Creating a Judgment-Free Environment: Strategies for the Classroom,Ensemble,and Applied Studio

Background

The concept of a judgment-free learning environment is not new to string pedagogy. Violin pedagogue Mimi Zweig relies on what she calls a nonjudgmental environment (Sciaroni 2018; Zweig 2013) in her own teaching. Her studio is a place for students to learn, improve, and address mistakes without harsh criticism. She treats mistakes as neutral pieces of information (Zweig 2013) that help musicians understand how their playing can become better and better. Instead of treating mistakes as errors that should be fixed as soon as possible, Zweig’s approach involves using the data from mistakes to make a concrete plan of action to improve playing. This philosophy is a strong starting place when building a judgment-free environment, and string teachers who want to emulate it in their own teaching contexts should consider the ways that philosophy influences and changes specific practices in the classroom. Teacher educator Karin S. Hendricks has also written extensively about compassionate music teaching (Hendricks 2018) and advocates for learning environments that balance risk and challenge with safety and sensitivity (Hendricks, Smith, and Stanuch 2014). This article draws from the work of these pedagogues—as well as the author’s personal experience as a growing, ever-evolving teacher—to develop practical strategies for string teachers that serve as a bridge between philosophy and practice. These strategies fall into the categories of language, rapport, and feedback.

Language

As person-to-person communication in the classroom relies on language, it is prudent to examine what words you use and why you use them (Hendricks 2018). Accuracy in words used is a critical factor in establishing students’ trust. When teachers respond “good!” after students play, no matter how they sounded, students quickly learn it does not actually mean that what they played was good. “Good” becomes a filler word, instead of relevant or accurate feedback, and that can break down students’ trust for their teachers (Hendricks 2018, 43). To avoid these pitfalls, I have developed the practice of responding to students’ playing by either (1) asking a question like, “what did you hear that time?” or (2) answering a question raised earlier in the lesson, such as “the articulation that time around was more consistent.”

Many evaluative comments like “good!” that teachers use freely in off-the-cuff response to student playing tend to be nonspecific. In any teaching context, it is easy to fall into the trap of binary evaluation: for example, good and bad, right and wrong, or strong and weak. Unfortunately, those sets of words are both nonspecific and easy for students to internalize. If I respond to a student with “that was great!” I have not actually given them any useful information. What was great? How was it great? Was everything they did great? A response that is specific to the context—“the octaves in that passage were much more in tune than last time”—gives the student more information. Hendricks, Smith, and Stanuch (2014, 38) emphasize the need to offer feedback “about the music itself, and not about the person as an individual.” Perhaps more importantly, the concept of “good” in learning music is incredibly easy for students to internalize. Good or bad playing turns into good or bad players (Hendricks, Smith, and Stanuch, 2014) and those labels implicate judgment on behalf of teachers, students, or both. Similarly, “right” and “wrong” can also become internalized, generic self-assessment that is not fruitful for any student.

Why would we use the words “bad” or “wrong” in the classroom? Surely, technique can impede musical success on any string instrument and every teacher has the responsibility to facilitate student growth in all technique. In my own teaching, I do my best to evaluate technique with specificity and explain why some technique is inefficient—not bad, not wrong, not weak, but inefficient. Almost any string technique can be explained through the lens of how well the technique serves a musical purpose. For example, a supinated bow position in which the bow hand is leaning toward the pinky instead of leaning toward the index finger is not morally bad or wrong. Achieving an efficient spiccato, however, is going to be easier with a pronated bow position. Likewise, a very low left elbow on the cello is not necessarily right or wrong out of context, but a “floating” left elbow position on the cello certainly makes shifting up and down the fingerboard much more efficient.

Rapport

A key element in many successful teaching practices is rapport among teachers and students (Clemmons, 2009/2010). According to Clemmons (2009/2010, 258), rapport involves feelings of safety and mutual respect among teachers and students, clear expectations, and an enthusiastic, affirmative teaching style. In a judgment-free environment, students feel safe approaching their teacher with questions, ideas, comments, problems, or anything they want to share. They trust that their teacher respects them and their ideas. This trust is especially important in the music classroom, where students are expected to make mistakes in front of one another. Hendricks (2018, 40) writes that “people in trusting relationships believe that others have their best interest in mind and that they will not be taken advantage of, particularly when they are placed in situations where they might make mistakes or risk embarrassment.”

When students come to me to share something, I find it best to take a moment to clear my mind and give them my undivided attention. Showing genuine interest and respect for students’ ideas is an easy way to avoid judgment. Hendricks (2018, 96) suggests that teachers should be open to “listening to students, demonstrating an interest in their perspectives, and valuing their unique contributions.” In my own practice, I am sometimes overwhelmed, tired, and stretched thin across too many responsibilities. I know that often my automatic reaction to student comments is to half-listen, say something noncommittal, and promptly forget to follow up by the end of the day. I also understand my students deserve better, so now I do my best to be “emotionally present” (Hendricks, Smith, and Stanuch 2014, 38) and respond to any student interaction with enthusiasm. Immediately proposing a course of action to students—for example, “could you make a list of some of the songs you might like to play so I can try to find scores online over the weekend?”—is a simple way to demonstrate your interest in their ideas.

