Episode 15: Not Every Enquiry Is Your Next Student
Earlier this year, a keen new adult student told me in his trial lesson which of my policies he wouldn't be following, and I heard myself say, "That's fine." After 19 years of teaching, and with a waiting list of over 50, I still said yes. This is about why we do that, and how to spot the red flags sooner.
In this episode:
Why saying yes to every enquiry is a normal stage, and what it cost me
The reasons for saying yes that sit in us, not in the student
The red flags I look for now in enquiries and trial lessons
Why your gut feeling deserves to be taken seriously
My enquiry reply, word for word, and why my waiting list isn't first come, first served
How to be selective when you're not full yet
Links mentioned:
Episode 7: How To Build A 50-Person Waiting List
Know a teacher who says yes to everyone who asks? Please share this episode with them. And if you've enjoyed it, a rating or review helps other teachers find the show.
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Part 1: Why we say yes to everyone
Saying yes when it wasn't fine
Earlier this year, I was sitting next to a new adult student in his trial lesson. He'd been on my waiting list for a long time, and he was very keen to start. Within the first five minutes, he told me he'd read my terms and conditions, and there were a couple of things he wanted to say. Then he told me very clearly which of my policies he wouldn't be following. And I heard myself say, "That's fine, that's not a problem." But it wasn't fine.
I've been teaching for 19 years. I have a waiting list of over fifty people, and I still said yes. In his trial lesson, I was clear about how I teach, and he agreed to the approach, and that felt really reassuring at the time.
So even with 19 years of experience and a waiting list, red flags can slip past you. This isn't about inexperience; it's about the pull we all feel to say yes. It didn't end well, but I'll share what happened in a future episode.
Welcome to The Victoria Clark Show for Music Teachers. I'm Victoria. I started teaching piano part-time nearly 20 years ago, alongside a career in pharmaceutical market research, and I made pretty much every mistake there is when it comes to running a teaching business. Today I run a full studio from my home on the south coast of England with a waiting list, students I love, and a teaching week that fits around my family.
If you've ever felt your heart sink when your phone buzzed with another last minute cancellation, put off raising your fees for another year, or heard yourself say, "Oh, I just do a bit of teaching," when someone asked what you do, this is the podcast for you. I've been where you are. Let's build you a studio that lets you be the teacher you want to be and live the life you deserve.
What this episode covers
Welcome to today's episode. Today's topic is all about why saying yes to every enquiry keeps your studio full of students who aren't the right fit, and how to spot the red flags early. I'll cover why we say yes to everyone, what it costs us, the red flags that I look out for now, my enquiry process, and how I choose who gets a space in my studio. I'll also cover what to do if you're not full yet.
I want to reassure you that this is not about being picky or unkind; it's about teaching the students that you can help the most.
Why we say yes to everyone
Saying yes to everyone who enquires is a very normal stage of building a music studio. It's how most of us learn what kind of teacher we are. For me personally, I started teaching when we lived in Putney. Throughout my teaching time in Putney and then in Woking, and also in my first couple of years being full-time, I took on anyone who agreed to have lessons with me. Really, it's only been in the last year or so that I've become more selective and told some families and students that I'm not the right teacher for them. And believe me, that felt really scary, but it was absolutely the right thing to do.
It's a perfectly normal thing to want to take on every student who comes your way because, let's be honest, we need the income. Well, most of us need the income. We need the income and we want to fill our slots, and we're always afraid that another enquiry won't come along.
Turning someone away also feels like rejection in its harshest form, and it feels unkind. Someone who's come looking for, in my case, piano lessons, to be told "I don't want to teach you" (I don't say that, of course; I phrase it as "I'm not the right teacher for you") still can't feel very nice when they've reached out, made themselves vulnerable and asked for help.
But the reality is, and I've said this many times before, we can't be the right teacher for every student. That's a really important thing to recognise, because it will help you avoid many situations that cause grief both for you and for your student families. And wouldn't it be great if we could avoid all of that and just have the good stuff?
For me personally, and you may well have felt this yourself, especially in the beginning, I always had this hope that I could turn anyone into a great learner. It didn't matter what the circumstances were, and it didn't matter if they lacked motivation; I could inspire them and turn them into a fantastic piano player. Now, sometimes we can undo bad habits, but it takes a lot of work. And the change has to come from the student or the family. It can't all be one-sided. Believe me, I've tried, and it doesn't work. Which is where we need the student, teacher and parent trio to work closely together to make sure the student makes good progress.
You learn who you're right for by teaching
The thing is, you can't know who you're the right teacher for until you've taught lots of different students. So taking on lots of different students in the beginning helps you learn who you're a good teacher for. You don't know which are the ones that you love teaching and which are the ones that leave you drained. You do work it out in hindsight, and that's fine. This topic is not to make anyone feel guilty; it's to help you spot the pattern sooner than I did.
If you're proactively on the lookout for "Right, I enjoyed teaching this student, this student was hard work," and weighing up the pros and cons, that can help you focus your attention on the kinds of students, your ideal students, that you want to attract to your studio.
Now, I will caveat this by saying I'm not suggesting that you just dismiss all students who would be hard work. Not at all. Some students who need more support, more encouragement and more motivation, who do take more energy for the right reasons, are absolutely worth putting that energy in for. When you see the transformation for them and the effect it has on their life, that's totally worth it. That's one of my big reasons for teaching. I want to help students discover this amazing instrument that I love so much, and the world of music. And if it takes a little bit more energy for me to help them get there, then absolutely fine.
