyphonic pieces where (he f melody appears alternately in both hands,
e.g., .Fírst Term" Nos. 7 and 9.
Should the student find this altemation too dlfflcult, we can wait with ir until he
has gained sorne experience in steadily maintaíníng contrasting kinds of touch and
dynamics, such as ís the case in
d.) Melodies with an accompaniment of broken chords. These are so plentifuI in
the musíc for beginners that it is hardly necessary to adduce special examples (for
a few very easy ones, cf. KohIer Nos. 20, 22, etc.). In these short homophonic pieces,
the five-finger position, if maintained so far, should be replaced by a sornewhat
more extended playing-range.
Once the student is able to produce f and p at will, intermediary shadings (mp
and m./) may be introduced, culminating in the use of -=::::::: and::::::==-
wherever aesthetically indícared, i.e., wherever it serves musical expression.
Development of musiciaoship in Step Three: the singing, pIaying, and identifying of
major and minor chords, auditivelyas well as visualIy (accompaniments); construction
of the rnajor and minor scale, singing of whole- and half-tone steps, up and downward
from any given tone. The idea of the tonic and dominant; writing and playing of the
of well-known simplest cadences, e.g., T-S-T and T-D-T; this, incidentally, offers a good opportunity for
t!round (canon); introducing the use of the pedal, Definítíon of the modulation if met with in the music.
a canon, e.g..
Step Four

11

d.) Selected short etudes, featuring scales and scale passages.

Note. All cxercises frorn a) through d), whether played f or p, legato, leggiero or staccaro, should be
carried out wíthout usíng rolling rnotíons.
512 Szóveggyiijte01ény

'i'

We must still briefly survey sorne more technical forms to be taken up in due time.
Since each ofthem involves different playing-motions, their introduction should be
properly spaced to avoid confusion in the different muscular functions they require.
One of the most important playing motions is
a.) the rolling motion ~ , i.e., rotation fromside to side of the forearm
from the elbow or of the whole arm from the shoulder. The former can be used to
good advantage for repeated broken sixths and passages of successive sixth-chord
fíguratíons; the latter for successíons of broken octaves or larger intervals. But the
foremost usefulness of that .door-knob-rumíng" motioo lies in that it facilitates the
execution of all sorts of broken chords within and beyond octave-frame.
This technieal forrn, known as arpeggio, must be practiced as continuously and
assiduously as the scales, both being ubiquitous in the fabric of all types oí piano
music from ]. S. Bach on. For a few simple rypícal examples, see Bach's G-major
Minuet in any collectíon of his easiest pieces, Ph. E. Bach's Soifeggietto or, still better,
the first movement of Mozart's Sonate Facile in e major, where passages of scales
and broken chords play equally promínenr roles.
To stay a rnoment longer with this example, in the same sonata movement there
also arises the need for
b.) different kinds oi staccato. hand-drop al the beginning of the second theme,
arrn-stáccato a little later on. (For the introduction of hand-drop, see Bartók's .Fírsr
Term", No, 11; for arrn-staccato, ídem Nos. 15 and 17). Of the maoy shadings thar
líe between a sharp staccato and a smoothjegato it is the mezzo-staccato, so-called
ponato-touch; - usually represented as tr t - that should be introduced, for ir is
frequently needed even in relatively simple music, for example, in Nos. 6 and 11
of Schumann's Album -for the Young.
Other technical forros, such as
c.) Solid octaves and full chords, though prohibitive for very srnall hands, rnay be
taught to adult beginners, if stiffness is earefuUy avoided.
d.) The trills, turns, and other small ornaments the pupil encounters fairly soon
in Bach's, Haydn's or Mozart's music. Inasmuch as he is stumped by them - and he
mostly is - his problem consists in fitting in »the srnall notes" without disturbing the
basic rhythm-pattern and thereby the flow of the music. Thís problem can be solved
easil.yonce the rhythrnic structure and count of tIl.erespective rneasure or mea sures
has been firmly established, practiced unadorned, and then filled in witb the
prescribed embellishments.
Exercises in musicianship: Playing al! four types of triads with their inversioos;
also dominant-seveoth and diminished-seventh chords. Definition of enharmonic
tones. Analysis, in connection with the playiog material, of simple ABACArondo
forms (e.g., Beethoven's "Für Elise") as well as of AB and ABA song forms, aod
completing the formal analysis oí each piece with the analysis of the technical meaos
(kinds of touch, etc.) best fitted for its performance.

Obviously, the study and applieation of the technical forms, listed toward the end
of Step Four could take us well into the second, if not the third, year of instruction
Sroveggyüjtemény Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 513

- particularly in the case of child-beginners. Yet, loose-rneshed though our curricu-


lum is, it would be useless to pin down its details more precisely. After all, the
up in due time. capabilities and needs of younger or older beginners must be judged and ministered
~)C1Ulcti(m should be to on an eruirely individual basis, and this is something that cannot be discussed in
IUllIct1C:>nS they require, an abstract way. In elosing, though, 1 should like to take a brief look at sorne more
general aspects of the subject.
roside of the forearm Proficiency in the execution of standard pianistic formulas such as scales and
can be used to arpeggios, trills, skips and runs, etc., is only the raw material of an artistic technique,
tu<:ce5S.i\resixth-chord whích ineludes the rnastery of countless nuances in phrasing, touch and dynamics
íntervals. But the and of many other subtle features of musical interpretation (more about this in
;.'1at it facilita tes fue Chapter 14). Craftsmanship can be acquired through well-directed, assiduous practice,
'e-frame. not so artistry, whích has its roots in the player's musical sensibility, imagination and
taste, and deperids for its development 00 the development of the whole personality.
An analysis of how an artist builds and uses his techníque would lead us too faroAt any
rate, it can be said that in a full-fledged artistic performance, the player intuitively
rransforms superlative technical skills into superlatively effective means of musical
expression - both being blended so perfectly that they remain indistinguishable.
At thís point somebody couId ask what all this has to do with the work of an
apprentice teacher not likely to discover budding virtuosos or interpretive artists
among rus young charges. Perhaps very líttle, but there may be in hís flock one or
two so-called .naturals" who take to the piano as if boro to it, and must be given
special careo Thanks to their nímble fíngers aod inbom motor facility, they usually
make rapid technical progress. This certainly ís a boon to the student and, indirectly
also to the teacher. But it has its dangers. as often as not, students endowed with
that enviable facility are carried away by it, and tend to grow into mere pianists
rather than into true musicians. To counteract that tendency, the instructor must use
every means to broaden their horizon and to keep them on a substantial musical
diet, without suppressing the interest in virtuoso technical achievements.
These are exceptional cases. What the teacher has to contend with much more
frequently is complete lack of interest in, or even aversion ro, technical studies on
the part of many young students. They somehow see in technique an obstaele that
stands between them and music or, at best a hostil e power that has to be conquered.
In order to conquer ít, one has to practice, practicing means effort; hence many a
youogster tries to evade it, even though he wants the results and enjoys them if and
when they are forthcoming. How to change this attitude for the better is one of the
instructor's main problems. There seerns to be only one solution to it: teaching his
students how to practice. One cannot bring every pupil to like his technícal studies,
but one can at least bring him to accept them - not as a necessary evil, but as asure
way to progress for which there is no substitute.

On Practicing

The opening number, "Dr. Gradus ad Parnassuill," of Debussy's delightful suite,


.Children's Comer," offers a subtle musical illustratioo of how not to practice. Its
title is borrowed from Clementi's famous .Gradus ad Paroassum". Debussy, who,
like aH aspiring pianists of his time, had to plow diligently through these tiresome
and difficult studjes, pokes fun at the pretentious title by addiog the even more
514 SzOveggyüjtemény

pretentious "Doctor" to ir. He then apparently goes on to make musical fun of


Clementi's études and of practícíng itself, His music is so evocative that one cannor
fail ro vísualíze a young girl doing her daily stint at the piano.
Debussy, as a composer, couid look al a young pianíst's practicing with a rwi..nkle
in bis eye. A music teacher, alas, cannot be that detached, for rus pupils' practicing
habits affect both their work and bis. If tbese babits are bad, the instructor will
naturally want lO change them. But he should never step in wíthout considering the
fact that practicing the piano is a highly complex process, involving the synchronized
activities of ear, eye, and hand - not to speak of the mind - and that, by its very
complexíty, thís process includes potential weak poinrs susceptible to various
disturbances, Small wonder, then, that a novice does not know what to watch first:
the notes, the keyboard, the motions of rus hands, the fíngeríng or ... the music ítself.
When a faírly experienced pianist plays a piece of music at sight, he gíves his full
attention to the compositíon. As he reads page after page, moving rus hands on the
keyboard and bis foot on the pedal, be listens with approval or criticism to the music
he brings forth. It never occurs to him that he is engaged in an extremely complicated
set of sirnultaneous actions. In making music, as well as in practicing, the -attention
of an experienced pianist shifts from detail to detall, and from details to the whoJe,
in a more or less orderly fashion. Thanks to the attention-saving automatisms he
has accumulated over the years, he can freely concentrate on parts or on the whole,
on technical or aesthetic matters. Most beginners, on the other hand, are unable to
concentrate on any one thing at a time because their attention is diffused for lack
of me proper automatisms. One only has to watch them, as they stumble along,
looking from the page to the keyboard and back again, thereby dístortíng rhythms
and .losing their place". But what, in this case, causes the stumbling and fumbling?
Is it that the pupil is a poor reader, perceiving only singly the notes ínstead of note
patteros? Does he have difficulties in striking the right keys beca use the visual stímulí
do not translate into the correspondi..ng motor impulses? Or, worst of all, is he so
engrossed in decípheríng the notes and finding the right keys that he hardly hears
what he is playing? Whatever the reason, the pedagogic conclusion ís inescapable:
sorne of the elements of practicing must be made to function autornatícally, lf the
requisite economy of attention ís to be achíeved.
In the chapter on discipline, we referred to .Certaín activities which must
become habitual in order to save thought and energy for simultaneously needed
superior functions," and we also quoted the words of William James ... nWe must
rnake automa~ic amI. habitual as early as possible as many useful actions as we
can ... " Both these statements are by now cornmonplace in educational psycho-
logy. However, though applicable to everyd.(ly behavior as well as to general
matters of learning, both must be further qualified in applying them to our
particular field. In our discipline, one of the things that must be rnade habitual
as early as possible is the automatic interaction ofthe auditive, visual, and motor
functions that go into piano playing and practicing, for it is the unimpeded
sensory correlation of ear, eye, and fingers that sets the musical mind free to
opera te as ir should. Progressing from the simpiest to more complex automatic
fune:tions seems to be a good way of approaching that goaL The progression
would lead from rote-singing (whjch involves no visual, and only negligible
motor factors), to playing by ear (wbich entails only twofold autornatic connec-
tions between auditory and motor functions, the eye merely skimming over the
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 515

