As I sit here making a simple box of mac and cheese, I find myself reflecting on my desire to be a great cook. I’m fascinated by the idea of creating delicious meals that bring people together. The truth is, I’m not a great cook—but I am a dedicated learner. I took an academic approach, diving into resources and practicing skills I thought would make me a better cook. I learned knife techniques, how to sauté, and how to prepare and season meat. But to my disappointment, these skills alone didn’t make me a better cook.
In contrast, my wife is an excellent cook. She hasn’t had any formal training; she’s simply cooked a lot. Watching her taught me something valuable about skill development, a lesson that also applies in the classroom. In music education, we teach students hand signs, syllables, and counting. But this week, I’ve realized these methods should be tools that serve music, not ends in themselves.
A friend reminded me recently that choirs grow by singing, making mistakes, and getting quality feedback to refine their sound. I’ve spent too much time perfecting solfège; now, almost a week from our concert, my students haven’t sung the whole piece through. I’m starting to see that the real value of method lies in the time we gain with the music—time to focus on tone, blend, balance, and the myriad qualities that make a choir sound its best.