Do you ever notice that when you are busy you somehow accomplish a wild number of things in one day, yet when you have all the time in the world it can be hard to get any one project done?

With deadlines looming or people counting on us, it becomes quite clear how we need to use our free time. 

I always thought that I was someone who thrived under a little pressure. As a student I would procrastinate just enough on papers and studying so that I would feel the pressure of my deadlines, and then I would sit down and crank out the work that needed done. 

In hindsight, what I was creating for myself were constructive time constraints. Knowing I only had two weeks until the exit exams for my Master’s degree meant that instead of sitting and chatting with friends over coffee I needed to study over my many daily caffeinated beverages. 

As a freelancer, this means that when I have a half hour break from teaching and there is a gig coming up I practice instead of faffing on the internet.

It turns out that  I don't have remarkable self control, I just have constraints. 

With summer just starting here and school finally ending for almost all of my students, I see them relax at the evaporation of the rigid constraints of school. They have space to sleep in, see their friends, go swimming, and get outside - all things that are necessary for kids who have spent so much of the year stressing over grades and standardized tests.

But as necessary as this space to play, daydream, and relax is, the lack of schedule often wrecks some havoc on practicing. 

I’ve made some adjustments over time to how I teach in the summer to help my students keep improving without feeling like I am sucking the spontaneity out of their time off:

We take a break! Each summer begins with a week off from lessons and ends that way, too. If you’ve been a student at any point, you know how special and bittersweet the transition in and out of summer can be. Add in the time I am away for summer festivals and conventions and we average a decent amount of lessons without the requirement to be present each week. 

I encourage creative practicing. During the school year most of my students squeeze their practice in during study halls or at night, but in the summer they can practice at whatever time of day feels right to them. Do they enjoy playing outside? Perfect for the nice weather and neighborhood enjoyment. Do they have a friend from school they could visit and practice with? Who says practice can’t be social sometimes! Do they hate sitting down for a full hour of practice? Divide it in half or thirds!

We have an end goal in mind. Although we are more relaxed in the summer, we’re still focused in lessons on moving forward in our skills. Having a recital at the end of the summer gives my students both an objective and something to look forward to. I make the recital on the same Sunday each year so that families know to plan for it well in advance. 

We play something fun. I have a fairly structured curriculum I like to use in lessons, and although I adapt it to each student, they don’t always get to pick their repertoire. In the summer, I encourage them to find pop music, movie music or write down a song they like by ear that they could play at our recital. Getting to exercise choice after school and standardized testing season can feel like a real treat. 

There are many applications of healthy constraints in our lives (personal boundaries being a great example) and in our practice rooms (using a timer and setting specific objectives for each session) but I was inspired to think a little differently about how constraints can help us by my old house and renovation projects.

​When you live in a historic home built in 1900 or before, there are quirks - odd sized rooms, rules about keeping certain historical features, and old wiring are a few examples. Sometimes it just isn’t possible to change the space the way you might think is ideal, but there is always a creative solution to make the best of the space you have. 

Having an old house is a lot like our playing and musicianship. The old foundation of how we’ve learned is there, but there is always a way to update the space and use our perspective and knowledge to make it better.

Our culture pushes make-your-own schedules, self-employment, and autonomy as the ultimate freedoms, but we’re missing the mark thinking that everything should be unbound. Healthy structures help us achieve our goals and enjoy the time we spend in work and activities. 

Remember that even if you can't change your schedule, you can always exercise control over how you spend your time. Even if it’s just deciding how to divide those thirty minutes of practice.

Tuning is something I address often in my teaching, partially because I feel like it was missing in my early music education. With so many things to address in young players, it’s not surprising that intonation gets left for later. 

As a young player I knew I didn’t really understand tuning. I could tell if something was really wrong, but I never knew if I was sharp or flat and it took me what felt like forever to remember if you push in to be more sharp or flat. (If you’re reading this and you don’t know: to make the instrument higher push in to be short and high like a piccolo; to make the instrument lower pull the headjoint out so the flute is longer and lower.)

What I did know as a young musician was that if I tried something - rolling in, rolling out, pushing the headjoint in or pulling it out, I could figure out the right way to adjust (it becomes pretty clear if you go the wrong way!)

A few of the tools that truly helped me along the way to develop practical skills and understanding of intonation were playing long tones with the tuner, harmonics, and playing duets with others.

