Teaching at 70…% - The Price of Giving Your All

I’ve found myself with a free hour, then a free morning, then an entire day — and I keep asking myself: am I even allowed to enjoy this?

Every year around March, I reach a point of complete exhaustion. People often talk about the darkness of winter and how difficult it is, but for me, it's spring that just sucks the life out of me. By the end of May, though, I usually feel a shift. I begin seeing the light — the school year is nearing its end, bringing with it a well-earned break. Though it’s never a complete pause, even having one thing less on my plate is something to be grateful for.

As I’ve said, the beginning of spring is always the hardest. I’ve often found myself praying for a pause, wishing to slow down for just a bit — not just in my work as a teacher, but in my business and personal life too. And now, in a strange twist, it seems like that wish has been granted. I find myself on another evening with absolutely nothing on the horizon — no concerts, no new projects or prospects, no social plans. And suddenly, this little break feels like it might stretch into a long silence — and it doesn’t feel good.

Usually, I’d jump into action — motivational videos, Pinterest boards, a run, sending texts, maybe a nap. But this time, I was still unsure. And right on time, anxiety creeps in: Am I wasting time? Should I be doing more? Where should I direct my energy? And — if I don’t have any — what then?

That restlessness has led me back to thinking about why I needed a break in the first place. Let’s forget, for a moment, all the social pressure we’re under — combined with unresolved personal issues many of us carry — that make life feel like “too much.” In my Master’s thesis, I explored what I believe is one of the key causes of this annual burnout: the current structure of employment in music education. I’m adding an excerpt at the bottom, because it explains, in short, the perhaps contradicting tensions we continue to wrestle with — and it's a message I keep coming back to when I need to reconnect with my purpose and heart.

It’s fair to say that in teaching professions — especially music — we’re witnessing cracks the system simply can’t mend fast enough. More and more teachers I know are thinking about leaving; very few new ones are coming in. Today the financial compensation doesn’t match the emotional and mental investment anymore — that is, if one truly embraces the responsibility of the role and tries to do a good job. Sure, people point to our supposedly generous vacation time, but anyone who’s lived through a full school year knows it’s greatly needed to recover.

I’ve always taken this profession seriously. I believe teaching is a form of care — a space where children are seen, protected, challenged, and inspired. I know exactly why I chose this path. My teachers helped shape the person I’ve become, and I’ve always carried with me a clear vision of the kind of teacher — and human — I want to be.

But to be honest, I can’t live up to that vision within the tempo set by the Austrian school system. I can only truly do this job — with the integrity and energy I want to show up with — if I’m working at around 60 to 70% capacity. Anything more than that, and I start to fall short. And I don’t even have family yet. Talking about how hard it must be to raise children, especially as women, under these conditions. Long, afternoon hours, with little to no real structural or financial support — and good luck finding a nursery that’s open in the afternoons. Not to mention the disheartening pension outlook. All stories for another day.

We play the roles of caretaker, instrumental teacher, psychologist, social worker, culture mediator, and moral guide — all while trying to keep kids, parents, school administrators, and ourselves happy and calm. And on top of that, we’re expected to produce results, a bunch of them. Concerts, instrumental skills (based on expectations of the school and parents - two completely different things), competition prizes, collaborations with schools and outside institutions, while managing one’s role model image by being an active musician. All for a salary that doesn’t allow you to afford your own home or raise your children independently.

After more or less working full-time as a guitar teacher for a few years now, I am not afraid to admit: I either have to disengage/detach emotionally sometimes to cope — to not lose my voice, my energy, my nerves — or I have to pick and choose who gets my full attention. It’s a painful trade-off: cut back on collaborations, concerts, projects, giving my all to each one of them beautiful souls — or cut back on my health, personal goals, dreams, or even relationships. And yes, maybe it’s just me. Maybe there are still those rare people out there who thrive in this system, who find fulfillment in doing only this one thing fully for their whole lives. But I still doubt there are many, especially in today’s conditions.

So no, I came to a realization through my work in the real world— at least for now — I, personally, can’t imagine doing this job full-time until I’m 70. Times have changed. And I owe myself the honesty to say: Not like this. And I’m allowed to change it and explore the alternatives if it doesn’t suit me afterall.

Of course, progress won’t come quickly. Of course, we can’t snap our fingers and fix a system or rewrite a society that grossly undervalues this work and meaning of music. But naming the problem — acknowledging that something is deeply off in the way music education is structured and its perception— is the first step towards change.