But it has to be for the right reasons, and you need some reciprocity on the other end; you need some effort from the other side. It cannot be a one-sided thing, and those are the areas that I'm talking about. If a student is hard work (and it may not necessarily be the student; it could be the student and family collectively) and the support isn't there, that's much, much harder work and may not be worth the significant effort that you put in. Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinions. What I talk about on this podcast is my own opinion, but it's something that I think is really important that we all think about when we're taking on new students.
What my early students taught me
I was quite fortunate early on to have a very good student. She was conscientious, practised lots and did everything I asked her to, and the result was she made very good progress, she took the exams that she wanted to take, and she excelled in everything. When you get a student like that, it feels great, but if it's in the beginning, you think, "Oh good, this is the way it's supposed to be."
So in a way, it can spoil you for the rest of your students: the vast majority who are not that 1% of the population who just click with music, who have all the motivation and support at home, and who have the acumen to do the work and the persistence and resilience to keep going when things are difficult. That's quite a unique combination of attributes that most people don't have naturally. I'm not saying you can't develop them, but most people don't turn up at the age of, whatever she was, eight or nine when I started teaching her, and just breeze through everything. When we do get those students, it's wonderful.
I did have some early students who taught me quite a bit about the kind of teacher that I am. One of them was a student who struggled to concentrate during lessons. He was very capable, but he was not very good at taking instruction. He would start to play when I was still talking. He would just practise what he wanted to practise at home, and he wouldn't refer back to his notebook for the things I wanted him to practise.
So he was a bit of a challenge, but he showed me a student who needed me to adapt to him and his style of learning. That was a great experience for me, because when you teach lots of different types of students, you either learn how to adapt to them, or you learn that it's too far outside your realm of adaptability. That's not a criticism; it's an important thing to acknowledge, because if you can't give them what they need, you're not the right teacher for them, and they are not the right student for you. It's just a matter of a good combination of personalities and approaches.
When the red flags pile up
I've said yes to many students in the past, and some of them have turned out to be more than I could cope with as a teacher. Not necessarily just because of them as the student, but because of the wider family. When you're dealing with a child student, you're also dealing with the parents. It's an important part of the interaction.
I invited one student for a trial lesson, and it was fine. He was a little bit quirky, which is fine. They really wanted to start lessons as soon as possible, and the family signed my agreement, which stipulates that a suitable instrument is needed at home. In fact, I was going through the studio policy at this point in every trial lesson, pointing out the main things: the billing period, the notice period, not rescheduling and not refunding lessons, and most importantly, the fact that a minimum standard of instrument is required at home in order to start lessons.
But after a few lessons, I found out there was no instrument at home. It was a bit of a shock, but I absorbed it, and I said, "Right, he's not able to practise at home, so he needs an instrument as soon as possible, because he won't make any progress." This is what I communicated to the parents. It took six months for them to go and buy an instrument. This really was the first big red flag, but I was so relieved that he finally had an instrument at home that I let it go.
But then there were other things, and this is where you can see a red flag, allow it and hope for the best. My favourite phrase: you can give them the benefit of the doubt, and sometimes it can come back to bite you. For this particular student, it was an unfortunate accumulation of little things here and there that added up to a sum total of "this isn't going to work". But I ended up teaching him for quite a long time.
He was brought to lessons visibly unwell on more than one occasion, and I didn't say anything. I don't have it written down in my policies, but every term I send an email to all my students and parents that welcomes them to the new term, talks a little bit about what's going to go on this term, thanks everybody for paying on time and reiterates the parking policy we have here, which is basically: please don't park anywhere unless it's my driveway or a visitor space, because I live on a very fussy estate. It also says that, particularly during the cold season, which we are in at the moment, students should not attend their lesson if they are visibly unwell. I do offer online lessons in the right circumstances, if the student is well enough to do an online lesson. But otherwise, if they're unwell, they just need to rest and get better.
Then there were occasions when, if the student couldn't come to the lesson, the family would ask if his sibling could come instead. And this is the thing. My immediate gut reaction is, "Well, no, because I've planned his lesson and I don't know his sibling. I haven't taught her, I don't know anything about her. I've prepared myself for his lesson, I'm planning for his lessons, and we're following this approach." But that was what I said inside, and what came out of my mouth was, "Sure thing." Because the people pleaser in me was just there, front and centre.
And it wasn't terrible. I enjoyed teaching her on those occasions, but it kept happening, and it's not the way I run my studio. I don't do one-off lessons, because I create a bespoke teaching journey for each student based on their ability, their style of learning, their goals, and what I want them to get out of lessons with me.
The turning point
After a few years, I did reach a turning point. The student arrived really unwell yet again, and this is the first and only time I have ever taken a child back out to the parent, who was sat on the driveway, and told them, "I can't teach him, he's too unwell, he needs to go home." Believe me, my heart was thumping like mad, because this is confrontation in the most uncomfortable way, having to say, "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have brought him for his lesson, he's too unwell. I've been very clear about this in the past."
I do remember that after it had happened two or three times, I sent an email to the parents explaining in more detail that he shouldn't come to lessons if he's unwell, and explaining a bit about the impact, not just on him. He was so unwell one time that he came in and just flopped down on the sofa, exhausted from whatever illness he had. We spent the first five minutes with me trying to talk him round, and eventually he came and sat at the piano, but that's not how I want to run my lessons. He should have been in bed at home. So I had sent an email reiterating the importance of him staying at home if he was unwell, not only for his own sake, but also so he didn't spread germs to all my other students and me, potentially leading to cancelling loads of lessons.
