Tiffany Gee Lewis: The case against talent

After a recent violin recital, my husband approached my son’s teacher.

“These are such talented kids,” he said.

The teacher looked at him and frowned.

“Talent has nothing to do with it,” she said. “It’s about hard work and good technique.”

A mentee of the famed Shinichi Suzuki, my son’s teacher has adopted the core of Suzuki’s philosophy — that every child is capable of becoming an excellent musician.

Suzuki is famous for launching thousands of pint-sized kids into the throes of music performance. But for him, it wasn’t about the violin. He believed that anyone, through repetition, correct technique and continual listening, could become a proficient musician.

“Talent is no accident of birth," Suzuki once said. "In today’s society a good many people seem to have the idea that if one is born without talent, there is nothing he can do about it; they simply resign themselves to what they consider to be their fate.”

Like Suzuki, I dislike the word “talent.” By definition, talent means “a special natural aptitude or skill.” It implies that people spring from the ground knowing how to draw, sing, create computer code, repair an engine or kick a soccer ball.

Carol Dweck, a psychologist at Stanford, is famous for coining what she calls the “growth mindset.” Those with a growth mindset are willing to learn, make mistakes and stretch themselves over and over again.

On the opposite end are those with a “fixed mindset.” These are the ones who say, “I’m not good at math.” They pigeon-hole themselves into a series of cans and cannots. By so doing, they limit, or “fix” their own capabilities.

When my oldest son was about 3 years old, I called my mom on the phone, completely discouraged.

“He doesn’t have it,” I said in despair. “He’s completely tone-deaf.”

“It” was the strong musical thread that runs through our family. We all sing and play instruments. Before having children, I envisioned myself as something of a Maria Von Trapp, with my little entourage of musicians. Given my love of music, I felt sure my own kids would emerge from the womb singing three-part harmony.

Instead, I found that my son was unable to carry a tune, or match me note-for-note.

“Just wait,” my wise mother said. “Your brothers weren’t great singers when they were little.”

I took my mom’s advice. I waited.

And we waded, through seven years of piano lessons. And we sang in church. And every time my kids fought in the car (which is all the time) we made them sing Primary songs. And lo and behold, not only is my son not tone-deaf, he has a decent musical ear. He can hammer out “The Entertainer” on the piano and harmonize in a choir. And he loves, loves music.

I can say for a fact that this particular son wasn’t born with innate talent. He is no piano virtuoso. (Just ask his long-suffering piano teacher.) But he is a capable musician simply through repetition and exposure.

When a kid begins Suzuki violin, he starts by learning how to stand with his feet apart, hold a bow and rest a violin on his shoulder. He does this for months before he ever plays a single note.

When he does play that first quivering melody, it is “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” over and over, in several different rhythms. In the meantime, he listens to the music over and over again. When he progresses to other songs, he starts each one by learning special “spots,” which are really just progression techniques.