Douglas Weeks
Petrie School of Music
Converse College
Spartanburg, SC 29302
864.596.9021
doug.weeks@converse.edu
Creativity and emotional health -- a topic not extensively addressed in the music curriculum and one both sensitive and complex to discuss - is the subject of the pioneering work of Swiss psychotherapist Alice Miller. She has achieved international recognition for her work on the causes and effects of childhood emotional trauma. Her books, especially The Drama of the Gifted Child, have become classics in the literature of graduate education and psychology programs.
In layman's terms, Miller tells us that a child needs to be loved unconditionally - for the unique individual that he or she is. If the child at an early and crucial stage does not receive this unconditional love, then there is a likelihood that a narcissistic disorder will result. In other words, a child must develop from infancy a healthy narcissism by seeing an acceptance of his or her own image reflected in the mother's, or primary caretaker's, eyes. If the child sees nothing of him or herself reflected, but sees only what the care giver wants that child to be, i.e., a reflection of the mother's own narcissistic needs, then the child may not develop an inner sense of self, but rather will do everything possible to please the mother by fulfilling the motherŐs needs and expectations.
Alice Miller writes about this condition in Drama of the Gifted Child (originally published as Das Drama des begabten Kindes, 1979):
Quite often we are faced here with gifted patients who have been praised and admired for their talents and their achievements ... According to prevailing, general attitudes, these people -- the pride of their parents -should have had a strong and stable sense of self-assurance, But exactly the opposite is the case. In everything they undertake they do well and often excellently; they are admired and envied; they are successful whenever they care to be -- but all to no avail. Behind all this lurks depression, the feeling of emptiness and self-alienation, and a sense that their life has no meaning. These dark feelings will come to the fore as soon as the drug of grandiosity fails, as soon as they are not "on top," not definitely the "superstar,"' or whenever they suddenly get the feeling they failed to live up to some ideal image and measure they feel they must adhere to. Then they are plagued by anxiety or deep feelings of guilt or shame. (5-6)
The child has learned to equate love and acceptance with fulfilling the parent's expectations of achievement. Often this means overachieving in life. Obviously this does not mean that all people who have significant professional accomplishment to their credit are children who have been emotionally abused. The difference is that the narcissistically disturbed, like the miser who never has enough money, will never achieve enough. He or she will spend a lifetime chasing a prize that will never be found because it was never there to begin with - the unqualified love of the mother or father for the essential individual child. Miller describes this state as follows:
The parents have found in their child's "false self" the confirmation they were looking for, a substitute for their own missing structures; the child, who has been unable to build up his own structures, is first consciously and then unconsciously ... dependent on his parents. He cannot rely on his own emotions, has not come to experience them through trial and error, has no sense of his own real needs, and is alienated from himself to the highest degree. Under these circumstances he cannot separate from his parents, and even as an adult he is still dependent on affirmation from his partner, from groups, or especially from his own children. (14)
What concern is this condition to musicians and teachers of musicians? Have we ever known a colleague or a student who fits this profile? Do some of us see some, or a great deal, of ourselves in this profile?
Music is one of the talents that reveals itself at an early age, especially in the gifted child. In fact, the term prodigy is probably more often than not associated with music or mathematics. If a musical child is traumatized in the manner that Alice Miller has described, then we as teachers wield a profound power because we can either choose to aid the healing process, or we can wound the child even further. We all have known musicians with an unquenchable thirst for success, who struggle to be in positions of superiority, who must win competitions, or whose students must win competitions. We have all witnessed the "out of control" ego. And we know that there are many, many deeply unhappy musicians. Again, this does not mean that a healthy pursuit of excellence, a healthy pursuit of lofty goals, is not possible and indeed positive. But Alice Miller is addressing values and validation, and we as musicians and teachers should be addressing the value of music and music making on its own terms. We teach our students values by how we value them as individuals.
