Stories of Music & Joy: Keren Johnson

Photograph by Caleb Kenna

Keren Johnson

As we celebrate our tenth anniversary, the stories of our teachers, students, alumni, and donors illuminate the heart of what makes this music center a true gem in Addison County. One of those stories belongs to Keren Johnson, a piano teacher here at MCMC, whose journey as a music educator has been intertwined with our growth.

Keren first joined us in 2019 after realizing she needed to be part of something bigger than her private studio. "I was going through different changes in my life, and I knew that joining a community of teachers would benefit both me and my students. MCMC had that community I was looking for—people I could learn from and grow with," she recalls. She reached out to the center’s director, Sadie Brightman, and found that the timing was perfect for both her and MCMC.

One of the reasons Keren was drawn to the music center was its sense of community, a value she has always embraced in her own teaching philosophy. "Teaching, for me, is like breathing. To be able to impart a small piece of my love of music, to care for each individual and their unique personality, to give them tools in the power of self-expression and self-regulation through music, is a gift to myself and a gift from myself to the generations to come,” she shares. 

This deep passion for teaching is reflected in her relationship with her students, where she focuses on helping each one achieve their personal goals. "My joy and success as a teacher is when my students find joy and fulfillment in their own individual musical expression," Keren says.

Her commitment to individualized teaching is echoed in her many meaningful moments at MCMC. She recalls one student struggling with mental health who found solace in music. "Walking through that season with her, using music as our roadmap, was incredibly impactful," Keren reflects. Another highlight has been watching young students in MCMC’s group classes discover the joy of music. "I’ve had grandparents tell me how their grandchildren are playing music at home, and I think, 'Yes, that’s what we’re here for!'"

Since joining MCMC, Keren has seen the center evolve in powerful ways. "We’ve added incredible faculty members, and we've strengthened our connections with the community. We're not just one organization on our own—we're partnering with other meaningful organizations in the area, which has expanded our impact," she says. 

For Keren, this collaboration has been a key factor in her own professional growth. "Working with great musical minds like Sadie, and alongside the incredible administrative staff, has helped me set focused, forward-thinking goals for myself and my students. Sadie does an amazing job of inspiring us to reach for more, and having that clear direction has made a huge difference in what we’re able to accomplish."

As a teacher, Keren’s influence extends far beyond music lessons. Her impact on students often becomes clear through unexpected moments of connection. She fondly remembers receiving a heartfelt message from a mother after her daughter had graduated from Keren’s studio. "The mother wrote, ‘You weren’t just an incredible teacher for [my daughter]. You were a mentor and a friend when she really needed someone.’" Moments like these are profound reminders of the deeper purpose of her work. Keren says, "Music is community building, one beautiful relationship at a time, and the profound meaning of that is always on my mind as I am teaching."

Of course, there have been challenges along the way, particularly during the COVID-19 pandemic, when music education had to pivot to virtual platforms. "We had to adapt quickly—teaching online and finding new ways to engage students from a distance," Keren shares. Despite the difficulties, many of those changes have had lasting benefits. "Some of the tools we developed during that time are still in use today, and they’ve helped us continue to offer flexible options for students and families."

Keren has high hopes for the future of MCMC. She dreams of expanding the center’s reach, not just in Addison County, but across Vermont. "My hope is that we can touch the lives of more people, bringing the joy of music and the strength of community to even more places," she says. "I want to see MCMC continue to grow, providing opportunities for people of all ages and backgrounds to experience the transformative power of music."

As MCMC marks this milestone anniversary, Keren reflects on the center’s unique ability to cultivate both musical excellence and personal connection. "What sets MCMC apart is the collaboration. We, as faculty, are allowed to bring our own unique styles and strengths to the table, and that gives students the freedom to choose the teaching style that resonates with them. It’s a real gift to have so many diverse personalities and talents in one building, and it only benefits the community as a whole."

As the next decade unfolds, Keren looks forward to seeing how MCMC will continue to shape the local music scene and the lives of its students. "There’s nothing quite like the magic of music and community coming together," she says.

Stories of Music & Joy: Ron White

Photograph by Caleb Kenna

Ron White

MCMC has been sustaining a thriving musical community for the past ten years. Integral to the success of this vision has been the phenomenal and passionate teaching artists who have made MCMC their musical home. In celebrating a decade of this community, we are excited to share stories of talented instructors like Ron White, and his journey through music that led him to MCMC.

Ron hails from Texas, where he taught music in the Richardson, Dallas, College Station, and Klein Independent School Districts. Ron found immense pride and satisfaction in witnessing the transformational potential of music education in spaces where resources and interest were scarce. What impressed him most was how music education encouraged a culture change that extended beyond the classroom, and led to students taking pride in their musical abilities.