My skill in intonation improved steadily but slowly as I went through high school and college. Along the way I learned the difficult lesson that if we play a note out of tune long enough, our ears memorize that incorrect tuning as where the note belongs.

For example, as flutists we often struggle with the intonation of notes that are quite flexible like C# and high G. Not only does that mean we end up memorizing the placement of those notes out of tune, but also that we memorize the distance of intervals involving those notes incorrectly as well. 

As you might guess, one of my major tasks was to correct my ear’s memory. I needed to really understand where each note belonged. 

I knew leaving undergrad that I was still facing much of this task, and during my Master’s degree my teacher Stephanie Jutt helped me tremendously with this by catching the places where I had a wrong relationship memorized, and by reinforcing the usefulness of playing with a drone. 

Using a drone for practice was not new to me, but making a point to do it consistently was. Like most things that are worthwhile, it takes time and patience to start to hear more intricately what is happening with tuning beyond just the large, glaring discrepancies. Although it may seem mundane, one of the greatest benefits of doing scales and chords with a drone is learning to hear and feel the correct relationships between the notes in a scale, a chord, or a specific interval.

When I was in school we used “The Tuning CD” (yes it was an actual CD) which had midi versions of chords that you could play along with. It worked, but if you’re familiar with earlier midi sounds, it wasn’t the most pleasant thing to listen to for a long period of time. 

One of my favorite resources for playing with a drone now in teaching and my own practice is on Spotify (and probably other music services, although I haven't checked): Cello Drones for Tuning and Improvisation.

Playing with the cello sound is not only more pleasant than midi, but I think comparing our tuning to a natural timbre is helpful with providing perspective on how tone color and quality can impact our intonation. 

When we practice with a drone, or any time we practice intonation, the activity we’re taking part is a simple and obvious one: listening. 

What makes this particular type of listening so different from our day to day listening is the depth we are cultivating. When we intently listen with intonation in mind, we are listening for the slightest variance we can detect in that moment. We are actively growing our capacity to hear smaller and smaller details. 

Intonation is all about relationships.

We can’t tell if we’re in tune or not if there is nothing to make a comparison to. When we are playing by ourselves, this means we need those note-to-note relationships to be accurate, and we need to use them as a guide. When we play with others, it means committing to listening without making the assumption that we’re the one who is right and then being willing to adjust as necessary. 

A willingness to listen deeply and adjust are the prerequisites for good intonation. 

Ultimately, this requires us to get outside of ourselves and experience what we’re hearing both intellectually and physically (Most of us have encountered the physical feelings of dissonance - when you can actually feel the vibration of the notes fighting against each other). 

Playing in tune also requires us to let go - to release the previous placement of notes that we committed to if we can learn a new and better way. And, to let go of the need to be right (does it matter if your intonation is right if you sticking to where you put the note makes everyone sound bad?).

Being a musician who plays with good intonation looks a lot like being a human who plays well with others - both require us to learn to trust ourself and our ears fully but not blindly.

Have you ever heard your teachers say their goal is for you to “teach yourself”? 

It’s a common goal in music for teachers to discuss this concept, because at some point every student steps out on their own without a teacher they see each week to keep them on track. Although we can always choose to work with a teacher, no one knows us better than ourself.  We all become independent learners at some point. 

When we’re a student, growing the ability to teach ourself can look like taking our teacher’s advice about practice techniques, time management, listening, etc., and learning how to apply it appropriately in the practice room. During this time in our development, we still get to check in each week to make sure we’ve applied the tools correctly and are moving in the appropriate direction. 

What about after school? We don't all go into teaching, but I've learned a lot about teaching myself from teaching others. I view my students very objectively - my goal is always to really see and hear what they are doing, notice what is holding them back, and find creative solutions that work for them specifically. (i.e. My mean inner critic never comes out when I’m listening to a student the way it does when I’m “teaching” myself.)  

Beyond the reality that we are much meaner to ourselves than we are to others, there’s also the fact that we usually learn to guide ourselves at the same time we lose both our access to private lessons and the structure of music school. When it’s up to us to create our learning structure,  that can prove a large hurdle in itself. 

So when we really get down to practicing and improving on our own, how can we balance (or just plain shush) the inner critic who always has a lot of mean and distracting things to say but not nearly enough productive feedback to give?

