When I was a student at Berklee College of Music, a friend complained that his private teacher had spent the entire 30-minute lesson showing him YouTube videos.
I remember thinking, “That’s such a waste of tuition.”
Years later, I taught guitar in after-school programs to kids from five years old through high school around Queens and Brooklyn in New York City. I taught on and off for about 10 years. Most lessons were only 30 minutes a week. Maybe 45. And honestly, it often felt like half music lesson, half babysitting.
When I first started teaching, I assumed the kids would have some interest in guitar, or at least in music. I quickly realized that most of the time, that wasn’t the case.
A lot of the kids were there because their parents had signed them up. For parents, guitar was a more affordable choice than piano, cello, or violin. A drum set could be too loud for a New York City apartment. The guitar didn’t take up much space, either.
The kids weren’t necessarily interested in music. Most of what they heard came through TikTok or video games, not songs they sat down to listen to. The guitar felt foreign to them.
I wasn’t always good at opening that door, either. I wanted them to understand how the guitar worked, and I worried that taking shortcuts, like playing “Happy Birthday” on one string, would make things harder later. Looking back, I may have been making the beginning harder than it needed to be.
Some students, mostly the girls, were very good at being students. They listened carefully, followed instructions, and did their homework. Preparing for NYSSMA, a New York State music assessment with different levels, suited them well. There was a clear structure: learn the scales, work on a piece, move to the next level. Those were some of the most productive, practical lessons I taught. A couple progressed far enough that I thought they might benefit from studying with a classical guitarist.
But I still found myself wondering. They were good at following a structured path, and there was value in that. I could see their progress, but I couldn’t always feel their excitement. I wasn’t sure whether they loved the guitar or were simply good at doing what was asked of them.
Throughout my years of teaching, there was just one boy who stood out to me that way. He loved playing and singing with his ukulele and knew a ton of songs. It was very beautiful to see. This was closer to what I’d imagined my students would be like when I first started teaching. Instead of trying to get him interested, I could build on the interest and ability he already had.
Toward the end of my career, I found myself asking parents to play more music at home and take their kids to concerts. If you don’t listen to music, how do you begin to find out what you like?
But parents were busy. Music wasn’t necessarily a big part of their lives, either. Meanwhile, the parents and the school still wanted something concrete to show for those 30 minutes.
That balance was frustrating, and I don’t think I ever fully figured it out. But looking back, I also wonder whether I stayed too long. Teaching at afterschool was a good chunk of my income, and I was scared to walk away from it.
I’m just less certain now that my friend’s teacher was wasting those 30 minutes.