After his successes in Texas, Ron came to Vermont as a music educator and freelance musician looking to form a musical community in a new state. MCMC offered him support with the administration and advertising of his private lesson studio as well as new opportunities like running camps and workshops. But most importantly, MCMC brought Ron into a community of other highly talented faculty that he could collaborate with and learn from. Ron reflects that “for a little town… to have the faculty that it does, is really remarkable.”

Ron sees his private lesson teaching as a celebration of little victories as much as it is the big accomplishments. MCMC reflects this approach in its welcoming attitude to students of all ages and skill levels. Watching a young student who had been struggling with electric bass technique arrive at her lesson one day with the correct form was a recent cause of celebration for Ron.

Ron observes how the MCMC community has fundamentally transformed since the early days of the organization. In his words, it “went from being just a group of music teachers that needed a space to teach to a real institution.” By forming systems, procedures, and a community ethos and identity, MCMC is growing beyond its founding members into something that is sustained by students, teachers, and community members alike.

In its new role as community hub, MCMC provides a meeting space not only for potential students and instructors, but for music professionals looking to foster community around their craft. In this way, Ron helped shape the community that he envisioned when he moved to Vermont. Beyond just professional support, the musical focal point that MCMC has created sustains a growing and shifting community of artists and collaborators.

Ron observes of this network that “when you make sure that more people are involved in leadership and making decisions… it really becomes much more of a community.” Teachers are encouraged to take increased ownership of the organization, by leading workshops and summer camp programs for example, and their care and commitment is reflected in the increased participation of students and other faculty. Ron is excited about the opportunities suggested by such participation. 

One of the opportunities presented by this growing community is the chance to increase partnerships with public schools. Ron sees this as a potential area where MCMC could provide support and impact in the musical lives of more young people. Additionally, he sees MCMC’s mission of providing financial support to families in need as a necessary element of any holistic approach to music education, and one that increased partnerships with public schools could help to address.

This vision for the future of MCMC is grounded in Ron’s belief in the transformative power of music. “The relationship between a private instructor and a student,” he says, “it’s almost spiritual. There’s a bond that happens.” This relationship on the level of an individual student and teacher is also reflected in the potential for music to bring people together more generally. “There are those transformational moments in communities when you really do have different socio-economic groups coming together…. [Music] can be a really great equalizer in our community.”

Growing the community and reaching underserved populations connect Ron’s experiences as a public school music teacher with the vision and mission of MCMC. As part of what Ron now proudly calls “an institution,” the talents and passions of the faculty, students, and community can be harnessed more inclusively and effectively in the pursuit of these goals.

Stories of Music & Joy: Joe and Leila McVeigh

Photograph by Beth Duquette

Joe and Leila McVeigh

As the Middlebury Community Music Center celebrates ten years of serving the community, we are excited to share stories from our community about how MCMC has been an integral part of their musical journey. Joe and Leila McVeigh are two members of the community who have seen the center grow from its earliest days to the thriving hub it is now.

The McVeigh Family first started working with Sadie in 2011 when they signed their child Nat up for piano lessons. Nat naturally gravitated to jazz band in middle school, starting off on keys. Halfway through seventh grade, Nat asked to learn the saxophone. Summer lessons with Bear accelerated Nat's progress out of the beginner stage, and tenor sax quickly became their primary instrument. Nat was excited to experiment on multiple instruments, and returned to Bear for some trombone basics the following summer.

Working with Bear turned out to be transformative for Nat, and created a safe and encouraging place to develop as an improviser. As their studies continued, Bear wanted to start a new class that would create small ensembles for students of different instruments to play together. At first, the class only had three people enrolled–Nat and two brothers–but MCMC kept the class going and supported Bear’s vision of what would grow into a professional jazz group.

As Nat’s confidence as an improviser grew, they were exposed to more opportunities to perform and develop. Whether in festivals, school, or professional gigs around town, Nat and the Back Porch Jazz Group created a path through their music studies that led them to Berklee College of Music. 

As Nat has grown as a musician, Joe and Leila have watched MCMC evolve in parallel. As Nat was finishing high school MCMC began offering Jazz Camps in the summer and then was able to hire Nat as a counselor after they went to college. For the McVeigh Family, what makes MCMC special is its accessibility for musicians at any level to engage with the organization.

Joe calls MCMC a “small organization with a big reach,” adding, “If you look at the variety of lessons that are offered on so many different instruments, both individual or in group settings, there’s an amazing array of offerings.” This commitment to providing both a depth and breadth of musical experiences supported Nat’s growth and continues to offer ways for them to remain engaged with the community as an adult.

