Talking Shop About Teaching

The business of running a guitar school has weirdly fascinated me for many years. Truly, how successful I’ve been I owe to the idea that teaching guitar has to be ego-less. In other words, just because I’m the authority in the situation (the teacher) doesn’t negate from the fact that the person I’m working with (the student) is the most important person in the room.

I’ve been surprised when I’ve heard other guitar teachers talk about their students, their income from teaching, their livelihood. This type of thinking is indicative of a teacher who hasn’t really given up the dream of being a rock and roll star, and is teaching to make a little money on the side. This type of thinking also makes it seem like this teacher doesn’t care about the students in the first place!

The most surprising thing that I noticed when I began teaching was how invested I got in practically everyone’s progress. I found a large income when I focused on providing the students an excellent story, one where they transformed themselves and became the guitarist they always knew they were. Not only was it profitable, but it was incredibly satisfying.

I teach less now than I did two or three years ago because I began to limit how many people I was working with in the first place. Good people are out there and finding them is important. With good people in my life, it’s easier to live and breathe. It’s easier to go about my life and create the life I want to live. Moreover, I found out that working with and reaching out to great people for lessons is far more satisfying anyways than just simply working with anyone, no matter what.

I’m reminded of that thought today as I’m working on parts of my life that I’d like to take to the next level: Good people first. This would be my recommendation to all new guitar teachers: Find the good people and serve them well.

May I have the opportunity to serve and guide all the good people of the world who want to learn guitar.

An Apology To A Music Theory Teacher

Assignment for Music Theory 400

Santa Fe sounds like a romantic city, but really, it's a city of small houses. My girlfriend and I have been getting rid of anything that's taking up unnecessary space. We both had a stack of college binders that we schlepped from Austin to our home, here. Two weeks ago, she got rid of her stack and felt wonderful for doing it. That made me think... what on earth am I holding onto my old college notebooks for? It's not like I read them, really.

So, in an effort to get rid of old notebooks, I have been going through each three-ring binder and seeing if there's anything worth keeping. I was struck by a pang of hot shame when I came across an old music theory binder. Wow, it was intense.

My job now is coming to terms with how idiotic I was when I was younger. I was a jerk to this poor theory professor! It's sad in retrospect because this theory professor was incredibly smart, had a good head on his shoulders, and was also incredibly talented. Like, virtuoso talented. I didn't get his mannerisms, his clarity and command over the subject matter at that time, so I dismissed him for all of it. Worst of all, I feel guilty to this day for dissing him for his in-class performance of a Beethoven piano sonata both during and after he was done playing. Thinking about it now is so tough that the only things I can do is shake my head and laugh at myself...

I had some incredibly challenging assignments in this class, but I did enjoy the work (see the analysis I did to the left). The professor cared enough to write clear and encouraging comments to each student. In looking at what he wrote me on one assignment, I realize that he was actually doing something I just didn't get because I was too stupid to see it. He was trying to reach out to me, to help me become a better musician, to force me to be stronger and think better. He had (and I imagine still has) a clarity and depth about music, about music, about being a better musician. Hindsight is 20/20, and in this case? Uhg. More so. I really missed the mark.

To that professor, Dr. David Temperley if you're interested,I offer my sincerest apologies that I dissed you. You didn't deserve it. I had my head up my ass. Obviously, I needed life to kick the crap out of me. Thanks for being the better man, and I promise I'll pay it forward to all my students.

The Perils of Starting a Guitar Education Business

20170510_162716 by Brian Kelley, Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic

The initial stage of starting any new business is a moment of total optimism. I can remember it quite clearly coming to me when I knew I needed to start The School of Feedback Guitar. Before my car died in 2005, I was driving around Johnsonville TX, thinking about my future, my direction, and mostly, my life. I hit this spot where I realized it was now or never. I had that moment where everything became clear, where my intuition said, "It's time, dude. You need to teach." If only the work was that easy!

I embarked on a journey to find an office. I found a soundproofed studio in south Austin, painted it the colors I liked, and made it possible for teaching. I bought an excellent music stand, two guitar stands, and I found chairs (very uncomfortable) from craigslist. I didn't have a car by that point, but I was able to convince a friend to help me move all of my guitar stuff to that place. I got really good at biking for five miles to and from the office, rain or shine, and I never missed a chance to teach, even if it meant that a student decided to no-call-no-show.

Starting simple with advertising on Craigslist, I was able to secure some income. It was a journey. I still had yet to quit my job (slinging coffee at a second rate coffeeshop) and I still had bills to pay. This part of the journey was absolute hell. I sweated and sweated until I got a somewhat stable roster of students, and then I finally quit my job. It took about a year to do.

Slowly, I was able to raise my prices to a decent level, a level that afforded me the luxury of not quite being in poverty. My dad helped me out with business and tax advice, but I was pretty much on my own. I made improvements to the way I taught, the presence I had online, the reputation I built, and finally, I managed to systemize so many of the most annoying tasks. My booking system got better, my websites became stronger, and students began to flow in easily.

There were still bumps in the road. I had to switch offices twice from that first office. Each time was an upgrade, thankfully. Moving, as it ever was and still will be, was a bitch, but it was worth it. Finally, I had a full roster of students eight (very long) years later. I built something completely on my own, with a little luck, advice from good people, and a lot of sweat. It was hard.

I write this out because I am again in another transition. I've switched to doing completely Skype guitar lessons, I have begun the process of making courses of the knowledge I have and selling them online, I created a YouTube channel to share simple ideas that could help to transform people's lives, and most importantly, I've made major strides towards being a full-time composer. It hasn't been easy to start any of this, nor is it much fun to be up at 1 AM writing this when I worry about the future of me being a musician, but I am reminded of how hard it was to start The School of Feedback Guitar. When it comes down to it, I'd have to say that becoming a self-employed guitar teacher was very much like flirting with poverty. But was it worth it?

Yes.

It's worth it to feel free, to be free of anyone telling me what I needed to do. It's worth it to be on one's own and doing something that is completely in line with passion. It's worth it to feel like I was giving back the insane amount of knowledge I was able to procure over the years as a teacher. It's worth it to have a grasp on the human dynamics that we are all witness to, but it was so well-worth my time to learn to have a part in it without any sort of embarrassment about how open my heart really is.

The price for going your own way is high. The path of doing your own thing can sometimes be fraught with so many difficulties that are sometimes so debilitating that we don't know what to do. But in the end, I couldn't possibly have it any other way. I hope you feel the same way about the things you want to do in your life.