When I took him back out to the parent, he was shocked and unhappy, and when he got home, I got a message from his mum. She wasn't apologising; they were defending their decision to bring him to the lesson. That was the turning point. That was the part where I thought, "They don't respect my policies, they're not listening to me when I've said this is not okay," and I decided at that point that we needed to end the lessons.
I felt very conflicted about it, because I had been teaching this student for so long, we'd built up a relationship, and we'd made a little bit of progress, even though practice was nearly non-existent. It was one of those cases where he benefited so much from the lessons and the enjoyment of music that I let that particular requirement slide, which would have been fine if it wasn't for the additional studio policy violations by the parents. So it was very sad, but it was a necessary thing for me to do, to keep my studio running efficiently and to prevent me and my students from getting unwell. It was the right decision to make, but it took some courage.
No instrument, no lessons
Looking back, the second I found out he didn't have an instrument at home, I should have halted the lessons and said, "You need to get an instrument, and when you have an instrument, we will continue lessons." But I didn't want to upset anyone.
The thing is, this comes up a lot in teacher groups on social media, where we can feel like we're being used as a babysitting service. I know that feels uncomfortable to hear unless you've already thought it yourself, but we're not there just to occupy your child for half an hour. We put so much effort, energy and thought into the lessons, with the long-term goal of helping them progress and learn to play the instrument they've come for lessons on. So when you realise there's nothing going on at home, there's no support, and especially if they don't have an instrument, it really does feel like "look after my child for half an hour". Which is, I'm going to say it, quite insulting. It's not what we're here for, and it's a very hard thing to bring up.
But not having an instrument, for me now, is an absolute no-brainer. No instrument, no lessons, because there will be no progress made. My initial ideas were, "Oh, we could fill the lessons with rhythm games and music and singing," and all of that's lovely, but the way I teach is designed so that you can practise things at home and make progress. So it would only work for a very short period of time, and with all the right elements in place.
I mentioned this back in Episode 7 about building a waiting list: having a waiting list is what gave me the confidence to send this sick child home, because I wasn't afraid of losing the student. But it doesn't mean you need an abundance of people waiting to join your studio to make the hard decisions. It just softens the blow a little bit.
As I said, it was very sad for the student, and for me too. Ending lessons is never easy. I've only done it a handful of times in my entire 19 years, which is exactly why it's better not to start the lessons when the fit isn't right.
Part 2: The red flags I look for now
Why we say yes when we know better
Going back to the story I started with, why did I say yes to a student who said he wasn't going to follow my policies? It was because he was so keen to join my studio. He'd been on the waiting list for a long time, and he'd been in touch to check whether he had managed to get a space. He was so eager to join my studio, and it really felt like loyalty that I ought to reward.
With the child student, I just didn't want to upset anyone. I didn't want to take away the child's opportunity to learn just because the parents hadn't bothered to get an instrument, because that's not his fault. I really wanted to help him, and I did help him. I taught him for a good long time, so I provided some value to him, but it was very hard to deal with at the time.
There are other things that can pull us towards saying yes when inside we know there are red flags, but we ignore or overlook them. For example, when I opened all those slots up in March, I really wanted to fill them quickly, but I knew I needed to be careful about who I took on, because I've been burned in the past. I have felt the red flags, I've ignored them, and then it's gone wrong. So trusting your gut is something I'm going to talk about in a minute, but it's so important.
When you have a student who seems so grateful to have a trial lesson, it's even harder to turn them away. And when you're first meeting a student, you don't want to seem like a difficult teacher, because you're potentially starting off a relationship with your student and their family. You want to make a good first impression to show that you have their best interests at heart, which you do. But it's hard for any family to see those best intentions if it means turning their child away.
The point I'm getting at is that noticing your own reasons for saying yes matters just as much as spotting the red flags in the student or the family. If you make an allowance right at the start, it becomes so much harder to hold the line later.
I've talked about this before with policies in general. If you make any exceptions, that becomes the new rule: agreeing to reschedule a lesson "just this once", or agreeing to pause lessons while the student is away on a residential trip. It then becomes an expected thing every following time it happens, and it's so much harder to pull things back in. So making exceptions, and making exceptions for new students, is very rarely (I won't say never, but very rarely) a good idea.
The warning signs in me
For me personally, the feelings I recognise in myself as a warning sign that I'm about to override the red flags staring me in the face are wanting to be liked, wanting to make a good impression, and wanting them to want to come to lessons and join my studio.
Wanting to be liked in the trial lesson has previously shown up for me as avoiding asking the hard questions, and as being too pragmatic about practice expectations: softening it from "I will expect you to do five or ten minutes of practice every day, or at least five days a week" to "You only need to fit in ten minutes of practice, and even if you can do it three days a week, that's wonderful. It's so much better than nothing." One is direct and an expectation, and the other is so softened that it makes it feel optional.
Because practice is such a huge part of progress and satisfaction for the student, the family and the teacher teaching them, it's one of those areas that I have come to realise over time you can't soften. You need to put the expectation in there for everyone's sake.