The McVeighs are now seeing that commitment grow outwards to include other businesses and organizations in the community. MCMC now partners with the local library to provide free concerts, churches, and community spaces for salons and events, and local arts organizations in designing and running interdisciplinary arts summer camps. 

All of these collaborations add up to tangible impacts in shaping a thriving community for Joe and Leila. “I think that in today's fragmented world,” Joe reflects, “it’s all about connections, and the more connections we can make, the better. And what better way to connect than with music and through music.”

One challenge they foresee for the Center is related to its growth and expanding connections with the community. Joe and Leila both recognize the limitations of a program limited to just one physical space. MCMC’s mission of providing access to inspiring musical experiences to more and more members of the community is already outgrowing the four walls of the house on Main Street, bringing in community partners like the nearby Town Hall Theater to expand musical offerings and opportunities. 

This growth creates an exciting new chapter for MCMC after its first decade of work. With new connections and collaborations with other businesses and organizations, MCMC’s vision and mission are spreading to new venues and taking new shapes in the community. What makes MCMC special to the McVeigh Family is its inclusivity and diversity of offerings that make it accessible to so many different types of potential students.

Leila sees this mission as being fundamentally driven by passion and care. “It’s really blossomed over the past decade, and it’s been really amazing to watch the love and the thought and the work get poured into MCMC to make it what it is.”

The Courage of Sharing Your Work

I came to think about music learning as a cycle when I was in my twenties. I was passionate about playing, passionate about teaching, and learning the balance that would allow me to thrive in both spheres. Too much playing and I needed human interaction and the outlet to share the overflow of insights. Too much teaching and I needed to recharge my batteries and connect to my own creative voice. I thought I had it figured out, a clean roadmap for the roles I was developing and deepening. 

The creative cycle I’ve come to rely on, in music, in teaching, and in life.

I wrestled with it though. I asked myself many times: Is it right to encourage students to perform even if they’re not naturally motivated to do so? Or is that just what I grew up with? Does my practice need to have an “end point” in performance, or is it all just a continuum that doesn’t require a public step? What am I aiming for? Why?

In my studio, which spanned many ages, I noticed it was much easier to cultivate a familiarity with performing when students were very young, before the self-consciousness of adolescence sets in, when the desire to share is still overflowing and unfiltered. I can remember my own daughters at that age, running up to me to show me their latest artistic creations over and over again. I cherish those memories now — their sheer excitement and awe at having crafted something that could be seen and appreciated by someone else. In response to their eagerness, I learned to focus on observational statements and appreciation of effort over praise. “Oh wow, I love that blue, how did you choose it? Look at how detailed that flower petal is! I see you spent a long time making this just how you wanted it to be.”

Does this mean that performing — an extension of the childlike desire to share wonder — could be available as a completion step, not a chopping block of judgement and perfectionism? Could it be solid ground, evidence of an identity shaped around an experience? As in: I am someone who shares my work. I am someone who completes projects and releases them into the world.

I believe so. 

But it’s not a guarantee that every performance will be bubble-wrapped and protected from mishaps. The nervousness of high-stakes moments tells a familiar tale, especially when tied to outside opinions and validations. 

Who do we become when we see ourselves move past our setbacks? How do we see ourselves when we trip up and then regain our footing? What kind of self-trust forms when we bring ourselves to a challenge lightheartedly, and give ourselves fully to it? In some ways, this is the recipe for fulfillment and satisfaction that so many of us seek. 

We had two salons this month, back-to-back. To see one performer after another walk up, bow, play or sing their work, then return to being a listener was to witness human potential. Layer by layer, decision by decision we saw people who shaped themselves into expressive beings with just enough readiness and willingness to present and share. The feeling of completion is so profound that it had Ella finish her Prelude, bow, and abandon her music on the stand as she raced back to her seat with a beaming smile. Done! 

It is precisely because of the risk factor that performance is a gift to the rest of us, to the whole of us. Each individual who shares something true sends a message to everyone else, reminding us of what is possible. And even if some listeners in the audience never perform a piece of music in their lives, what else do they have the courage to show up and give in other ways? How else might they be influenced by the bravery they’re witnessing, even from the youngest performers? 

Completion. Handing in the assignment. Finishing the project. Reaching the goal. 

New album released today. So grateful to be a part of it.

I went through a long period of time in which I underplayed the value of completion. I needed to, in order to get back to the joy and creative freedom that fueled me from a young age, before the enterprise became perfectionistic and tight. But now, I’m curious again about this all-important human need, and could not be more excited to celebrate the release of an album that comes out today — Carport Annie Plays Freeway Clyde, music by Matt LaRocca and Michael Chorney — one that I got to contribute to. This is the project I wrote about back in August, detailing the recording session and all that came up about laying down art. 

