Imagine yourself at 35

When I was in my early 20s, I had a mentor who, whenever I would go through my litany of worries, would respond, "How are you going to feel about those problems when you're 35?" At the time, being 35 years old seemed like forever away, so it was a little difficult for me to imagine. I don't think I even knew anyone at that time who was 35, so I didn't have a good means of comparison. 

Essentially, this mentor was asking me to look beyond the immediacy of the moment. By viewing life through a wider lens, he wanted me to consider whether my concerns were of the "temporary" or "life-altering" variety. If they were temporary, then my 35-year-old self may not even remember what those worries were. And if my concerns were more serious, even at the life-altering level, he wanted me to think about how my 35-year-old self would feel about how my 20-something self handled the situation. 

Of course, the exercise wasn't intended to diminish how real my problems were at the time. Challenges and difficulties arise in every stage of life. What I was dealing with then wasn't any less serious just because I happened to be younger than I am now. But considering my problems with the wisdom of distance (even imagined distance) did provide some perspective that often helped guide my way forward.

2020 has presented challenges that none of us has ever experienced, and there is no telling what the coming weeks and months will bring. Related to our work together, this semester of mostly online instruction has been, in some ways, better than expected and, in other ways, more difficult than I had anticipated. 

Remembering my mentor's words, it does help me to remember that, eventually, we will all look back at this time (even though I passed 35 a decade ago). Ten, fifteen, or even twenty years down the road, how do you think you will feel about the way you responded to the challenges of 2020? Will you regret missed opportunities? Will you be proud of how you faced adversity? Or will you just be glad to have survived? 

This is a tough year. But imagine yourself at 35. How will you hope 2020 will have impacted you? How are you staying motivated to continue progressing and working toward a better future? 

Now go practice. 

Drivers Ed, Part Two ("Motor" Learning)

In the last blog, I compared the processes of learning to sing and learning to drive. At the risk of extending a metaphor too far, there is another relatable takeaway from this analogy. Although I didn't realize it at the time I was in driver's ed, I appreciate now how skillfully my instructor guided me through the stages of motor learning. [Note: "Motor" learning in this case refers to the movement of muscles during skill acquisition. It has nothing to do with the engine of a vehicle...or does it?]

I have written about the stages of motor learning quite a bit in previous blogs (here, here, here, and also here), as they are outlined in The Vocal Athlete by Wendy D. Leborgne and Marci Rosenberg and Vocology by Ingo Titze and Kittie Verdolini Abbott. As a reminder, the first stage of motor learning (the verbal/cognitive stage) is where you're just starting to explore a new skill and getting a feel for what you're doing. This stage requires a lot of repetition, a lot of failed attempts, and a lot of directions from a teacher (augmented feedback). 

When I was in the verbal/cognitive stage as a driver, my teacher was giving me nearly constant directions. He would tell me when to let up on the gas pedal and when to begin applying the brake for upcoming stop signs. He would tell me how far before an intersection I should activate my turn signal and would remind me often to check the mirrors to see what was behind me. It seems ridiculous now to think that anyone ever had to tell me something like, "Put the car into park before you open the door to leave the vehicle." But, at that early stage in the process, I needed specific directions and frequent reminders. 

Given the potential seriousness of "failed attempts" when operating a motor vehicle, my instructor chose the relatively safe environs of an empty parking lot and the sparsely-populated streets of my hometown for my first driving experiences. Only when my skills progressed in those situations was I given the additional challenges and higher speeds of highway driving.

Eventually my skills reached the second stage (the motor learning stage) and I started to get the hang of what I was doing. I was beginning to refine the basic skills of driving and I could perform most tasks without such explicit instructions from my teacher. Instead, his augmented feedback shifted from directions to questions. As I was driving, he would ask me, "How fast are you going right now?" "Is there anyone behind you?" "Is anyone in your blind spot?" "How many miles is it until the next town?" "What's the reading on your temperature gauge?" This allowed me to assess what I was doing, evaluate whether an action was needed, and choose how to respond. In short, his questions were designed to help me develop my self-diagnosis skills. 

Sometimes he would articulate observations that would speculate about the future. I remember once he said, "I see that the car in front of us has an out-of-state license plate. I wonder if that driver has been on this road before. He may not know that the speed limit is about to lower because of the sharp turn ahead." In this way, he was teaching me to anticipate potential problems or hazards before they even came up. 

Similarly, my teacher would sometimes simply call my attention to different options. He would say, "You're going to need to turn left eventually so you can probably start looking for a safe opportunity to change lanes." He no longer had to tell me how to change lanes or exactly when to do it. But he continued to help me consider challenges that were farther "down the road." 

One of the characteristics of the third stage of motor learning (the automatic stage) is that you can execute the skills in different settings, different situations, and among distractions. Sometimes simply a change of setting was enough to provide unique distractions. City driving, for instance, usually meant trying to maintain focus among blinking advertisement signs, streets lined with stores and restaurants, and an increase in traffic. Sometimes, on the relatively distraction-free open highway, my instructor would create distracting tasks for me, like turning on the radio and tuning to a particular station while driving. Then he would ask me to change to a different station or to adjust the volume. Trying to do too many things while driving (like texting) is known to be dangerous, but a certain degree of multi-tasking is inevitable and has to be practiced. 

Once again, we can see how these stages of motor learning relate to singing and how the role of the teacher shifts from providing answers and direction to asking questions that allow students' self-diagnosis skills to develop. 

As singers approach the automatic stage, the ultimate distraction is singing in front of an audience. Singers can ask themselves: Are my skills automatic enough that my singing is more or less the same when I am in front of an audience as when I am alone in a practice room? Even if I may feel nervous when performing, is my singing relatively consistent regardless of whether I am in an audition, in front of my peers, or in front of an audience of strangers? 

Take note of where you are in your progression through the stages of learning this week. Notice which skills you are able to self-correct and which require more outside help. Consider how automatic you may be in certain skills, as well. Then give your singing the green light. 

Now go practice. 

Oh, the places you'll go...