My professional teaching career stretches back to 1977, when I served as a graduate teaching assistant for the SF Conservatory’s keyboard skills classes. Actually I had begun teaching well before then, having been a French tutor in the ninth grade. To place that in proper perspective, consider that as I was shepherding a fellow student through the mysteries of devoir, Richard Nixon was beating Hubert Humphrey for the presidency.
So I’ve been about it for a good long time. Anybody who teaches for as long as I have, and for as many hours per week as I do, isn’t likely to retain a sense of open-eyed wonder on a daily basis. The enjoyment or even passion for teaching that led me into making it my life’s work is still very much present, but I’m a fully-ordained priest now, not some earnest yet bumbling novice tripping over the hem of his cassock.
Once in a while it doesn’t hurt for any of us to re-connect with that grand old love. Recently I had the good fortune to do just that, having just completed teaching an eight-week class on Romantic symphonies for the Fromm Institute, a well-funded and elegant lifelong learning institution associated with the University of San Francisco. There’s something in the air at Fromm, something that inspires. I had a class of about 150 students—although people often trickled in from other classes, so the head count was typically higher—all of them dedicated to learning more about music and fascinated by the stuff I had to offer.
And they were incredibly responsive and welcoming. Here I was, a newcomer on the Fromm faculty, being showered with affection and attention. Like all teachers, from time to time I may mope about feeling unappreciated or unvalued, especially given that I teach a lot of required, core-curriculum affairs. But this was balm for the soul indeed, an opportunity to dig the response of a roomful of people who are there solely because they want to be.
A class without grades, exams, or office hours. A well-appointed room with everything I need right at hand, including a high-quality built-in projector, speakers, and computers with my chosen software (Keynote) installed. Great lighting, plenty of space to maneuver, and a superbly supportive staff who make sure that everything hums along perfectly.
The combination of Fromm’s stellar support, its fine physical plant, and the waves of enthusiasm from my students supercharged me with the energy and ambition to do my best, and then some. I applied all my hard-won skill at creating animations, slideshows, sounds, effective graphics. Four seasons of regular speaking engagements with the San Francisco Symphony have helped me to hone my skills at presenting music to a large audience, not to mention the past twenty years of teaching lecture courses at UC Berkeley. I researched carefully, planned, and even rehearsed so I could get it all done in the allotted time, without having to rush. All in all, I spent a good 6 to 8 hours preparing for each of my 90-minute lectures. It all paid off: the lectures all came off with nary a hitch.
But more to the point, I had a glorious time. My students told me how much they felt the class had enriched their lives—well, it enriched my life, too. It isn’t as though I don’t know that I’m a fine teacher. I know it perfectly well. And to know that I have given something special to a large group of people — well, that’s the wonderful, shimmering pot of gold that lies at the end of the rainbow for all of us who teach.
As I told my class at the conclusion of our last session: I’ll be back.