Charge What You're Worth

To be very clear, I hate this saying. And that is why it’s the title of this blog post.

When I moved to Sparks, I had absolutely no intention of starting a studio again.

My husband had just started medical residency, I had just graduated with my master’s degree, we were taking care of a newborn, and we were settling into a new area.

Little by little, it all started coming together. I started getting a few requests for piano lessons, even though I hadn’t advertised for them yet. I almost took this as a sign that I should start teaching again.

Before I started teaching again, I decided to completely redo my studio policies. I quickly realized that my life looked very different than it had the last time I ran a studio. I had fewer hours in the day, and I needed to be much more intentional about how I used my time.

I basically started writing down everything that I do in preparation for lessons. Slowly, that list got longer and longer. I had never put into writing how much I do and prepare for a 30-minute lesson. I also quickly realized how much it costs to run a piano studio.

People may assume the cost of the piano and tuning services, but they don’t see the behind-the-scenes costs of music library books, continuing education, MTNA memberships, lesson planning, repertoire research, maintaining a website and domain, group classes and studio activities, scheduling, communication outside of lesson time, printed resources, recital venue expenses, time spent at competitions, conferences, studio technology, and so much more. I don’t think I’ve even scratched the surface of what it costs to run a successful studio.

The typical 30-minute lesson is simply the part of the job that happens one-on-one with the student.

For the first time, I started viewing my studio as less of a “per-lesson” studio and more of a studio membership.

I never want to feel creatively stuck or to always be doing the same thing for years on end. This is one of the reasons that I update my studio policies each year. I like to reflect on my teaching and adapt to both my students’ needs and my own.

One reason I hesitated to return to teaching was that I had seen how easy it is for music teachers to undervalue their own time. I know several teachers who have taken years-long hiatuses from teaching because the profession, as they had structured it, simply wasn’t providing the financial sustainability they needed.

Of course, I’m not suggesting we all start charging $50,000/hour and completely inflate the piano-teaching market. But I also don’t think the answer is to keep our rates abnormally low just because we’re afraid of what people will think.

This is where the idea of “charge what you’re worth” comes into play.

How many times have teachers asked what they should charge, only for someone to inevitably reply, “Charge what you’re worth”?

Because what does that even mean?

How much are we truly worth?

Is our worth calculated by our years of experience? Our degrees? The competitions our students have won? The number of people on our waitlist?

Not because I think teachers shouldn’t charge appropriately for their work, but because our worth and the cost of running our businesses are two completely separate things.

My worth as a person is not determined by how much I charge for a piano lesson. Neither is my worth as a musician. My degrees, certifications, performance experience, and accomplishments are meaningful parts of my professional life, but they don’t come with a predetermined dollar amount.

What I can calculate is what it costs me to run my studio, how much time I realistically have to devote to it, and what I need to make this work sustainable.

Realizing all of this helped me change my pricing.

I stopped asking myself, “How much am I worth?” and started asking myself, “How much do I need to charge for my business to be sustainable?”

For me, that meant looking at the entire experience I provide rather than simply the 30 minutes a student spends at my piano.

My tuition isn’t simply paying for a weekly lesson. It supports the planning, resources, communication, group classes, studio activities, professional development, and countless hours of work that happen outside of that lesson.

The bottom line is, I’m still figuring it out. I don’t think there is one perfect studio model, and I certainly don’t think I’ve discovered the “perfect price.” I also know I'll change my mind about certain things in the future.

But I do think I have a much better understanding of what I’m actually building.

As music teachers, we’re not charging for 30 minutes. We’re building a business.

This photo was taken in 2016, after my first full year of piano teaching. :)