keyboard), and thence ro the playing 01 music from the printed page (i.e., ro the
triple automatic co-ordination of visual, motor, and auditory functions).
The outlinec1 progression looks ratíonal enough and, ar first sight, also quite
feasible, the more so since it differs very little from the traditional way in which
unsophístícated musical mothers always have taught theír offspring. But we had
better be cautious. what appears in theory to be a good plan does not necessaríly
work out well in practice. In professional piano instruction, the usefulness of a
purely auditive approach is very limited, for it entails an almost daily contact between
teacher and taught. Normally, then, rote-singing and memorizing must be followed
very soon by sight-singing and memorizing. In other words, the autornatíc connec-
tion between eye and voice must be replaced by the automatic connection 01eye
and hand needed in instrumental practice. From a musical point of view, the
sight-singing method is emínently useful, partícularly in the study of polyphonic
music (from simple canons up to the Two-Part Inventions) where each melodic line
can be separately sung and engraved in the memory. It loses much of its usefulness
in the study of homophonic rnusic, ancl is negligible in the study of technical
exercises serving to develop what the great teacher von Bülow termed "the
mechanical memory of the fingers."
Though rhe audítíve approach ro studying and practicing rnusic doubtlessJy has
its meríts, it also has its drawbacks, which do not show up at once. I discovered
them only after having pur that approach inro practice. Sorne forty years back, 1
experirnented extensively with the progression leading from rote-singing to playing
by ear - to sight-singing - to playing from the page in order ro develop my pupils'
musical ear, for at that time, this was a much-neglected poínt in piano teaching. 1
had to realize, however, that if 1 kept my young pupil too long in the phase of
síght-síngíng and of playing most of their assígnments from memory, it was to the
detriment of their ability in sight-reading. As often as not, this disparity created
difficulties whích were not always easily resolved. Sorne pupils who were visually
inclined filled the gap on tbeir own as soon as we proceeded to playing from the
page, others were bogged clown in their attempts at prima-vista playing.
Later 1 found out that what they suffered from was my unawareness of the role
a predominantly visual, or motor, or auditive disposition (Le., tbe "preferred sense")
plays in learning to make musie at the piano. ConsequentIy, wrule maintaining tbe
auditive approach where it was most useful, 1 settled for a method that combines
ir witb the visual approach, to be developed through systematic sight-reading and
the memorizing of a simple piece of music directly from che printed page without
the use of the piano. The motorapproach to the instrument must also be developed,
of course. In cases where muscular co-ordination is the student's "neglected sense,"
that is, if he is hampered by slow or awkward moti.ons, special exercises must be
devised for hirn in order to bring to the same level ali the various resources needed
for effective praeticing. Each of these resources deserves special treatment:

a. Attention

The more one thinks about it, the clearer it becomes that most of the problems
involved in practicing boil down to problems of attention. The problems, to be sure,
are nor che same on every level of instmction and, like everything else, they also
vary from pupil to pupilo Ouerule, however, may be abstracted from experienee with
students of differeot ages - beginoers as we_ll as more advanced players: Whatever
516 Sroveggyüjtemény

comes off well instinctioely must not be made conscious. Being pan oi the player's
natural endoioment, it must not be touched. On the other hand, whatever causes
difficulties or habitual mistakes must be brought to the player's coosciousness befare
unintentional bad habits can be replaced by intentíonal, better ones. The Iatter, then.
must be allowed sorne time to sink in, i.e., to become subconscious and self operating.
To mentioo but two examples: A child-beginner has to be continually encouraged to
observe the Jeel" in rus fingers, as they step or skip from key to key withín one hand
position, until the five fingers find their way automatically. With a more advanced student
ir is sometimes the connection of a certain expected tone-qualiry with certain playing
motíons that has ro be carried out consciously until it becomes self-operating.
But what makes a desirable mental or physícal action self-operating? Repetítíon,
of course. Continual, persistent repetition is tbe only key to tbe acquisition of al!
good habits. This is an age-old principle, still uncontestedly valid in every branch
of education. Its meaning, however, has changed considerably in tbe course of time.
A few generations back, Karl Czerny (1791-1857), the most famous music teacher
of his time, had notbing better to recornmend to the student (at least in print) than
to repeat his exercises 20, or 30, or 40 times consecutívely. That this routine was
generally accepted is borne out by sundry personal rem.iniscences. 1, for exampIe,
leamed from my grandmother, who lived to an extremely old age, that in her youth
serious piano students were enjoined to have a full and an empty matchbox handy
when practicing; after each repetition of the exercise or píece to be stuclied, they
had to transfer one match to the empty box unt.il ir was filled. This shows that in
her time, the slogan .repetition is the soul of practicing" was still in full force ...
Today we are more psychology rninded: we know that the mere mechanical
repetition of phrases, single parts, or whole pieces is a costly and often miscarried
process, Hence, though admitting that repetition is the necessary body of practicing,
we claim that concentration is its very soul.

b. Concentration

The credit for havíng introduced this new, modern idea ínto practicing goes to the
eminent virtuoso and conductor, Hans von Bülow (1830-1894), contemporary of
Liszt, Wagner and Brahms. In his edition of J. B. Cramer's 84 Studies, he was the
first to advocate and illustrate the transformation and variation of technical material
by changing rhythm and key or by transposing the underlying motivic pattems; and
he did so with the intent of keeping the student's concentration alive by taking tbe
tedium of mechanical repetition out of practicing. This was a novel thought at a
period when other famous virtuosi - Kalkbrenner, for e;xample, Liszt's one-time tival,
- still permitted their students to read a newspaper wh.ile running through the
obligatory daily scales.
Modero piano pedagogy ¡s indebted to Liszt for other useful advice. He occasio-
naUy wamed his disciples, .Do not practice difficult passages in major compositions
to death! Worrying over details, you may lose your view of the whole. Practice
related technical exercises to solve those difficulties ..." 1 owe this valuable informa-
tion to the late Alexander Siloti, one oE the last pupils of Liszt in Weimar. Mr. Siloti
also told me that, at tbe piano, the master himself practiced exclusively technical
forros - scales, jumps, trills, etc. - .to keep the machinery in order". Obviously,
Liszt's tremendous artistic experience and mental grasp took care of aoy musical
problem without the aid of an instrumento Orclinary mortals, though, even talented
SzOVeggyiíjtemény
Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 517

ones, have to concentra te both on musical and on technícal matters if they want to
get somewhere. Intensity of concentration, however, does not tell the whole story.
One must be able to concentrate on the right tbings at the right time. Very few
people can concentrare on several things at once. Hence it is advisable to follow a
certain order whenever one sets out to study a piece of music. lt makes no difference
whether the student is a beginner, aspiring artíst, amateur, or furure teacher: in the
first phase of practicing he must invariably work for precision.

c.) Precision

Since rhe written page is the composer's only means of communicating with the
player, it devolves upon the latter to observe and head everytbing that can be
observed in the score. On a more or less elernentary level, i.e., in studying
music teacher comparatively simple music, che player rnust take notice of tempo, meter and rhythm,
least in print) than key signature and accidentals, phrasíng and rests, before rnoving a finger. In the
mis routine was way of articulation, he has to observe the markings indicating differences in touch
I, for example, (staccato, legato, slurs, etc.), as well as the signs indicating differences in dynamics
that in her yourh (forte, piano, crescendo, decrescendo, etc.). To put it bríefly. studying the music
matchbox handy rnust precede practicing it.
[o be srudled, they On the hígher levels, as the works to be studied become more and more
This sbows thar in diversified, elaborare, and meaningful, there are more and more things to be
stíll in full force ... observed, e.g., the stylistic characteristics of the period in which the work belongs
mere mechanica: as well as the personal characteristics peculiar ro the composer. Finer shadings in
oCten miscarried texture, phrasing, rhythmic-harmoníc combinations, in dynamic gradations, ped-
bodyof praCtiCi%. aling, etc., must be gone into. To be sure, detailed observation per se remains skeletal
as long as it is not enlivened by an intellectual and ernotional grasp of the whole
composition, of its mood and inherent meaning. Provided an imagínative, sensitive
student has famílíarízed himself with both, he may become able to "read between
the lines" , i.e., to sense expressive nuances the composer cannot possibly indicate
in. the score. At any rate, in surveying the printed page, the player 01' the teacher
must carefully distinguish between auchentic and editorial markings, the latter being
frequently misleading or distorting, rather than enlightening. To be safe, it is always
best to use unadulterated, original texts (so-called Urtext editions) and to compare
them with other editions.

d.) Practicing Tempo

We must now return to the less advanced student, whom we left in the first,
preparatory phase of practicing. Once fue prelirninaries have been taken care of (if
need be, under the instructor's supervision), the pupil enters the second phase of
practicing: he must play the assignment - or part of it - from the page, correctly
and unhaltingly. As every teacher knows and tells rus charges, the initial playing of
a new assignment must be very slow, i.e., slow enough to come off correctly. But
.How slow is slow enough ? is a question the teacher probably has to answer more
often than any other. Unfortunately, there is no simple, unequivocal answer to that
deceptively simple question. Since tl1e proper speed varies in each case accorcling
to the player's ability and the task at hand, the instructor must find roundabout ways
to make his point. To one student he may say, for example: There is a tempo for
everytl1.ing in which you can play it through without mistakesj and that's the tempo
518 Szoveggyfijtemény ,DPJ3m

you have to choose at the beginning - be it ever so slow! And every student should l~~
be told: Never play faster than you can think the music, lest your fíngers get ahead In~a. 2e1lf
of your mind. Yet, repeated wamings, while often necessary, are equal!y tíresome ..---~'- ...
wiíh
to teacher and taught, without bringing forth the wished-for results. They are Jl!5l ,~
effectíve only if taílored to the particular student. The following incident, whicb ~~J.
occurred in my studio with a 14-year-old, rather talented boy, illustrates thís poirtt: leai:rie(\
Again you practiced too fast! .How can you teU?" By your místakes. just show me Jf~ur
in what tempo you practiced ... Well, it is as 1 thought: going that fast, you did not ~
give yourself a chance to check on what you are doing. Had you worked slowly , ,J -

enough, you could have avoided al! the wrong notes you will now have to correct, Pniénc
-rt..~
Sorry, but you rnust bring the piece once more; and, this time, go twlce as slowl !I.~C.¡,

"All right, rn try ... But 1 still don't quite understand at exactly what speed you wanr imw ti
me to practice!" At fifteen miles per hour, 1 heard myself saying in exasperation; it may rn:i¡lle¡
kili you, but it will help! TI1is casual remark fínallyrnade sense to hím, for it gave hím adclre><
~-.
an approximate idea of what I wanted to convey. And, rníraculously, it worked. L) 1:
At bis point; 1 anticipa te the objection that it would be simpler for both student praCIi
and teacher to workwith a metro no me, since that íngeníous gadget has been devised which
expressly to set and maintain an even tempo at any speed. Quite tlue! Nonetheless,
2.) B
1 do not think that the metronome should be introduced túo eat·ly: Its habitual use
may become a crutch and, as such, a hindrance to the development of the student's
natural Sense of rhythm. An advanced player will fmd it useful in sorne respects: for
instance, in gradually speeding up the practieihg tempo of scales, etudes and the
like; in checking'up on whether the tempo of a cert~in píece got faster under way;
and final!y, in compaFing the tempo oE a musical work, as he conceives it, with the -,eT
tempo indicated by the composer's metronomic markings.
(Incidentally, the metronomic tempo ilidications in cIassical and roma n tic com- 5
..:.err_"
positions are not always reHable. It is cornmon knowledge that Beethoven - the first.
composer to use the apparatus constructed in 1816 - sometimes gave misleadinglr elernen
fast metronomic directions in rus later works, and that Schumann clid the same in 6.)1:
most of his cbrripositions.) lhefus
Talking of fue metro no me, we approach a related subjéct - that of a pupil's l.) A
counting aloud whlle playing. Should he or should he nordo so? In thfs controversial lit'eu:
matter, 1 side with those who would like to see ir reduced to a minimum as S008 picrure
as possible, i.e., as soon as it has fulfilled its prin1ary function of regulating the onü::;:
proportional time-values within a measure. detail-
When the pupil has gained sorne experfence in that sort of musical arithníetic. piani.~
counting aloud while playing can be replaced by counting out and tapping rhe -- ~
arrangement of time values before playing, thus ínaking sure that the'pupil has the
execux:
right ffiythmic conception oE what he has to learn. If need be, the teacher ma)"
interinittently courít with the student, or - still bener - put his hand very lightly on ~_)1
the pupil's shoulder and mark the beats with a slight pressure ro make the pI ayer differe
feel the pulse of the music. This expeclient may help even those who hábitl.laUy mdu
adjust the count to their faulty playing instead of'regulating ir by means of a steady, pnrisi
correct count. (One oE my student-teachers· told me that having once explained the lo\-odill
i'mportance of a sound "musical pulse"· to an l1-year-old pupil, éomparing the stage--
regular, even pulse of a healthy person to the irregular pulse of a sick one, she was
surprised weeks later when mat child retounted that recently she and her frieno
Frances had performed for each other: "I pla:yed my Bach and my Schubelt", she
said, "and Frances just played sick music". "What do you mean, 'sick music' ?" the
Szoveggyüjtemény Dynamic Piano Teaching, 1966 519

