The half hour before.(ad lib)(Column)

I arrived at the university bright and early one morning, scuttled up the steps to the ninth floor, unlocked the piano lab so students in the eight o'clock class could warm up, and returned to my office to look over my notes for the day's teaching. I was looking forward to morning classes, whose students were usually well-prepared, and there would be some particularly fun private students in the afternoon--it was going to be a good day.

I had a few extra minutes so I checked my mailbox. A memo from one of the deans curtly announced that my pay (and that of most other full-time faculty, as it turned out) for teaching non-credit and overload lessons was going to be reduced a sizable percentage next school year due to budgetary considerations.

In shock, the first image that flashed through my mind was the incredibly lavish spread of food at the reception that had followed the school's opera production. Could smoked salmon be that expensive? Then I soberly remembered that the administration had recently disclosed wanting to pursue some new but underfunded strategic plans that were not popular with the faculty. It then became obvious where some of that funding was going to come from.

As you might expect, my mood soured. A lot. I put on a good act that day as I taught. I doubt that my students knew how distracted I felt because I saw nothing unexpected in their behaviors. But I was not myself. I labored to establish a "flow." I struggled to feign patience with the slowest students, a quality that usually felt effortless and sincere. Instead of assessing my pacing when periodically checking the clock, I was just waiting for class to end. I didn't enjoy my teaching--the best parts of me were AWOL.

I recovered by the next day. Every profession has its frustrating and disappointing times, so we persevere. I resolved to take pleasure in my teaching as usual (and also resolved to refuse overload teaching the next year). A certain logical sequence was nagging at me: 1. Teaching is performing. 2. As a pianist, I always "protect" my space and time immediately before a performance; this helps to release extraneous thoughts, center myself and resonate with the activity I am about to ...