Thinking back on that recording day, the studio fell quiet, the “go ahead” came from Ben in the mixing room. Then the silence. Much like the blank document in front of me before composing this piece for you. A generous invitation containing trust, everyone there fully believed I could create something of value on the spot. All I had to do was believe it too. The flutter of anticipation turned into the groove of experience that set me in motion. It was something imperfect (because it always will be), but honest. Now the process moves to another step, and I carry on with the creation of what’s next. 

Completion is not just about finishing something. 

It’s a chance to update who we know ourselves to be.  

Releasing. Letting go. Celebrating. 

That is what’s possible. 

Echoing what I’ve learned this year: accessing the quiet inner drive that has pure intentions to create and share; collaborating with other people who bring out our best and challenge our depth; and releasing art into the world without expectation or attachment — simply offering it — is an act of courage and strength. 

We can be assisted by all the technologies. We can focus on metrics that fuel the machinery of everyday life. We can check off the to-do list and sharpen our productivity. But nothing will match the feeling of going inside to pull out something that feels real, that has meaning, and that must be expressed and shared.

That’s the human spirit that we’re celebrating. 

Let’s gather up all the moments 2025 held and breathe them into the version of who we are now that we’ve come through the learn-practice-risk-share cycle. And may we greet 2026 with open hearts and ears to ask each other for more of these precious moments, and to remember that we all have the potential we admire in others. 

Stories of Music & Joy: The Nulsen-Sandoval Family

Photograph by Caleb Kenna

The Nulsen-Sandoval Family

MCMC is celebrating its 10-year anniversary by sharing stories of musical growth and inspiration from our community. Our mission of providing access to musical education to all is reflected in the diverse ways that people find and participate in the MCMC network. We believe music can be transformational for anyone at any age. This is as true for newborns as it is for teens or more experienced adult performers. One family that highlights this is the Nulsen-Sandolvals: Dave, Marilyn, Camila, and Natalia. 

Dave and Marilyn were new parents when they learned about MCMC’s Music Together® classes. A globally-recognized curriculum for musical and cognitive development in young children, Music Together provides families not only with songs and movements that encourage musical learning in their newborns, but also a community of new parents to connect with as well. This helped Dave and Marilyn integrate music into their new home and also started Camila and Natalia on their own musical paths. 

Music Together gave Dave and Marilyn new ways to share their love of music with their family. Both parents are very musical and hoped to instill a love and appreciation of diverse musical styles in their children. The program gave them songs, dances, and materials to share with their kids that they still return to outside of the group classes. One result of this early exposure has been Camila and Natalia’s increased confidence and interest in musical expression.

This confidence has led to exciting moments of growth for both girls. Camila has started taking piano lessons and performing in the informal salons that MCMC encourages, and Natalia became the literal poster child for Music Together, as her photo was used on a flyer that went up around town to promote the program. In these moments, the joy of learning and sharing music becomes an infectious feeling that spreads from kid to parent and beyond to the wider community.

A core parenting goal for Dave and Marilyn was to promote a love of music in their children. MCMC was able to support them by providing a unique community committed to musical growth across all ages. Being integrated in Middlebury’s downtown center and providing a consistent meeting place for families gave them a sense of connection that has grown over time to include not just other parents but teachers and students as well.

This support has translated into personal growth, too. Dave and Marilyn observe how music education supports new connections within the minds of their kids, not just in school subjects like math, but also in larger, lifelong lessons about dedication, commitment, and taking pleasure in the arts. Camila can say “the more you practice, the better you’re going to get” and have a concrete example from her life to back it up.

The seeds planted by Music Together and MCMC have impacted the Nulsen-Sandoval family in small and large ways. While their priority is to instill a love and enjoyment of music that will accompany their kids throughout their lives, Dave has also encouraged his daughters to start their own musical radio show for other kids.The radio show was a natural outgrowth of their confidence and interest in both music and performance, supported both by Music Together and piano lessons.

Dave and Marilyn are excited to be part of MCMC’s future and see it grow to include more families and members of the community. Entering its second decade, they believe that MCMC’s mission of providing musical enrichment is vital to a cohesive and resilient community, while ensuring that those experiences are affordable for all. They hope to see MCMC center its efforts to bring the transformational power of music to more and more people.

This commitment to community, spanning infants to elders, is what makes MCMC a unique place for a family like the Nulsen-Sandovals to create a musical home. And from their early musical explorations, Camila and Natalia now have the creative foundations that will shape their love of music for the rest of their lives.

Stories of Music & Joy: Simon Broucke

Photograph by Caleb Kenna

Simon Broucke

Celebrating our ten year anniversary, we are excited for the opportunity to look back on some of the people who have shaped and been shaped by the Middlebury Community Music Center (MCMC). Simon Broucke was one of the first students to take lessons at MCMC, and his journey through the program offers an example of the transformational power of music. 

