Piano Pedagogy: What's Up With Method Books?

   

    Some months ago, a pedagogy student asked if I could name three method books. Well, it's been decades since I taught piano pedagogy, but I pointed out that to the best of my knowledge there is really no such thing as a methodbook. These days they tend to be in series and include tangential materials such as theory, contest pieces and general repertoire.                    

        

All of this I related while racking my brain for some titles. The most recent I knew of at that time was by a professor at the University of Utah written by Reid Nibley, a competent pianist but inept teacher. I know this from personal experience. Another title that popped into my mind was by Leila Fletcher. And if you know that name, you probably should be retired by now, though I see some of her volumes are available as relics. Her approach relied heavily on middle C and was criticized for that. Naturally, that was the one I chose to use when I took the required pedagogy course as an undergraduate—this 

despite the teacher's disdain. (I was a minor rebel at that time.) Then, there was the method assigned to me when I began my own piano studies. It was called "The Adult at the Piano," by Bernice Frost, published in 1949.  (I know.) Naturally, as a ten-year-old I was flattered by the title. 

    Ms Frost was a well-know writer and pedagogue from New York who had come to Los Angeles to teach a summer class at USC. The class was designed to demonstrate to university piano majors methods of teaching piano in groups. It was in my view at the time—and in hindsight—enormously effective. I thrived. Even my older brother relished the easy diminished seventh chords he could splash up and down the piano, that is until he discovered football. And of course, my mother was thrilled because the class was free.

The Adult at the Piano by Bernice Frost, Book 1, First Piece
Screen Grab

    I was able to locate on Ebay volume one of Frost's method. It is being offered for sale at $39, an antique to be sure. (For the new copy, I probably paid $.75 at most.) It is missing its pale green cover (I remember!), but the still-familiar font drew me instantly back to that WWII barracks on the USC campus where we dozen or so students began our piano study. We sat two to an upright and I, for one, reveled in the roar we could create.

    Notice that the method begins already with one sharp. The grand staff with its mysterious clefs challenged us right from the beginning. Introduced without fanfare are slurs, a single left-hand note in each phrase and even pedal. There are half and whole-note rests, a time signature and a tempo indication. And notice, too, the absence of stories, cute pictures or bold colors. Of course, we adults required no such handicaps.

  Today, there are many imaginative methods for younger beginners, who are of course attracted to cuteness and bold colors. The list is endless: Alfred, Bastien, Faber & Faber are very popular and probably effective. They are decorated with images that, to my eye, seem cluttered and distracting. But then I'm probably too old. (I have to find a young person to show me how to use my iPhone.) Interestingly, Suzuki, also very popular, has few or none of the distractions. (I've noticed that students who come up through the Suzuki method often possess significant skill and a strong work ethic, but often have difficulty reading music.) I like the no-nonsense approach, though, "notes and rhythms r'us." So much single-line rote playing is problematic.

       I once took a studio class in oil painting. It was supposed to be for beginners, but more experienced artists were also admitted. The first assignment was to paint something. Presumably then the teacher would come around and critique. What!? That's a bit like telling the beginning piano student at his first lesson to play something. I'm here to suggest, ever so gently, that we teachers focus on the how to as well as the what. It almost doesn't matter what materials the teacher chooses. It could be published books, colorful or not, or materials of the teacher's own creation. I propose, even with young children, that an introduction to how the body works at the piano should be included, no matter how minimal, along with the score. (This was not possible in a group setting.) Children, of course, usually respond better with gesture than they do with cascades of words. This approach will direct the teacher to each student's particular technical needs right from the beginning. The technique will be attached to the notes and the music. Naming method books is really not all that important.

    But I have another reason to look back fondly to my piano beginnings. I learned to see what's on the

page, to read. There was nothing but the music to attract my attention. This may be something to consider when choosing a method book. Sometimes I'm asked how I learned to sight-read tolerably well. By sight-read I refer to the ability to make music at first sight, accurately and in tempo including whatever is on the page. There is not really a definitive answer, of course. I can speculate, though, that having such a start contributed. It is likely, too, that I am among those who are oriented visually, and during my developmental years I was called upon to produce results in the moment, working with other musicians in church and in school.

    I encourage us all to consider the needs of the student. Does she respond best to cartooned pages or is he an adult at the piano? Should we turn to the shelf to grab what is easy, or do we devise our own materials? Are we astute enough to spot potential physical problems and should we intervene gently by touch, or is it best to let it ride for awhile? Teaching is a joyous challenge at all levels, and if we resist the urge to take the easy way out by making arbitrary choices of method, it can even be more rewarding.

    For more reading, have a look here:

Piano Technique Demystified

The "Valkyrie"of the Piano"

 

    A show of hands, please. Who can name the great virtuoso pianist, singer, conductor and composer from Venezuela, born in 1853, who enjoyed an international career and hobnobbed with the likes of Rossini, Gounod and Liszt, among many others? Who also played at the White House for Abraham Lincoln? Who performed under conductors Gustav Mahler, Hans von Bülow and Edvard Grieg? Who counted among her (oops) four husbands Eugen d'Albert?

    When I think of great female pianists who conquered the largely male world of concert pianists, I usually think of Clara Schumann, who was indeed the first, but not the only. Teresa Carreño was a truly remarkable woman. I highly recommend taking a look at this video presented by KUSC: Open Ears

    There exists a Welte Mignon piano roll from 1905, which purports to be an accurate representation of her playing Chopin's first Ballade. You can listen to it here: G Minor Ballade. The brilliant passages seem artificially fast to me. You be the judge.