My freind John plays in the big Broadway style shows that come to town and when The Lion King hit San Francisco he was hired as the drummer. Because of the show's demanding schedule John decided to scale back on his student load and drop a couple days a week. He wanted to retain his teaching nights at the store though, in case the show closed early, so he asked me if I'd sub for him during the show's run. I would be walking into a schedule of 20 students paying $25 each for weekly half hour lessons and he would get his spot back when the show was over. I considered an extra $500 a week for 10 hours work (with a built in escape hatch when he came back) and agreed to become the Tuesday and Wednesday drum instructor at "Ingram and Braun's Musik" in Pleasanton, CA. 

I had a few weeks to prepare myself before starting the job but it ended up being too much time, because as my takeover day grew closer I started wondering if I'd made a mistake. John is a great drum instructor and I hadn't taught much. What if I got some 15 year old kid who was burning through be-bop charts? What if the parents noticed my lack of experience and started asked questions? 

Kid: "Mr. Bowman? Can we work on playing a left foot clave?" 

Me: "Sorry. I don't know how to do that." 

Kid: "JOHN does!"

Dad: "How much do you charge again?" 

Creeping doubt... What if I forgot to show a student something really important? Or taught them something incorrectly - something they would hate me for later. I imagined a man walking up to me in ten years as I'm putting groceries in the car.

Man: "Remember me? I studied with you when John was doing the Lion King." 

Me: "Oh yeah. You still playing?"

Man: "No. Actually, I can't play anymore. Doc says that grip you showed me was THE CAUSE OF MY

CARPAL TUNNEL!! YOU SONAFA-" 

Me: "Roll em' up, kids!" 

My biggest fear, though, was that I'd have a student that just couldn't do anything I asked and that I'd be lost on how to proceed... and they'd be bored... and I'd be stuck... and have to accept money without making progress for thirty long minutes a week - until John got back and found no improvement at all. And what if they were ALL like that??? What if I was "stuck" with every one of them? I was afraid my cover would be blown and I'd slip from being a decent drummer to a lousy drum instructor. Being "lousy" was something I was staring at and I wasn't sure how I'd handle it. 

When the first day came I was pleased to find the students weren't as threatening as I'd feared. Their skill level ranged from beginner to low intermediate and they were all young enough to see me as an authority figure. The students were polite for the most part and the only thing I had to overcome was the shyness of some of the younger ones and the apathy some of the teenagers. The first few weeks went pretty well. I was still nervous but I could overcome it by physically shaking my head into a positive attitude and hitting it every lesson with full energy. 

The first problem I discovered was my own fear of teaching. Despite the fact that I was being paid to instruct I had a hard time telling people when they were doing something wrong. I was reluctant to point out a student holding their stick in a weird way or misreading the notes for fear it would hurt their feelings and cause tension between us. I was scared to teach! My desire for acceptance also made me too easy on students that hadn't practiced and too easy on last minute cancellations. I didn't want to seem hard so I let stuff go. But once the students realized they didn't have to practice many chose not to. And they knew if they weren't prepared they could simply cancel at the last minute and avoid any embarrassment. Big mistake.

The Lion King's run was extended and I agreed to stay on for a few more months. As I kept at it I started to see progress in my student's drumming, and progress in my teaching as well. I was slowly developing a collection of concepts and ideas that seemed to work. I was recognizing problems easier and figuring out better ways to explain things. Many of the students and their parents were becoming friends that I looked forward to seeing. 

I came to the store week after week, working as hard as I could to be a great teacher, but eventually the standards I was trying to reach started to wear me down. To make up for my lack of experience I tried to give the student their money's worth and then some. I wanted them to have best half hour of their week when they came to see me. I wanted them to emerge from the drum room bursting with inspiration, bobbing their heads with their fists in the air. It must have been my ego that made me aspire to teach the "perfect lesson" every time, but it was hard to do that twenty times a week and the self-induced pressure was tiring me out. Eventually I started to resent going to the store and began dreading my teaching days. 

Then one week a kid came in and I could tell he hadn't practiced. He wasn't concentrating either. I started to feel that heat in my chest that swelled up whenever I was afraid of getting "stuck", and as we sat there getting nowhere my phone buzzed and I saw it was the student's Dad calling. I figured this would be a perfect time to have a little three-way chat about practice habits so I took the call. 

The father was speaking softly and I could hardly hear him at first but as his words came into focus I realized he was drunk. He said something about being kicked out of their house and a restraining order against contacting the kids. I didn't know what to say. He knew it was his son's lesson time and he asked me how the boy looked. The kid stared straight ahead. As the call went on the father got louder and I had to interrupt him to say I was hanging up and then he started him crying. Between sobs and chokes, he asked me to tell his son he loved him. I told him I'd pass the message on and got off the phone. 

The kid was still staring at the wall. He'd heard everything and was really embarrassed. After a while I asked him if he wanted to talk about anything. He said "No." and so I let it go, and as I sat there wondering what to do next he started talking. "I'm living with my grandma for a while and I can't practice there." I told him that I understood and tried to give him some ideas on practicing without a drum set, but he wasn't listening and I could tell the lesson was over. I gave him my cell number and told him to call me if he ever wanted to talk. I told him his Dad loved him and he thanked me over his shoulder as he left the room. He didn't come the next two weeks and when I called his Mom she said they were getting too busy and would have to stop drum lessons for a while. 

After a long, successful run the Lion King ended, John returned to the store full time, and I went back to hustling sessions and tours. I'd taught for over a year at the music store and after it was over I realized how much I'd learned during the process. Teaching was great for my reading and rudiments, and helped with my communication and organizational skills. It also taught me a lot about others and a lot about myself. I used to tell my students that all I could ask of them was that they try hard and do their best, and eventually I saw the same was true for me. I don't have to be perfect. I just have to do try hard and do my best, and, in reality, people have bigger issues in their lives than how good or bad my drumming/teaching is anyway. Teaching taught me that I'm not as important as I thought, which was a great relief. Much less pressure. Much less heat in my chest.