Growing up in Middlebury, Simon started piano lessons a little late by his standards - at age 8. By the time he met Sadie Brightman, he had hopped around between a handful of teachers. Before beginning his work with Sadie, Simon reflects that he would get distracted from practicing and “didn’t have a strong sense of… how I was working to improve.”

Meeting Sadie in 2011 pointed Simon in a new direction. In eighth grade, Simon wasn’t aware of the vision of a home for music education and community in Middlebury that Sadie was beginning to develop. As a teacher, Sadie believed that music should be less about achieving a perfect product and more about creating a unique process, tailored to each individual student. She envisioned MCMC as a place that reflected this commitment and created new opportunities for potential students to find their unique musical expression. 

Simon quickly grew to love his lessons with Sadie and was inspired by the mission of the Center. With Sadie, he not only learned to see his practice as a pianist differently but also became engaged as a student worker at MCMC, which exposed him to new conceptions of performance and career which would have a lasting impact on him.

Simon recalls that Sadie worked with him to develop “a healthier relationship to the idea of practice, performance, and musicianship in general.” From this patient and supportive practice, Simon was encouraged to take his musicianship and creativity more seriously. His musical study with Sadie expanded to include original compositions and ensemble performances as well as work as a camp counselor and administrative aide to the organization. It was this work that Simon sees as having a direct impact on his work today, as a freelance composer in New York.

Now, Simon traces the roots of his professional journey to the types of work he was invited to participate in at MCMC. He believes that MCMC provided opportunities that “led towards those kinds of things that made me the most excited” and allowed his passion for music to grow into a sustainable career. 

Initially, MCMC helped Simon overcome his insecurities about pursuing a musical education. He remembers shaking before recitals, and not liking playing music. For Simon, learning how to decouple his enjoyment of music from self-judgment led him to pursue new avenues of performance, including chamber ensembles and bands. Discovering the world of music that incorporated collaboration would have a lasting impact on Simon’s creative and professional growth.

This community orientation and collaborative approach has been reflected in MCMC’s growth as well. Remaining an active member of the community via social media and creative collaborations, Simon has observed how MCMC is working towards “bridging the gap” between offering a wide range of individual, one-on-one instruction opportunities and the creative and collective opportunities that are available when those individuals are brought together.

Simon believes that the community element is what distinguishes MCMC from traditional music education experiences he has had in the past. Approaching ten years in the community, MCMC has shaped “an entire generation” of students who, like Simon, have a sense of music as something for everyone and an art form that brings people together. Simon believes that MCMC rejects the idea that music can be “an isolated, gatekept, or in any way exclusive thing,” and adds that “anything that pushes against the sense of music education and creativity being this exclusive thing for a chosen few… I think that’s such a net positive for the world and the arts in general.”

Looking towards the next ten years, Simon is “excited to see how MCMC is able to keep reaching out to people, hopefully in larger and larger circles.” To Simon, that means preserving the core commitments of MCMC to enriching the lives of students through music while looking to share that vision with more and more people.

Simon knows firsthand how music can change someone’s life. MCMC helped Simon find a unique voice that led him to a multifaceted career in the arts. Today, he credits Sadie’s teaching and MCMC’s vision of diversity and access as being the turning point in his growth as an artist and his professional development. By removing barriers to music education, MCMC is making this transformative experience available to anyone, regardless of skill, age, or background. As Simon says, “There’s never a wrong time to start being interested in music or engage with it.”

The Dignity of Learning

I have people in my life who remind me daily that gratitude is a practice, one that can change my outlook whenever I tune into it. I usually have two entry points: one is the present moment, and the other is hindsight. I include both so I can consciously weave together the memories and impressions that have shaped me, and so I can find a calm moment to savor all that is good right now. 

What does gratitude have to do with music? 

What does music have to do with dignity?

I have found that so much good comes from tuning in regularly, in a world that demands so much outward-facing activity and attention. There are many ways to develop our inner world, but music, for me, is unique. It's a multi-tool for the mind. It lights up so many parts of the brain, calling on multiple skills in a synchronized, all-in type of focus. It’s physical, mental, emotional, and at times even mystical. There’s a reason why we walk away from a music session feeling lighter, clearer, and generally hopeful. 

It’s never too late or too early to cultivate inner capacity, but it's not the easiest thing to prioritize. 

The bad news is: it’s on us to choose practices that require us to slow down and listen. 

The good news is: it’s never too late to strengthen our daily habits and experience positive results. 

Often, it’s very small moments stacked over time that create a new trajectory.