every student should teacher asked .• Well, she could not keep time because her pulse was all wrong.")
vour fingers get ahead In general, children wíth a week sense of rhythm find welcome support in music
. are equaUy tiresorne with steady beats (such as a march) or with regular subdivision of beats .
results. They are Just a few words about a recurrent question that is apt to put the teacher on the
incident, which spot: .Houi long should 1 practice?" The logical answer is, of course, until you have
illustrates this point. leamed your lesson, and that does not depend on how long, but on how you practice!
rnistakes. just show me If your practising periods are limited to a half-hour or an hour, do only as much as
that fast, you did not you can do well at one time, and go on from there the next day ... Ir will add up.
you worked slowly
- now have to correcto Practicing. the Advanced Student
go twice as slow! There are several more points in practicing that deserve discussion. However, we
what speed you wanr must limit ourselves to mentioning but a few, for fear of unduly expanding this
in exasperation; ir may chapter. Here, then, are sorne hints for the advanced student and some final rernarks
• bim, for it gave him addressed to the teacher:
.usIy, ir worked. 1.) Do not ever practice aimlessly. That is, having chosen the piece to be
oler for both student
practiced, bear constantly in mind the reason (either technical or musical) for
get has been devised which you are practícing it .
. ·e true! Nonetheless,
e-.. rly-.Its habitual use 2.) Begin with the exercise, piece, or section that rnost needs attention. If your
ment of the srudenrs time Is lírnited, allow only 15 minutes for the limbering-up of the muscJes.
ín sorne respects: for 3.) Concentrate ! Before you begin, sir still and get mentally ready so that you
.ales, eludes and the don't waste time .getting started".
~(){ faster under way; 4.) Don't practice forte for any length of time; ir dulls the ear and makes it harder
(.onceíves it, with me to listen ro yourself.
and romantic com- 5.) In order to prevent your attention from wandering or flagging, dírect it
Beerhoven - the fust alternately to the memorizing of the lower (mechanical) and higher (mental)
gave misleadingly elements of practicing, until the mechanicai part becomes seIf-operating.
did the same :ic. 6.) Don't practice too long at a stretch. The moment concentration gives out, or
the [irst sign of fatigue appears, stop and catch yOl,lr breath.
7.) Above all: Form a clearinnerimageoftlie composition you are going to srudy.
Live with it for a while before you try to shape it. Once you have evolved that inner
picture as a conductor would - following the .life-line" of the composition; deciding
on its basic tempo; and weighing the constructive and emotional import of every
detall - all that remains is to translate the .conductor's" ideal concept into actual
pianistic performance. This, of course, is easier said than done. Being, so ro speak,
his own orchestra, the pianist must choose the appropriate techrucal means of
execution - while never 10sing the whole from sight.
8.) Finally, it is a good idea ro work simultaneously on several pieces in
different stages of development. A pianisr's working program should always
inelude sorne new material that has to be practiced for general suroey and
precision; a second composition in the stage of thorough technical and musical
working out; and a third piece that already has gone through the two preliminary
stages, thus leaving the player free ro polish his performance to his heart's
content. This last phase of practicing culminares in the realization of rhe inner
image the piayer has formed of the work - an image that should correspond as
closely as possible to the composer's intentions (as indicated in the score) in its
main points as well as in its details.
PART FIVE: TALENT PROBLEMS

Child Prodigies (The Wunderkind) -1944


Talent atul Personality (sketch)

Child Prodigies (The Wunderkind) -1944

Since Mozart's day, scores of musical child prodigies have appeared before
enthusiastic audiences, and most of them have never been heard of again. Hence
the public knows fully well that each rniniature star is not a Mozart reborn. Yet,
despite recurrent disappointments, audiences everywhere are invariably attracted
by the appearance of a talented youngster on the concerr-platform.
This attracton is rnade up of various elements. As a child, the young violinist or
píanist possesses the charm peculiar to all growing, promising things; and as a
prodigy he exerts the appeal of a phenomena whích seem to defy any rational
explanation, and therefore challenges the, imagination. There is, in fact, something
uncanny in the feeling that overcomes us when we hear a genuine child prodigy,
one who has rnusíc in bis blood, a chíld, who impresses us with the indefinable
qualities that go into the making of an artist,
This does nor refer, however, to pupils of this or that master teacher who have
been artificially brought to bloom a few years ahead of their natural floweríng time.
Due to an uncommon facility in matters of technique, some children can be pushed
to do at the age of thirteen what they would normally have accomplished at eíghteen.
The development of instrumental skíll (which does not necessarily go hand in hand
with true musicianship) can be speeded up amazingly. On the musical side, one
onIy has ro think of a child's natural aptitude for imitation coupled with a teachers'
magnetic personality and he holds the key to the riddle of that kind of prodigy who
is nothing but a copy, a replica in rniniature, of "His Master's Volee",
The breathless race against time is a dangerous thing. Dragged too soon into the
limelight, rushed from one concert to another, tutored by parents, teacher and
manager, the unfortunate chíld has no chance to develop rus own personality, unless
these detrimental conditions are eliminated before it is too late. Paying all too dearly
for bis pemature access, he has spent bis capital before he has really owned ir.
Although frustration of this sort occur more often than one may think, theyare tragíc
only when they befall a truly great talent.

'i'

After having enjoyed the musical performance of a child who could be called a
"prodigy" without rnisuse of the discredited word, many a listener is at a loss of how
to answer the question which involuntarily crosses bis mind. "How can it be", people
Child Prodigies (The Wunderkind) - 1944 521

wíll ask, "that a mere child is able to grasp and interpret emotions and ideas
expressed in the language of music by a marure master? And how is it possible for
such a child to approach the sumrnit of technícal dexterity and surety which sorne
prominent musicians attain only at the price of lífe-long endeavor?" 1 shall try to
answer these questions one by one.
There is nothing miracul.ousabout a child's intense emotíonal reponse to musíc, We
know from experience that many children react to music with their whole being,
responding with all their unjaded sensibility and imagination. Nor should the musical
.comprehensíon" shown by specifically gifted children, be unduly marveled at, for it ís
an undisputabJe fact that sorne persons cake to the language of music just as they take
to theír mother tongue which they grasp and use intuitively, long before they couId
possibly have acquired any knowledge of grammar and syntax. Furthermore, the
astonishing clifferences in the musical gifts of children of the same parentage, make it
evident that the "boro musician" is not a myth, but an existing variety of homo sapiens.
Like any other innate gift, specífíc musical dispositions take shape in countless
gradations, ranging from the tot who listens blissfully to any kind of rnusic, up to
the phenomenaI child on the platform. Whether exceptionally strong individual
aptitudes are chief1ydue to heredity - as many biologists affírrn - or chiefly to earJy
environmental influences - as the behaviourists assert - is stiU a moot question.
Ample evidence for the preponderant role of heredity seems ro be borne out by
composers (like johann Sebastian Bach and rus sons, or like Francois Couperin and
Domenico Scarlatti) who sprang from generations of rnusicíans, by others (like
Mozart, Beethoven, Liszt,Weber, Brahms) whose fathers were performing musicians
or teachers, and finally by virtuosi who surp assed their parents in their own field (for
instance, the singer Paulino Garcia, the pianist Clara Wieck-Schumann, or the violinist
jenó Hubay). But since it is impossible to guess how their inherited gifts would have
deveIoped in other surroundings than those in which they actually grew up, a certain
amount of credit has to be conceded to familyatrnosphere, environment and education.
Musical experience ís, aboye all, emotional. Ir draws upon sources in the twilight
zone between the conscious and sub-conscious mind. Out of the deep magic regions
of the souJ ínspiratíon comes to the artist and direct comprehension of artistic
expression to those with a natural disposition for music, painting or sculpture. To
the average adult, access to that subconscious realm of the passions, desires und
urges is more or less blocked by self-restraínt and by the repressions acquired
through civilization. Only the artist and the child enjoy the privilege of finding the
secret door ajar at any time. In childhood, impressionability and capacity of sensing
various moods are often developed to a higher degree that at a later age when the
intellect predomina tes. Hence the direct musical intuition of specifically gifted
children is not quite inexplicable as ir might appear at first sight.
The rniracle begins when a talented child ascends from the receptive to the expressive
stage, in other words, when, in an amazingly short time, he becomes able to convert
his musical impressions into appropriate expression on some instrument.
Apparently experience of life has little to do with artistic responsiveness. To
children (and also to adults) of a certain type irnaginative and intuitive experiences
are as real as experiences of the physical world, the first may even serve in lieu of
the Jatter. This explains to sorne extent why premature achievements are to be found
in music, mathematics and chess more often than in literature and the fine arts,where
noteworthy achíevernents are conditioned by an abundant experíence of reality.
522 Szove~teEnény

Yet, in music too, there are limits to the receptive and recreating powers of children.
For example, Beeihoven's last piano sonatas or Bach's Chaconne are not líkely to
be interpreted perfectJy by any talent before it has reached maturity - maturity of
the spirit, of artistic taste and judgemenr as well as physical maturiry. If it were not
for similar profound masterworks inaccessible to them, child prodigies might have
already supplanted the adult artist on the platform; for, technicallly, a real Wund.er-
kind can accomplish almost everything.