Showing your interest in student ideas not only gives students a sense of pride and ownership, it also demonstrates your ability to reserve judgment of those ideas until students ask for your input. In a more restrictive environment, students may feel that they cannot come forward with ideas for fear of looking foolish or being judged critically. In a judgment-free ensemble, students can freely share ideas, discuss them with you and other students, and practice giving and receiving feedback. A collaborative effort among students with some input from teachers may be more successful than activities designed solely by teachers, and students will learn that their ideas deserve discussion and respectful, enthusiastic feedback. For example, a group of students putting together a small ensemble to play music from their favorite stage musical might need a little help getting off the ground—but once you have given them the space and supporting materials to be successful, they have an opportunity to play music that is meaningful to them without fearing that you will pass negative judgment on it.

It sounds easy to be open to student suggestion, but sometimes teachers have a difficult time responding to ideas because obvious, immediate ways to implement them are rare. Building a few skills may increase your ability to incorporate student ideas into your everyday environment. Some proficiency in notation software may come in handy if students want to play songs that have not been written into the string orchestra repertoire. Writing out the melody lines of a student’s favorite song often takes just a few minutes, and your students will have notated, instrument-friendly transcriptions to practice and enjoy exploring.

Feedback

An essential part of judgment-free feedback is the implicit understanding that all learning involves mistakes—therefore, all students will inevitably make mistakes. However, our framing of what mistakes are and what they mean should be deliberate. If mistakes are neutral pieces of information (Zweig 2013) about one’s playing, that understanding should inform how we as teachers address students’ mistakes. The feedback we give in response to students’ playing should be specific, informative, and constructive (Hendricks, Smith, and Stanuch 2014).

As string instruments in particular require acquiring very specific fine motor skills that are almost always brand new to the beginning student, it is important to emphasize that their hands are doing most of the heavy lifting when it comes to playing a string instrument. Simple changes in instruction within the feedback cycle can help refocus the lesson on specific technical or expressive skills, rather than a generic directive to improve. To the student, some instructions in lessons seem obvious—“play that more in tune,” for example, is a directive toward the student that likely coincides with what the student is already trying to do. Being told to play more in tune when one is already trying their best to play in tune is not a good use of a student’s time and can quickly cause frustration and loss of focus. Instead, give specific instructions that involve just one part of the hand, arm, shoulder, and so on. “Play that more in tune” becomes “ask your fourth finger to stay closer to the string when it is not playing, so that it will be more likely to land right on the tape.” Framing the out-of-tune passage as a concrete skill that can be immediately addressed and practiced is more welcome than a general judgment of a broad concept. These types of instructions may cut the mental tension and frustration that students often experience in lessons.

The feedback cycle also relies on specific language and directives, which oftentimes involves the good/bad, right/wrong, liked/disliked paradigms. Strengths and weaknesses are one way to avoid judgmental language in feedback, but when students self-assess, I like to ask them what they want to change and what they want to stay the same. Talking about things to change broadens the conversation about technique to involve issues of practice strategies, aesthetics, and reasonable goal-setting. A student who says they want to change their articulation in one passage because it was inconsistent has a specific goal and can develop a doable plan of action to address it. On the contrary, a student who feels that their playing just “was not good enough” does not have a clear path toward improvement.

In applied lessons, only two people share the learning space (unlike in the classroom or ensemble). As the one-on-one context relies on individual communication, it is critical to give deliberate, structured feedback. “Expert” music teachers in the applied studio give “frequent, specific, and task-related feedback” (Hendricks 2018, 43). However, many teachers lapse into the “compliment sandwich” style of feedback that starts with a positive comment, followed by a negative comment, and ends with another positive comment. In my experience, lots of students know this format well, and often they anticipate that upcoming negative comment so strongly that they do not fully process the positive comment preceding it (Hendricks 2018). If you are already using the strategies listed earlier, your students should have a model for giving specific, neutral feedback. Instead of giving feedback immediately after a student plays for me, I might ask them to tell me what they think happened during their playing. This gives them a chance to self-assess, which is a critical skill for any musician to learn. It also gives you a glimpse of how they perceive their own playing; some students immediately lean into the negative elements of their playing without mentioning anything positive, whereas others are reluctant to evaluate their skills specifically and objectively.

In the private lesson, teachers also have a unique opportunity to experience their students’ perspectives first-hand by playing their instruments. While it is common for teachers to adapt the proverb, “a bad carpenter always blames his tools” in lessons, students often attribute problems in their playing to their instruments (Lysaker 2017). If you take the time to understand what technical skills are needed to play that specific instrument, you may gain valuable insight into why your students may be struggling with certain concepts. Judging a student’s ability without fully investigating why mistakes happen can lead to miscommunication and mistrust; showing your students that you are interested in understanding how they play and perceive playing is a more compassionate practice.

Conclusion

Nobody is motivated to learn if they feel like their learning environment is too harsh or threatening (Hendricks, Smith, and Stanuch 2014). Arguably, our greatest responsibility as educators is to create a learning space that is welcoming and supportive of all students who enter—not only because that space will be less threatening but also because students’ learning will ultimately be enhanced. When we consider what we bring to our classrooms, we might focus on finding just the right materials, repertoire, and curricula that make us feel prepared to teach. I suggest that we focus as much, if not more, on the person—our complete, complicated self—that we as teachers bring to the classroom every day. Adjusting our teaching mindset along with the way we speak and interact with students can make all of our teaching spaces more positive, affirming, and judgment-free.