I've been thinking lately that it's been two years since I started my violin studio, and it's grown from just two students in my mother's living room to a full studio of nearly 20 students as part of an established program, with a waiting list. My students and their parents are something I am grateful for every single day.

With a growing studio comes the beginnings of student accomplishments. Youth orchestras. Honor orchestras. Honor recitals. I'd be lying if I didn't say these things make me really happy. It's great to have audition panels recognize that your students play well. It certainly helps validate me as a teacher, and I think everyone likes to be validated.

However, the interior journeys, and the relationships I'm building between myself and my students - those are the things that make me have to hold back tears in lessons, the reasons that I do what I do, and why I do believe that music education can change our world for the better.

So here are a few stories that you don't know about my students - with no names, identifying details, or personal pronouns to protect my students' anonymity. 

One quiet, reserved, introverted student who has played for many years with many teachers confessed to me that their earlier violin teachers didn't like them, believe in them, and occasionally insulted them. It's taken many lessons, but this student is now comfortable with me, trusts me, and is slowly starting to believe in their own ability to create the sound they want on the instrument. Progress in this lesson looks like the student being able to take a deep breath, let go of their doubts, and just play.

Another student, with whom lessons are a pure joy now, is a student I wasn't sure I could continue with during the first six months of lessons. It seemed that everything I said was only partially understood. The student was highly stressed, and it took me some time to realize that they were worried they were being graded every violin lesson. They thought that saying "Ms. Allen, I didn't have time to do everything this week," or "I don't know the answer to that question" would mean that they "failed" for the day. After a conversation with their mother, I invited the student for a lesson without their violin. We listened to music, and we talked about what we liked. I explained that I want to meet them where they are, but that I need an honest representation of where they are to be able to do the most help. Fast forward over a year, and this student is flying. I still need to remind them that if they feel overwhelmed, it's better to do a few things really well in practice than everything sloppily, but we've established a relationship of trust - and that trust has led to genuine confidence in the student's skills.

One of my students has practically flown through the beginning stages of their violin playing, and went through pieces at an astonishing rate. I know it's human nature to see "getting to the next piece" as a sign that they're doing well, but what I'm looking for in violin lessons is progress when it comes to solid fundamentals. As a teacher, I'd rather hear them play the same piece for the 1,000th time, but with a tall violin and an improved sound, rather than have them play 1,000 pieces kind of okay. It's exciting to move through repertoire, but my struggle is to slow them down a little bit so I know the fundamentals are in place - and helping them feel that my slowing them down doesn't mean they are doing badly. I hate seeing the disappointment at the end of the lesson when we haven't started a new song, but I know I have to stick to my teacher guns and insist on the technique before I let them move on. 

One student, who recently was accepted into a youth orchestra, has received a lot of praise and recognition in public for it - as well they should. What people don't know is that for weeks before the audition, this student had to withstand more pressure from me than they had ever experienced. We drilled scales for months, and I made them play their excerpts over and over again until I was satisfied. The day before the audition, this student played three pieces that were NOT related to the audition for our spring recital. AND, this student's bow broke due to the change in humidity. Immediately after the audition, the student's mother emailed me and told me the student said the audition was the easiest thing they had done all year and felt really happy and confident about their playing. And that - that right there - is my goal for my students when they audition. It was a good affirmation for me as well that I am doing my job.

One of my younger students - an easily distractible, high-energy, creative, and free-spirited person - has recently had lessons where the lessons are more about violin, and less about standing still and learning to focus. Despite my regular admonitions of "Stand still, please!" "Play this song for me, please!" "Did you hear what I just said?" (No) "Well, can you do this now?", this student is growing and learning. I even got a spontaneous hug after their lesson this past week. The student is equally excited to be developing the skill of "having a good violin lesson" as well as just playing the violin.

These are just a few of the stories you don't hear. It's not as exciting as Suzuki book graduations, or the big sense of "finishing" something. But these are just a small fraction of the students whose musical lives of whom I'm privileged to be a part. Everyone has their own struggles, and their own stories. I hope you felt as inspired by reading them as I do witnessing them.

I've had the joy of seeing some of my violin students start to become friends this year. It's what happens when you strongly recommend group class and do your best to get your kids hooked on chamber music. This summer, four of my students responded to my offer to teach them duos. One student came into their lesson gushing about the fun they'd had at their rehearsal/playdate. It turns out they're both reading the second Harry Potter book this summer, and that they have more in common than a shared violin teacher! It warms my heart - having a supportive peer group is so essential for any endeavor.

