Recently I seem to be meeting music teachers with one student who really challenges their teaching approach. Not every single student. It could be just one student here and there who doesn’t practice all that often. Or the student who never wants to commit to their own choice selection. Or the student who seems perpetually exhausted at their lessons. Focusing on what’s going on can feel weighty. That’s where I want to make sure I’ve got plenty of patience ready at hand.
I appreciate how patience can be the first step in allowing for positive spaces to take shape. Patience isn’t passive waiting. It’s more than that. Patience creates a kind of mental openness where instead of reacting to what’s missing, I recognize that I may not understand everything that’s going on. And I can accept that students may have many obstacles that will get in their way. Patience softens the pressure to get learning happening as soon as possible and invites me to create lessons that unfold with understanding and curiosity. I take a deep breath. Or two or three. Patience is a practical - not merely philosophical - tool. I’s an amazing strategy when students seem stalled or otherwise stuck.
Take my student Spencer, who I wish would get things organized. It’s seems like months since I began requesting his list of own choice pieces. Some lessons he arrives barely having touched the piano. It often feels like one step forward and two steps back. But when I widen the lens, I notice other things. Spencer listens when I demonstrate. He answers questions when I keep them simple. He shows up every single week, even when he’s worn out from school. He usually smiles at about the 10-minute mark when I'm patient with him. These aren’t consolation prizes. They’re the openings for creating those positive spaces that can make a difference in Spencer's life.
Patience helps me recognize that music lessons come with challenges without sugar-coating the obstacles. It reminds me that students' musical journeys don't always unfold in neat, measurable increments. Students grow in stages that include moving forward, steps backward, detours, plateaus, pausing, and reorienting. There are lots of things below the surface that I cannot see. When I respond with patience, I’m not lowering expectations. I’m creating a learning environment where students feel supported. Patience doesn’t erase challenges, but it gives us time to meet them wisely.
And perhaps that’s the larger invitation for all of us. In a world filled with hurry, comparison, and endless to-do lists, patience becomes a quiet counterbalance. It reminds us to look for what’s already there, not just what’s missing. It encourages us to honour the pace at which each student learns to think, listen, move, and make music. Patience isn’t a luxury. It’s one of the most essential tools we carry into the studio.
Which of your students might require your patience more than the others? What will that look like? What will you need to change?
How can you be more intentional about using your patience to support students? What's an easy starting point for you?
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