5 Things I Wish I Knew Before Teaching Music

I've been teaching music for over a decade—private lessons in Oakland, group workshops at studios, family mentorship programs, formal programs through platforms like Inspire Music and now Professor of Funk. In that time, I've watched what works and what doesn't. I've watched students thrive and students quit. I've learned hard lessons about structure, expectations, and what beginners actually need to progress. If I could go back to my first year as a teacher and have a conversation with younger Simon, here's what I'd tell him.

1. The First Lesson Sets the Entire Trajectory

I used to think the first lesson was about assessment. Find out what the student can do, test their ear, see if they have any background. Spend forty-five minutes playing scales and doing technical exercises. It felt rigorous.

That was wrong. The first lesson isn't an audition. It's a foundation for everything that comes after it. If you spend the first forty-five minutes on scales and technique drills, you've just told the student that music is work. Hard, boring work. That you care more about their ability to execute than their ability to feel.

Here's what changed: now, the first lesson with any student—beginner to advanced—starts with a song they actually want to play. Not a scale. Not a drill. A real song. Something that made them want to pick up the instrument in the first place. We spend the first fifteen minutes learning the first verse. Not perfectly. Rough, playable, in the pocket. Then we sit back and listen to what they just played. I make a point to highlight what they're doing right. What's clicking. What's already there.

The first lesson teaches students whether music is joyful or obligatory. Everything that follows depends on that answer.

That one shift—starting with a song, not a scale—changed everything. Students came back to second lessons because they'd experienced success on day one. They'd already done something real. And they believed they could do more.

2. Most People's Expectations Are Wrong, and That's Your Job to Fix

A student walks in saying they want to learn guitar. What they mean is: they want to be able to play like their heroes. In their head, that happens in two weeks. They've never played an instrument before, but they watched a YouTube video of Stevie Ray Vaughan and now that's the target.

I spent years failing to correct this. I'd nod along and let them discover reality on their own. Slow learner. By lesson six, the gap between their fantasy and actual progress would hit them like a wall. They'd quit. "Turns out I don't have the talent for this."

The truth: talent is barely relevant. Most of it is time and practice structure. But nobody wants to hear that in a sales pitch. So here's what I do now. In the first lesson, before we even touch the instrument, I set expectations explicitly.

• Learning an instrument takes consistent practice. Twenty minutes a day beats two hours on Sunday.
• Progress is invisible for the first month. You'll feel frustrated. This is normal. This is where most people quit.
• Boring technical work isn't punishment. It's the foundation that makes the fun stuff possible.
• You're not going to play like your hero by the end of the month. But by the end of six months of real practice, you'll be shocked at what you can do.

I tell them this straight. And then I ask: are you still interested? Some people say no. That's actually the win. Better to know now than invest three months and bail when reality doesn't match fantasy.

The people who say yes? They stick around. Because they know what they're signing up for.

3. Technique and Fun Aren't Opposites—You Just Have to Sequence Them Right

This was my biggest teaching mistake early on. I believed that technique was the foundation. Learn your scales, your finger exercises, your fundamentals. Master the boring stuff first. Then, once you're solid technically, you get to play the music you love.

I watched students' eyes glaze over. We'd spend six lessons on scales and theory before touching a real song. And they'd quit. "It's not fun anymore," they'd say. Their parents would ask why their kid who loved music suddenly hated lessons.

The answer is: you killed the joy with your pedagogy. You prioritized completeness over engagement.

Now I do it differently. In lessons, we weave technique and joy together. We learn a song the student loves. That song has technical challenges baked in. We isolate those challenges, work them separately, then integrate them back into the song. The boring part—the technique drill—now has context. It solves a problem the student cares about. That makes the hard work feel purposeful.

Joy is the engine that makes practice possible. Technique is the structure that makes joy sustainable.

Example: a student wants to learn a funk bass line. The line requires working on sixteenth-note timing and mute articulation. So we don't start with a timing exercise. We learn the line, feel how it should groove, and then zoom in on the parts that aren't landing yet. "Let's slow this section down and tighten the mutes." Suddenly, the technical work makes sense. It's not an arbitrary drill. It's the missing piece that turns their attempt into something that actually sounds like the original.

4. Your Roster Grows Through Relationships, Not Marketing

I used to think teaching was like any other service business. Build a website, list your rates, put up an ad on Craigslist, get clients. I'd spend time on pricing strategy and copy. Barely moved the needle.

The breakthrough came from watching where my best students actually came from. Not ads. Not websites. Referrals. A student I'd taught would mention me to a friend. That friend would reach out. I'd teach them. Their sibling would ask. Their coworker would ask. Word of mouth.

Now, ninety-five percent of the students who walk through my door come from a personal recommendation. A past student. A collaborator. Someone at a jam session who knew I taught. I barely maintain a website. I don't run ads.

What I do instead: I teach each student like their only job is to be an ambassador. I make the experience so good, so personal, so aligned with their goals, that they naturally want to tell other people about it. My best marketing is a student who walks away from a lesson and tells their friend, "You have to study with Simon. He's the first teacher who actually made sense of this."

This also means I can afford to turn students away. I keep my roster at eight to ten active students—small enough to give each person real attention, large enough to be sustainable. I'd rather have a year-long waitlist of referrals than a website that attracts random students who aren't committed.

The paradox: by not optimizing for growth, growth happens. By focusing on relationship quality over numbers, the numbers take care of themselves.

5. Beginners Don't Need Expensive Gear—They Need an Instrument That Doesn't Actively Sabotage Them

Every new guitar or bass student gets the same question from parents: "How much should we spend?" And every music store will tell them: get the best instrument you can afford. Invest in quality. You get what you pay for.

That's partially true and mostly misleading. A student doesn't need a $3,000 bass to learn bass. They need an instrument that's set up properly. Intonation is in the ballpark. The action isn't so high that their fingers hurt after five minutes. The strings aren't so dull that the instrument sounds dead no matter what they do.

A $300 bass that's set up well will teach a beginner more than a $3,000 bass that's set up badly. They feel the difference immediately. The expensive bass becomes discouraging—"Why does this beautiful instrument sound so dead?" The cheap bass, set up right, feels playable. Responsive. Encouraging.

• Don't buy the cheapest thing on the rack. $150 instruments are often junk. Go to $250–$400 range.
• Spend $50–$100 on setup (truss rod adjustment, bridge work, fresh strings). This matters more than the brand.
• Let your teacher handle the gear advice. They'll steer you to something that actually teaches well.
• Upgrade when the student has been playing consistently for six months and knows what they want. Not before.

I watch parents buy expensive instruments thinking it'll motivate their kid. Usually it has the opposite effect. The kid feels pressure. Feels like they'd better be good because look how much this cost. The instrument becomes a weight, not a joy.

The right gear is functional gear. Gear that works. Gear that responds when the student gets better. You don't need more than that to start. Everything else is future problem-solving.

What This Means for Your Teaching Practice

If you're teaching music—formally or informally, full-time or as a side practice—these five lessons will save you years of frustration. Build your first lesson around a song, not scales. Set realistic expectations upfront. Weave technique and joy together. Prioritize relationships over marketing. And keep gear simple until the student actually needs an upgrade.

Teaching isn't just about transferring technique. It's about building students who fall in love with music so completely that they can't imagine not playing. Everything else follows from that.