After a long journey a young man arrived deep in a forest where the teacher of his choice was living in a small house he had built himself. When the student arrived, the teacher was sweeping up autumn’s falling leaves. Greeting his new master, the young man received no greeting in return. And to all his questions, there were no replies. Realizing there was nothing he could do to get the teacher’s attention, the student went to another part of the same forest and built himself a house. Years later, when he was sweeping up autumn’s fallen leaves, he became enlightened. He thought to drop everything, run through the forest, and say “Thank you!” to the teacher. Instead he stayed sweeping, calm & smiling. –John Cage from “Silence”
There are so many aspects of János Starker’s teaching philosophy that I am only now beginning to grasp. For example, he had the brilliant talent to be able to size people up. And by measuring your strengths and your weaknesses he was able to understand what each cellist needed. I call them tests and each test was completely different and form fit for the individual.
He gave me my first test upon our first meeting.
When I initially arrived in Bloomington, I hadn’t yet received my teacher assignment. But I knew that I wanted to study with Mr. Starker. So about a week before classes began, I walked over to his studio and knocked on his door to see if he had any space in his class.
There was no answer. I continued to do this every day for several days.
Finally, on Friday to my surprise a voice from inside called out “Yes. Come in”. I was petrified. Even though I had made many attempts, I never actually believed that my plan would work!
Shyly, I opened up the door and introduced myself. I then asked him if there was any room in his studio. His response was, “Monday 12:30. You will come and play something for me.”
I practically ran out the door and made a beeline to the nearest practice room. I was going to give this my best shot.
When Monday rolled around I showed up at Room 155 at 12:30 sharp. To my surprise, there were about a dozen people gathered around his room. A few people asked me, “Are you a new Starker student?” I immediately realized what was going on: this was a studio meeting.
Starker opened up his door and let us all in. Not feeling at all like I belonged, I made my way to the corner and sat down. He welcomed everyone and began to talk about the school year and how the lesson schedule would work, etc. It was all well and good, but at this point the jury was still out as to whether or not this would affect me or not.
About an hour passed and I began to zone out.
Then suddenly Mr. Starker looked up at me and said, “Now you will play something.” The voice inside my head responded, “Right now? In front of everyone? But I’m no longer warmed up!”
I leaped up and took out my cello. Anyone who has been in Mr. Starker’s studio knows that it was a small room with chairs lined up on each side. By the door was his desk and the piano was on the opposite end. Directly in front of the piano (and pretty much in the middle of the room) was a platform. I took my seat.
As I looked around the room I realized that the other students were just as shocked as I was! It was actually pretty comforting to know that they too were hoping that I didn’t totally embarrass myself.
Mr. Starker said, “Play a concerto. Whichever one you like.” So I launched into the last movement of the Elgar.
Next he said, “Now play Bach. Whatever comes to mind.” My answer was the Prelude to the Third Suite.
Finally he said, “Unless there are any objections, you may enter my class.” A sigh of relief swept across the room.
Of course, now I realize what Mr. Starker was trying to do. Essentially, he wanted to see how I would handle pressure. He wanted to see how my playing would hold up in less than ideal circumstances.
During the two years that I studied with Starker, I saw a number students come and go. Not one of us was given the same test. It was this ability to treat each of us as individuals with very specific needs that made him such a brilliant teacher.