I think there’s something missing from the whole process of the way that we are taught to approach teaching ourselves, and how we are taught to manage our fear and self criticism from the beginning.

Trust. 

This is a recent realization for me, brought on by a truly inspirational session of George Mumford’s mindful athlete course. During that particular session, it came up for a few people that they still feel so much doubt or anxiety doing the things they are skilled at. That as we build skill and expertise, we can often feel even more susceptible to outer judgement, and especially to self criticism.

In these scenarios where we know that we are able to do something, but afraid to realize our inner masterpiece (as George calls it), we can feel paralyzed. How do we keep moving toward our goals without getting distracted from right effort by our doubt and self criticism? 

Trust. 

When we’re really being vulnerable and pushing ourselves it can often feel like our faith or trust in ourselves, and what we’re doing, has vanished. We can be distracted by the difficulty and demand of what we are trying to do. What we need is to cultivate trust in ourselves, our performance, our message, and our ability to show up in the way we need to. 

Personally, I can feel overwhelmed by perfectionist thoughts, and this understanding that the mental barrier is arising from vulnerability and trying something challenging makes it easier to address. 

How do we address it exactly, though? How do we cultivate trust?

See the moment in depth:

* Either reflect back on when you challenged yourself and felt vulnerable or try to experience that moment deeply in real time. 
* Were you scared the entire time? As you look deeper, you will realize that there is a lot more nuance to it than that.
* Are you self critical the entire time? Or can you look with more intention to see beyond the self criticism and notice all the ways you know to help yourself practice well and grow your playing.
* As you start to see the truth in depth, see your fear and your inner critic, and also see how they intertwine with the entirety of your experience.

As you start to become aware of the truth - the depth of your experience - you will become more relaxed and observant which allows you to move forward moment by moment, doing what you know to do. You can focus on right effort.

Teaching ourselves is an exercise in mindfulness - how are we speaking to ourselves? What are we paying attention to, and do we need to shift our attention? How are deeply are we experiencing the moment? 

The objective is not to remove our doubt, but to make doubt the tool for learning. Know that doubt shows you where you can grow. 

At some point during the same session of the Mindful Athlete George said, “when you want to learn something, teach it.” 

What better way could there be to grow as a musician than to learn to mindfully teach ourself?

I have been reading, and thinking, a lot about time lately. Then again, doesn’t it always seem like we are thinking about time? 

How much can I get done today, how much is left to do, there’s not enough time to cook or do laundry, how many more students could I teach, etc…

I’ve just started reading Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman, and already it has made me reconsider the way we perceive time and how we’ve come to interact with time the way we do. 

Just before starting this book, I had a conversation with my husband that I never imagined I would have - I actually said out loud that I would like to be less busy. 

As musicians, we’re primed from an early age to know how to be busy successfully, and that to be busy is to be successful. But lately, as my plates continue to fill with activities that feel an awful lot like busywork, I’m wondering how much of that actually equals success? 

If I am constantly teaching but never have time for the deep, intensive practice that is required to perform the way I want I am busy, and maybe successful? What if I consider the type of students am I teaching, how well I am teaching, and how much my performance abilities suffer - do I still feel successful? 

If I never have time to sit down and flesh out new ideas for classes and workshops or to codify what I am learning from teaching and performing, I am definitely busy but what about successful?

If I can’t enjoy time with my family or doing activities I love because I am working so much, it’s possible I am both busy and successful, but not content. 

All of these questions are very personal - we all want different things, and we've all reached varying levels of achievement to this point. 

As I was reading Four Thousand Weeks last night, I came across two passages in the book that really made me pause: 

“…you have too much to do, so you try to fit more in, but the ironic result is that you end up with more to do. The worst aspect of the [efficiency] trap is, though, is that it’s also a matter of quality. The harder you struggle to fit everything in, the more of your time you’ll find yourself spending on the least meaningful things.”

And especially:

“The more firmly you believe it ought to be possible to find time for everything, the less pressure you’ll feel to ask whether any given activity is the best use of a portion of your time.”

I can relate to these statements at my core. I’ve had that feeling so often that time is slipping away and that I never quite get enough done to really treat myself to spending time on the important stuff. 

It’s exactly how I was feeling when I said I’d like to be less busy (it’s still seems weird to say that out loud!). Isn’t that why we work so hard in the first place? Not to add more to our plates, but to be able to choose what’s on it in the first place.

