
By Bobby Neal Winters
I practice the recorder every day. I work in my woodshop, I shower to get the saw dust off, and then I practice.
I never thought I would enjoy it this much.
I am using the same general method in learning to play the recorder as I did in learning to do woodworking. (Woodworking/woodwind: It should work, right?) I went on Youtube and searched for it. I found a teacher, Sarah Jeffrey, she’s British just like my woodworking guru, Paul Sellars. Somehow it’s just easier to assume they know what they are talking about when it comes to you in the right sort of accent.
Using what I learned on Sarah Jeffrey’s channel, I bought some books and I’ve been using them to practice.
Without going into detail, I will just say that playing the recorder is entirely different than I would’ve imagined it to be. If I said any more, I would be going into detail, so let me just stop.
There is a difference between woodworking and playing a woodwind. When I make a wooden box, I know that I’ve done well. I know whether it is good or it is crap. Oddly enough, this is not true for me and the tunes that I play.
That might require a little explanation.
When I learn to play a tune, it starts off with a piece of music. I will take one of my books–most of which have the words “For beginners” or “For children” or “For rather dull children” in their titles–and I will start working my way through the notes. Each note has a different fingering; some have more than one.
I try to play the tune through and it all works better for me if I’ve heard the song before.
I get to a point where I figure out where all the places where I screw up are and then I go back to work on them.
After I’ve gotten to the point where I think that I can play through without hiccups, I will make a recording of it so I can share it with some of my friends.
Here we come to one interesting fact: Even if I have played the tune through a half a dozen times without any more than one or two stutters, the minute I try to record myself it all goes to pieces. I don’t even listen to it. I just erase it.
So I will go back to practice some more.
Eventually, I will be able to record it.
This is important to note. By this time, I’ve played it so that it sounded good to me many, many times. Before I send it on to my friends or my brother, I listen to it myself. And often my reaction is “OH GOD NO!”
I erase the recording and go back to Youtube to get some tips on where I’ve gone wrong.
This is troubling. It sounds good to me as I play it. I’ve noticed my improvement from note by note construction, to making it all fit together in time, to blending the notes.
It sounds good to me…as I play it.
But something goes on between my ears and my brain.
It’s like there is a filter there that removes the squeaks and the choppy notes. I think it’s called the Ego.
Actually, no. The Ego is what makes me erase it when I hear what I actually sound like.
Making a recording of my playing gives me enough distance to judge myself.
There are points in the learning process when you need to withhold the whole truth from the student lest the student should be discouraged. But the point comes where the student needs to know there is something wrong so it can be corrected.
You are not doing the student a favor when you tell them they are wonderful when they are painful to listen to. There are, however, ways to package the truth so that they will listen to it rather than have their ego violently reject it.
Depends upon the student; depends upon the teacher; depends upon the relationship they have developed.
This is true with woodwinds and woodworking. It’s true with geometry and geography.
Learning, improving, requires that we look into the mirror. A skilled teacher can be a good mirror for us; they can hold it up for us; but we’ve got to be willing to look into it and make the changes. They can’t do it for us.
Bobby Winters grew up near Harden City, Oklahoma. He teaches mathematics and computer science, does woodworking, and blogs at okieinexile.com. He invites you to visit the blog and to subscribe.
Leave a comment