I’m at a social gathering. I’m speaking to someone who discovers my work involves music. The person in question has no ‘official’ background in music (i.e. never took lessons) but expresses huge interest in it. No matter how many times I have found myself in this situation, it’s always the same: ‘I wish I had learned an instrument growing up’. And in return, I ask, ‘so, what’s stopping you now?’
In a recent blog post I referred to my taking up the cello four years ago. I took it up because I wanted to and I take exams because I want to. When I tell people about my playing the cello though, I am always amazed at their reaction: inspirational, fascinating, infectious, admirable, motivational, etc. It’s such a pleasant response but it always surprises me because from my perspective I’m just learning an instrument that I want to be able to play and about which I am curious.
Of course, the subtext to all of this is that I am an adult learning the cello; learning an instrument is not particularly unusual, but an adult learning one seems to be noteworthy. Fortunately, my age to date (I’m 35) has never deterred me from doing anything, even outside of music (I took up the Russian language as an adult too), but people’s responses to my learning an instrument as an adult (and even Russian, and let me be clear, I’m far from a gifted linguist, I’m just interested in languages) has made it evident to me that age is a deterrent to others. Let’s change this perception.
You must be joking, at my age?
Recently, at a friend’s party, I was talking to a most fascinating person who may have been over 50. His knowledge about and interest in music (and most topics actually) were impressive. And so, I asked him did he play an instrument: ‘no, but I think if I were to play one it would be the clarinet’. We then talked a little about the clarinet. Wow! Not only does he listen to so much music, is clearly moved by music, loves learning and thinking about the context of music, he also knows exactly what instrument he would play and why he likes it. And enter Majella: ‘so, what’s stopping you?’
I think he is taken aback but he quickly finds his feet: ‘well, at my age…’ the sentence petering off, the implication being that his age as a reason was self-explanatory. Nope, I’m not letting this go. We talk some more and he seems to be relieved, or might it be too strong to say that it feels as though he has been given permission to entertain the idea? (he’s a friend of a friend and he mentioned that he had had similar conversations with her; now that I was saying the same thing, maybe it wasn’t out of the question). When I was leaving the party, I said: ‘please learn the clarinet, you’ll get so much enjoyment from it’. I really believe he will.
His reaction was not new to me and it was hardly surprising: reference to age when learning an instrument seems to be everywhere, with the general consensus being that you need to learn it when you are young. While I understand how this perception may have emerged (you’re less malleable after a certain age say) its pervasiveness has escalated to the point that it appears to be assumed that unless you learn to play an instrument while you are a child, teenager at most, then forget about it. Okay, you may not become professional or win professional competitions (this is where taking it up when you’re younger comes in, and then again you never know), but people take up running at 40, and don’t seem to be concerned about their age or looking to run in the Olympics. So why not take up an instrument (or a language for that matter) when you’re 40+ too?
Yet, there are adults who do learn instruments. What about them? Well, from my experience many seem to be fighting an internal battle. I want to share my experience as an onlooker of such battles to show how common they are, how unnecessary they are, and how you’re not the only one. I want to tease out perceptions about both music and taking up an instrument as an adult, or even just learning as an adult in general. In doing so, it is my hope that as an adult learner, you will be easier on yourself and cherish the journey, or if you have always wanted to learn an instrument, you’ll feel empowered to do so.
The apology
Most of the adult learners I have met have been in an exam room. Overall, it’s a mixed category: there are adults who have taken up an instrument in their retirement; adults who have an extremely stressful job with a lot of responsibility where learning an instrument is their distraction; adults who never got around to it when they were younger and don’t want any regrets; and adults who take lessons alongside their children as an opportunity to play and to share the learning experience, as well as to motivate each other.
Seeing an adult walk into my exam room warms my heart so much for two reasons: first, I am learning as an adult too and take exams; second, I have encountered so many adults who wish they had learned an instrument (like the guy at the party) but feel it is too late. As an examiner, what I’m thinking is, ‘yes! someone learning an instrument because they want to and nothing is going to get in their way’, but unfortunately, my enthusiasm is frequently shrouded by a sense of uncertainty and anxiety from the adult candidate; they have already set the exam up to be a harrowing experience.
It is not unusual for the candidate’s first words to be words of apology and to some extent, it would seem, embarrassment: ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m doing this’, ‘I’m the only adult in the waiting room, I feel so silly’; ‘I’m really nervous, I’m sorry for what you are going to have to listen to’, ‘I decided to take up an instrument and I’m not sure what possessed me’, ‘I used to play when I was younger, I just wanted to go back to it’, ‘I can’t wait until the exam is over’. In some ways, it has an air of confession about it: ‘dear examiner, it’s been twenty years since my last exam’, ‘dear examiner, I feel like an impostor’. From my perspective however, there is no difference between a child, teenager, or adult in my exam room: age is irrelevant to my assessment.
This is not a story about exams; it is a story about how people perceive themselves as adults learning an instrument, the exam itself possibly acting as a stimulus to their insecurities. Interestingly, I have observed that adults who take exams with their children seem to be less conscious. Is this because they have a ‘legitimate’ reason for being in the exam room? Or is it that their ‘apology’ is presented in a different guise, wrapped up in ‘I’m taking lessons to motivate my child’. Either way, where do all these insecurities when learning an instrument as an adult come from?