The marvellous facility with which he takes to a certain ínstrument is the most
arresting and the most extraordínary characteristic of the child prodígy, Every
full-blooded virtuoso talent is, so to speak, destined for a certain insturment which
means to him what the voice means to the singer. I have come to this belief on the
ground of first-hand experience wíth child prodigies and on fue basis of personal
interviews with world-famous perforrning artists. Walter Gieseking, when being
asked after one of his brilliant piano recitals whether he had begun playing in public
as a child, saíd. "No, r have been spared in that regard, although 1have been playing
the piano since 1 was four and a half years old." To the question whether he had
also been fortunate enough to be exempt from an all too ear1y technical drill, he
answered very seriously that on the piano he scarcely ever needed anything of the
kind. "Atthe piano", he sald, "1have found nearly everything by myself... 1 also had
violin 1essons", he continued, .but they were nothíng to boast about, In spite ofthe
decent instruction 1 received I was very awkward 00 me fiddle and coosequentJy
lost al! interest in it, whereas 1 always felt free and sure at the piano." Mr Gieseking
added that later, when he carne to study with an excellent professor, he found in his
teacher's anaJysis of pianistic technique merely the logical confirmation of expedients
he had long since discovered for himself, or, as he put ít, .found instinctively".
The story of a famous American violinist, Albert SpaJding, as related by hin1self,l
may serve as a counterpart to the testirnony of the European pianist ,,1asked to be
given a violín;' when 1 was seven years old" ... He tells us that although he had
always been exposed to prolific music Chis mother spent long hours at the piano
and the small boy watched "the miraculous manipulation of the keys with wonder
and fascination"), he had never heard the sound of a violín at home. A musical
acquintance casually showed him how to 'hold the violín, and even .to draw a
squeaky bow over the open strings"... After he had driven the household nearly
mad with his assiduous experiments, fue parents cal1ed in a teacher. He was
astonished otofind a beginner who had what he called a natural position and whose
bow-arm was already free and straight. .. "
This "natural facility that is a birthright of children" , Spalding modestJy says,
combined with seven years' hard work under the guidance of a remarkable teacher,
brought fOlth $urprísing results. When he was fourteen, he competed for, and
obtained the graduating diploma at the historic Conservatory of Bologna, the first
and onJy boy of his age to have fuus been honored besides fourteen-year-old
Mozart"; The requirements were formidable: the thrity-six studies of Fiolillo and the

1 .Boy wi¡h Violin" March issue of Harper's Magazine 1942.


SZOVeggyiíjtemény
Child Prodlgies (Tbe Wunderkind) - 1944 523
eatmg powers of ch.ildren.
rwenry-four caprices of Rode, one of me standard concertos, a classical sonare and
:hacoone are nor likely ro
an unaccompanied Bach sonata, not to mention reading at first sight from a
ied maturity - maturity of
manuscript, ancl an examínatíon in theory, harmony, counrerpoínt and piano ...
::h maturity. If ir were not
Fortunately, the latter was elementary ...
hild prodigies might have
And that brilliant young violinist, .Iookíng with envious eyes at the prodigious wealth
chnicallly, a real Wu.nder-
of piano literarure, spent hours at the keyboard - with totally inadequate fíngers ..."
Spalding's as weU as Gieseking's staternents indicate clearly enough that both of
them were born for the instrument with which they later won world fame. The dlrect
testimony of several other great performers, interviewed on this subject, was also
ro the effect that they would never have reached the same results 00 any other
instrument than their own.
In the search for a ratíonal explanation of th.is striking fact we can only sunnise
that me nervous system of individuals endowed with that peculiar aptítude functions
in an exceptional way. The very moment they hear a musical partero in thei.r inner
ear they are able at will ro make ir sound on their Instrurnent, wíthour fumbling for
the corresponding keys or stops or fingering. By virtue of some reflex action they
produce the right movernent wíthout ever having to make ir conscious. We say of
such a person: "He just puts his hands on the keyboard and there it i.s... "
An analogy to th.is phenomenon could be observed in the functioning of the
so-called perfect pitch, which cannor be acqui.red to the degree in which it sometimes
appears as a gift of nature. The same holds true for me faculty of transposition which
seems to be closely connected with an unusually good musical memory. The famous
pianist Wilhelm Backhaus, at the age of rwelve, transposed the difficult accompni-
ment of Brahms's songs at first sight ioto remote keys. This artisr was able, later on,
to transpose any fugue of Bach's Well Tempered Clavier - a11of which he knew by
heart - into any key, without referring to the printed page. 1 have further known a
cruld prodigy, the Hungarian violinist Stephen Pártos, who did the same thing (and
amazingly enough on me piano) with the first fugue, transposing it offhand, in my
presence, from C major into F sharp major.
In rus childhood, maoy a boro pianist, Or violinist, or conductor is the enviable
possessor of an astounding facility in matters of technique. But sometimes, Spalding
declares, "that mysterious someming vanishes in those readjusting years of adoles-
cence and early manhood, when awkwardness replaces a certain unconscious grace
and dexterity." At a ce Ita in point he found himself unable to execute a passage with
the same effortless ease that he had been able to depend upon a few years back:
"One detall, the use of staccaro bowiog 1 had seamingly never hacl to learo as a
child. Up-bow or down, it had rippled off at whatever speed desired. AlI of a sudden
it left me, leaving only a shadow of its former self, labored and halting. Many were
the hours 1had to devoted dllring my twenties trying to recapture what which a prodigal
providence had showered upon unappreciative chilclhood ... This time facllity proved
itself capricious and 1 had to relearn the staccatG fmm the grollnd IIp ... "
This reminiscence of a famous artist brings into view an obstacle on which many
a fine virtuoso talent has been wrecked.
Both the violihist and the pianist quoted had the good luck oor to be exploited
during me critical years when me cruld prodigy is engaged in the all-importanr
process of casting off rus old skin and sUpping into that of the full-grown artist. Both
men came onto the stage when they were alreacly sixteen years old. Among the
pelforming artists whose débuts took place comparatively late, we find me names
of Paderewski, Horowitz, D'Albert, Dohnányi, Percy Grainger, Wilhelm Backhaus,
524 Szoveggyííjtemény

etc. However, the larger oumber of all virtuosi begao theír sensational careers as
ehild prodigies; so did nearly a11those now in public eye. And veq few young artists
were as fortunate or rather as wise, as Arthur Rubinstein who retired from the concerr
stage at sixteen, when he had already enthralled big audiences in Europe aod
América for ten years. 00 rus reappearaoee after an abseoee of several years he was
asked where he had beeo and what he had been doing. "1 was in París", he said,
.and 1 devoted those years to studyíng aod to the task of hurdJing the greatest
obstacle in the path of a procLigy, that of shedding my immaturity." Evidently, what
Rubínstein had in mind was the immarurity of eertain artistie and human qualities
that could oot unfold during his early youth. He must have suddenly realized at
sixteen that it was high time to build up hls own independent personality let it be
blown to pieces in me mad whírl of a Wunderkind's life.

Certain virtuosi seem ro pass from the state of the prodigy to that of the master-per-
former in quite a natural way. Artists of this type (Josef Hofmann or Heifetz, for
instance) obviously thrive in the atmosphere of the stage, unruffled they go through a
gradual metamorphosís before the very eyes of me publico Hofrnann even complained
that "he would have gone rnuch farther", had he not been, at the age of eleven,
surreptitiosly taken off the platform for a couple of years by the Children's Protective
League. In 1940, he still appeared to resent this unwarranted "protective custody".
Most artist-to-be, however, become troubled, sooner OI later, by the problem
Rubinstein alluded too In some respects they are even harder pressed than the normal
adolescent who also has quite a time in .sheddíng bis immaturity' and in catchíng
up with bis new self on a11sides. When problems of this oature begin to assail a
performing artist, he has arríved at the turning point in his career. The great question
is: does he realize it? And will he be able to make the enorrnously díffícult transition
from me Wunderkind-stage to thar of the fully mature artist who is "discontented
until he has succeeded in shaping a resisting material into an exact likeness wilh
bis irnagination ...", as Sigmund Freud expressed it. Not eveq prodigy becomes aware
of bis problems as keenly as Yehudi Menuhin, and perhaps only one out of hundreds
would have the courage to face them as objeetively as he does. In an interview witP
Mr. Ross Parmenter of me New York Times me twenty-seven-year old violirlli
diseussed in a remarkably frank way sorne of the question regarding me musica..
and human points of bis transitioo to mature artistry. They coincide so astoundingJ~
wim me information gained from Arthur Spalding aboUl matters of techniques tha
they deserve to be presented in some detail.
Yehudi Menuhin eomments on the difficulty of changing from ao almost wholJ:
instinctive performer to a fuliy conscious artist. "It meant a complete readjustment
and one wbich is not yet finished", he says, "I feIt if I could not do it, I'd be lost.. ...
Ir was not until he was past twenty that the realization of the need for readjustmen.
did come to hirn. "Up to mat time I was quite instinctive in everything I did; bu,
thefe comes a time when the instinct falters. You clon't trust it any more aod you
waot to know more than you can. It is when the prodigy has to be responsible te
himself that he generally falls off."
The process of readjusment made it oecessary for Meouhin to restudy his whole
reportoire, and in 1941 he was still restudying it. But again and again, like Giesekmf
he carne through his study to the same conclusions that he had previously reacha.
SZOveggyíijtemény Child Prodigies (The Wunderkind) - 1944 525

sazíonal careers as through his instincts. The irnportant thing, he makes plain, is that now he consciously
few young artists knows the reason for his conclusion.
'""from the concert At the age of nineteen, Menuhin disentangled himself from his public successes
e-- in Europe and and went into retirement. During his period of readjustment this seelusion was his
eral years he was rnost difficult time. What saved hirn, he thinks, were .the resources of his musical
w Paris", he said, instinct and the fact that he had always approached music with seriousness and
illing the greatest great sincerity". The chief benefit of his seclusion was that he was relieved from the
y Evidently, what exhausting pressure of dates that had to be filled, year in and year out. He had time
.. buman qualities to meditatae and to get married ... "I've lived happily ever after" , smiling Menuhin
kíenly realized at told his interviewer. Fortunately, here che .ever after' does not signify a happy
t!5Ollality let it be ending, but rather a propitious start toward a new pbase of his evolutíon,

The artísts mentioned so far belong to the happy few who could unfold their talents
without being retarded or thwarted by circumstances which cause the undoing of
many others. All of them were endowed with outstanding natural gífts and good
health; they had excellent teachers and could continue their studies as long as they
needed guidance. Their general education was not neglected, nor were they
coropelled in tender youth to provide for their families. None of thero was spoiled
by his early successes, which speaks in favor of their environments.
Owing to these circumstances and, maybe, to others beyond our range of
observation, they could fulfill the promise that Hes latent in an inborn talent.
It would be a hard task to tell exactly what makes a great interpretive artist out
of a child prodigy. It does not seem impossible, however, to find out what prevented
this or that prodigy from becoming an outstanding artist, since the causes of failure
are somewhat more obvious than the causes of success. Therefore, in analyzíng the
conditions which obstruct artistic development, we may discover sorne of the forces
which playa part in its promotíon.
There is nothing like designing parents to undermine a precocious child's future.
They can do so in many different ways:
1. in making the child study too early and too hard, jeopardizing his health and
robbing him of his childhood,
2. in over-stressing the child's professional skill and neglecting, at the same time,
his general culture as well as the educatíon of his character,
3. in enhancing the one-sídedness by keeping the youngster out of school thereby
rendering his social adjustment unduly dífficult,
4. in burdening the child with unbearable responsibilities;
5. in breaking his will by means of flattering and constraint so as ro make hím a
ready tool in the hands of his manager.
Clearly a11thís harm is inflicted upon the child because he is a "marketable object",
as Mr. Olin Downes calls it.
Sometimes tragedies are caused by dirnsighted or infatuated parents who see a genius
in a child of mediocre gífts. Unfortunately, such an error, even if comitted in good faíth,
has effects as deplorable as those infl.icted upon real talent by greedy or over-ambítious
parents. In each instance the harmonious development and the happiness of the chíld
are at stake, as shown by the following case histories, all taken from reallife.
526 SzOv~te~ény

'i'

