What Becoming a Mother Has Taught Me About Music Teaching

A week before beginning my second year of graduate school at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, I found out I was pregnant.

For years, I had devoted myself to building a career in music from the ground up—winning competitions, performing internationally, and pursuing graduate studies. Yet when I saw those two blue lines for the first time, something shifted within me. I felt an overwhelming sense of hope, peace, and reassurance. Suddenly, all of those accomplishments seemed minuscule compared to the greatest journey and role I had yet to experience: becoming a mother.

Part of me worried that becoming a parent would bring my performance and teaching career to an end. After all, who has the energy to practice for hours each day while functioning on interrupted sleep and caring for a newborn? I wondered whether there would still be room for both motherhood and musicianship in my life.

At the same time, I was preparing for one of the biggest recitals of my graduate school career: my final master’s recital. I was practicing and memorizing some of the most difficult pieces written for piano while eight months pregnant. Despite how exhausting it was, and despite all the fluid that had built up in my wrists, I kept feeling a sense of hope as I felt my baby kick during the beautiful cadential passages of Beethoven’s Op. 111. Feeling his presence as I practiced for long hours awakened something in me: I must do this for him.

Three and a half weeks before giving birth, I gave a very successful recital. My teacher and committee members were pleased with my efforts, and I passed! What a joyful moment in my life that I will cherish forever.

My son, Bennett, was born at 36 weeks and 4 days, after I found out I had developed gestational hypertension. Immediately after my C-section, he let out his first cry, then stopped breathing. The doctors rushed him to the NICU, where he spent 11 days. That was one of the darkest times of my life, yet I found hope and peace playing the piano while wishing he would come home.

When Bennett finally came home, my relationship with the piano changed. I was no longer the musician who could simply structure her day around hours of practice. My body was recovering from childbirth, my sleep was unpredictable, and my days revolved around a tiny person who needed me constantly. There were times when practicing felt impossible, and times when I wondered how I could continue to be the musician I had worked so hard to become. Yet, slowly, I began to find my way back to the piano. And somewhere in that process, I began to see teaching differently.

The truth is that becoming a mother has profoundly changed the way I view teaching. When I look into my son’s eyes, I see an innate desire to learn, explore, and make sense of the world around him. Every new skill he acquires is the result of countless attempts, mistakes, and moments of persistence. It takes many months before a baby speaks their first word, yet we do not view those months as a lack of progress. 

Growth is happening long before it becomes visible.

As I have watched my son develop, I have found myself reflecting on my students. How often have I assumed that a student was progressing too slowly? How often have I overlooked the learning taking place beneath the surface simply because I could not yet see the results?

Motherhood has reminded me that learning is rarely linear. A child may struggle with a skill for weeks or months before suddenly demonstrating an ability that seemed to appear overnight. As teachers, we can become so focused on measurable progress that we forget to appreciate the learning happening along the way.

Watching my son learn has reminded me that development takes time, mastery cannot be rushed, and every child has an extraordinary capacity to grow when given patience, encouragement, and the right environment.

I have now learned the incredible vulnerability that comes with becoming a parent. As teachers, we must recognize the profound responsibility that comes with parents entrusting us with their children. They are trusting us to create an environment where their child feels safe, loved, and capable. We have a direct impact on a child’s experience with learning music and, perhaps even more importantly, on how they come to view themselves.

I used to view musical success as very linear: winning competitions, performing internationally, and completing musical degrees. Now, I have redefined success as the small moments: watching a student memorize a piece for the first time, watching them smile after performing in a recital that they were nervous about, or eventually witnessing them become teachers themselves. As a teacher, I believe in nurturing the next generation of musicians. Nothing makes me feel more successful than seeing a student develop a genuine love for music.

I once thought those two blue lines meant the beginning of a separation between becoming a mother and being a music teacher. Instead, the two have become intertwined, shaping the person and teacher I am today. I now view music as something much bigger than an achievement. I have seen its power to bring comfort and healing, and I have gained a deeper appreciation for the role music can play in a child’s development.

One day, when Bennett is ready, I will entrust him to a teacher. I hope that teacher will instill in him not only a love and appreciation for music, but also a belief in the person he is becoming.