Inside the Bookstore:
Deadwood Students
OME YEARS AGO, Wednesday mornings would reduce me to lying in bed, pillow pulled tight over my head—all because of a lesson that wasn't actually scheduled until Wednesday afternoon.
Now you need to understand that I'm normally fairly upbeat when I teach, But once this particular student turned up, each of the thirty minutes would drag like an arthritic wombat towing a sack of rocks. No amount of coffee could restore my energy levels afterwards. The only saving grace was the fact that at least it was a whole week until we would meet again...
We've all had students like this. But what's notable is not that such students exist.
It's that we so often keep teaching them anyway.
This article is about giving yourself permission not to, and being able to identify these students for what they are. Because income loss or not, life is too short to share any of your half hours each week with a student you dread.
Knowing when you've got a Deadwood Student...and just as the word eludes you, it seems unreasonable to dismiss them from your studio for a crime you can't even name.
So how can you tell if you have a student you're better off without, or if you're the one who's being pathetic? Should our role as teachers also be that of redeemers? Is there an extent to which we should learn to tolerate the intolerable?
What follows is a quiz to help you sort through the muddle...
...and maybe it will provide the nudge you need to start planning an "I think it's time for a break" speech...
These students leave you with the uncanny feeling that this week's lesson was exactly the same as last week's lesson...mostly because it was exactly the same. There's no forward progress. The things that were bad last week are still bad. The things that were good are still good, but they're not better.
All of which means that the F# that you've circled three times already gets yet another loop around it, until you can eventually use all these concentric ellipsis to date the commencement of the piece, like age rings on a tree.
Sometimes it's because they don't practice. Other times it's because they simply don't take in your feedback at each lesson. Most often it's a combination of both—but whatever the cause, the end result is soul destroying. By all means, be creative and enthusiastic and try to end the Cycle of Tedium, but in the words of W.C. Fields "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again...but then for heaven's sake quit. There's no use in being a fool about it."
DEADWOOD RATING: To what extent is your student a "Groundhog Day" student?
A) That's exactly what this student is - all the time (10 points)
B) There are a few lessons where we make progress, but... (6 points)
C) It's an occasional issue (2 points)
D) This never happens (0 points)
The attitude has existed among some students long before the word became a teen rallying cry that sums up the sentiment. 
"Whatever" students are those who are too cynical, too streetwise—and often simply too dull—to allow themselves to become enthusiastic about anything. Lessons become an exercise where the best you can hope for is compliance, and where the energy levels required for any forward movement will age you faster than a month spent sunbaking on Mercury.
As teachers we have to be able to fire students up—about new repertoire, about performance opportunities, about a new practice game to try, about a new technique that had hitherto been out of reach. But when all attempts at motivation are greeted with variations on "Whatever...", what's left is impossibly hollow to do any useful work with.
DEADWOOD RATING: To what extent is your student a "Whatever" student?
A) All the time! (10 points)
B) Most of the time (6 points)
C) It's an occasional issue (2 points)
D) This never happens (0 points)
These are students who more often than not simply fail to show up. Sometimes there's a phone call first (take your pick from "I'm sick/I had too much homework this week/dad can't drive me today/my 
shoelaces have a tough double knot that I can't undo"), but often there's no notice at all.
To make things worse, because you can't be 100% sure that they're not coming, it's difficult to use the time productively. You can't start things that require no interruption, and there's no way you're going to be able to schedule another student to fill the suddenly vacated slot.
And then—the Phantoms I love to hate the most—their parents will expect a makeup lesson. "But we PAID for 10 lessons" they'll protest "and little Caspar here only had 7..." Little Caspar can find another teacher, I'm not interested.
DEADWOOD RATING: How often is the student a "Phantom"?
A) Constantly. They rarely show up two lessons in a row.(10 points)
B) Every semester I can expect some unscheduled no-shows (6 points)
C) It's an occasional issue (2 points)
D) Their attendance is fine (0 points)
It's really not all that hard, we tell our students. When you have a music lesson, you'll need your books. No, not last year's books. Or your sister's books. Your books, the right books, the ones you practice 
with, the ones we use every lesson...or at least we would if you'd bring them once in a while...
I'm actually a little more forgiving with students who are genuinely scatterheaded and forget other things in their lives too. But what's so irritating about students who constantly get this wrong is that most of them wouldn't dream of turning up to cricket practice without their bat. Or a rock concert without their tickets. So they can get things right if they think it's important enough...the sinking feeling I get lies partly with missing resources that I need, but mostly with having been presented with tangible evidence of the esteem in which they hold music lessons.
Is the lesson possible when they don't bring what's needed? Absolutely. It's just that I'm going to have to work three times as hard as I might have otherwise. Don't expect me to be excited about the possibility of more of the same next lesson.
DEADWOOD RATING: Could your student be described as a Bookless Wonder?
A) Constantly. I'm wondering if they even know where their books are (10 points)
B) Every semester I can expect this a few times (6 points)
C) It's an occasional issue (2 points)
D) They almost never get this wrong (0 points)
Don't confuse this with students who are just naturally talkative—some of my favorite students have been those who like to start each lesson with a soliloquy, and continue the chat if given the opportunity. 
But "opportunity" is the key difference: these students also know when it's important to turn off the word torrent, and just listen.
Bulldozer chatterboxes have no such filter. They'll be interrupting you two sentences into every explanation, and without so much as a bare acknowledgement of what you had just said, will change the subject completely. Lessons become all about trying to segue back from wherever-the-heck-they-just-were to what-we-should-be-focusing-on.
In short, bulldozer chatterboxes take away two of our most powerful weapons—communication, and the ability to set the agenda. For the half hour, your studio is a House of Monologues, and if it gets bad enough, it can feel as though you almost don't need to be present. Offer to get them a mirror so they can maintain the discussion, go get a coffee...and advertise their space for another student.
DEADWOOD RATING: To what extent is your student a Bulldozer Chatterbox?
A) By ears bleed every time I teach this student. (10 points)
B) It's not constant, but they definitely tend this way (6 points)
C) It's an occasional problem (2 points)
D) Not at all. They know when to listen. (0 points)
Don't stop there! Show me the rest of the quiz...