(1)
In rny mínd's eye 1 see a fíve-year-old líttle blonde girl with a half-síze fiddle tucked
under her chin, locked up in a room that had been carefully emptied of anything
which might possibly serve as a plaything. She was expected to practice several
hours at a stretch, and her mother, while doing some housework, kept a close watch.
Hearing a slíght bumping noise instead of scales and runs, she peered into the
.studío", only to see her offspring trotting merríly through the empty room, draggíng
her violin on a piece of string behind her and clicking her tongue in a coachman-
fashíon. No doubt, the undutíful child was playíng at horse and buggy, What else
could be done in such a case but to deal out a good little spanking? This punishment
- me mother thought - would teach her daugbter ro play on the fiddle and not with
ir. (It should be mentioned that the mother had had in her youth a burning ambition
to become an opera-sínger. Frustrated in this hope, she decided that her baby
daughter must achieve me success denied her.)
The little blonde girl became a child prodigy indeed. She made her debut at
eleven, had played over one thousand recital s by the age of twenty, and was
completely unhappy all the time.
After several attempts to free herself from her mother's apronstrings, she finally
managed to settle down in an apartment on her own. Asked by an interviewer why
she had done so, she answered: ,,1eould not bear my utter dependenee any longer.
1 admit that a mother has to watch over her young daughter, but 1 had to put up
with much more than that. 1 was in America twice, r played in every great city of
Europe, we travelled praetically all over the world, but r was not alJowed to see
anythíng anywhere. There was nothing for me, day after day, but practicing, reeitals,
and then. "Go to bedl"
Is it any wonder that the amazing technique of that gírl-vírtuoso became an empty
shell? That her success dimínished and she got tired of the violin? After having lost
the fortune she had made at the expense of ber youth, she tríed the movies, she
landed in vaudeville and finally disappeared from the public eye at an age when
she eould have reaehed fuil artistic rnaturity.
(2)
No better example than the previous negative one eould be found to emphasize tbe
faet that the íntellectual, emotional and character-values of the personality form the
soul from which the specific talent draws its strength. Everytbing that enriches tbe
personality enriches also the specific, interpretive or creative taJent; let the soil
become arid, and the talent withers.
Concerning the influence of character, ir is enough to visualize all the darnage that
can be done to any artistic career by a person's untrustworthinesss, arrogance oc
irresolution. A great teacher used to say, "what you are is just as important as what yOL
know'. In another form: "One cannot and should not separa te me artist froro me man..
(3)
As a rule the family atmosphere of a "prodigy" is sufficient in itseJf to make him
self-centered and unsociable. Depriving the youngster of a natural contact with
chiJdren of bis age does the test. Even Yehudi Menuhin, who grew up in an unusualll
favorable environment, felt that "this awakening to an awareness of life was Iater
Szoveggyíijtemény CWld Prodigies (The Wunderkind) - 1944 527

than most young people's", and ir would have come earlier if he had gone to sehool
or taken part in eommon enterprises like other children. Then, he explained, he
would have developed mucho earlier a feeling for his place in the eommunity and
half-síze fiddJe tucked the bit he had to contríbute.
emptied of anything (4)
ed to practíce severa!
The danger of communicating an unwarranted feeling of bis .splendíd ísolatíon" to
rk, kept a clase watch,
the talented child is so great that it can scarcely be overrated. Witness the story of
she peered into the
a lavíshly gifted boy, a successful child prodígy, whose ruin began when a noted
empty room, dragging
psychologist published an exhaustíve study of the natural aptitude, the amazing IQ
>ngue in a coachman-
and the remarkable musical eompositions of the then thírteen-year-old boyo Seeing
and ouggy. What else
bis talent exalted, hís compositions analyzed, and fínding hirnself cornpared wíth
lting? Thís punishment
Mozart was more than the boy could stand unharmed. He became everbearing
!re fiddle and not with
towards his teachers and loathed to do what theydeemed necessary for his thorough
• a burning ambition
schooling. At fifteen, he came to a dead end. At a concert where he displayed
eoded thar her baby.
remarkable pianistic as well as interpretíve gífts, he performed an endless sonata of
rus own, testing the endurance of the publíc for fully fi.fty minutes. His faílure was
e made her debut ar
complete. The audíence remained in iey cold, and the crítícs mercilessly rejeeted his
of rwenry, and was
eomposition, although they,did justiee to his undeniable pianistic gifts. The boy faeed
a grave dilemma and he solved it exaetly as could be expected. Having been extolled
n:.lrings, she final .....
in a widely read scientific book as a genius md being treated as such in his environment,
• an ioterv~ewer"Wñ'
he simply refused to consider the possibility thath bis CIÍtia; could be anything but
lCndence any longe:w;
wrong. In his belief, the intrigues of an envious dique were responsiblCi' fQf the frigid
hur r had to pur u~
attitude of the'public as well as for the biased, malevolent préss-comments.
lI1 eveIy great cit)-
For a long time he was wrapped up in a gloorny, resenfful moód. Though he
nor allowed ro X"'e
apparently found boyish relief in the gratifying role of the persecuted .génius,
practicing, ~
his inner balance was badly shakert. Inevitably, with the 10$s of his absolute
self-confidence, in religious faith in the marvellous predictions of his literary
sponsor began to waver. yet· he was compelled to live up to those brilliant
prophecies not only by rus own burning ambition, but also by a family that relied
upon him for support. Besides, there was the oppressive material sponsorship
of certain wealthy "protectors" to be justified. The proud boy, unable to feel any
gratitude for an assistance, which, he held, was due to his genius, ached to pay
them off with sensational successes.
As a composer he never recovered from the shock of ruS first public failure.
As a virtuoso he wa·s accIaimed in both hemispheres, wherever he appeared on
the platform. Yet, as an interpretive anist, he did not rank among the foremost,
for his fundamental egoism and aloofness prevented bim from penetrating into
the vely soul of rnusic. The hurnility of the true artist was unknown to him. At
rus best when playing works of an eccentric, demonic or dazzling charaeter, he
ofren blurred the outlines of classics and distorted their musical import by his
willful disregard of form and balance. He had fire, but no warmth. His life took
as rhapsodical and whirnsical a shape as his art. In the c@urse of an adventurous
eXistence he disappeared more than once for shorter or longer periods, trying
to live down the fits of deep depression that haunted him. Though he attracted
much interest and admiration through bis extraordinary gifts, he never could win
nor gíve genuine affection. In facr, he belonged ro those who seem to be driven
by some fatal perversity to break every emotional attachmentas soon as it threatens
their freedom of movement.
528 Szoveggyíijtem.ény

It would be foolish, of course, to conclude that the untimely publication of a


scientific eulogy caused in itself the blighting of a prornising career. But for the
unwholesome influences which unfortunately prevailed in fue upbringing of the young
artíst, that book could never have exerted the sarne fateful effect upon rus future.
(5)
No Wunderkind would be ready to be launched at the age of six, eight, or even as a
vereran of twelve, if allowed to live the life of a normal child. For there is no getting
around work, even for a youngster with music in his blood and tbe right .feel" in rus
fingertips. Among thousands of gifted children there will be one, perhaps, to find
happiness in the work he is called upon to do. To hím, studymeans adventure, discovery
and relaxation at tbe same time. Most talented children, however, think differently, even
if they have been earmarked as future prodigies. They find ir burdensome to toil away
a11day long, practicing and memorízing, while other youngster, their school-work over,
play around and enjoy themselves. Hence, often as not, ambitious parents see to it that
the talented child's right to the pursuit of happiness is curtailed in time, for bis own
good, as they never fail to sayo Perhaps those parents do not fully realize how miserable
they make the child in systernatically substituting their own will for bis. They may be
fooled by the fact that, under constant pressure, almost every child can be forced into
submission, or at least ínto the apperance of subrnission.
But there comes a day when the nervous system of a highstrung child rebels either
in an active or in a passive way. As an example of active rebe11ion, 1 think of an
excellent oomposer, pianíst and teacher whom I met in this country.When a little
boy he ran away from his parents three times beca use they wanted to knead him
into a Wunderkind. He even flung himself frorn a swing in the secret hope of
breaking a fínger and putting an end to his professionaJ studies. He longed to go
to school with his friends and was eager to prove by bis exploits on their baseball
team (whích he had not been a1lowed to join) that he was not a "sissy".
It so happened that he obtained what he was crawing for without breaking a finger.
The same boy who had been so refractory when he was forced to practice took up a
musical career and stuck to it, as soon as he could do so of his own volition.
An episode in the life of another prominent musician exemplifies a case of passive
resistance against parental tyranny. That artist made a sensational debut at the age
of ten. Lucrative contracts offered by an impresario induced her easy-going guardian
to quit rus job and rely upon the talent of the child for a cornfortable living. That is,
confortable for him but not for the girl who was rushed through scores of
appearances during the winter and forced to go on with her studies during the
surnmer. Hardly any respite was aIlowed her, although her delicate nervous system
cried out for it in fíts of tears, sleeplessness and frequent headaches. The crisis carne
when, at the close of a strenuous tour, the young girl was to appear befare a small
audience of potential sponsors and managers. Her guardian rnade the appointmenr
without her knowledge because, seeing her fatigue, he was afraid that she might
refuse to coopera te. And thís was indeed what came to pass. She was toId of the
arrangement when it was nearly time for her to get ready. Without saving a word,
she locked.herself up in her room, and neither promises nor threats induced her to
appear before the select gathering, which finally broke up, ill pleased with such
irreverent behaviour, The guardian tore bis hair, but hís ward felt strangely happy
in her revenge, although she was aware of its consequences, She finished her
reminiscing by saying: ni could not have moved a finger lO save rny Life... ; not even
ChíldProdigíes (Tbe Wunderkind) - 1944 529

rus life, 1 guess." she added trurhfully. By chis tragi-comic incident her guardian
learned to make rus demands more tactfully, but she slipped out from under rus
dominatíon only when the man whom she married (secretly, of course) put rus foot
down. At rus side, she blossomed out as a woman and as an artist and they, too
.Iíved happily ever after."l
ix, eight, or even as a
For there is no getting
the right .feel" in his
one, perhaps, to find Between adult artísts, either partner may come out victoriously in the psychological
adventure, discovery struggle for domination. Between such unequal partners as a gifted child and rus
think differenrly, even elders, the question of supremaey is settled in advance. Parents, teachers and
oroensome to toíl away managers invariably have the upper hand in the play of diverse forces which
theír school-work over, f1uctuate in this just as in any other human relatíonshíp.
parents see to it that G.K.Chestelton says in one of rus humorous essays that never again in all our
in time, for his own lives do we encounter another adventure as wild and hazardous as the one of being
realize how miserable born "into a farníly of complete strangers" who try to mold us into a certaín form
iIl for rus. They may be while we are yet unable to do anythíng about it. Indeed, a talented chíld cannot be
chíld can be forced into too cautious in the choice of rus parentsl Free to unfold rus innate gífts in the rhythm
of development proper to rus individuality, the son or daughter of sensible parents
has an immeasurable advantage over the equally gifted child at the merey of a
possessive family. Wimess the broken Uves of half - and three-quarter talents,
pressed into an artistic professíon for whích they had no vocation. Sorne of them,
unable to acknowledge their lack of talent, will develop nervous conditions or
physical ailments, - alibis, as it were - for the sake of renouncing public performance
wíth as little loss as possible to their self-esteem, Scores of frustrated artists may be
observed plodding through minor orchestral or teaching jobs, nearly all of them
embittered and - in their opinion - out of place.
Sometimes the responsibility for an ill-chosen musical career rests more with the
teacher than with the victirn's well intentioned but undiscerning environment. Mr
Olin Downas, in an artide in the New York Times, entitled .Prodígíes by Force"
refers, among other enlightening case-histories, to an interview he had with a
.dístracted parent the day following a wholly unwarranted violin recital of rus

