Beverly Lapp, NCTM, is in her twelfth year on the Goshen College music faculty where she has had diverse experiences in teaching and administration. In addition to teaching piano, piano pedagogy, and humanities she has previously served as interim chair of the music department, director of the piano preparatory program, and director of international study terms in Peru and the Dominican Republic. She is co-coordinator of the Piano Workshop and Academy, a four-day summer event for piano teachers and high school students. Lapp's undergraduate and graduate degrees are from Goshen College and Westminster Choir College of Rider University.
Beverly Lapp
Goshen College
1700 S Main Street
Goshen, IN 46526
574.535.7364
beverlykl@goshen.edu
by Beverly Lapp
Certain names cause associations in one's psyche. The name of a particular politician may lead us to nod with affirmation or cringe with despair. Names of loved friends or family members cause feelings of warmth or worry, depending on circumstances. Teachers who become expectant parents trying to find the perfect name will find that some names are ruined forever due to associations with difficult students. Names take on tremendous meaning according to our experiences.
Recently we hosted a holiday luncheon for several families. The topic of childhood music lessons came up, and one friend mentioned that he had taken five years of piano lessons in the Goshen College piano preparatory program. "Who was your group lesson teacher?" I asked, on a hunch, and he answered "Marvin Blickenstaff." The resulting murmur around the table clearly communicated the association: deep respect. Marvin left the Goshen community nearly seven years ago, but his reputation lives on as a pianist and piano teacher extraordinaire, one who for twenty years in Goshen positively impacted the lives of hundreds of students and thousands of listeners at his many recitals and concerts.
I will forever consider myself lucky to have been an undergraduate at Goshen College in the late 1980's. Goshen College, a small liberal arts college in northern Indiana, had long attracted me for reasons of family tradition and overall academic program. Knowing that I would have the opportunity to study with this master teacher on Goshen's music faculty also influenced my decision. As I explored possible majors and life directions at Goshen College it didn't take long to fall in love with the piano. How the piano would shape my vocational path wasn't always clear; all I needed to know was that I left lessons and pedagogy classes feeling more inspired than at any other moment during the week.
I recently came across the following journal excerpt from May of 1989, a term when I was having extra lessons with Marvin to prepare for a competition. It expresses, perhaps better than anything I could write now, the impact of this remarkable teacher on a young person's soul:
I don't think I've ever dreaded a piano lesson as much as I did today. I didn't feel prepared, I was not in the mood, and I felt so tired. I wasn't sure if I could handle Marvin's intensity.
But of course I had to go, and as has happened many times before, it lifted me up! It was intense and while every so often I thought of the security and comfort of my dorm room, those 45 minutes sped by, leaving me wishing I could say longer.
The more I study with Marvin, the more I realize how much I value him as a teacher. He helps me feel the magic in music, the stories, emotions, and meanings. Sometimes I wonder: am I really up to his expectations? In spite of my doubts, I know that even if I don't study piano for the rest of my life, the work that I am doing now with Marvin is helping me grow tremendously as a person.
Today as I left his studio he shook my hand and said, "Congratulations! It is wonderful for us to meet every day like this." I swallowed hard and agreed out loud, saying, "Yes, it is." As I dropped my music off in my locker, inside I felt like crying, dancing, shouting, doing something to tell the world how uplifted and overwhelmed I felt.
With the benefit of more life experience and perspective, I can now more easily identify a trilogy of impact that Marvin offers as a piano teacher. He skillfully enables the physical and aural delight of good music making. He also allows the student to leave the lesson with a boost to self-esteem (the significance of which we teachers should not underestimate in our work with young people). Finally, he empowers the desire to be a better person and musician.
In lessons with Marvin I remember affirmation being specific, non-redundant, and meaningful. His teaching was infused with solid pedagogy, strengthened with wisdom, and energized by humor and joy. He kept in focus the ultimate goal of teaching his students to think independently. I recall many an awkward moment of silence after being asked for my own ideas regarding interpretation. Those steady invitations to express myself were key in allowing me to grow in confidence in my own musical sensibility.
It was both unexpected and thrilling to find myself back at Goshen College in the late 1990's as Marvin's colleague. I remember commenting to him, after one year of teaching numerous music majors working towards piano proficiency, that my own skills in playing by ear, improvising and harmonization were vastly improving as I taught the material. I will never forget Marvin's succinct response: "Teaching is learning." This simple but profound concept, which I had surely heard before but in that moment became lodged in my consciousness, is one I continue to challenge myself to consider in every studio and classroom teaching situation I find myself in: give the student tools to in effect "teach" themselves and the learning will be more profound.
When I recall Marvin's presence on Arts 3rd, the music department's humble home until we moved into a new facility in 2002, different scenes fill my memory: Marvin regularly being in his studio before light and after dark, the always present cup of coffee as he worked and taught, the whisk of a tall, dark-haired man through the halls, his contagious laugh, and the rapid clicking on his manual typewriter until he reluctantly (but quite adeptly) moved into the computer age. Most of all, I remember the sounds of music leaking through the poorly soundproofed door of his studio. When I needed to check something with Marvin I would approach his office door and if it was closed, rather than walking away, I sometimes allowed myself to stand and listen for a while. Whether it was his own efficient and inspired practicing or that deep and distinguished voice giving feedback between a student's played phrases, those brief moments of listening sent me back to my own studio eager to practice or teach.
While it was a huge privilege for me to experience Marvin as a faculty colleague during those years working together in the Goshen College music department, I will always consider him to be my teacher, mentor, and friend. I know many individuals identify him in the same way. Marvin told me recently that he still finds it very difficult to say no to the numerous invitations that come his way to teach, present workshops, and perform. It is the music world's great fortune that he says, "yes" whenever possible. The name "Marvin Blickenstaff" is one that causes a wonderful association for thousands across our nation and world. I count myself blessed to be among this cloud of witnesses attesting to his brilliance.
Quotes from recorded piano lessons with Marvin Blickenstaff, May 1989:
"No one in all of music history has ever played a piece absolutely perfect."
"Understanding the harmonic progressions will make this incredibly easy to learn."
"I'm a little concerned about your four different tempi in variation five."
“This passage just does not sound fun enough!”
"If you can't go beyond just merely playing the notes, then there's no justification for playing."
"Imagine here farmers with their big, heavy feet, 90% drunk, swaying with linked arms."
“It's too obvious, too extreme…this isn't music to get sea-sick by.”
"Missed notes are miscalculations of hand positions. Practicing slowly will help your hands learn."
"You will never play this loud enough, dramatic enough, slow enough."
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