It will only be about ten students. Teaching again at this point in my journey is no coincidence: it answers a desire as much as a need.
The desire, first — to keep passing things on in a different way, with everything twenty-five years in the world of music have taught me.
The necessity, then — because it isn't possible to finalise the design of a method without putting it to the test.
We learn music the way we learn a language: we listen to it, we acquire its vocabulary, its grammar, its reading. That is what conservatoires and music schools offer — an essential foundation, but one that stops short of the goal. They teach how to interpret other people's language; rarely how to speak one's own.
As early as possible, the student becomes an active player in their learning: listening, searching, trying, correcting themselves, starting again. Until they speak their own musical language — unique, with its accents, its strengths, its gaps. The piano remains the most complete instrument for getting there, whatever style one chooses to explore afterwards.
A good piano lesson — a good lesson, full stop — can be recognised by this: neither the student nor the teacher noticed the time passing.
Fifteen minutes first, and the student is alone. Listening, analysing, searching. This time belongs to them alone: no teacher can think in their place.
Then an hour, around two pianos — one of them digital, with headphones — as a threesome: two students, one teacher. I practised this pair format for ten years, and it remains very effective for the first years of learning, because with three people you laugh, you're less shy, you spur each other on, you help each other. Sometimes, you become friends.
Before any enrolment, a first meeting
to get to know each other and discuss your expectations.