The same goes for being direct when you talk about the starter instrument they need. It does need to be a digital piano, not a keyboard, because there are so many variations of keyboard out there that just aren't good enough. If that is not clear from the start, you will end up with a student who has a three-octave keyboard with no pedal and no touch sensitivity. Almost every student I've taught who has that instrument to practise on at home either doesn't practise very often or makes very little progress, because when they come and play on my acoustic piano, their fingers have no idea what to do; it's all about the arm weight to get the heavy keys down.
I'm going into specifics now, but it makes the point that you can't shy away from some of these important things that have a direct correlation with whether or not the student is successful in your studio. I'm not saying everyone has to become an amazing prodigy, absolutely not. But having the right materials and instrument to start with makes the whole experience so much better for the student.
My red flags
I'm going to share the red flags that I look for now when I'm taking on new students. Please be aware that your red flags will not necessarily be the same as mine. There may be some overlaps, but our red flags are specific to us as individuals: the things that would create an environment, a situation or an experience that is too difficult for us to manage as teachers. And they're based on how each of us teaches as an individual.
For me, a student who is really loud, bouncy and distractable raises my anxiety, and that's something I've had to acknowledge over the years. Whereas another teacher might welcome that challenge, and that's absolutely fine. The job is to learn what your own red flags are. So here we go, here are some of mine.
A big focus on exams. If a prospective student or family comes to me asking for a trial lesson, and they have a big focus on exams or getting through the grades as fast as possible, this is a huge red flag for me. Because for me, exams validate a level, but they are not the reason for the lessons. In my own experience, I ended up doing about one exam a year, but it worked for me because I practised enough to learn lots of other repertoire in between, which broadened my experience of playing different genres. Without that level of practice and dedication, you end up with nine months stuck on three pieces, which is, I've heard, miserable. It's never something I've done with my own students, but I have taken on students who have done that, and I can't think of anything worse.
I always see this pop up on social media. Compare it to learning to read: if you forced a child to read only three books for an entire year (and I'm not talking about big chapter books, but those little skinny reading books they have when they're learning to read), they'd be so bored and so miserable. And their reading would not improve much at all. The whole point of learning to read music is that you need to be exposed regularly to lots of new music. That's what you get when you have a student who practises and progresses, and you move on to more repertoire regularly.
"We'll buy an instrument once we know they'll get on with lessons." Have you heard this one before? It's a hard no for me. It goes fully against my policy. A decent instrument starts at around £400, more like £500 these days, because you need a digital piano with 88 weighted, full-size keys. Otherwise, you end up with a child with a toy keyboard and all the problems that come along with it.
A really strong focus on the cost of lessons. Now, I'm not saying that we should exclude families who find it hard to pay, absolutely not. But if money worries come up straight away, investing in a reasonable instrument is likely to be a barrier, and then we have all the problems I've already mentioned. In previous episodes, I've talked about how people choose to spend their money, and this is where it becomes important. It's how much the family chooses to prioritise music lessons, and potentially sacrifice something else, spending less money here or there, in order to put that money towards music lessons. It's all about balancing the funds, rather than offering dirt cheap prices for your music lessons.
Pushback on policies. I read body language in the trial lesson, and also any follow-up email questions: things like looking confused, shocked or unhappy when I talk them through my main policies. Or lots of "what if" questions, like "What if they're on a school trip? Do we get a refund or a reschedule?" It's absolutely fine and welcome for them to ask questions. But if there is too much fussiness about the policies rather than accepting them for what they are, or asking for favours right from the very start ("We've got this and this, so can we make allowances for that?"), that's a red flag for me, because it shows that right from the start they have not respected the policies I have in place.
And yes, it gets much easier to stand up for your policies the longer you have been teaching, as long as you have started to reinforce them. If you've always hidden them away in a drawer, or just handed them sheepishly to the prospective student and said, "Here are my terms and conditions, make sure you read through them at home and let me know if you have any questions," which I used to do, you can guarantee they're not going to read them properly. They want to have lessons, so they'll just sign. And because it's not a legally enforceable document, there's no risk on the parents' part. It's just one of those things where we need to be brave. We need to stand up for our policies and not apologise for them, because they are there to protect our time, our income, our sanity, our studio and our reputation. So it's worthwhile doing, but I know it's hard.
Changing teachers right before an exam. Here's a big red flag, and it's happened more than once: I've been contacted by a student who wanted to change teachers right before taking an exam. Never in my right mind would I think of moving teachers if you're preparing for an exam. It's clear alarm bells for me. Something has usually gone very wrong, so always ask why, and ideally wait until after they've taken the exam, so you can start with a clean slate. I would never take a student from a teacher right before an exam. It's unethical, and it's impractical, because you have no experience of the student.
In fact, I know Nicola Cantan mentioned once that she has a policy that she will not put a student through an exam within the first year of taking them on. I think that's a really sound approach, because it takes time to learn about the student: what they know, where the gaps are, how they learn, what particular skills they have, what their goals are, how long it takes them to learn a new technique or fix bad habits, and how long it takes them to learn a new piece of music. You need all of that established before you even think about going forward for an exam, where they are testing all of these things.
Children with so many activities that there's little time left to practise. I mentioned this one recently. It's a key thing these days that I will always ask about, either before the trial lesson or in the trial lesson itself: "So what other hobbies or activities do you do?" If they list off a whole bunch of things, I'll be honest and say, "It doesn't sound like there's enough time left in your week to fit in enough piano practice to make these lessons worthwhile."
