I've been taking lessons again, and one of the interesting results from that process is that I'm noticing things that my teachers are doing which improve the learning process. This post is the first in a series that will discuss these simple but effective techniques that I'm experiencing as a student.

This post is about the question, "What else?"

When I was teaching, after I've posed a question to a class, I was inclined to ask "what else" when I hadn't yet heard the specific answer I was seeking. I eventually figured out that wasn't a very useful approach.

But as I student, I've noticed that this question can be powerful when:

• The prompt is open ended,
• I know the teacher will keep asking it, and
• I trust that the teacher will support the answers I give.

The key to asking "what else?" is that you're encouraging the students to explore the topic. After you do this a few times, students will recognize that you're not playing a game of "guess what the teacher wants to hear."

I had a professor in college who used this technique exquisitely. He would play a piece of music and ask the class what they noticed about it. No matter what the answer was, he would first agree with the student's perspective, thus making sure it felt like a safe environment. He would then elaborate a little bit on the students answers, allowing his perspective to enter the class's attention in a very subtle way. Then he would ask, "what else?" and wait for another answer.

A current teacher of mine uses the technique to see how I'm assessing myself. She will ask about about my work in the week between meetings, and after I answer, she'll respond, "yes, and what else?" If I answer "I don't know" too quickly, she won't accept it.

When implementing this technique as a teacher, there may be long pauses while the class considers the question. Allow yourself to be comfortable in the silence. Wait through it a few seconds longer than you think you need to. Sometimes the moment you feel ready to move on is the moment a student is ready to say something insightful.

Yesterday I read an article by Jason Cohen imploring software entrepreneurs to avoid seeing patterns where none exist. I don't want to comment directly on that article, but one part seemed relevant to musicians: streaks.

Jason points out that when an athlete goes on a streak, sports commentators notice. As real as the streak seems, it may be an illusive pattern in random noise.  A statistical mirage, if you will.

As a pianist, I'll often claim to have good days where everything feels right, or bad days when I seem to make lots of simple errors. On the bad days, I frequently analyze my playing intensely, trying to figure out what's different and what I need to change. But if Jason is right, I'm finding a pattern that doesn't really exist, and badgering myself needlessly about it.

That alone is a valuable insight. But it got me thinking: can I use probability theory in my practicing?

When have I practiced enough?

Let's say I'm practicing a piece that's 200 measures long. And for simplicity's sake, let's say that if I can play each measure perfectly, I can play the piece perfectly. What percentage of the time do I need to play each measure correctly to have a good chance of playing the entire piece correctly?

If you only play each of the 200 measures correctly half the time, you're more likely to win Powerball 6 times than you are to play the piece without error from start to finish.

And in order to have a better-than-even chance of playing the whole piece correctly, you have to be able to play each measure correctly 997 times out of 1,000.

What does this mean?

Two things.

First, perfection is hard. Really hard. You have to work to drive up your success rate, but you can't get down on yourself for making errors. The numbers just aren't on your side.

Second, if you're like me, your standards for when you "know" a passage may have been too low. Many of us have been taught to practice something until you play it right ten times in a row. As the table above shows, that's a good start, but only a start.

Obviously it's often unreasonable to play something 997 times in a row. In the absence of that, your standard needs to be not only playing it correctly, but comfortably. There's a difference between getting it right because you got lucky, and getting it right because it would be unnatural to get it wrong.