I used to think that being a great teacher meant being the expert in the room. That my job was to deliver the best content in the clearest way possible—to explain, to correct, to demonstrate, and to push my students forward. And then, slowly but surely, my students started changing that for me.
“Teach the student before the subject.”
That phrase first landed in my ears in my first year of teaching at The Browning School, in New York. At the time, I nodded appreciatively and underlined it in my notes. But I didn’t really understand it. Not yet.
It wasn’t until I found myself mid-lesson, watching a student shrink under the weight of “helpful” feedback, that it clicked. They didn’t need more information. They needed space. Trust. A reminder that singing is personal—and sometimes vulnerable. That day, I stopped mid-sentence and said, “Forget everything I just said. What did you notice?”
Their shoulders dropped. Their breath deepened. Their next phrase rang with ease.
That one shift changed everything.
Listening, Not Lecturing
Over time, I noticed a pattern: my best teaching moments didn’t come when I delivered the perfect technical explanation. They came when I asked the right question. When I paused. When I listened to what the student wasn’t saying—tension in the jaw, uncertainty in the eyes, or a half-swallowed question they were too nervous to ask.
Mirroring the Masters
What struck me is how this approach—student-led, curiosity-driven—isn’t just kind. It’s also deeply effective. Some of the best educators I’ve learned from (whether in pedagogy books, classrooms, or rehearsal rooms) had one thing in common: they didn’t push knowledge. They revealed it—by tuning into the student’s rhythm, their energy, and their unique way of learning.
Have a think about the teachers you most admire. For those on my list, none of them rushed to correct. They asked questions. They gave space. They taught the person, not just the subject.
What I’ve Learned
Teaching is not about showing how much you know. It’s about helping someone discover what they can do.
It means celebrating effort over outcome. It means adapting the content to fit the learner—not bending the learner to fit the content.
And sometimes, it means saying less. Holding silence. Making room for breath.
The Studio Today
At Symons Studio, this philosophy is at the heart of everything I create. Whether it’s a video lesson, a live coaching session, or a piece of feedback sent via voice note, I try to ask:
What does this student need today? Not in theory, but in practice.
It’s not always easy. But it’s honest. And the growth I’ve seen—in both my students and myself—has been far greater than anything I ever achieved by “teaching harder.”
Final Thought
Great teachers don’t just pass on knowledge. They build connection. They create safety. And they let students surprise them.
Because sometimes, the best advice doesn’t come from the expert.
It comes from the student, waiting to be heard.