You might hear that and shrink away and think, "Oh, we never say that to a prospective student, because you're literally telling them to go away." But honesty helps in this situation, because we know that very few families understand the time input required to make reasonable progress, unless they are already musical and have been through the process of having music lessons themselves, as a child or an adult. I'm not talking about creating a child who's going to go on to become a concert pianist. I'm talking about stable, satisfactory progress. Everyone learns differently, and some take longer to learn the same thing as another child just because everyone's brains are different. But you need to have the practice in place, and fitting it in amongst four other weekly activities is too much.
You might look at a child's timetable and say, "Right, there's a gap, there's a gap, there's a gap." But often that's at the expense of any downtime. We know we need downtime as adults. Kids need downtime too. They need space to just be kids and to be bored, which sparks creativity.
Whenever I talk about this, I get these flash memories, because I was pretty bored as a child. We didn't go out much. I'm learning now that it was more than likely because my mum was looking after me and my sister on her own, because my dad was in the navy, so he was always away at sea or away during the week. When I compare it to myself, taking two children out when you have social anxiety, or anxiety in any sense (and my mum absolutely had anxiety), is a terrifying thing, so you'd much rather stay inside. I know that sounds bizarre to some people who have experienced a life of "We need to get out of the house, we can't stay cooped up inside." I was very comfortable staying inside, and I suspect my mum was as well.
So I was bored a lot. My sister resorted to reading; she would read a lot, and I would play the piano a lot. I think my sister was supposed to be playing more piano, but it didn't click with her the way it clicked with me. She was still very good, though. She still passed her Grade 6, so I'll give her kudos there, and she still plays here and there.
The other thing is that being bored is probably what allowed and encouraged me to take up a hobby that is very dear to me to this day, which is knitting. I taught myself to knit from a paper instruction leaflet. It was either a birthday or a Christmas present: some little red plastic knitting needles for children, some yarn and this instruction leaflet on how to do garter stitch. I remember hours and hours spent sat on the floor in my bedroom; I can visualise it now. I used to get up so early at weekends, and I loved it. It was frustrating when I made mistakes. But if you persevered, you got that satisfaction from overcoming a hurdle and succeeding in producing this rather wonky piece of knitting, which gradually got better and better.
Does that sound familiar? Absolutely it does, because this is what we want our students to experience in the ideal situation. They need to have space and time to spend figuring out problems at their instrument. So that was quite a long-winded way of saying I don't take on students who are overscheduled.
Adults asking for fortnightly or changeable lessons. Another one for me, and I've had a fair number of these requests come through, is from adults who do shift work and request fortnightly lessons or changeable lesson times and days. I used to consider it and think, "I wonder if I could coordinate two of these, and they could alternate their fortnightly lessons so that particular lesson slot was always full." It never works. The stars have to align for this kind of thing to work. So whenever this request has come up, I've been very direct and said, "I'm sorry, I can't accommodate that, because I teach weekly lessons during term time."
Adults too busy with work to practise. I have encountered a couple who would fit this description. Occasional work trips are fine, as long as they understand that they're going to keep paying for their lessons without expecting refunds or reschedules if they happen to miss them. But in an ideal world, they'll be able to attend 90% of their lessons.
"We just want them to learn for fun." This is an interesting one that has a bit of nuance to it. When a family comes to me wanting to start their child on piano lessons and says, "We just want them to learn for fun," absolutely, I love it. But that means something different for me as a music teacher than I suspect it does for a proportion of the population. For some families, "we just want them to learn for fun" means no practice and no involvement at home, with no requirement to oversee things and prompt them like they have to with homework. That situation is not fun for the student, and it's not fun for the teacher.
Learning for fun for me means without the pressure of exams, but with regular practice. This is something completely different, and absolutely wonderful when it works. The student will practise at home and be motivated to learn the thing they're learning, but they're not constrained by "We have to do this, this and this because of exams". We explore things as they naturally come up.
I can't help but talk about theory concepts when they're relevant to what a student is learning. If we find three notes in a bar that happen to make up the key chord for that piece, I'll say, "Oh, pause a minute. Have a look at those notes that you're playing. Tell me what those notes are. Do you know what they are? What makes them special?" It's asking them the question that makes them curious, and then, more often than not, if we've encountered it before, they'll say, "That's a G major chord," and things like that. It allows for lessons that are free from the constraints of exam requirements, and it's the pure essence of learning in a holistic way that incorporates musicianship, pianistic skills, and confidence and resilience-building activities.
Parents who aren't willing to help set the practice habit. This is a more recent red flag for me. I feel a lot more strongly about this now than I ever used to, because I have experienced a number of students who don't get the support at home, and the result is week after week of them coming back having not practised. We have chats about how they can incorporate practice time into their daily schedule, how they can set reminders on their phone, how they can associate it with a daily task, and how it only needs to be five minutes. But without the support at home, it rarely works.
My hard nos
There are a couple of other things that I have a hard no to. I do not travel to students' homes. I've talked about this in the past. It's just not feasible for me. Not only would it make the lessons so much more expensive to account for the time, but, and this is more important, it would cause so much stress for me, trying to travel somewhere and allow for traffic and all the rest of it. For me, it's just not possible.
Weekend lessons, definitely not. Family time is more important than ever, and I protect that time very fiercely. Fortnightly lessons, as I've mentioned, just don't work with my weekly lesson schedule. And as I've said before, if there is no instrument at home, lessons do not happen.
