As my last post alluded I have a new assignment at work.  I will shift from mostly teaching with a little administrative work to mostly administrative work with a little teaching. I’ll continue to chair the music department and will teach a few piano students and about one class one semester each year. For the other half of my time I will direct the Goshen Core Curriculum, our new general education program that was implemented last year. I’m looking forward to being in more focused administrative mode around two passions — a music department in a liberal arts setting and the liberal arts education of all our undergraduates — while still being able to teach some.

Before this came about I wondered what my practicing would be like if I didn’t teach as much. I am very aware of the ways in which practicing helps me integrate what I’m teaching. I have moments in practice when I notice I’m not doing what I encourage my students to do and the desire to end that hypocrisy helps me be more productive. Or a discovery, often about piano technique, is made in my own practice that becomes a useful theme in a future lesson with a student. It’s important to me that I still do some teaching so this integration continues.

I think piano practice could also be critical to my work as an administrator. Problem-solving happens as I play the piano. The other night as I practiced I found my mind wandering into messy work territory and within 20 minutes I arrived at a possible solution that helped me sleep better that night. I wish for a practice ritual each morning in which I play through several preludes and fugues to clarify my mind and set the day’s course. I hope an afternoon practice interlude, no matter how short, will energize and lead me into a few more productive hours. A benediction at the piano in the evening may help me process some lingering issues and feel some peace as I play the confident “amen” that ends each fugue.

My theory, then, in short, is that I will need to turn to the piano even more as an administrator. This new opportunity to broaden my work across campus and among the disciplines will test that theory.

(The attached image is from this NPR article)

What if one year turns into two? Or even three? Is that so bad?

These were questions I asked myself a few weeks ago when futility was setting in about learning all 24 preludes and fugues from WTC Book One by August 2013, the one-year anniversary of the project’s beginning. The idea of the project stretching over more time shifted into firmer position when I realized that I didn’t want to be finished, even if I could be. I’m still really enjoying practicing these pieces and have no interest in moving on yet. So, A Well-Tempered Year becomes Some Well-Tempered Years and the goal moves from “I will do this by such a time” to “I will do this and I’ll know when I’m done.”

New thoughts about what it means to really know this music are emerging, and these are necessary realities to face. I can play about two-thirds of the collection, but some of this involves my fingers faking their way through some passages. The material I really know — the stuff so secure my fingers sink deeply into it with utter certainty — this sets the standard I want for all of it.

How do I maintain what I have learned when I am also learning new material? Some of that “stuff so secure” loses its edge when I leave it for a while to focus on a new piece in the collection. I’m thinking about systematic routines for maintenance, knowing that review over time is what brings new meaning to this rich repertoire. The idea of getting to the point where I have it all in my fingers to maintain is both motivating and mysterious. What will be like to have two full solid hours of this intricate music in my fingers at the same time? Is that possible? And if it is, what is the point? I want to find out.

In the midst of revitalized energy for this project and some happy times at the piano lately, other life adventures continue. A new role at work, increased social interactions that seem to come with summer, better systems in home life, clarified commitments to practicing yoga — these take time and energy. And yet, the hopefulness that I can continue with my goal of learning this full collection remains, perhaps all the more so because of how good it feels to say, “Some Well-Tempered Years.”