“Teaching music is not my main purpose. I want to make good citizens. If children hear fine music from the day of their birth and learn to play it, they develop sensitivity, discipline and endurance. They get a beautiful heart.”

― Shinichi Suzuki 

   Dr. Shinichi Suzuki was the pioneer of a new method of teaching music to children in the 20th century. The core principle  of his philosophy, known as “Talent Education,” “The Mother Tongue Method,” or “The Suzuki Method,” is that every child can, and will, learn from their environment. It follows then, that given the “right” environment and proper support, every child can learn to play an instrument. He emphasized learning music by listening, comparing it to how children learn to speak their parents’ language.

   I’ve heard “beautiful tone = beautiful heart” and it’s variations from Suzuki method or method-adjacent music teachers many times. In most instances, it is used to imply that everything a student needs to gain a “beautiful heart” can be found by simply playing beautiful music in a beautiful way. But this simplification obscures the remains of humiliation pedagogy still present in many teachers and teacher-trainers. Humiliation pedagogy was a harsh form of teaching prevalent in the mid 20th century that used degrading comments, public shaming, and threats to push students to achieve greater proficiency. Dr. Suzuki’s idea that children should be taught with care and respect was one of the aspects that made his philosophy radical at the time of its inception.

   According to anecdotes and recollections, Dr. Suzuki did indeed have a “beautiful heart.” He was well known to be a friend to children, merry, pleasant, and practically a saint. The greatest critique issued against him is that he had too good of a backstory to how he created his method, therefore, his philosophy shouldn’t be taught because he lied. May we all aspire to live to 99 years old and our one sin is to be accused of having an excellent PR campaign! 

   While I will never have the privilege of meeting Dr. Shinichi Suzuki, I will owe him a debt of gratitude for the rest of my life. I was a “Suzuki kid” from the very beginning, continuing through the repertoire sequence until the middle of high school. We did the group classes, the recitals, the grand regional gatherings of Suzuki students, everything. The influence of Dr. Suzuki pervades how I listen to, conceive of, and play music. I hold the idea that every child can be taught to play an instrument to be one of the most beautiful teaching philosophies in the music world.

   However, as much as I admire Dr. Suzuki, his philosophical ideals of respect for students didn’t always manifest in teachers who follow his principles. My own Suzuki teacher, who trained under a mentee of Dr. Suzuki, told me that I would never make it as a violinist. She actively discouraged me from pursuing a degree in performance, especially at the music school where her former teacher taught. By the time I stopped studying with her I dreaded my lessons, struggled to practice, and had lost my desire to play classical violin. My love for classical music was saved by the fact that this teacher asked me to play the viola for her chamber groups. I fell in love with the sound of the viola because of that request. Without it, I would not have continued taking lessons with another teacher and I would not have studied viola in college. 

   Now, as a teacher myself, I wrestle with the question: what am I actually teaching my students? It would be so much easier if I was only teaching musical skills or life skills! But that’s not how it works. While I am paid to develop a student’s technical skills, the way in which I do that is inevitably teaching life skills. To teach someone what or how to practice is to teach that person how to problem solve, pay attention to details, and develop persistence.  These are elements of a “beautiful heart.” Recognizing that, I agree with Dr. Suzuki – learning to play well can lead to inner beauty.

   But teachers should not be satisfied with only teaching how to perfectly play beautiful music. How we teach is equally as important as what we teach. Mary Ellen Goree says, “Terrible people can play beautifully and beautiful people can play terribly.” I don’t think that my former teacher was a terrible person. I think she was trying to do the best she could. Unfortunately for me, that meant passing along a lot of shame and judgement about myself and my playing ability. Her comments did provide the fire to motivate me to prove her wrong, but the poor coping mechanisms I developed led to me being burned-out. It took several years and a lot of introspection to arrive at a point where I recognize that I’m doing the best I can at something I love and that is all I can do. 

   That self reflection has had a profound effect on the way I teach, as I try to get back to Dr. Suzuki’s idea of creating good citizens who also happen to play good music. I don’t think it’s possible for my students to “get a beautiful heart” by simply learning to play music well. Most of my role as a teacher is to model, to the best of my ability, what a beautiful heart looks like. Dr. Suzuki also said, “To make a resolution and act accordingly is to live with hope.” My resolution is to help students become better humans, so I am going to teach accordingly. I’m hoping to do it well.