Every pre-college piano teacher—whether they say it or not—has a specialty. Some of us are generalists, but most of us develop particular strengths and preferences over time and have a particular focus, a type of student or teaching situation in which we do our best work.
It’s not unlike the medical profession: we have general practitioners, orthopedic surgeons, pediatricians, dermatologists, and so on. All doctors share the same foundation, but each hones expertise in a specific field. If you break a bone, your dermatologist may sympathize—but they’re not the person to fix it.
For some reason, though, piano teachers are expected to do it all. We’re supposed to teach preschoolers their first songs, guide high-school students preparing for competitions, support retirees returning to music after decades, and coach the teenager who suddenly finds themselves accompanying the school choir.
I’ve learned that I work best with students who are naturally motivated, enthusiastic, and committed—students who arrive on time, prepared, with their music in hand and a quality instrument at home. My specialty would be helping my students – all of my students, not just the “talented” ones – figure out what works and what doesn’t when it comes to playing the piano. Some of my students practice a lot, others – not so much, but they all want to be here for their lesson, and they want to learn.
While I would like to do it all, I have, over the years, learned that I have my limits. For instance, I have had parents become upset when I explained that I’m not qualified to teach students with special needs. I don’t have the specialized training, and I’m not willing to use a child as an experiment. Some interpret that as elitism; I see it as professional honesty.
I also know that I’m not the best fit for families who say, “We just want him to have fun; we’re not interested in competitions.” That often translates to “He’ll only practice if he likes the song,” without realizing that the better you play, the more fun it becomes.
And while it’s wonderful to start small, students who practice on 72-key keyboards quickly run into limitations: they simply can’t replicate at home what they learn in the studio on a full-sized upright or grand piano.
In the end, piano teaching is much like medicine: we all share the same foundation, but each of us serves students best by knowing our own strengths, limits, and specialties.