Consoles and cockpits

Organ consoles are often compared to cockpits (or flight decks, for my more euphemistically-minded readers). The questions tend to be “How do you operate all that?” “How do you keep up with all that?” “What do all those buttons do?” I love those questions. They are perfect segues for me to show just how cool the organ console is. And I gently inform my listener that all that gadgetry is there for convenience, not for compulsory operation at all times. There are gadgets on the two organs I play every day that I have never used. Not every console has every gadget I think it ought to have, and many consoles have far too many. But the next organist just might find a console to be perfect. We’re all different, and so are consoles.

The most expensive gift I ever gave anyone was a graduation gift. It was a private pilot license, given from me to me for my doctoral graduation. Being able to fly one’s self around is a joy and a privilege, which, incidentally, has come under increasing scrutiny since 9/11. That privilege is now in constant danger of being taxed into oblivion and should never be taken for granted.

Throughout every moment of my flight training, I pondered the difference between that training and my graduate organ training. My graduate work was a productive, eye-opening experience for me as a musician, as an organist, as a student, and as a future teacher. The exacting standards and methods I was taught transformed my playing and my teaching, and I am a believer in practical application and in being given the time to master something before moving on. That is crucial to success.

In contrast, my flight training was the most haphazard training I have ever seen. The flight school was following the FAA rules of material covered, but the techniques used to cover it were not at all thought through or progressive. Every lesson was an island and had little to do with the preceding or following lesson. I never really got used to one thing before I was being commanded to do something else.

Having a regimen for teaching should not be confused with having a regimen for learning. Learning the material is compulsory, no matter how it is taught. Ultimately, that is up to the student. But with organ playing, flying, and probably nearly any other practice-based activity, I believe in the step-by-step application in the teaching and in the implementation. Since grad school, I have sworn by Gleason, Crozier, and Holloway. And it is working for my students, too.

Someday, I might like to be a flight instructor and try out my teaching in that field. But that would be another expensive gift that I’m not yet willing to give myself.