Even in just the first few chapters of Four Thousand Weeks, Burkeman makes the point that as we get more skilled and gain more resources our culture does not reward us with time - it rewards us with more to do and higher demands. 

I feel a strong urge to release things right now - even some good things - to have space. Space to be still, to sit and think, to practice and not be rushed. 

What would it be like if we weren’t constantly chained to exterior time keepers like the demands of others and the sense that we need to be everywhere and everything to be worthwhile? I think it would feel luxurious, and probably also incredibly challenging because it would require directly opposing the cultural norm: busy = value. 

Isn’t it interesting, too, that just talking about doing less sounds lazy, selfish, and entitled? Or at least that’s how I’m feeling talking about it. Not to mention the financial factor here - there’s only so much we can choose not to do before the bills pile up, so some of this is daydreaming for sure. 

And still, I’d like to cancel a few things this week. Free up some time to practice, to plan, to write…maybe even to do nothing. 

Is there a way to shift how we relate to time in our current culture? I’m not sure, but it’s fun to think about.

The mind-body connection is both simple and straightforward and incredibly complex. It makes sense that our thoughts and our physical body would be intertwined (we do carry our brain around in our body all the time!), but the ways they affect each other are many and it can be overwhelming to consider how we might address this to improve our day to day life, performance, and ability to play and communicate through our instruments.

I love exploring the mind-body connection through yoga. I’ve learned so much about anatomy through my yoga practice and teacher training, and I have gained a lot of understanding about the way our fascia, muscles, and bones work. (I’m still learning, of course - this is not a small topic!)

No one part of the body operates alone.

As an example, recently I was finding that one side of my jaw/tongue felt stiff and immobile when I was practicing. My initial thought was that I must have been clenching my teeth throughout the day or while sleeping. As I observed myself, though, that proved not to be the case. 

Further observation led me to notice that when I turned my head I could feel strain/tension in the muscles around my collar bone that connect the shoulder and (surprise!) the jaw on the side of the tongue where I was experiencing limited mobility. By following up with some simple exercises for the point of origin in my shoulder and neck, I was able to relieve the tension inside my mouth.

It’s not just our physical body that benefits from this kind of knowledge and attention. In the situation I described above, understanding that the limitations I had been experiencing in articulation and mobility around the jaw were coming from something clearly temporary and fixable gave me a peace of mind in practice and the ability to plan well to alleviate those issues. 

This is a small example of how growing our understanding of the way the body works can help us solve problems in our practice and understand barriers that come up in playing and practice. 

I always try to be on the lookout for ways to deepen my understanding of how the physical and mental aspects of playing are connected. 

Recently, I’ve been discussing the role of the sinuses and soft palate in tone production with a lot of my students. I once had a teacher explain this to me by saying that you should raise the space just above the center of your eyebrows inside your head. (Did you try it? It’s possible! Kind of weird, right?)

You can create a similar feeling by breathing in quickly through the nose, or by mimicking the beginning of a yawn (are you yawning now from trying that?). 

Doing this helps us create resonance by using open space real estate already available in our head - the sinuses!

As I was working through this concept with a student, I was thinking about how that space above the center of the eyebrows is also the location of the third eye or anja chakra. 

In yoga, the third eye chakra is our seat of knowing or intuition. It acts as our center of wisdom and consciousness. This chakra allows for clear thought and self-reflection, and when it’s balanced trades “me vs. them” for a more interconnected approach to thought. 

When this chakra is blocked or out of alignment we might notice tension around the brow or headaches, sinus issues, or trouble concentrating and sleeping. Emotionally, we might feel a lot of self-doubt and worry, or find ourselves overthinking a lot if the third eye is out of balance. A blocked anja chakra can impede our ability to be confident.

Have you already noticed some connections between the third eye chakra and what we do as musicians? At our best, we want to be able to connect with our audience and our fellow musicians - we strive to stay open to others in performance. Not to mention that I think we’re always in need of clear self reflection and the ability to trust our intuition and abilities without overthinking. 

I don’t think it’s a far stretch to consider how the third eye chakra and the same space in our physical body might be connected in the creation of resonance and our sound, not to mention our phrasing and clear communication through music. 

So, how can we bring this concept into a more concrete application? How can we balance this chakra that it will benefit our musicianship? Some of these ideas may be things you already do in your practice and performance. If that’s the case, focusing on them in a new way might help to bring about new benefits or a greater understanding. 