After decades of working at the piano, I’ve realized that practicing music has shaped my very ability to “tune in.” It has rewired my attention, patience, and curiosity. And those same qualities spill into every area of my life. Not always! But often enough that I can’t imagine life without this music-informed inner architecture. I’m grateful for the influence music has had on my life — for the teachers who sat beside me, for the lessons that illuminated something new, and for the chance to pass the love of music as broadly as possible. 

Here’s where dignity comes in. 

Most musicians I meet share two qualities: humility (did I sound okay?) and gratitude (I can’t believe I get to do this!). From that place, generosity naturally flows, along with a desire to share joy through sound.

Musicians who become teachers have lived through so many layers of experience. Compassion opens up when we remember what it was like before we internalized and mastered the very thing a student is discovering today. We’re not that different, just farther along on the journey.

Through my own process, conversations with colleagues and mentors, and working with hundreds of students I’ve observed that learning thrives under four conditions: 

• A calm pace to allow the mind to wrap around something new — no pressure, no rush

• Non-judgment from inside or outside to let ourselves be not good at it yet 

• Curiosity as an entry point for what to do next

• Radical belief that it will click if we stay with it and have the right information

Teaching from this place of gratitude creates a common ground of dignity, where students and teachers learn with one another through guided exploration. Encouragement is the thread that connects us. It keeps the vitality in the learning and the humanity in the teaching. 

For young students developing rapidly across many domains at once, this type of learning experience builds a sturdy confidence that doesn’t depend on approval. For adults continuing or returning to music learning, the chance is there to rewire their relationship to creative risk. 

I can recall lessons as a student where all I felt was pressure. The pressure turned into tension, and the tension locked up access to the very system I needed to perform. I’d be battling my way through a piece of music without the tools to approach it any other way. This inner power struggle — harsh thought → more tension → harsher thought —  wasn’t how it started, it was what developed over time. And it’s why I’m so passionate about sharing what did eventually work for me, and sharing honestly about what really didn’t.

The dignity of learning music is simply that every attempt counts, every note matters. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s how we meet ourselves in the process. 

Every lesson, rehearsal, and performance offers a chance to practice resilience, awareness, and courage. And those same qualities carry far beyond the studio into how we live, listen, and lead. 

The process of building a community around music learning is complex and intricate, bringing together many perspectives and personal histories. My story is one of many. Together, we get to reflect and choose what uplifts, what inspires, and what lets us shine. Witnessing each other’s progress and celebrating wholeheartedly creates the kind of environment that nurtures growth through respect. Dignity is a quiet presence that says: it’s okay to take your time. 

And it reminds us: Your creativity is valuable. Your voice matters. 

Why I Eliminated “Good” From My Teaching Vocabulary

I’ve always thought of teaching as a lab, not that students are mice! But that teacher and student work in partnership to craft the most effective mindset and approach for each individual. Music is inherent to the human experience, and everyone is capable of being musical. With that unshakeable truth, we get to work on what may be in someone’s way and how we can cultivate open lanes for progress. 

Creativity is one of teachers’ most powerful tools. It activates curiosity and motivation in students, and it’s an aspect of teaching that always inspires me. Whether you’re a teacher, a parent, a coach, or a friend, we can all use our creativity to encourage rather than judge. With judgement comes two sides of the same coin: if there is good, there must also be bad. To avoid the inevitable praise cycle that fosters external validation within this binary, we can choose encouragement instead, leading to deeper motivation and more lasting growth. 

Over years of teaching, I’ve seen how small shifts in language can transform the entire learning environment. My own teaching voice evolved from the mirror each student has held up to me, reflecting my internal assumptions and messages I’d internalized over the years. 

One day, I stopped midsentence, catching myself before the word “good!” unconsciously spilled out after a student played a section of their piece. That pause shifted the course of my teaching. Instead of “good,” I said “yes.” One word, new trajectory. 

That small shift produced immediate results. The feedback framework moved from approval to awareness. Instead of a stop-and-start type of lesson (student plays, waits for evaluation, disengages) we found a collaborative rhythm, guided curiosity, and a genuine enthusiasm about the craft.

Over time, my language choices changed the energy in the room. Students became more reflective, more curious, more connected to their own learning. Instead of glancing at me for my reaction, they began listening inwardly. They learned to trust themselves, and that trust is where musicianship can truly grow.  

Praise focuses on the external approval or critique from someone else. Encouragement focuses on understanding. Praise reinforces who I am as a student, while encouragement reinforces how my progress is going. The latter creates a regenerative source of motivation to take into the practice week. 

Embodying this is tougher than it sounds! It’s so tempting to say “Good job!” and to mean it. But I’ve learned that even well-intentioned praise can tether progress to approval. Carol Dweck’s work on growth mindset echoes what I’ve witnessed in the studio: when we name specific strategies or efforts we strengthen empowerment rather than dependence.  

