New Country. New Language. New Journey.

After living in France for a while, I was offered the incredible opportunity to teach at a conservatory.

After an interview with the director, I got the job. I was obviously thrilled.

But on the way to my first day of teaching, I started to wonder what I would actually say to them. And the more I thought about it, the more I started to panic.

Since my French vocabulary wasn't exactly brilliant, I figured my best strategy would be to just ask them simple questions like, what's your favorite food? You see, I just wanted to get a sense of who they were.

What interested them? Outside the violin, of course.

But this wasn't at all what they expected to hear from their new professor, so my simple questions just confused them. Still, I became more and more intrigued by their answers, so I just kept asking.

After asking my questions, I asked them to play something.

And that's when I started to panic even more.

You see, none of them played the way I did.

The way they held their bows, where they placed their violins, all of it was so different from what I had learned.

I started to worry as I asked myself what I could possibly say to them that wouldn't directly challenge the way they were used to doing things.

I spent a lot of time thinking about it, and then while I was on the train to the conservatory, it hit me. I would tell them something obvious. I would tell them that in the name of efficiency and a few other things, they didn't need to press the string all the way to the fingerboard with their left hand fingers.

So I confidently started the week of teaching, telling every student that they didn't need to press.

They all nodded, listened politely, and didn't object, so I was relieved.

Now I couldn't wait to see how they would respond in their next lesson, thinking, of course, that I would see a difference right away.

But in the first lesson of the next week, the student was still pressing just as hard as before.

I immediately thought my poor French must have betrayed me, so I asked.

I must have said it poorly, but did you understand what I said last week? They turned around and replied, Oui, but you're still pressing the string.

The student looked at me and without hesitation said, Monsieur, if you do not press the string to the fingerboard, there can be no sound.

With that, they smiled and left the studio.

But I stood there stunned, because what had seemed so obvious to me was not obvious to them at all. That realization marked the beginning of my journey as an American violin teacher in France. You see, from then on, their challenges pushed me to defend my ideas, and that meant my French had to get a whole lot better.

Automatic video-to-text transcription by DaDaScribe.com

Thank you for your comment, question or request!

Comment/Question deleted successfully.

Post a comment, question or special request:

Comments or questions must be between 3 and 10,000 characters long.

You may: Login  or  

Otherwise, fill out the form below to post your comment:

Add your name below:


Add your email below: (to receive replies, will not be displayed or shared)


For verification purposes, please enter the word MUSIC in the field below

---