Artistic pedagogy as an ethical space: why abuse is not rigor
In recent weeks, various conversations have led me to reflect and to draw comparisons with the old pedagogical school in which I was trained as a pianist — a system toward which I feel no affection or attachment. These reflections have brought me back to the tools and approaches I consciously developed as a rejection of those abusive pedagogies —as a response to that old pianistic pedagogical school that confused abuse with rigor— which, unfortunately, still persist today in the practice of many pianists. One of the things I value most in my work is the ability to accompany processes properly, whether in pedagogical contexts or in professional environments beyond the classroom.
Throughout my career, both as a performer and in my work supporting cultural professionals strategically, I have observed a constant that is rarely questioned with the depth it deserves: the normalization of pedagogical methods based on humiliation, ridicule, or emotional abuse, particularly in instrumental training.
For decades, the idea has been upheld that rigor in the arts —and especially in piano training— requires extreme harshness. That discipline is built through pressure, fear, or constant invalidation. That character is formed through tension.
However, direct experience in the classroom proves exactly the opposite.
Learning does not begin at the instrument
One of the first things traditional models overlook is that learning does not begin when the student plays, but when the student is ready to learn.
A child who arrives rushed, tired, or emotionally dysregulated does not need immediate technical correction, but space to settle.
Giving that space is not wasting time. It is creating the necessary conditions for any meaningful learning to take place.
Correction is not attack
There is a fundamental difference between pointing out a mistake and attacking the person who makes it.
When error becomes judgment (“you are not good enough”, “you lack talent”), the student stops listening. They enter a state of defense, blockage, or fear. Learning stops.
However, when correction is precise, objective, and free from emotional charge, something different happens: the student understands, adjusts, and improves.
Pedagogical precision does not require violence.
Teaching is about offering tools, not demanding results
One of the most damaging beliefs in artistic education is assuming that the problem lies in the student’s lack of effort, when in reality it is often a lack of method.
A clear example is musical memorization. Repeating a piece over and over again is not memorizing. In fact, it is one of the least effective ways to do so.
When students understand that memory operates through different systems —analytical, muscular, auditory, etc— and learn how to use them, progress becomes immediate and sustainable.
It is not about demanding more, but about teaching better.
Silence also teaches
In traditional models, the teacher constantly occupies the space: correcting, interrupting, directing.
However, there are moments when the most effective intervention is not to intervene.
Pedagogical silence allows the student to listen to themselves, become aware of their own processes, and develop autonomy. Not all learning requires immediate correction. Some require time.
Body, voice, and thought: an integral pedagogy
Reducing musical learning to instrumental mechanics impoverishes it.
Singing a piece, understanding its cultural context, integrating the body into the process… all of this is part of a deep understanding of music.
When learning is integral, it is not only remembered better: it is understood.
Normalizing difficulty
Learning music is complex. It requires coordination, divided attention, memory, listening, and physical control simultaneously.
When this complexity is not explained, the student interprets difficulty as a personal failure.
Normalizing difficulty —explaining that it is a natural part of the process— completely transforms the relationship with learning. Error ceases to be a threat and becomes a tool.
Emotion is not an obstacle, it is part of the process
Frustration appears. Always.
The question is not how to eliminate it, but how to manage it. To allow it to exist without letting it become a blockage.
A student who can experience frustration without fear is a student who can move forward.
Beyond the piano: educating human beings
Artistic education cannot be limited to producing technically competent performers. It must form individuals with judgment, autonomy, and the capacity to think.
This includes working on:
the relationship with error
emotional regulation
identity formation
decision-making capacity
Art is not only execution. It is positioning in the world.
The problem is not the student. It is the model
When a pedagogical system relies on fear or humiliation to function, we are not facing a demanding system, but a deficient one.
Abuse is not rigor.
It is a lack of pedagogical tools.
There are other ways
Through daily pedagogical work, something becomes very clear:
students progress, memorize, develop technique, musical understanding, and autonomy without the need for violence.
And not only that: they do so while maintaining a healthy relationship with the instrument, with learning, and with themselves.
This is not a matter of sensitivity or personal style.
It is a matter of effectiveness.
Because teaching well is not about imposing.
It is about knowing how to guide.