Being a professional musician is a hard thing. It's a very hard life, and it's not one I recommend for anyone unless they know they would rather stop breathing than give up their instrument. Music has a way of consuming your heart and becoming a part of your soul. 

One of the absolute best things about being a music student and now a professional musician is the people I have met. I know some of the most beautiful souls in the world, and I've had the immense privilege of playing and performing music with them. 

My first semester at Peabody, I didn't know anyone and was randomly assigned to a chamber group. We quite arbitrarily chose to learn Schumann's Piano Quintet, and most of the group didn't stay together after that first semester. Life has a funny way of working out, though, and the violinist and the violist from that first group stayed with me and a new cellist to form a quartet. Our last year at Peabody, the four of us were nearly inseparable, and our violist, Lillian, and I became particularly close.

Three and a half years after that first chamber meeting, I found myself in Orlando, Florida, where I taught a masterclass and played chamber music with Lillian for her students. After leaving Peabody, she moved to Florida to teach at a high school conservatory there and was able to hire me as a guest artist. We also took a little trip to Universal Studios on a day off. Little did I know that that random chamber music assignment would someday lead me to the Hogwarts Express with one of my favorite people!

This last year, I was overjoyed when another Peabody friend, Erynn, joined the faculty at Potomac Arts Academy, where I teach. After a year of bonding over torture in excerpt class (such as standing in the Circle of Judgement while playing Don Juan and Schumann Scherzo) and struggling to stay focused in our Monday morning, 3-hour Mahler seminar, I had been sad to leave her when I moved away from Baltimore. I was so excited when she joined our faculty and moved to Virginia! In addition to talking about British television, books, and life in general, we completely geek out about violin pedagogy, have taught classes together, and are having just an amazing time growing our studios together. As an adult, it's hard to find time to see friends, especially when you work so much - so having a good friend who's also a fantastic colleague and who works where I do is an amazing plus. Here we are after a student recital this past spring.

A year ago at this time, I was in full-blown panic mode. I had this crazy idea that I wanted to give a recital. I was determined to keep performing and learning solo repertoire, despite being out of the conservatory environment and having very little practice time. What I wasn't expecting was the challenge of finding a pianist to collaborate with on the recital. In music school, pianists practically grew on trees. They all knew all the violin literature, worked for very reasonable rates (especially if they were on assistantship), and if the first one you asked didn't work out, there'd be several others who also knew your concertos and sonatas. As it turned out, being out of school and trying to hire a professional pianist, especially with so little time before a recital, was not an easy task. Both my piano colleagues at the Academy were already booked for the summer, and I was growing desperate.  A colleague had given me a list of names, only one with an email address - she said the others were on Facebook. With a deadline looming, a concerto to memorize, and nothing left to to lose, I set about Facebook messaging strangers, attempting to sound like a professional. 

No one responded. 

Initially, anyway. A few days later, I got a message back, from one Wade Meyers. He was available on my recital date, and knew the Beethoven sonata. I would learn later that he is not really a Facebook person at all, and sometimes goes weeks without checking it. How lucky I was that he happened to log in that day. I sent him the music, and we set up an initial time to meet. We started rehearsing, and instantly my chamber music starved soul started to revive. (One of the other hardest things about being outside of school is having time to play chamber music, as everyone is always working, and playing chamber music for fun doesn't exactly pay.) And then, at the end of the fifth movement of Lalo Symphonie Espagnole, it happened. I made a mistake, or thought I did. We tried the final cadences again. And it happened again. I was really confused - I thought I was counting correctly, and wasn't sure why we weren't ending at the same time. 

"It's okay," Wade said. "It's like the end of Return of the King. It ends a ton of times before it actually ends."

And that was it. The end of the concerto came together, we rehearsed the rest of the program, and then we talked about music, life, and Lord of the Rings for two more hours. Six months later, we decided to form an official duo and the Argonath Duo was born. It's been the most musical fun I've had in  years, and getting to know someone as a person as you're learning music with them is an incredible experience.

Lillian, Erynn, and Wade are just a few examples of the incredible people that I'm fortunate enough to both be friends with and work with. Musicians are really great people, and after many long years of drama, doubt, and angst, I'm convinced that the career path I've chosen is absolutely worth all the pain. 

So thank you to all of my friends, musicians and non-musicians, mentioned in this post and not, who have supported me, laughed with me, cried with me, listened to me when I stress, and played music with me over the years. I wouldn't be the person or musician I am without you, and I am profoundly grateful.