I have an adult student who has been with me for a few years now. She struggles mightily with learning and retaining information. To her credit, I've never heard her complain about the need to repeat things. She is always very upbeat and willing to work hard. Honestly, she works at it a lot harder than most but the progress is incremental at best. The sourpuss in the room is usually me. I'm frustrated with myself for not being able to be a better teacher for her.
Earlier this week we had a breakthrough. She mistook one note for another. That's not so unusual, but what I found interesting was the note she thought she was playing looked on paper like a mirror image of the note she needed. After she finished playing her song I asker her, as delicately as I could, if she was dyslexic.
She said she was. She seemed embarrassed that I knew, but I was relieved. It's easier to slay the dragon you can see than one you can't see. I can now put a name to the problem and begin looking for a better way to teach her. She relaxed a bit as we briefly discussed it and she explained how it manifested itself. I reassured her that I was her ally.
Up until a year ago I taught a teenage autistic boy. He was a real challenge. Autism, anger issues, and raging teen hormones is a pretty interesting mix. I should mention that his family was from India, so there were cultural concerns as well. Each week, after our 30 minute session, I was pooped!
A number of years ago I took on a 6 year old boy. A nice kid, but his mother was domineering. Over the course of the next three years I noticed that he had a hard time associating the things he knew with their names, written or spoken. As the lessons became more involved his difficulties seemed to grow worse. Typical of most children, he would want to move on to a new song after a week or two and his mother would challenge me if I hesitated.
I don't know why I thought of this, but I mumbled out loud, "It's like the right side of his brain is not communicating with the left." She immediately said, "He was born that way. It's a birth defect. The doctor thought that music lessons might help." I didn't say anything to her because I didn't think it would accomplish much, but I thought that information like that shouldn't be a secret. I did mention that there are music therapists that are trained to work with people like her son and that they may be of more help. She bristled at the notion.
The problem with these stories is that I end up sounding like a hero. I'm not. In fact it's the students who are the heroes of their own stories. They work so hard to overcome these challenges and each one does eventually learn to play music. Sometimes, I believe, in spite of my best efforts not because of them.
I'm inspired, when I'm not exasperated, by their determination, focus, and strength of character. I try to be patient and understanding with them even as I get aggravated by my own inability to teach them effectively. I'm reminded that we all need a little extra patience from time to time as we battle our own dragons, seen or unseen. And some accomplishments don't need to be measured, just appreciated.