Why I Teach Music First, Not Exam First

One of the strongest beliefs behind my teaching is simple: music should feel like music from the beginning.

That sounds obvious, but in practice many students first meet music through pressure. They meet it through marks, deadlines, checklists, and the fear of getting things wrong. Before they have really learned how to listen, shape a phrase, or enjoy a sound, they are already worrying about whether they are “good” at it. When that happens, something important is lost very early.

Technique matters. Reading matters. Structure matters. Exams can also be useful in the right context. But none of these things should replace the musical life of the lesson. They should support it.

This article sits at the centre of several related reflections: what ABRSM exams can and cannot teach, practising slowly without losing the musical line, and what I listen for in a great recording.

For the longer view of why this matters, see what makes a musical life sustainable.

Music is bigger than what can be measured quickly

An exam-first approach often narrows the student’s attention too soon. It can teach them to ask, “Is this correct?” before they learn to ask, “What is this phrase saying?” or “What kind of sound do I want here?”

Accuracy is important, of course. A secure rhythm, reliable intonation, careful bowing or fingering, and clear reading habits all matter. But music is not built out of correctness alone. It is built out of timing, character, weight, direction, energy, and the ability to hear relationships between notes rather than treating every note as an isolated task.

If students are taught from the beginning that music is mainly about avoiding mistakes, they often become cautious listeners and anxious performers. They may learn how to pass something, but not how to inhabit it. They can end up playing with tension even when the notes are right.

That is why I want the lesson to begin somewhere deeper than performance pressure. I want it to begin with attention.

Even beginners can think musically

One of the most unhelpful assumptions in music education is that musical thinking comes later, after enough technical groundwork has been completed. I do not think that is true.

A beginner may not yet have much control, but a beginner can still hear contrast. A beginner can notice whether a rhythm feels steady, whether a line rises or settles, whether a note should speak gently or clearly, whether a melody sounds like a question or an answer. These are not advanced concerns. They are part of what makes music meaningful in the first place.

In lessons, that means I want students to listen for shape, pulse, colour, and gesture as early as possible. We might talk about where a phrase is going, where the harmony feels at rest, or how a repeated pattern changes character the second time. We might sing before playing, clap a rhythm before reading it, or describe a sound in words before trying to produce it on the instrument.

None of this takes students away from good technical work. It gives the technical work a purpose.

What music-first teaching looks like in practice

Teaching music first does not mean teaching vaguely. It does not mean ignoring discipline, standards, or detail. In fact, it often asks for more careful attention from both teacher and student.

A music-first lesson might include:

• listening for the shape of a phrase before correcting individual notes
• identifying the pulse and subdivision before discussing speed
• connecting articulation to character rather than treating it as a purely mechanical instruction
• asking what the student hears in their own sound, not only what I hear from the outside
• building technique in direct response to musical needs

For example, if a student’s tone is thin, I do not want tone work to feel like an abstract exercise detached from expression. I want the student to hear why the sound needs more depth, what the phrase is asking for, and how the body and instrument can work together to produce that result. If rhythm is unstable, I want them to feel that instability as a disruption of line and momentum, not only as a counted error.

When students start to understand this connection, practice changes. It becomes more than repetition. It becomes a process of noticing, adjusting, and refining what they are actually trying to say.

Exams can help, but they should not define the whole atmosphere

I am not against exams. They can provide structure, short-term focus, and a useful sense of progression. For some students, they create a concrete goal that helps practice become more regular. In the right situation, that can be genuinely helpful.

The problem comes when the exam becomes the whole meaning of the lesson.

When that happens, repertoire can start to feel disposable, as if pieces matter only until the assessment is over. Listening becomes secondary. Imagination narrows. Students begin to associate music mostly with preparation and judgment. Even success can feel strangely empty, because the work has been organized around passing rather than around growing.

I would rather use exams as one tool among others. If an exam helps a student move forward, we can prepare for it seriously. But I do not want the student’s musical identity to shrink around it. The center of the lesson should remain larger than the assessment itself.

Confidence grows better from understanding than from fear

One reason I care about this so much is that students develop confidence differently depending on how they are taught.

Confidence built mainly on pressure is fragile. It may survive as long as things are going well, but it often collapses under difficulty, because the student has learned to equate mistakes with failure. That kind of mindset makes practice heavy and performances tense.

Confidence built on musical understanding is steadier. It grows when students learn how to listen, how to solve problems, how to hear improvement, and how to stay engaged even when something is challenging. They begin to trust that difficulty is part of learning rather than proof that they do not belong in music.

That trust matters. It helps students stay with the work for longer. It helps them develop patience. It also helps them take artistic risks, which is essential if playing is ever going to become expressive rather than merely careful.

Keeping music at the center

For me, teaching music first means keeping the lesson anchored in sound, listening, and meaning. It means treating technique as necessary, but not sufficient. It means helping students become thoughtful musicians, not just efficient exam candidates.

If exam preparation is useful, I will support it. If technical rebuilding is needed, I will take it seriously. But I want all of that work to stay connected to something more alive: hearing carefully, shaping phrases with intention, building confidence steadily, and learning to enjoy the work of making music.

That, to me, is where lasting musical growth begins.