Note: Incídentally, married life nearly aJways opens a probJematic chapter in the story of a former child
prodigy. If it ís a woman artist, her husband has to be somethíng of a human seismograph in order to
guess exactly when his famous wife expects him to be her humble admirer, subordinating all his
imeres! to hers. and when, on be contrary, her old Winderkind-self awakes with a secret longing to
be pened or bossed aroung as of old. Aman who is not adaptable enough to be a lover, father manager
and admirer al! in one, has poor chances of surviving as a husband. When the roan is the onetime
prodigy, the situation is, as a ruJe, much the same. However, in ignorance of the emotional and otber
motives which shape the priva te life of ¡his or thal artistic couple, the honest obselVer must be conten!
to report what he can see. And what he sees most of the time is egoism, vanity and jeaJousy, creating
insoluble complications.
The danger of a break looms especially if both partners are performing artists in the same line. No
love is strong enough to withstand the c1ash of two ambitions and two vanities, to say notbing of
professionaJ competition. The situation is more hopeful when one partner wholeheartedly accepts the
superiority of the other, without abdicating his or her own artistic aims. In aU the history of m1,lsic,
examples of this kind are very rareo 50 rare, indeed, thal, if it were not for the c1assicál example of
Robert 5chumann and bis wife Clara, it would be dlfficull to name a couple of really united artists.
And if one looks a little closer inlO the ideal marriage of Robert and Clara (as reflected in their common
diary) he will find that even here the inevitable problem of dominating or being dominating never
came ro a fmal solution.
530 Szoveggyüjtemény

daughter in Carnegie Hall. She had been accurately designated by the press as
person without conspicuous talent and either technícal or musical maturity. Wher
the father heard the concensus about his daughter confirrned, rus distress was
piteous. .But", he kept repeating dazedly, .that ísn't what we were told by her
teacher!" (He mentioned a very celebrated pedagogue of the violín, now dead,
"Why, he used to make her stand up in his class and tell the others to watch, because
onJy she played the piece properly. I've sold my business to stay with her and help
her in her work, and thís moming she read the papers, and she's been crying ever
since and asking me .Father, was ít realiy so bad?".... Teachers who do that kind o'
thing, have much to answer for" Mr. Downes concludes.

It is self-evídent that without the cooperation or the complícity of the teacher there
would be no child prodigies on public display. For even íf a child brirns with
imagination, personal warmth and a good flair for technique, he needs guidance in
musical thinking and in the artistic planníng of pieces which go beyond rus
ímmediate grasp. He may have brought with mm that which cannot be taught, and
the genuine urge for expressing it. Yet the means of expression have to be forged,
craftsmanship has ro be taughr and acquired. Hence the contribution of the teacher
is one of the principal factors which shape che artístic future of a gifted child. The
chief factor ís, of course, che scope and depth of che talent itself and, next to it, the
parental ínfluence upon the physical, mental and character-development of the chíld,
As a rule, gifted children are at their best in the presentatíon of music of a lyrical
01' light, brilliant kind. Monumental compositions are usually, and quite narurally,
beyond their horizon. Certain artistic qualities unfold in the eacly spring of life and
others later. The capability to outline compositional structures, the sense of style,
catholicity of taste, and the appreciation of transcendent musical contents are sorne
of the qualities which mature comparatively late.
A wíse teacher will not unduly hasten the natural course of developrnent, for he
knows, tbat in doing so he would have to graft his own anistic maturity upon the
youthful srudent, possibly ro the detriment of the latter's incüvidual growth. To be
sure, any teacher might well be tempted by a talented pupil's eager responsiveness
to bestow on such a youngster more rhan is good for him; hence ir is the touch-stone
of the pedagogue whetber 01' not he can resist rrus temptation. The best he can do
is to help the disciple find his own personal aims and to devise professional
shon-curs for attaining them.
There is an enormous difference between the teacher who tries to enable bis
disciple ro stand on his own feet as soon as possibLe, and the teacher who knows
only one result - to get his pupil ready for the cOncen stage, the sooner the better.
The better - for whom, one might ask. Chiefly for tbe teacher wbo wants to make
a name for himselfl Certain little anides in musical reviews, where the successful
debut of a procügy is fearured with the-portrait, not of the child, but of the teacher,
point unequivocally in this direction.
Provided everytbing goes smoothly with the flIst appearance, what follows in the
wake of success is more programs to be practiced, cornmitted to memory and kept
in shape for recitals. Yet, this .must" implies a pitfall, hidden to many eyes. It is a
precarious thing for any young person to be rivated for a number of years to two
SZOVeggyüjtemény Child Prodigies (The Wunderkind) - 1944 531

grutted by the press as a or three solo-prograrns and that rnany concerts, wíth línle or no time for free,
• musical rnaturity. When voluntary musíc-rnaking. The imagination is in danger of being .frozen" in an
mirmed, his distress was intermediate stage of developrnent, In early youth the pupil should accurnulate a
tul we were told by her wealth of musical experience and express ion , he should build for a rích future,
f the violín, now dead.) instead of having to capitalize upon every musical and techn.ical gain the very
others ro watch, beca Use moment it has been, made.
'0 stay wuh her and help As me years come to an aspiring virtuoso caught in the cogs and wheels of the
she's been crying ever "prodigy-mill", the danger of losíng the freshness of approach to musíc increases.
iers who do thar kind of Now and them, as already mentioned, a successful young artist realizes this danger
and interrupts concertizing, for fear of rus development being arrested at the
adolescent srage. In the great majority of cases, however, "business as usual" goes
on forcibly all through adolescence, or at least until box-offíce results bear out the
tragic fact that the .markerable object" is rnarketable no more.
lCíry of the teacher there Although parents and teachers are primaríly responsible for the deterioration and
if a chíld brirns wíth downfall of scores of fine talents, wíthout the amplifying servíces of the press, the
. he needs guidance in motion píctures and the radio, the Wunderkind-epidemic could never have grown
"'ruch go beyond bis to the rnagnitude itactually has reached. The greater the chance of publiciry, the
cannot be taught, and greater the inducernent to exhibit a gifted youngster prernaturely. The unrestricted
have to be forged publicity accorded to juvenile perfomances of sorne rnerit is likely to encourage an
ribution of the teache; over-production of wonder-children, ninety-nine percent of whorn would be better
of a gifted chiJd. The off if they were left to their studies for a longer time.
and, next to it, the Naturally, neither press nor cinema could propel to fame half a dozen prodigies
'e]opment of the child. evely year if local and nationaJ instiUltions did not help to unearth thern. The number
n of rnusic of a lyticaJ of contests, cornpetitions and prizes offered to so-caUed outstanding chilclren and
and quite natura11y, adolescents is amazing, the award of the winner being a personal appearance with
spring of life and or without orchestra. In reading of a contest for an "Orchestral compositon by bay
the sense of style, or girl ten to eighteen years old" for performance by a nated philharrnoruc orchestra,
contents are sorne one cannot help thinking that it would be wiser to offer firsr-rate scholarships to the
competing youngsters rather than public appearances.A single issue of a music
petiodical, for example, contained notices Ca)of an eJeven-year-old coloratura singer
from Detroit, to be presented by a well-known conductor in New' York; (b) of a
nine-year-old girl violinist who played the Mendelssohn Concerto under the
direction of another famolls conductor; and Cc) of an eight-year-old boy highly
praised for lús .masterly performance" of Haydn's piano-concerto in D major.
Moreover, there was Cd) the announcement of a .Concertino for Piano and
Orchestra", Opus 10, ro be perforrned and broadcast three days after the composer's
thirteenth birthday, as a "Young Composer's Award."
It shouJd be remembered in tbis connection that original creative work is beyond
the capacity of children. Even the compositions written by a genius like Mozart in
his pre-adolescence bespeak his skiU in handling the current musical idiom of rus
time rather than otiginallity. They are fluent, but wholly impersonal. Schubert with
bis "Erlkónig" writteo at eighteen, and seventeen-year-old Mendelssohn with bis
"Midsummer Night's Dream Overture" are the only composers to have found their
own style and to have prodllced irnmortal masterworks while $till in their teeos. By
whatfoUows in the vÍltue of their unusual precocity they rank as "prodigies" among composers; but
memory and kept they were real, natlirally grown procngies, not the sort that is prompted by
man.yeyes. It js a competitions and prizes Cifnot by parents and teachers) to produce one "opus" after
of years to two another, for fear of gettÍllg too old ro stir u p a sensation.
532 Szüveggyüjtemény

It is quite possible that in thís country, and at this very moment there is more than
one young talent at work whose musical creations will one day equal those of the
world's greatest composers. But should the output of their apprenticeship, should
the work of their years of storm and stress be performed publicly?
Under careful guidance they will grow as the things of nature grow, and bear
mature fruit when the time is ripe. Al! they need to be taught is perseverance,
patience, and the artist's fundamental obligation - lo be true to nimseif
Local or regional competitions for youog ínstrumentalists, conductors or compo-
sers may be of value in places not very musically-rninded before. In such environ-
ment they are apt to foster the ambitíon of the average music student and to
strengthen the interest of the general publico Nonetheless, the question arises
whether, after having fulfilled this purpose, musical competitions should still be
encouraged extensively. No doubt, many a mediocre OI lazy student can be brought
to work harder in the hope of public apprecíatíon. But should thís motive be allowed
to outweigh others? As it is, the increasing popularity of coruests open to children
and young people has its drawbacks. Preparíng the pupil for one or two contests a
year leaves little time for his musical education. If the coaching for single achíeve-
ments is in the foreground, the all-around development of the pupil's aptitude
necessarUy suffers. In other words, the show-window gets the better of the
workshop, and thís state of affairs might sorne day result in distorting the standards
of good teaching. In this counrry, which has rightfully been called the prornised land
of the child, few unusual talents go to waste for lack of recoginiton. The serious danger
for a high1y gifted child líes rather in being discovered and exhíbíted too soon. The
promotion of a promising little student to the rank of a procligy ls always a fateful
distinction, even if it does not go hand in hand with ímmedíate rnareríal exploitation.
Teachers and parents in charge of an unusual talent should keep in mínd that the
career of a virtuoso is one to exact a máximum of physical resistance, concentration
and savoi.r faire, And, before ít is too late, they should take to heart íhís warning of
a succesful ex-prodigy of our day:
.Prodígíes can come to may different kínds of grief: They can be overworked.
They can acquire a wrong sense of values so thet they think they are important to
the public and not to themselves. They can have wrong ideals about music, víewing
it only as a means to an end rather than an end in itself. They can feel unjustified
pride too early. And, finaUy even when they are very idealistic about music they
can falI into the great danger of forgetting that it is not everything."

Chicago, March 3, 1944

Talent alld Pers01UÚ.ityl

Musical talent, like any other specific gift, is deeply rooted in the physical as well
as in the mental makeup of a persono Man and bis talent are one. Hence the
development of the character plays as important role in the making of an artist as the
development of bis specific aptitudes in the fields of music, br painting, or writing.