Visualization is a great way to focus the mind. 
Try visualizing yourself in detail, playing at your best and connecting with your audience and fellow musicians. Or, visualize tension leaving the area at the center of the forehead, like a light flowing through allowing you to open up resonance and the third eye. 

Moving your body is a great way to balance any of the chakras. 
To bring the third eye back into balance, try child’s pose. Rest your head on a block, blanket, or the mat/floor and gently rock the head from side to side. Any gentle neck stretches will also help with opening up this part of the physical body.

Meditation is a powerful way to balance the mind and the third eye. 
Try a guided mindfulness meditation. Or, simply sit quietly and with stillness, allowing yourself to be present to your thoughts and feelings. 
​
At first it can feel like a far stretch to combine the chakras with an aspect of musical performance like tonal resonance. As we grow our understanding that the body and mind are always intertwined, we close the gap between thinking of them as two separate entities and open up new resources for ourself as musicians.

I have typed and retyped the beginning of this blog so many times. This week feels heavy. 

Even outside of world events, two years of all kinds of uncertainties, and general unknowns, it feels heavy.

Beyond my own concerns about my personal life and work life. 

Working with students means constantly thinking about their futures. It means I go home thinking about the things that weigh on them, the expectations they put on themselves, their social pressures, and how to show them that learning is a worthwhile pursuit. 

It’s impossible not to take it home at the end of the day. It all goes with me. Their trials and tribulations and my own…waking up in the middle of the night thinking about that student who is struggling and whatever is already weighing on me . 

All week I have been thinking about the in between of teaching - not knowing the right answer for how to help a lot of the time, but knowing that whatever requires that we keep going to figure it out. I will have to continue being present and holding space.

Or, maybe that’s the answer after all. To be here. To hold space. To make room for my students.

Usually when I reach the point in the week where I write the first draft of the blog I share every Thursday (or Friday if I'm behind!) I have had something on my mind…about teaching, mindfulness, performance, yoga, practice…that I want to explore. 

Something that I feel needs discussed, that would be helpful to me, or helpful to other musicians. 

Everyone once in a while I have to fish around notes I have made to myself of things I was saving to explore on a rainy day. 

And then (thankfully not very often) there are weeks like this week where I feel like I have absolutely nothing to write about, unless the internet would like to read my to-do list(s).

My brain is overflowing this week. Full. Completely stuffed. 

And not with good ideas. Well, maybe a few good ideas. But it’s also full of emails that need written, academic hierarchies I don’t yet understand, organizational concerns and tasks, overwhelm at parts of large projects that are out of my control, music that needs learned, and practice time that is lost to immediate tasks at hand like remaining mentally present in lessons with my students. 

This week I solved very few outstanding issues, did not make much headway on my own projects, and still owe a lot of people emails.

I bet this is where you’re expecting me to say that it's totally ok, right?

But it’s not (I like to keep things spontaneous around here). 

I’d like to think that I’m doing my best to keep up with what I expect from myself (and what I need to get done) but I’m actually just hanging onto my life raft with one pinky toe and splashing wildly this week. 

It’s been several years since I’ve had this type of demand on my time, and the reality is that I didn’t adjust accordingly. Some course correction is now required.

At some point this week I realized the thing that wasn’t working right was me. (Note that I didn't realize I can't do it, just that I haven't been.)

I have been asking my brain to switch tasks too often, putting off easy emails that could have been done days ago, overthinking things just long enough to not make any headway before I had to move on to something else. 

Ouch. It’s painful to realize we are working against ourselves.

There’s no grand moral to this story, other than the fact that I’m grateful I’ve been cultivating awareness in my life because if it could have taken so much longer to level with myself and who knows how far downstream I would have been then, life raft nowhere to be seen.

Once I figured out that it was me in the way, and how I was slowing myself down, it got easier to make better choices. 

I bought a cube timer so that I wasn’t relying on my phone or Apple Watch, which meant I could put those items down or change the mode.

Along those lines, I finally set the work focus on my iPhone (I have been using the sleep focus since it came out and love it - why did it take me so long to set it for work?!)

I started waking up just a little earlier each day. Definitely not to workout at 5am or practice before the sun comes up, but just enough to shower and have coffee earlier so that practicing and other important tasks could also happen earlier, etc. 