As music students and as teachers, most of us have probably at one time or another run into the "out of control" ego. One of the many teachers I have had, who was absolutely outstanding in most respects, said to me in a lesson, "Well, either you're musical or you're not!" He closed the book on the problem we were trying to solve, and, in effect, closed the book on me. Some might say that he was challenging me to work harder for my own good. But the actual effect was demoralizing. Instead of feeling challenged, I felt unmusical and incapable of understanding what it was he was trying to teach me. Looking back on it, I realize that he might have been frustrated because he couldn't get me to understand. He may have felt not only frustrated but also somewhat inadequate. So he turned the tables on me. A little incident? I've carried it with me for three decades. But out of that incident I resolved never to say anything so disparaging to one of my students.
Far worse was the time one of my teachers actually grabbed the music from the rack and hit me in the face with it because I had begun a crescendo too loudly, He got his point across, some would say. He also got across that my musical crime merited corporal punishment, like the stereotypical "old school" teacher who would painfully rap on knuckles with a ruler to correct errant fingering. It was not the physical pain that hurt. It was the immense indignity that I felt -- the personal violation. Certainly, I learned to execute a more effective crescendo. But, I came to realize after several months of study that I meant less as a human being to this man than I did as a potential prize winner in a competition. That was the bottom line. While my playing did improve that year, substantially I might add, I have never been able to answer the question of whether studying with him was worth the emotional pain. Could I not have received the same excellent training elsewhere -- without the humiliation? My gratitude to this teacher for what I learned will always be intertwined with a burning resentment for how he treated me.
And, there are other little incidents. The teacher who would slap his forehead and make faces to ensure that anyone watching him would know that he was not responsible for his student's mistakes in recital. Or the teacher who accosted his student backstage after her full recital, dressing her down in front of her peers for all her musical failures. Or the teacher who put a guilt trip on one of his students who did not want to enter a competition because she felt that she wasn't ready to compete. He told her that he hadn't had a winner in a long time, and, by golly, she had to compete and to WIN. Said he, with an alarming lack of self awareness, "You gotta do this for me!"
I could go on, and I imagine that many of you could relate your memories of unpleasant incidents. Here is my point: IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE THIS WAY. Part of the problem is the legacy of a few legendary teachers who, although great pedagogues, were also known for their neuroses and even, their cruelties. But great talent does not excuse abuse. There are also those equally great pedagogues who are revered for their kindness and for their nurturing attitude toward their students as well as for their wealth of knowledge. The large majority of my own teachers fall into the latter category. And to them I will always be grateful for not only what they taught me, but also for how they taught me.
I am in no way suggesting that musical standards be lowered or that a piano lesson be turned into a therapy session. I am suggesting that when a teacher belittles, mocks, ridicules, or shames a student for not playing well, or for not wanting to compete, or for wanting to change teachers, or majors, or for maybe not even wanting to pursue music as a career, he or she is modeling values. The crucial question follows: do we as teachers have a responsibility to teach only the music, or are we also responsible for teaching the human being?
In Drama of the Gifted Child, Alice Miller succinctly describes the parent's responsibility towards the child: " . . - if we are willing to open our eyes to the suffering of the child, we will soon realize that it lies within us as adults either to turn the newborn into monsters by the way we treat them or to let them grow up into feeling -- and therefore responsible - human beings" (xv). As piano teachers in the unique position of interacting with individuals in a private setting week after week, year after year, an intimate bond often develops. We are not their parents, but we are their mentors - powerful in our influence. We must put the needs of the student above our own needs. Exploring the work of Alice Miller and others can help us to deal ethically and humanely with students, with colleagues, and with ourselves.
References
Miller, Alice. The Drama of the Gifted Child, Basic Books, 1981.
Addendum: Other Works of Alice Miller
For Your Own Good: Hidden Cruelty in Childrearing and the Roots of Violence
Thou Shalt Not Be Aware: Society's Betrayal of the Child
Pictures of a Childhood: Sixty-six Watercolors and an Essay
The Untouched Key: Tracing Childhood Trauma in Creativity and Destructiveness
Banished Knowledge: Facing Childhood Injuries
Breaking Down the Wall of Silence: The Liberating Experience of Facing Painful Truth
Paths of Life: Seven Scenarios
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