My philosophy of teaching was really formed by experiences in
college.
My initial degree was in Music Education and Music Therapy; then came a
Master
of Pastoral Studies, and finally a BFA from the School of the Art
Institute of
Chicago.
While studying music, I would always come well-prepared for each
lesson.
At my final lessons (in different terms), when they knew I would no
longer be
their student, both my bassoon teacher and my percussion teacher told
me the
same thing: they had routinely given me TWICE what they thought I
was
capable of! No matter, I BELIEVED that they thought I could do
it.
It wasn’t that they simply set expectations, but I felt they believed
in
me. What a valuable lesson that was!
Teachers can be powerful motivators, but that power can also be
destructive. Whatever beliefs we project onto our students can
limit their
progress or help them break through barriers and reach goals.
Another experience which helped form my development was working with
handicapped children. One day when working with a group that was
hearing-impaired, I
brought in some drum sticks and practice pads. About a week
later, I
received a call from one of the parents asking if I would give their
son “Robbie”
private lessons. He wanted to be in the school band when he got
to junior
high, and they didn't believe in denying him anything because of his
handicap.
I was hesitant because music is a difficult discipline, and I didn’t
want
“Robbie” to have a bad experience. He was completely deaf in one
ear and
had an 80 decibel loss in the other. I told the parents that if
they
would sit in on his lessons and drill him an hour a day, I would teach
him. And they agreed. They drilled “Robbie” for an hour,
and he
would practice another hour because he was so motivated.
Since music is an abstract form and these children learn visually, it
presented
special challenges. I had to learn how to get complicated rhythms
and
rudiments across. I started tapping things out on his shoulders
so he
could feel it in his body.
After 2 years of working with “Robbie”, it was time for him to go to
junior
high, and I was taking a teaching job in a town about 3 hours
away. I was
very nervous for him. Fortunately, the new band director at the
school
was also one of my music therapy colleagues, and our drummer had a
wonderful year.
The following summer, I came back and “Robbie” took lessons with me
again. Besides the percussion, he also wanted to learn to play
the
guitar. He would play and sing with all his heart. I
remember
watching him and thinking that if someone listened, they would probably
think it was
just awful. But I knew that this was real music to God’s ear
because it
came from deep within his soul.
For several years I worked with children who had all types of physical
and
mental limitations. I would come prepared with a lesson plan, but
if it
wasn’t working, I had to abandon it and try something else. It
taught me
to be flexible and spontaneous in my teaching, and I soon discovered
that what
I had learned in music could be directly applied to visual arts as well.
By now I have taught people aged 3 to 99 ½ , and I think there
are more
similarities than differences among them. Everyone wants to feel
good about
what they are doing. They want to feel that the teacher cares
about them,
and they want to be confident in the skills they are building.
One summer I had a five-year old in my clay class. “Emily” was
particularly good for that age with both her handbuilding and
painting.
After taking great care with her work, I told her she needed to put
glaze on
the piece in order to finish it. She was shocked, and didn’t want
to put
“that pink stuff” on. When I started to demonstrate, she burst
into tears because she was
sure that I had ruined her piece! I assured her that it would be
all
right, and she would see that her piece was really beautiful after it
was fired
in the kiln. In a very soothing a tone, I told her,
"Just trust me." Needless to say, everything turned out just
fine, and she was delighted.
On the first day of each camp, I go around the room and have the
children
introduce themselves and tell me one thing they would really like to
learn
or create. Then I try to work these specific items into my
lessons.
I had “Emily” four summers in a row, and each time she would declare,
“And just when you think Miss Kathy is
going to ruin your piece, it will be okay. Just trust her!”
I relate that incident to my elderly students
at different retirement centers
where I teach. The story makes them laugh, and then when someone
starts
resisting one of my suggestions, all the others chime in, “Just trust
her!”
Something else which is important to my teaching is the pastoral
element.
It is necessary to be fully engaged in the moment, and to direct
energies “with”
them rather than “at” them. It goes beyond just making a pretty
object;
it requires taking the time to find the students’ creativity and
passion, and assisting them to become the artists they are meant to be
– not simply carbon copies of
their teacher.
Depending on the circumstance, even the specific project is not so
important. At a nursing home, one of the residents thanked me for
looking
her in the eye when I talked. She said that no one else ever
really “saw”
her. To be fully present takes a conscious effort. Like
small
children, the oldsters see through the façade and know whether
you are being
genuine or not.
I count myself lucky to have taught such a wide range of ages and
abilities. I have gained much and feel that I’m a better person -
and a
much more complete artist - because of those experiences. When
done well,
teaching is a profession that can touch us all in a profound way.
Just trust me!
= = = = = =
March 20,
2010
© 2010 Kathy Cunningham
= = = = = =
Kathy Cunningham is an artist and teacher
living in
www.kathycunningham.com
To see some photos of the artwork created by
Kathy's students (both young and old), CLICK HERE.