In March, when my accountant informed me that the IRS allows me to deduct mileage when I travel to a student’s house to teach he also admonished me for traveling to Manhattan to teach.  His argument:  if you make, say, $4,000 a year in lessons and the IRS allows you to deduct $5,000 for mileage you may want to reconsider why you are doing this. 

A $5,000 deduction for mileage, even though you earned only $4,000? The math is correct.  Currently, the IRS allows 50 cents per mile.  A roundtrip to Manhattan is 250 miles, a $125 deduction according to the IRS.  While the gasoline+toll costs are “only” about $50 (that’s in the Lexus; I don’t dare take the Jimmy because of the poor gas mileage it gets), there are other, not so obvious, expenses – maintenance comes to mind, so this seemingly generous $125 per-trip-deduction is probably quite justified. 

While at first thought the idea of having such huge deductions and the resulting lower self-employment tax bill may seem intriguing – who wouldn’t want to pay less taxes? – , at second thought, and as Beth Gigante Klingenstein points out at every workshop, it’s not in your best interest to lower your self-employment income this way.  Taking the above calculation, earning $4,000 but having a $5,000 deduction (for travel alone, there’s more in addition to that) means that I spent $1,000 for the privilege to teach – or, if you want to look at it differently, that I lost $1,000.  Negative income. 

Of course not all of my earned income went directly toward travelling expenses, so it’s not really negative income, but let’s look at what those taxes are.

Self-employment tax is the Social Security (and Medicare) taxes.  Which means that by lowering my income through deductions (which results in a lower tax bill), as far as my retirement is concerned, even though I worked and earned money, I had practically no income this year which means that no money went toward my retirement.  As far as the Social Security Administration is concerned, I didn’t work this year.

Sobering.

Of course, one solution would be to not take that mileage/travelling deduction.  But the fact is that I do have expenses from travelling.  I do want to teach my students in Manhattan, but the expenses, all expenses – gas, deductions if I take them, time – do add up. 

In the course of discussing ideal first pieces for beginning piano students, one of my teenage students suggested “the Do-Re-Mi song from The Sound of Music“  – not so much because it is easy but because she loves it, and “everybody knows it.”  She proceeded to quickly play through the tune – melody only.   She started from C, and curiously, played the entire song on white keys only.  She didn’t seem to notice? or mind? that it didn’t sound quite right.  There are a few modulations in this song which necessitate a few sharps here and there, and a chromatic passing tone (B flat) at the end.  As this song wasn’t really the topic of our discussion I didn’t want to spend too much time on this, so I just quickly played the tune for her, correctly, and pointed out that she had missed some black keys.  We proceeded to other pedagogical issues and then her repertoire. 

On my long way home – it is two hours from Manhattan to Olathe – I kept thinking about how she could have missed the sharps and the B flat in this song.  Played on white keys only, it sounds kind of like the song, but not really, and I didn’t understand why she didn’t hear that.  I concluded that she must have picked out the tune by ear and “all white keys” was as close as she could come to the real thing.  I also concluded that the sharps would make sense once she’d know about modulation – something we hadn’t covered yet, at least not in enough detail to relate to this song.  So, always looking for a chance to teach a new theory concept, I planned to introduce modulation at the next lesson. 

I started yesterday’s lesson by sharing with her that I had been thinking about the song, and my conclusion that the necessary black keys would make more sense once I taught her about modulation.  She had a smile on her face and was getting ready to say something but I was too enthusiastic to teach about modulation, I didn’t want to stop and listen to what she had to say.  Short intro to modulation, demonstration, she got it, and then, when I finally finished, she spoke up. 

The reason why she had played the song on white keys only, she explained, was that that’s how her school music teacher had taught it to her class.  I didn’t understand.  Surely her music teacher wouldn’t teach a song with wrong notes?  Well, she continued, white keys only is easier than a black key here and there, and the teacher had explained that teaching about sharps and flats would be too difficult and the students wouldn’t get it and that’s why she left them out.  Apparently none of the other students noticed or were bothered by this.

So, I suppose we could, in order to – simplify?, also play Für Elise on white keys only:  try it, play E-D-E-D-E-B-D-C-A.

Or we could teach to spell with consonants only, leave out vowels. 

Simplification gone wrong.

.

Simplifying and arranging is a skill, it is actually something that I include in my lessons: how to simplify without losing the essence of the story. 

I refuse to teach – I won’t even listen to – “easy arrangements” of piano literature.  Things like the Moonlight Sonata transposed to D minor, condensed to one page and arranged to fit a five-finger “position”, etc.  (heard it at a Talent Show once).

But skillful simplifying teaches the students to find that which is most important.  Which note out of a difficult-to-reach chord can be left out without changing the character of the chord?  Which of the way-too-many notes in a melody can be cut without losing “the melody”?  Whether or not we actually end up playing a (slightly) simplified version, the students have gained a greater understanding of that which they are playing.