By asking specific questions, teachers can elicit feedback from the student, rather than guessing at what might help. 

How did that go? 

How did that feel?

What did you notice? 

What feels difficult or clunky? Where?

This approach turns teaching into rewarding detective work. When evaluation steps aside, the process becomes less about perfectionism and more about discovery. 

Encouragement builds confidence that lasts because it's rooted in awareness, not approval. Students gain more than musical skills when we help them find something far more lasting than praise. They find their own voice.

The Surprising Gift of Self-Doubt

Hello music lovers!

Thank you for being here, and special thanks to all of you who read last month’s post about my recording session! In it I wrote about the micro-moments of doubt that shaped that experience. This month, I want to lean right into the theme: self-doubt itself.

Let me start with a question: What if self-doubt isn’t the opposite of confidence at all, but the doorway to it?

If you feel like September is full of wild optimism but currently feels like swirling chaos, you’re not alone. It takes time to settle into new rhythms and routines. With all the changes, the dial of self-doubt tends to get turned up. What we call back-to-school-jitters is really the discomfort of the unknown, the limbo before we feel comfort and predictability. In such a profound way, this mirrors the process of learning music: what starts out as completely blank and impossible becomes familiar and replicable with practice. 

Whether you’re dealing with self-doubt yourself, or if you’re guiding your kids through this period, we can all use support and recognition that we’re not the only one. How could something as painfully uncomfortable and potentially halting as self-doubt actually serve a purpose? What does music practice have to do with it? Why are we going right toward this topic instead of pretending it doesn’t exist? 

In the studio, I noticed how self-doubt flickered and quickly transformed into focus. Watching that little loop unfold made me wonder what was happening beneath the surface. I didn’t dwell in doubt, I didn’t walk away from the recording experience with the pervasive feeling that I did a bad job. I actually felt satisfied and fulfilled from using the energy of doubt to point myself in a useful direction to get an even better result. This wasn’t random or accidental. It was the result of years of training at the keyboard, building responses to feedback that serve the upward learning spiral. 

Music practice is like a lab, a fascinating place to learn how the mind works. In this lab, we can also train our minds in a way that serves our overall operating system, improving how we approach challenges in life in general. What we train in the musical setting becomes a habit, and habits shape the infrastructure of our brains. If I can learn how to turn a mistake into a prompt for curiosity rather than criticism, I have the chance to respond creatively. 

The life skill of creative adaptation to problem solving is constantly honed when we practice music. However, it’s not an automatic leap that we transfer these skills into other situations in life: relationships, presentations, championship games, final exams, but the potential is there. This has been the case for me, and for hundreds of students I’ve observed and worked with. 

Here are three ways self-doubt has guided me, and might guide you, in music and in life:

Self-doubt exists in relation to other people

Most of our self-doubt arises when we imagine how others see us. In psychology, this is tied to social comparison and fear of judgment. A student may play just fine alone at home but freeze in front of a teacher or peer. I’ve noticed in my own work that the presence of an audience sharpens my awareness, sometimes in uncomfortable ways, but it can also direct my attention to detail and help me rise to the moment. Self-doubt reminds us that music is relational: we thrive when we share it. Instead of proof that something is wrong, the flutter of doubt in front of others can signal that what we’re doing matters to us, and has the potential to matter to others as well. That kind of clarity about what matters can be a real gift.

Self-doubt shows us where the holes are

In sports psychology, athletes learn to treat moments of doubt as diagnostic information: “Is there something I didn’t prepare as fully as I could have?” In music, it works the same way. Doubt often lands right on the shaky spots. That tricky shift, that rhythm that’s not quite internalized, that page turn you keep hoping will resolve itself… When we lean in, doubt becomes a spotlight showing us where to place our energy. Practice then shifts from a tedious grind to a purposeful quest: the very place that makes you hesitate might be your best opportunity to grow. Doubt is a clear sign that there is more to uncover and integrate. And when we use it to our advantage, our priorities sharpen, progress accelerates, and we move closer to the confidence and flow we’re after.

Self-doubt prompts the next cycle of growth and discovery

Comfort feels good, but it doesn’t always inspire us to grow. Research on learning curves shows that when we’re too comfortable, improvement slows down. Doubt, on the other hand, wakes us up. It can make us curious: What can I do differently? What skill or insight is waiting on the other side of this discomfort? In my own experience, some of the biggest breakthroughs have followed the most uncertain moments. Sometimes those moments have been filled with frustration at not being there yet. That uneasy energy doesn’t mean you’re failing; it means you’re on the edge of discovery. Confidence grows when we listen to this helpful internal communication. In the practice room, that’s exactly where the transformation happens.