Part 3: Trusting your gut, my enquiry process and my waiting list
Trust your gut
When you're a new teacher, your gut feelings are much harder to trust, because you don't have the experience to back them up, but that doesn't make them wrong. When we think about red flags, not every red flag fits on a list. Sometimes it's just a feeling, and that really does deserve to be taken seriously.
Really early on, when I was still teaching in Putney, I had an older adult male student who used to put his hand on my leg when I was sat to the side of him (as I do with all my students, with him sat at the piano). It made me really uncomfortable, but I was too shy and embarrassed to say anything or to move away, so I just tolerated it, internally cringing each time he did it. These days, I would absolutely say something: "Please don't touch my leg." It's that simple. It's my body; please don't touch me. But what was I, 23 back then? I felt it in my gut and I ignored it.
I also had an adult student, a woman this time, who arrived for an evening lesson drunk. I couldn't quite work out what it was in the beginning, because I'd taught her for a few months up to that point. She was really slow to respond and didn't seem like herself. And then, of course, there was the telltale booze breath. But at the time I thought, "Oh, okay, this is just something I have to put up with." You don't have to put up with that. A student should never turn up to their lesson intoxicated. These days, if it was clear to me, I would probably stop the lesson and say, "I don't think you're in the right state for a lesson today." Now, I say that, but it wouldn't come without the racing heart of confrontation and having to say the awkward thing. Some of the things that happened to me in my early teaching days just make me shake my head in despair.
Sometimes in teacher groups, female teachers in particular ask whether to do a first trial lesson with a new adult alone. The answer is usually no, to protect their own safety. This kind of discomfort, the kind that falls short of danger, gets talked about far less than I think it should. I'll admit there's a gender bias for me as a woman: I'm more concerned when it's a trial lesson with an adult male than with an adult female, and that is just how I feel, based on experiences I've had.
But I have done trial lessons on my own in an empty house before, and later thought that was not a sensible thing to do. Once I realised I was putting myself at risk a little bit (because you have no idea who is coming to your house, it's your home address, and you're vulnerable on your own if there's no one around), I made sure my husband is always around when I'm doing a trial lesson with a potential new student. I let him know what time it's happening, he has his phone by him, and I always have my phone by me. Not that anything terrible has ever happened, but I think it's important to protect yourself if you're a female teacher working on your own. That's not to say you shouldn't protect yourself if you're a male teacher working on your own, but I can only speak from my own experiences. So just keep yourself safe is all I would say.
The message I'm trying to get across in this section is: trust your gut. You are allowed to move away. You're allowed to say something, you're allowed to end a lesson early, or just decide not to continue. If something feels wrong, trust it. In all the times that I've had that gut feeling, whenever I've ignored it, it has always gone wrong later on in some form or other.
My enquiry process
Now I'm going to talk about my enquiry process and how it works for me currently, just to give you an idea of the kinds of things I say and how I respond to different enquiries.
My enquiries come through my website contact form, which collects their name, email address, phone number, and who the lessons are for: themselves or their child. I reply to every single enquiry with a template email, but I personalise it to what they've told me in their enquiry about who the lessons are for and anything specific they've mentioned about why they want to start lessons or get their child into lessons.
I explain that I don't currently have any space, and I include a link for them to complete my waiting list Google Form. The form asks a number of key questions. One of them is whether they have an instrument and what it is, so that I can understand whether they have a keyboard, a digital piano or an acoustic piano, and then I know who to offer advice to. At the end of my reply, I also say that, realistically, a space is unlikely to come up within the next year, so they're welcome to keep looking for another teacher.
The first time I wrote that last line, it felt really scary, but it feels comfortable now because it's honest, and I don't want people hanging around on my waiting list for years with no hope of getting a space if they could find another teacher who has space for them.
Trial lessons
I give everyone a free trial lesson. Now, I know there's a cohort of teachers who strongly disagree with giving away a free lesson. And I say it's a free lesson, but 75% of it is getting to know who the student is and how they learn (well, as much as you can discern within half an hour), time to go over the policies, and a little bit of teaching them something fairly simple to see how they respond, how they take instruction and how they get on with it. So it's not a true lesson, but I think it's a really important part of deciding, yes or no, whether this is going to be a good fit. I'm trying to see: do our personalities work together? Can I meet their goals? Will my approach give them what they need?
And if it's clear that I cannot give them what they need, I say no. For adults who need flexible lesson times and days, the way I word it is: "No, I'm really sorry. My studio runs on a weekly basis and it's full, so there is no flexibility to offer." They might find another teacher who can offer that, but it's not something I can offer.
I did have an adult student come to me one time who specifically wanted help with composition, and I was truthful with him. I didn't have anyone I could recommend, and I was not in the best place to give him what he needed. It felt really calm, because it was the truth, and it was really good to be clear, rather than trying to convince myself that I could work out how to teach composition really well for the bespoke need this adult student had.
My enquiry reply template
In case it's helpful, I'm going to read out the wording of the template email that I send. So:
"Hi [name], thanks for your message about piano lessons for yourself (or your child, or whatever's relevant)." And then I refer to something they've mentioned in their message.
"I'd love to offer you a space, but unfortunately all my slots are full at the moment. If you like, I can put you on my waiting list and recontact you when a space opens up. If this is something you'd like to do, please complete this Google Form and I'll add you to the waiting list." And then I link to the Google Form.
The last sentence is: "Realistically, the earliest a space might come up is next year, so if you prefer to continue searching for a teacher, that's absolutely fine too. Thanks, Victoria."