1 Tanalmilag azonos a Riflessioni sulle attitudini musicali és le talen.1 nulSical dmu cikkekkel. (Szerk.)
SzOveggyñjtemény
TaJent and Personality 533

mere is more than


In the case of the performing musician, some of these specífíc aptitudes are: an
equal those of the
acute musical ear, a good musical memory and a perfect coordination of me means
, should of expressíon (so-called technical ease).
Musical talent, however, is not merely a question of ear, of memory, or of dexterity.
AH these put together represent, so to speak, the mere raw material of taJent. And
his raw material assumes value and irnportance only if made effective by the
imagination, the intelligence and emotional depth of its possessor.
'~~~~H' or compo- The trouble is that the aptitudes referred to as .raw material" are commonly
e, In such envíron- místaken for the sum total of talent. Consequently, often as not, ít Is thought suffícíent
student and to to traín ear, memory and techníque, and leave the development of the higher
question alises constituents of the talent complex to providence. And yet people wonder why so
OS should stíll be few promising youngsters anaín real artístryl
can be brought Artistic achíevement is the outgrowth of the entire personalíry. This means that
motive be allowed along with the purely musical capacitíes, the moral intellectual, and emotional
open to children peculiarities of an individual have a definite bearing upon the intrinsic value of his
or her artistic achievement. Naturally, one must not ex:pect to find every personal
quality of the artist reflected unchanged in his musical activities. Sorne traits of
character may well be transposed directly from one sphere to another. If, for
example, reliability, accurateness and conscientíousness characterize a person in
everyday life, those qualities are likely to impress themselves also upon his playing.
On the other side, certain qualities such as amiability, equanirnity and peaceableness
(though assets in private life) are of no avaíl in the artistic sphere, whereas
over-sensitiveness, irascibility and moodiness (qualities which rate negatively in
sociallife) may become assets in the sublimating alcherny of arto
Briefly. though there is always an interrelation between personality and achieve-
ment, it ís not always apparent. Character, talent and personality are so closely
interwoven that the observer has the best chance of separating thern analytically if
he considers extreme cases. There ís, for instance, the man of sterling qualities who
is forever precluded from attaining his high artistic aims, owíng to certain irremediable
inferiorities in his musical endowments. And there is, on the opposite side, the so-called
wastrel genius, whose great inbom gifts trickle away through a fissure in his character.
are important to But, quite apart from such rare and conspicuous cases, one has only to observe
_rmusic, viewing the rise and fall of the many child prodigies in order to appreciare the tragic
feel unjustified consequences resulting from their ínabílíry to líve up, in the full sense of the word,
music they to their natural eodowments and to higher goals. Nearly always it is the discrepancy
between over-stressed professional training and neglected general e..ducation, which
is reponsible for their downfall. Such a disparity necessarily check s the artistic
Atare/¡ 3, 1944 development, since the cultural background and the character of the personality are
the soil from which the specific talent draws its strength. AB in natme, the roots
starve and the blossoms fade when the nourishing soil becomes arid.
Yet it is reassuring to remember that every intellectual and emotional experience
which enriches the personality, bears fcuit sooner or later in the artistic achievement.
The broader the mental hOrizont, rhe greater the desire for self-development, tl1e
~hysical as well better are the chances of talent to survive. -
'1e. Hence the
an aItisr as !he
ocwriting.
Margit Varro
1617 East 60th Place
Chicago, Itl. 60615

7. Mai, 1970

Liebe Aspirantin Swetlana Grinstein,

Ich hoffe Sie haben meinen Brief vom 10. April (als Antwort auf Ihren vom 30.
Marz) erhalten und will nun trachten Ihre wichtigsten Fragen zu beantworten.
Die Idee des auditiven Klavierunterrichtes hatte rních schon jahrelang beschaftigt
bevor ich an die Vorbereitung des .Lebendígen Klavierunterríchtes" ging. (S. .Klavier-
unterricht & Musikalische Erziehung" - in ungaríscher Sprache .Zongoratanítás és zenei
nevelés" Rózsavólgyí Verlag, Budapest, 1921, und .Grundlagen des Musikunterrichtes"
in der Allgemeinen Musikzeitung juni-juli 1926). An dem deutschen Buche arbeítete
ich wohl 8 jahre, unter standíger Benützung der Tagebücher die ich von meinen
individuellen Klavierstunden und Seminaren führte.
Zu jener ZeÍ( war der Kernpunkt meiner Arbeit: auditive Auffassung und Ver-
standnis des zu Spielenden neu und wichtig, denn
(1) der gebrauchliche Klavierunterrichr beschrankte sich rneíst darauf dem Schüler
das Notenlesen und eme gewisse technische Fertigkeit beizubringen, Gehórsbildung
und Musikverstandnís wurden wenig beachtet. J

(2) Obwohl jaques-Dalcroze und andere víeles getan hatten um das musikalische
Gehór in den Vordergrund zu brin gen, wurden die von ihnen erreichten Resultate
im Klavierunterrícht nicht verwertet. .Splelen nach dem Gehor" (d.h.die spontane
Wiedergabe ven gehorsmassíg erfassten Melodien, wie auch eígene Improvisations-
Versuche begabter Schüler) waren sogar - als dilettantisch - verpónt,
(3) Die in Frankreich und Italien sogar im Privatunterricht streng durchgeführten
Solfége-Übungen halfen auch nicht viel, da sie hauptsachlich auf rasches, fliessendes
Ablesen, Benennen und eventuall Absingen einer Melodielinie konzentriert waren,
wieder ohne Anwendung auf das Pianistische Spielmaterial. Als Erganzung wurde
wohl (in den Conservatorien) Harmonie und Form gelehrt, jedoch meist nur
schriftlich, nicht als horbar-tonende Harmoniefolgen und Phrasenfolgen C"musika-
lische Syntax"), sodass sogar sogenannte fortgeschrittene Schüler eine .nur" geh6rte
Kadenz oder Modulation oft nicht erkannten wenn sie nicht auch visuel1, im
Notenbild, erkennbar war. (Die in der allgemeinen Erziehung verwurze1te Hegemo-
nie des Auges, - des Sehens, - ist schwer zu brechen.)
(4) Dazu kommt noch die Gefahr dass "geschickte", motorisch veranlagte Schüler
welche gedruckte Musik leicht abspielen, sich oft damit begnügen, ohne die Tone
auch in. der Vorstellung zu horen und wirklich Musik zu machen.
So experimentierte ich denn mit der "auditiven" Metl10de in al1en Phasen der
pianistischen Erziehung und Gehorsbildung, einschliesslich des "inneren" Horens, d. h.
der Ton-Vorstel1ung wabrend des "sturnmen" NotenJesens ohne Benützung des Instru-
ments (d. h. ohne motorische Hilfen). Dies war die Metl10de die Liszt allen seinen
Schülem empfahl, besonders zuro Zweck des Memorierens. 1ch tat dasselbe mit meinen
Schülem, beginnend mit kleinen polyphonen und homophonen Stücken, - wenn
moglich nach einer kurzen Übersicht des zu Memorierenden. Alldies konnte in Ungarn,
wo die natürliche musikalische VeranJagung gegeben ist, gut durchgefuhrt werden.
1m Laufe einiger Jabre stellte es sich jedoch heraus, dass die ausschliesslich
auditive Art des Lernens ihre Nachteile hato Das verschobene, und dadurch
Varró Margit levele Swetlana Grinsteinhez, 1970 535

verspatete Norenlesen hinderte den totalen Fortschritt mancher Schüler, besonders


von musikalisch begabten Beginnern, die sích das einmal Vorgespielte oder
Vorgesungene sofort merkten, und deren Notenlesen nachher eher ein Noten-Raten
war. Urn dem abzuhelfen musste ieh also Zugestandnisse machen, d.h. das
Notenlesen und - Schreiben (Diktat, usw.) einführen sobald der Grund zur primaren
7. Mai, 1970
auditiven Auffassung gelegt war, beides dann parallel weiter entwickeln.
In den ersten 10 Jahren experimentierte ich viel mit der auditiven Methode, sowohl
dírekt, in individuellen Lehrstundeo mit Anfangern, als auch indirekt, in Seminar-De-
monstrationen fu r angehende und bereits aktive Klavíerlehrer, Damals war meine
Plonier-Arbeít aus den oben angeführten Gründen motiviert und notwendig, und es
war mir eine Befriedigung zwei Generationen von priva ten Musiklehrern in diesem
Sinne ausgebildet zu haben. Sie sind jetzt über die ganze Welt zerstreut und führen die
Methode des auditiven Anfanger-Unterrichtes weiter fort. In Ungarn selbst - und in den
letzten jahren auch ausserhalb - hat der auditive Klavier-Unterricht viel an Wichtigkeit
verloren, Die Ursache Iiegt Un gr6sten Teil in dern epochemachendem Gesangs-Trai-
ning verbunden mit Gehorsbildung, schopferisch gegründet von Zoltán KODÁlY, und
nun in allen ungarischen Volksschulen erfolgreich eingeführt.
In den U.S. hat die von mir propagierte auditive Klaviermethode nie recht Wurzeln
gefasst, und da ich selbst híer hauptsachlich mit akademischer Arbeit beschaftigt war
(s. Beilagen) und auch zumeist mit vorgeschriuenen Schülern ZlI tun harte, verschob
sích der Schwerpunkt rneíner padagogischen Tátigkeit einigermassen. Das direkt
gehorsmassíg Erfassen und Erlebeo der Musik blieb noch immer das Wichtigste. Aber
ebenso wichtig wurde mír nach und nach das Prinzip dass die gesarnte musikalische,
technísche und intellektuelle Ausbildung des Schülers (unter anderem: Formenanal.yse
und Stiíbewusstsein) in der Hand eines Lehrers zu liegen hat. Zu einem der Haupt-
punkte wurde die Forderung: der Student muss so früh wie moglích an auditive
Selbsterziehung gewohnt werde. Das heisst, er muss es Lernen das zu Studierende vor
allem in der Vorstellllng Cim "inneren Ohr") zu horen und die Ausführung zu planen,
wie es ein Diligent tut, deon ein Pianist ist sein eigenes Orchesterund jede Komposition
. muss studiert werden bevor man sie übtj und schliesslich muss noch die horbare, reelle
Ausführung mit dem ideeLlen, inneren Bilde verglichen werden. Kurz gesagr, der
Student muss lernen zu horen was er wirklich hervorbringt, nicht was er hervor-
zubringen beabsichtigt, und das ist leichter gesagt als getan. Heutzutage ist das
elektrische Tonband Ctape-recorder) dem Studierenden eine grosse Hilfe im objekti-
ven Selbst-Horen, und soUte ausgiebig zur auditiven Selbst-Kritik benützt werden.
Mit alldem glaube ích Ihre Haupt-Frage beantwortet zu haben, narnlich inwiefern
sich meine "heutigen padagogischen Ansehauungen von den Prinzipien zur Zeit des
Erscheinens meines Buches" unterscheiden. Die Antwort ist: seit dem Erscheinen
des Buches Crespo der IV. Auflage) haben sich in meiner Praxis nur die Mitrel und
Wege der Anwendung des Auditiven Klavierunterrichtes einigerrnassen geandert
Coder zeitgemass erweitert)j das Grundprinzir hlieb dasselbe.
Ich hoffe dass die.in diesem Briefe und in dvn Beilagen enrhaltenen Informationen
llmen dienen werden. Leider konnte ieh IhllL'n die Letzteren nur in Englischer
Sprache senden, aber es wird sich gewiss un I\.onservatorium jeroand finden der sie
Ihnen getreu und fachgemass übersetzt.
1ch wünsche Ihnen guten Erfolg zu Ihrer Arbeit und bitte Sie nur mich sofort per
Luftpost zu verstandigen sowie meine Sendung erhalten ist.

