The Most Important Person, Angelica, Grandma Susan and I are doing a little August time in our longtime town-away-from-town, Greenport, New York, on the North Fork of Long Island. Last night Susan, the MIP, and I took the ferry over to Shelter Island, where Itzhak Perlman and his wife Toby run a summer training camp for young classical music prodigies. Two master classes were open to the public, with Perlman himself in dialogue with the wunderkind. The music was wonderful, the kids dazzling, the summer heat in the performance tent no joke, and Perlman so masterful I learned something new not only about music, but about teaching, too.
Now, please do believe me, I have no wish to return to teaching. Been there, done that. I also know that performing music and writing prose are two different things. But if I were running a workshop again, I’d follow Perlman’s lead in two ways.
First, I’d MAKE WRITERS PERFORM. Each writer would give the class a reading of the whole piece BEFORE THE ACTUAL CLASS BEGINS. Preferably one full day before. REASON: What does not read well when read aloud usually does not real well, period. The ear is the best editor, and any writer’s friend.
Second, I’d weigh in harder with my own views. Perlman’s views on performing music are what he offers these kids. He tells them how HE thinks it should sound. Egotism? Sure, but what of it? He’s Itzhak Perlman.
I make no ridiculous comparisons between IP and SK, but presumably when I’m running a workshop instead of joining it, I’m in the front chair because I have some sort of special experience to impart. I used to underplay that in my teaching, partly out of insecurity and partly because I didn’t want to impose my views. (No egotism for me!)
I’d change that now. You take my workshop, you get me!
After a first hour (or half hour) of a group discussion, I’d devote a second equal time to a very focused public exchange between the writer and me. I’d build on the group’s ideas of course, but for better or worse the dialogue would be between two people, not twelve. I’d want my contribution to be tactful but forceful and opinionated, given with a little something of the verve, tough love, (accent on love), and wisdom Perlman showed last night.
Because it all made great sense, and it looked like fun.