Having this as a template means I don't need to waste brain energy recomposing this message every single time I need to say the same thing. So here's a little time-saving tip for you: create a template reply to enquiries. You're welcome to use mine if it works for your studio and fits what you need. Tweak it as you wish and save it somewhere. You could save it as a draft email, in a Word document, or wherever makes the most sense for you, as a little template that you can just copy, paste and update to save you some time.
How I choose who gets a space
I'd like to talk a little bit about waiting lists. Don't worry if you don't currently have a waiting list. I think this will be valuable for you as well, for when you have a waiting list in the future, or when you're considering taking on students and you have a limited number of slots.
I used to believe a waiting list had to be managed on a first come, first served basis. I've since decided that it's my studio and it's my choice. I don't say that lightly; I say it because of the huge variation there is amongst prospective students in their age and availability. For example, a working adult needs an evening slot, and a school-aged child who isn't home educated needs an afternoon slot. There's also the age of the child: if they're particularly young, you can't give them a late slot. All of these elements become important, and they override a first come, first served basis.
I used to think that's how people operated waiting lists because it seems the most fair. But it's not fair to anyone to place an adult in an early afternoon slot if that adult could come during the day, because then you remove the possibility of a child who cannot come during the day having that lesson slot. That's just one example.
So for me, step one is to look at who has availability for the slot that has become available. The Google Form I mentioned is a really nice, simple way of looking at this. I export the data, and then you can analyse it and see who's available on which days at which times. AI can help with this too, analysing the data and giving you a summary.
Step two: is the slot better for a child or an adult? As I've just said, a child can't come during school hours unless they're home educated, so I wouldn't use an after-school slot for an adult who could come during the day.
Step three: I check any notes I've made from correspondence with them, and I check for red flags, such as a student who has loads of after-school activities. This also links to availability: if they've only been able to select one time period on one day, and that's literally all their availability, that's a red flag in itself that they're unlikely to have enough time to practise. It's worth asking the question, though, in case they've just picked their most preferred lesson slot. If any other red flags have come up in correspondence, such as hesitation about buying an instrument or anything else I've mentioned in this episode, those are the things that make me pause and move on to the next student.
I then contact the most viable person first, and if their availability has changed or they've found another teacher, I update or remove them from the list and move on to the next most viable student.
I have to confess something, though. For a long time, I've still allowed exam-focused families to be added to the list, but I haven't come back to them, because I wasn't brave enough to say that I wasn't the right teacher. I know that's not the best way to manage it, and it's something I'm proactively dealing with at the moment. But I wanted to let you know that it's okay if this is happening for you, if you do have a waiting list, because it's hard to say "I'm not the right teacher for you" when all they've said is that they want to do loads of exams, because that feels like a reasonable request to most people.
Part 4: If you're not full yet, common objections and a summary
If you're not full yet
If you do not have a waiting list yet, being selective is still important. It's not just for teachers with a waiting list. If I could go back and talk to myself in my early teaching days in Putney or Woking, I would tell myself to try and work out who I want to teach, not who I feel I have to teach because they asked.
In everything you put out there to make yourself visible online, that information needs to speak to the students you want to teach. That's how they start to find you: students who are motivated, committed to practice, and there for the learning rather than the certificate. This all comes back to how to attract your ideal students, and that episode will be linked in the show notes.
You need to trust your gut, like I mentioned a few minutes ago. Even before you have years of experience, your gut reaction is still important, so try not to ignore it. Try to become aware of when you're having a gut reaction to something, and ask yourself, "What is it about that student that made me feel uneasy?" Or, "What was my instinctive reaction to the way they answered this question, or the way they asked that question?"
Have the red flags that you really hold firm on, even with empty slots. Things like not having a suitable instrument at home, and a gut feeling that something isn't right, are things that you can and should still be aware of, even if you don't have a waiting list.
Being selective protects your reputation
There's something I really want to say that I've seen in groups a lot, and it makes me cringe every time I see it. Being selective matters for your reputation as a teacher. Students without a practice habit or support at home tend to flounder and then quit. And then someone will say, "My daughter had piano lessons for two years and didn't get very far." And what's the next question? "Oh, who was her teacher?" So helping students build good practice habits protects your reputation. It protects your name.
A common thing I see in teacher groups is someone asking for support with students who don't practise and how to encourage practice. And you always get the teachers who just say, "Who cares? You still get paid." It's terrible advice; it's awful. It says a lot about the teacher who says that. It means they don't care about their students or their progress, and they probably haven't realised the inadvertent negative effect on their own reputation. So it's an important one to keep in mind. Not to stress you out, but so you don't just let students carry on floundering, because it's no fun for you, it's no fun for them, and it could have some damaging effects on your business.
Even if you don't have a waiting list, it's much harder to end lessons than to not start them. And I have to admit, I have often waited for a student to stop lessons of their own accord rather than ending the lessons myself. When I get the email saying they've decided to stop, there is some relief with some of these students, and it makes me realise I knew they were not going to make progress, because there was no practice habit in place. I probably should have stepped in earlier.
I hate using the word "should". The tyranny of "should" is not helpful in any sense, but it can be useful to recognise that feeling if it happens, and to acknowledge that, looking forward, when this situation arises again, the best thing to do would be to be proactive about it, be professional, and go about it with kindness, with everyone's best interests at heart, the student's as well as yours. Because for a student who doesn't practise, it is a big waste of money, it's demoralising for them, it's frustrating for us as teachers, and it just doesn't make for a very good teaching environment.
