Today I came across a really bold post on LinkedIn that honestly got me thinking. The post basically said: “Teaching kids to play the recorder in 2026 isn’t music education. It’s nostalgia.” It went on to point out that kids now carry full recording studios in their pockets, yet many schools are still handing out plastic recorders while the creator economy is worth $250 billion. The author argued we should be teaching real modern music production skills instead. And you know what? I agree. In my experience working with music departments in different countries, I’ve seen this rigidity over and over. The second you suggest updating lessons to match the world kids actually live in, the usual reply is: “But that will lower the quality of music.” I strongly disagree. We don’t need to throw out traditional instruments. We just need to integrate them with modern tools. Why can’t a recorder group play alongside students making electronic beats or DJ sets? That mix of acoustic and digital, old and new, creates richer sound, more emotion, and real musical collaboration. Music has always been about sound and emotional expression, the instrument is just a tool, exactly like a pencil or a wrench. That’s exactly why I built Up For Lessons, to give teachers the interactive digital scores and tools they need to bridge both worlds without losing any musical depth. Students can slow down, loop, sync video performances, upload their own notation… all while keeping the soul of real music alive. We can (and should) have the best of both. Music educators, parents, and creators — what’s your take? Are we protecting quality… or just protecting tradition? Let’s talk about it 👇

Woke up this morning just reflecting on my life since graduation. I've been a performer and music educator all these years, and I honestly can say I've never felt like I was working that hard. Not because it's always easy, but because I truly love what I do. The day you discover something you'd happily do for free, something that moves your soul so much that you're willing to put in the time no matter what the market pays, that's when everything clicks. That's when you know you've found your true purpose. It's those little moments that reveal it to you. Like when you're playing a music set, hired for 45 minutes, but the energy in the room is so good and everyone's locked in with you that you end up playing 15 minutes extra without even noticing. Or when the crowd starts shouting "encore, we want more," and instead of thinking "my job is done," you look at the sound engineer and ask if it's okay to keep going a bit longer. The same thing happens at school. Sometimes I finish a rehearsal with the students and I know it could be better, so I go to the music department and ask if we can schedule one more session. I'll come in for free, no problem. Not for any personal glory, but because I want them to experience the music at its best, with real heart and soul. At the end of the day, not every student will choose music as a career, but I hope they walk away with something deeper, an understanding of what it feels like when you find something you truly love. So when the time comes, they choose their own path with that same passion and purpose. This has become my biggest life lesson. When you find your true purpose, you stop just exchanging time for money. Time is the one thing we can never buy back. It's our greatest gift, the time we have to experience this existence and to honour it by putting it to good service. So tell me, what’s the one thing that makes you lose track of time? What would you do even if nobody paid you? That’s probably where your purpose is hiding. I’d love to hear your purpose if you’ve found it, and the story behind it. Drop it in the comments. Let’s inspire each other.

I still remember the trembling excitement of my first guitar lesson. My friends and I arrived with hearts wide open, ready to be carried into the world of sound. Music, we thought, would sweep us up immediately, a friend, a companion, a secret that only we were discovering. Instead, that day the teacher presented us a long theoretical chat, the parts of the guitar, strings, frets, posture, tuning. Three lessons went by before I even got to strum an open chord just for fun. The spark that had drawn me, the pure, unbridled curiosity — dimmed, flickered, and nearly vanished. My friends drifted away, and I almost did too. Yet, somewhere beneath the disappointment, a quiet flame of music persisted, stubborn, alive, refusing to be extinguished. That small ember became the thread that guided me to the professional life I lead today: as a musician, and as a teacher. Years later, when I began teaching, that memory returned on my first teaching day. I understood the potential for wonder in every new student, I saw my young-self in each and every of them and the risk of extinguishing that curiosity for the magic of sounds, frequencies and music before it had a chance to bloom. I made a vow right then and there: students must meet music first, instruments second. So I adopted and embraced my own teaching philosophy approach. I start each lesson with music itself, playing by surprise and not introduction at all, a totally spontaneous performance with a mix of fast, slow, mellow, rhythmic — fragments of melody, riffs, or even recognisable tunes. As the music flows, I notice their natural engagement: tapping feet, small body movements, eyes widening as they recognise a melody, the little nods of wonder that say, “I’ve heard this before; I know it, and I like it.” That is where learning begins — in movement, in recognition, in the joy of sound itself and the experience sounds, music and frequencies how we naturally adapt and incorporate it as part of our own inner-nature. Only after the student is inside the magic realm of music, is when we do explore the instrument(s). In my case for instance string instrument I present briefly the roadmap to produce the first few organised sounds (Music): which strings, which frets, which fingers. Then something easy, the first chord.Em on guitar — two fingers, one fret. Suddenly, we’re making music together. Sometimes I layer a melody or riff on top of their strumming, letting the musical conversation grow.

This is your space to ask questions, share experiences, and discuss anything related to teaching with the digital tools, sheet music playback, and notation services I provide. You can use this category to: - Ask how to apply a tip or tool in a lesson - Share what’s working for your students - Discuss challenges or creative ideas with fellow teachers There’s no pressure to post perfectly — this is a supportive space where we learn from each other. I read all posts and will respond when I can, so don’t hesitate to start a conversation. Think of this as a place to connect, share, and make your teaching more effective with tools that actually work.