Musings on the Nature of Instruments
Or What a French Harpsichord Taught Me About Education
During the time that I was studying for my bachelor's degree I took a few harpsichord lessons. I was enchanted with the instrument; the variations in sound and the sensitivity to touch, along with the ornate and delicate frame had me captivated. I used to love to practice at night, when the music building was quiet and still. I would play Bach's Prelude in C (WTC I) again and again on the gorgeous French harpsichord and just listen to the way the overtones filled the air and rang out through the recital hall in which the harpsichord was kept. The experience on such a magnificent instrument was transcendent.
Years later I read The Living Page by Laurie Bestvater. My copy is now full of underlining and notes in the margins and has given me much food for thought as I continue to learn how to educate my children. One thing in particular that has stayed with me even after the book was put back on the shelf is this:
Charlotte Mason's various paper activities are essentially instruments as opposed to artifacts; for process more than product. Â
Take a minute to think about the nature of an instrument: the way the quality of the materials and the craftsmanship are so important and have such an effect on its ability to produce beautiful music. How the technique and instruction and time spent practicing matter so much for the performer who is trying to play the music. All these things come together and impact one another: the performer and the instrument are dependent on one another in fulfilling their purpose.
But the preparation of the performer and the careful selection of a well-crafted instrument are both only a means to an end. The purpose of all these things coming together is to produce music: a thing which can only be experienced in time, and yet which has effects that echo beyond time.
Playing on that French harpsichord all those years ago did something to my soul. I was changed by that experience, an experience which is over and cannot be recaptured, but whose effects can still be felt.
The tools which we use to teach and the methods we use to wield those tools are important. So very important, and yet, not the end.
I was a mediocre keyboardist playing on a superb instrument. The conditions were not ideal, but there was still a lasting transformative effect.
I sometimes become overwhelmed and discouraged with the enormity of the task in front of me — the weight of the responsibility of raising and educating my children. But these musings leave me inspired and encouraged: inspired because of the wealth and quality of the tools I've been given, and encouraged by knowing that even if I am unable to use the tools or execute the method perfectly the results can still be amazing. I have been given a task and I have been given excellent tools with which to accomplish that task. It is up to me to use those tools to the best of my ability, but after I have done my part I am called to leave results to God, who gives the increase.