None of these things are going to get me on track right away, but combined with an awareness of what I'm doing they will help. I’m also not suggesting that any of these solutions are right for your predicament. If you're lucky, you don't even have a predicament!

Hopefully, you are having an awesome week and totally killing it at absolutely everything you're doing. That just wasn’t me this week. It’s not really ok, but it’s also not the worst and it’s definitely not permanent.

​Except for this being an adult thing - that is going to stick around.

Education is built upon a series of agreements from everyone involved. 

The teacher or educator has accepted the responsibility of showing up prepared, being aware and respectful of the student and doing their best to deliver the material.

The student has accepted the responsibility of also showing up prepared, with an open mind, ready to learn, and to exercise self discipline. 

Although this seems obvious, we often enter into these agreements blindly. A teacher may show up to class and simply recite material without engaging, or a student may just show up to a lesson without the conviction to put energy into their participation. 

Being a student in 2022 is certainly different than it was twenty years ago, ten years ago, or even pre-pandemic. I find my students faced with towering academic expectations, endless distractions, and anxiety/general despondence. The world around us can make it difficult to focus or even figure out what the right thing to focus on is. 

As a teacher, I give a lot of thought to how I can help my students face the challenges of education. Helping them develop an awareness of the unspoken agreements we make is a good start.

Even better, I can help them establish the agreements they need to make with themselves for a positive, healthy learning experience. 

Below are the personal agreements I will share with my students as we begin a new semester so that we can have clear expectations for ourselves and each other as we enter our lessons and classes. 

Personal Agreements for Healthy Learning:

In order to have a great educational experience, it is to the student’s benefit to have a clear understanding of the teacher’s expectations (as laid out in the studio policy). 

Even more important is for the student to have a clear set of expectations for themselves - to have an outline for self discipline and keeping an open mind that creates a capacity for learning.

Accomplishing what you set out to do requires self respect, respect for others, willpower and commitment. Your time as a student is designed for you to develop these traits, and being conscious of how you are growing them will help create a healthy learning experience.

These are the standards I hold myself to in my interactions with you, and I encourage you to do the same in your personal life, our studio, and with your peers.

• I will show up as my best self in the moment. Everyone has bad days, but we owe it to ourselves to be present to our peers and teachers in the ways we are able. Even on a bad day there is something we can learn and a positive step we can take.

 

• I will be punctual. When someone is reserving time for you, make the most of it. Do your best to arrive early and ready to work.

 

• I will communicate respectfully. Life happens, but if you are sick or late communicate with those who are expecting you ahead of when you are expected to arrive. Unless in extreme emergency, it is never ok to “ghost” someone who is counting on you. 

 

• I will honor my commitments. This includes understanding your limits. It is easy to over-commit. Keep track of what you are agreeing to and establish clear priorities for yourself. Learn through trial and error when you should stop taking on new commitments. 

 

• I will learn to manage my time. Time management is a learned skill. Try as many ways of tracking your calendar and assignments as needed, and ask for help or suggestions at any time.

 

• I will turn off notifications on my phone, watch, tablet and computer when I need to focus. This means when you are in class, in a lesson, studying, or in the practice room. Our brain is not built to switch tasks every thirty seconds, and learning requires focus. Give yourself the space to dive deep into whatever you are doing in the moment. Respect those around you by giving them your undivided attention.

 

• I will make the most of my environment. Attend as many performances as possible. Support your peers. Ask questions and cultivate a curious mind. 

 

• I know that the goal is progress, not perfection. The objective is not perfection, but rather improvement. Remain open and willing to try your best, even when there is room to grow (there always is). 

 

• I will practice and be prepared to try new things in my lessons and ensembles. Growing your musicianship takes effort - commit to doing the amount that is required.

 

• I will get out of every experience what I put into it. The amount of energy we are willing to give determines what we get out of or back from any endeavor. By committing fully you are opening up the potential for self development. 

Although these are “personal agreements” and they ask you to show up for yourself, you are not alone in your commitment to learn. Remember that you have a support network and it is always available to you.

Being a good student, colleague, educator, professional, or human (!) requires humility and willpower. Having the willingness to show up for yourself, your instructors, your peers, or your future students will not always be easy but it will always be meaningful. 


I _______________________________________________ commit to these self-agreements and a mindful approach to healthy learning on this (date) ______________________________________.

​