~t/~~~~'
vI~ J'Z......._,
Varró Margit levele Swetlana Grinsteinhez, 1970 535

verspatete Notenlesen hínderte den totalen Fortschritt mancher Schüler, besonders


von musikalisch begabten Beginnern, die sieh das einmal Vorgespielte oder
Vorgesungene sofort merkten, und deren Notenlesen nachher eher ein Noten-Raten
war. Um dem abzuhelfen musste ieh also Zugestandnisse machen, d.h. das
Notenlesen und - Sehreiben (Diktat, usw.) einführen sobald der Grund zur primaren
7. Mai, 1970
auditiven Auffassung gelegt war, beides dann parallel weiter entwickeln.
In den ersten 10 Jahren experimentierte ieh viel mit der audítíven Methode, sowoh1
direkt, in individuellen Lehrstunden mit Anfangern, als auch indírekt, in Serninar-De-
monstrationen für angehende und bereits aktive Klavierlehrer. Damals war rneine
Pionier-Arbeit aus den oben angeführten Gründen motiviert und notwendíg, und es
war mir eine Befriedigung zwei Generationen von privaten Musiklehrern in diesem
Sinne ausgebildet zu haben. Sie sind jetzt über die ganze Welt zerstreut und führen die
Methode des auditiven Anfiinger-Unterrichtes weiter fort. In Ungarn selbst - und in den
letzten]ahren auch ausserhalb - hat der auditive Klavier-Unterrieht viel an Wiehtigkeit
verloren, Die Ursa che líegt Un grosten Teil in dem epochemachendem Gesangs-Traí-
níng verbunden mit Gehórsbildung, schópferisch gegründet von Zoltán KODÁLY, und
nun in allen ungarischen Vo1kssehu1en erfolgreich eingeführt.
In den U.S. hat die von mír propagierte auditive Klaviennethode nie recht Wurzeln
und Ver-
gefasst, und da ích selbst hier hauptsachlich mít akaderníscher Arbeit beschaftígt war
(s. Beilagen) und auch zurneist mit vorgeschrittenen Schü1ern zu tun hatte, verschob
sich der Schwerpunkt rneíner padagogíschen Tátígkeít einigermassen. Das direkt
gehorsmassíg Erfassen und Erleben der Musik blieb noch imrner das Wiehtig-?te. Aber
ebenso wíchtíg wurde mir nach und naeh das Prinzip dass die gesamte. musíkalísche,
rechnísche und íntellektuelle Ausbíldung des Schülers (unter anderern: Formenanalyse
und Stilbewusstsein) in der Hand eines Lehrers zu liegen hat, Zu eínem der Haupt-
punkte wurde die Forderung. der Student muss so früh wie rnoglích an auditive
Selbsterziehung gewóhnt werde. Das heisst, er muss es lernen das zu Studierende vor
allem in der Vorsrellung (im "in11eren Ohr") ZLI h6ren und die Ausführung zu planen,
wie es ein Dirigent tut, denn ein Pianist ist sein eigenes Orchesterund jede Komposition
muss studiert werden bevor man sie übt; und schliesslich muss noch die hórbare, reelle
Ausführung mit dem ideeUen, inneren Bilde vergliehen werden. Kurz gesagt, der
Student muss let'nen zu hbren was er wirklich hervorbringt, nicht was er hervor-
zubringen beabsiehtigt, und das ist leichter gesagt als getan. Heutzutage ist das
elektrisehe Tonband Ctape-reeorder) dem Studierenden eine grosse Hilfe Un objekti-
ven Selbst-Hbren, und soUte ausgiebig zur auditiven Selbst-Kritik benützt werden.
Mit alldem glaube ieh Thre Haupt-Frage beantwortet 2U haben, narnlichinwiefern
sich meine "heutigen padagogischen Anschauungen von den Pri11zipien zur Zeit des
Erseheinens meines Buches" unterscheiden. Die Antwort ist: seit dem Erscheinen
des Buches (resp. der IV. Auflage) haben sich in meiner Praxis nur die Mitrel und
Wege der Anwendung des Auditiven Klavierunterrichtes einigermassen geandert
(oder zeitgemaSs erweitert); das Grundprin.zir hlieb dasselbe.
Ich hoffe dass die in diese m Briefe und in den Beilagen enthaltenen lnformationen
Ihnen dienen werden. Leider konnte ich Ihllen die Letzteren nur in Engliseher
Sprache senden, aber es wird sieh gewiss im I\.onservatorium jemand fmden der sie
Ihnen getreu und fachgemass übersetzt.
leh wünsehe Ihnen guten Erfolg zu Ihrer Arbeit und bitre Sie nur mich sofort per
r~"_n.'~u,- wenn Luftpost zu verstandigen sowie meine Sendung erhalten ist.
in Ungarn,
werden .
.msschliessl ieh
~¡_/~L~~~~
und dadureh v-L~ tZ,..,.."
ROBERT KOSTKA: REMEMBERING MRS. VARRÓ

It sometimes takes many years to understand just what one owes to an important
teacher. Ir is often far more subtle than any immediate lesson, and is usually unsaid.
Part of thís silent and unspoken pact is that one must later share ir with your own
young students. In or out of a classroom, all artists are teachers. Perhaps the greatest
lesson that one can .Iearn" and then .teach" is .How ro keep Art alíve." This was
one of Margit Varró's many gifts.
The Institute 01 Design was a unique schooI of Art and Desígn. Founded by
L.Moholy-Nágy in Chicago (1937), it was an up-dated version of the German
Bauhaus. Moholy stressed the education of all the senses thru experiencing them
and conscious awareness of those experiences. The unity of the desígn process in
planning and formíng man's needs, the role of the individual designer and his
responsibility for the effects of his desígns, underlined the program until the late 1950s.
The fírst year was a Fóundation Program required of all students, itself sensitizing
the students thru Visual, Sculprural, Photographic, Materials and Machines, fue depth
of human needs and awareness. The program was íntegrated so that when dealing
with for example Texture in a Visual cJass, one would also be working with it in
the Sculpture, Photography and Machine shop classes. Each student would also have
an introduction to Architecture, City Planning, Product Desígn, Visual Communíca-
tion, Photography and Film, befo re choosing which rnajor area they would work
in. The aural sense of Sound and Rhythm was not ornitted, be ít in the design and
invention of a sound ínstrument in the Product Desígn classes, to one of the earliest
classes in Musicology taught by Mrs. Varró.
As a student one had a strong awareness that something important was happening,
and the stream of visiting artists and architects from all over the world confirmed ir.
Ir was a way of life, and students spent berween 40 and 60 hours a week at the
school. lnterestingly the largest proportion of graduares became teachers as well as w
designers. 112 lo

Mrs. Varró's Musicology class met in the auditorium which also had a grand piano. twíoe
She would either play recordings or the piano, depending on the music being we'd
considered. The class Was required of all students for onIy one year, although one The
or two hundred regularly attended as unregistered students. with ti
The classes were always involving, and often great fun as well. Mrs. Varró had bumr
wit, style and a great sense of Show-Biz. She was a very petit woman, and had a tion.1
genuine perforrning presence. One of her fa'Vourite things was to teach from [he and 5':
audience level rather than the stage, and to hold a dgarette in on hand waiting for Aztec
someone to light it for her. It usually was lit quickly, aod she'd take one or two puffs AnIhr
only to forget it in an ashtray. She made everything living and warm, and seemed folkrr
the&
to enjoy the classes as an alternative to teaching the pianó. She h:id a keen balance
between Lagos and Eros. (Lagos as seen in laws, authority, logic, fue mal e Animus.
andUJ
as a rr
Eros is the feeling, intuitive, healing, the feminine Anima.) Teaching, as one of the
Se'-
Helping Professions, uses as its medium Eros. Thru this she nurtured a growing lave
strure.
of serious music among her art students. botb e
Robert Kostka: Remembering Mrs. Varró 537

Because of the size and nature of the class, she varied the content from term to
rerrn, year ro year. One year it was .Ancient Music to Bach", another ,,20th Century
Muste", or "Seh6nberg-Strawinsky-Ba11Ók". The year it was aJl about Bach led to the
dass project published in Designs to Muste.
It was a time when there was strong interest in the structure of thíngs, be it in the
Art of Mond.rian, or Gabo, or in the Geodesic Domes that Buckmínster Fuller was
to an importam perfecting in the Product Design Workshop. All students were familiar with D'Arcy
usualIy unsan, Thompson's great study "On Grounn and Porm" and the systems found in Nature
"'::11 yom 0\\ '! itself, Such applications as Bartók's use of the Fibonacci series andJohn Cage's later
rhe greates use of the 64 transformations of the 1 Ching as compositional devices could be
alíve ~ This v. a' considered as Growth and Form:
Her book was prophetic. American composers were exploring new rhythms,
tonalities, textures and colors increasingly outside conventional notation. Harry
Partcñ developed over forry instrurnents for rus micro tonal scales, although he
avoided electronic sounds in rus insistence on live perfonners. Partch's notation
added different colors for sca!es and tonalities, as well as shapes índicating rhythms.
The advent of the electronic synthesizer made conventional notation irrelevant. What
did become critica! was an overall image of the musical space, a visualization of the
rhythmíc and tonal space itself.
We planned yet another project, which unfortunately never took place. I was
deeply interested in the structure of color and light, as well as the psychology of
color itself. The phenomena of synesthesia, long known but still not understood,
also .interested Scriabin. He would include indications on rus scores the various
colors to be projected during the performance. We planned to give what would
have been the first complete color performance in 1951. However the only scores
available in the USA had those color indications removed. A long search revealed
that the color notations would only be available on scores in Moscow. It took over
three years for them to arrive, and the performance never took place.
AlI this returned to me when 1 too started to teach. 1 found the Eros principle far
more important than I'd reaLized. Such difficult visual concepts as Visual Rhythm,
or the Psychology of Color, could be indirectly approached thru the metaphor of
music. 111e students enjoyed it, but were convinced any irnages based 00 music
would be totally subjective. This skepticism faded 00 the very first try. 1 recorded
112 to 1 minute excerpts of music 1 felt was unfamiliar to them. I'd play it once or
twice, and then they had five minutes to paint a visualization of those sounds. Then
we'd hang them up to view them as a group, and _l'd play the excerpt again.
The first exercise demonstrated that it was noo-verbal, wruch is ofteo confused
with the subjective. Twenty-three were identical in color choices, ochres, raw and
burnt sienna, with a black serpent-like Une moving horizontaUy thru the composi-
tion. Three differed in that they used colors that were the complement to the ochres
and siennas, yet also inelucled the lineo The music was a fragment of an ancient
Aztec Hymn to Quetzaleoatl, the Feathered Serpent, recorded by the Museum of
Anthropology in Mexico City. Music excerpts ranged from Greek, Peruvian, other
folk music, to Mahler, Ives, Partch, 01" Stockhausen. The music of Lou Harrison and
the Bartók Quartets proved unusually "visual". As che tem1S progressed their uses
and understanding of rhythm and color beca me free aod quite soprusticated, as well
as a much wider interest in music itself.
Several graduate students from che Music Dept. started taking the elass, adding a
structural aspect to the work. For example, Bartók's use of the Fibonacci Series was
boch seen as well as heard.
538 SzOveggyiíjtemény

Unlike traditional japanese Arts, Western forms of art are not holistic, One might
learn everythíng there is ro know about writing fictíon, but have no insíghts into
any other form of arto The tradítíonal Japanese .Five Ways" each lead to the other
"Ways", no marter where one begins. One might start with the "The Way of Tea"
and soon be led to .The Way of Callígraphy", or .The Way ofFlowers", or even "The
Way of People" CPsychoJogy). In thís way the culture keeps re-inventing itself thru
generation after generation ... something the West has yet to learn,

Thank you Margit Varró !

March 1990

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