A "yes, if" approach and a review point
I think it's okay to use a "yes, if" approach, as long as you use it carefully. I remember when my piano teacher gave me her studio policy template to use for myself, one of the clauses that stuck out for me was the practice clause, which was worded something to the effect of: if progress is not made, or sufficient progress is not made, the teacher reserves the right to terminate lessons.
When I first read that as a brand new teacher, I thought, "I cannot possibly put that in my policy, because it's just going to scare off anyone who thinks they might not practise enough." But I really understand it now, all these years later. It's a clause that immediately makes it clear how important practice is. It's not there to scare anyone into thinking that if they practise three days out of seven instead of five, they're going to be ousted from their lessons. It's that no practice means no progress, and therefore no point in lessons. It's very clear to me now.
So I think a really good idea when you're taking on a new student is to set a review point after, for example, a full term. For us in the UK, that could be about 10 to 12 weeks. That way a new student has a fair chance to build up the practice habit before you decide together how it's going. It also gives you a chance to see how they learn and how they respond to things. They may make slow progress, but that could be down to the individual, and it's still progress rather than stalling.
If you have experienced any kind of burnout, or struggle with late lessons, or you find certain students really hard to teach, that is reason enough to be selective now. There's no point continuing with a schedule of students that just don't work with your needs as a teacher, because it means you're not going to be able to keep teaching them in your most effective way. You're not going to be able to be the best teacher you can be for them, because the fit is not right. It's not a criticism of the teacher, and it's not a criticism of the student; it's just that the combination doesn't work.
If this is something you'd like support with, I offer Focus Sessions for teachers who want help working out who their ideal students are. This is linked in the show notes, so you can follow that link to find out more. I've also linked my free Studio Policy Template, so you can see how I make sure students have the right instrument.
Common objections
Okay, here are some objections to the idea of not taking on every student who enquires about lessons.
Number one: "I can't afford to turn anyone away." You don't have to turn everyone away; you just need to know what you're saying yes to. A student who doesn't fit costs time and energy, and often costs you income later, when they quit or you have to end lessons. So start with your non-negotiables, like having an instrument at home, and allow yourself to be okay with turning away students who don't agree to have that instrument at home.
Number two: "It feels unkind to leave them without a teacher." An honest no helps them find a teacher who suits them sooner. Saying yes and then struggling along for two years is not kinder for them or for you.
Number three: "I'm sure I can turn them around," if we're thinking about a practice habit, for example. Sometimes you can undo bad habits, but it takes an awful lot of work, and the change has to come from the student or the family as well. Hope is not a plan. Set a review point instead, and make sure you give them enough time to show they have changed their practice habit for the better.
Number four: "A waiting list has to be first come, first served." I disagree with this one. It's your studio. You're the one who is going to be teaching these students week in, week out. It has to be a good fit, and you're in the best possible position to judge that fit, based on your experience of teaching everyone before them. Availability, the right slot for the right student, and a good fit all matter more than the date someone filled in a form.
Number five: "Talking about practice and parental involvement will scare families off." Well, yes, it might put some families off, but they're likely to be the ones who wouldn't have practised. So it's good. It's good to repel the ones who aren't going to be your ideal students. The families who do fit will be reassured that you take progress seriously, that you're committed to the teaching and you're not just taking their money. Now, no one would ever think you're taking their money for nothing, because you're providing lessons, but it shows you care about the results.
And number six: "I don't know what my red flags are yet." Absolutely. In the beginning, if you're a new teacher, that's very normal. You learn your red flags by doing the teaching. So think about any lessons you haven't enjoyed, any students you've dreaded teaching, or any students who left you drained, and have a look at what they might have in common. That is how you start your list. And don't forget to trust your gut.
To finish
To finish off this episode, I'll briefly summarise what we've covered. Saying yes to everyone is completely normal, and it's how we learn, but it costs more than we realise. Red flags are personal to each of us as individual teachers, but a simple process and a little courage make it a lot easier.
Something I would like you to try is writing a short list of your own red flags, based on how you teach and the students you've found the hardest.
If you have a waiting list, you can be brave and contact the families who are no longer a good fit. It will feel like a scary thing to do, but afterwards I promise you'll feel relieved that you don't have people on your waiting list who are never going to get a space. You don't need to give the reason. You can say something like, "I've decided to limit my waiting list so I can offer places within a shorter time, so I'm going to remove you from my list. If you'd still like lessons, please do continue looking for another teacher." It's professional, it's kind, and it lets everyone off the hook. Then check any new names against your red flags before you add them to your waiting list.
If you don't have a waiting list, keep your list of red flags to hand for the next enquiry, so that a red flag prompts you to ask more questions rather than give the benefit of the doubt.
I'm going to be doing a future episode on knowing when it's time to end lessons with a student, which we've touched on in today's episode, and I will cover what happened next with the adult student I mentioned at the start of this episode.
Thank you so much for listening to today's episode. I hope you've found it helpful, particularly when considering taking on new students. If you take one message away from this episode, it's to trust your gut. Your gut knows before you do. Don't ignore those uncomfortable feelings. It's your studio, and you want to fill it with the students you can help the most.
Feel free to share this episode with a teacher who serially takes on everyone who comes their way and is maybe struggling with some difficult students. And if you're enjoying the podcast, please leave me a rating; I would be eternally grateful. Have a lovely day. Bye.