Self-doubt doesn’t have to be a stop sign. With practice, it can become a signpost pointing us to the very places where growth and confidence are waiting. 

Reflections on Recording, Music, and Summer Inspiration

Hello music lovers! 

In July, I said yes to something that scared me, and it changed how I think about music.


I’m writing to you from my deck in August, getting ready to start another day at the music center. First thing this morning, the summer team text thread has been firing off with plans for the day, everyone is in sync. 


Behind the scenes, there is a structure to support the wild energy of enthusiastic youth and there is constant communication to track the details as they unfold. We set the container to allow for the unexpected to happen. I love being able to witness the team diving into the day fully, showing up together to be part of something while it’s forming. I get to observe the kids thriving, knowing that they’re in a place where they are being challenged and celebrated at the same time. They can look to each other for bravery and playfulness, they can look to their counselors for warmth and connection, they can look to their director for guidance and the north star of the day, and they can look to the coordinator to sense orderly direction in the background. 


We are our own orchestra! Every player has a part, the directions are set and reset, the group does retakes and repetitions to get it right, and the team debriefs to inform the next move. To me, this is a creative, dynamic community at play. The feeling of togetherness is unmistakable, the growth is inevitable, and the imprint of belonging is real. 


To someone dropping by during the day, it may seem chaotic! And there is a messiness to it. Gathering a group of kids or teens, a set of leaders, and a plan for a performance to take place in a matter of days is a sprint not a marathon. The energy and drive that fuels the group leaves an unforgettable memory of being part of something that matters. I’m grateful to be able to work upstairs while this is all happening, remembering the days when I was there moment to moment as an educator myself. The empathy and appreciation for our team runs deep. 


I had an awesome opportunity in July to participate in recording an album of new music, the work of Freeway Clyde composed by Michael Chorney, and arranged by Matt LaRocca. It’s weeks later -- as we’re getting ready to wind down our summer season -- that I’m realizing how much the summer camps inspired me and gave me courage. Being in a creative environment, no matter what the age range or level of experience, gives me a boost and reminds me how essential it is to PLAY. 

For this recording project, I was invited into the cozy, spacious Tank Studio in Burlington’s north end to play solo piano pieces, a piano duet, and collaborate alongside a string quartet. I was thrilled to join MCMC faculty members Stefanie Taylor (viola) and John Dunlop (cello at Chamber Music Camp), along with Brooke Quiggins and Matt LaRocca, all talented musicians from the Vermont Symphony Orchestra, check them out here! 

We had just one rehearsal and a single day to lock down all the takes. Each piece emerged as special, unique, and gorgeous, creating a vivid sense of place. More soon on the music and where to find it…

The session pushed me. I was prepared. I had put in my reps prior to the day, and yet the final gelling of the pieces happened on the spot, in real time. I felt like I was in a pressurized cabin of creative forces, making one magical take after another come into form. Even after there is musical understanding, informed muscle memory (which is different from mindless repetitions that leave the final result up to chance), and reliable recall, so many more invisible layers have to happen to make the final result. 

Here’s the inner narration from the bench: 

• Concentrate, but not too tightly. 

• Focus, but not too narrowly. 

• Flow, but don’t let go fully. 

• Release, but don’t go slack. 
  
  
  

Basically, the mindset can be summarized in one word: stay. Stay present. Let it happen but guide it. It is a remarkable state of flow that happens when this calibration takes place. And to be fair — it fluctuates! I fell out of the zone many times, and two things caused that: fatigue and self doubt. Fatigue is basic and easy to explain, the brain is a muscle just like any other that needs rest between periods of exertion. Self doubt is more complex in some ways, but at this point for me, it has become radically simplified. It is a side kick, and an ever present part of my internal team. I’ve come to appreciate it, but not let it take the reins. 


In September’s post, we’ll dive into exploring how self doubt can actually serve us. 


Even though I left my comfort zone to say yes, I left the session feeling like I was really alive that day. Even more important than the inner calibrating to make the music happen was the reminder that anything we do creatively we do together. I was so fortunate to be in the same room as the composer and the arranger. Sitting on couches, following along note by note while I played, being right there to give feedback to go into each new take. The blend of words, feelings, responses, sensing the way together, it was a shared experience that I am so grateful for. 


May this message meet you today with the reminder that has helped me so much this summer. Creativity and risk happen together, with other people. Each of our voices matter, and our efforts matter. The effort we put in on our own to finetune our craft, our voice, our piece of the contribution only elevates the shared outcome. We are not alone on islands when we practice music alone for hours. We’re part of a larger conversation that thrives when individual voices are heard and as we can positively influence each other. 


Keep going. Whatever you’re pouring your energy and attention into today, remember that it is serving something beyond your individual scope. You may have more influence on others than you could ever imagine.