So maybe its not that surprising that by March, I’m depleted. That I can’t bounce back overnight. I always try to give everything — and at some point, you have to come up for air. Yet, here I am, asking myself again: Am I doing too little? Am I just too weak — not passionate or ambitious enough? Should I be building new strategy? Posting more online? Meditating? Reading? or some Shopping :)? You know the spiral.

But maybe — just maybe — rest is the work I’m meant to be doing right now. My body and mind are asking for something different: sunshine, nutritious food, movement, slow mornings, warm tea, and a gentler pace. Back to the base. And I will do my best to honor that.

So, here’s to that, just some random thoughts. See you soon — hopefully recharged, with new announcements (stay tuned for a really big and exciting one coming soon!) and excitement for the colorful chaos of summer outfits to come.

Excerpt from my Master’s thesis:
I wrote about different guitar schools throughout the centuries, analyzing their philosophies and methods throughout time in detail. This is a snippet from my final chapter — one I often return to when I need to reconnect with my motivation and core values. There were (and still are) so many more things I wanted to say — but for now, here’s this. Guten Appetit:

"Schließlich ein paar Gedanken, die diese Masterarbeit bei mir ausgelöst hat. Vielleicht ist sie auch ein Ausgangspunkt für eine Diskussion über die Erwartungen, die wir an unsere Kinder stellen – und gestellt haben. Musik ist vieles: eine Ausdrucksform, eine Quelle des Selbstbewusstseins und eine Möglichkeit, Disziplin zu erlernen. Gerade Letzteres tritt in unserem heutigen Unterricht leider manchmal in den Hintergrund. Lange Schulzeiten, steigende Leistungserwartungen in der Schule, eine Überplanung der Kinder mit Aktivitäten, um ihnen ein möglichst breites Wissen zu vermitteln, sowie ständige Ablenkungen durch Medien sind nur einige der Faktoren, die dazu führen, dass das Erlernen eines Instruments oft nur noch als Hobby wahrgenommen wird. Ein Hobby, das meist nur vorübergehend betrieben wird und in den wenigsten Fällen die Grenze von „ein paar Jahren“ überschreitet.

Unsere schnelllebige Gesellschaft raubt den Schülerinnen und Schülern die Möglichkeit, ihre instrumentalen Fähigkeiten wirklich zu entwickeln (und sie im sozialen Kontext zu nutzen). Dabei könnten gerade diese Fähigkeiten – und das damit verbundene Gefühl für Disziplin und Selbstvertrauen – im späteren Leben eine unglaublich nützliche Ressource darstellen.

Es stellt sich außerdem die Frage, ob Kinder im traditionellen Musikschulsystem tatsächlich so überfordert sind, dass die Tendenz, den Lernstoff auf ein weniger anspruchsvolles Niveau anzupassen und sich nur auf Spaß, Ausdruck und das gemeinsame Musizieren zu konzentrieren, überhaupt notwendig ist. Viele von uns, die im pädagogischen Bereich und in der Musik im Allgemeinen tätig sind, wissen, dass man, um all das oben Genannte auf einem mehr als elementaren Niveau ausüben zu können, eine gewisse Disziplin und ein Mindestmaß an Übung braucht. Es erfordert Entschlossenheit – und daran führt oft kein Weg vorbei.

Gleichzeitig leben wir in einer Zeit voller Möglichkeiten, die auch positiv gesehen werden können. Wir haben heute die Chance, Kinder mit Musik in einem Rahmen zu erreichen, der es uns erlaubt, unsere Methoden und Materialien an ihre Persönlichkeiten und Bedürfnisse anzupassen. Wir sind nun in der Lage, auf das Individuum einzugehen und zu verstehen, dass nicht jeder Weg für jeden geeignet ist – genauso wie nicht jede Institution oder Unterrichtsform für jeden passt. Diesen Luxus, uns und unsere Arbeit flexibel gestalten zu können, sollten wir uns auch gönnen.

Ich wünsche mir, dass Lehrer*innen heute erkennen: Unterrichten kann nicht nur Arbeit sein – es hat das Potenzial, ein erfüllender Lebenszweck zu werden. Vorausgesetzt, man lässt seinen Geist nicht durch ein bekanntes System einengen. Deshalb möchte ich mit einem Gedanken schließen: Egal aus welchem Jahrhundert, von welchem Autor, aus welchem Hintergrund oder Verlag – wir sollten immer das mitnehmen, womit wir innerlich resonieren und was wir persönlich als nützlich empfinden – und den Rest liegen lassen. Lernen kann man immer, aber den Sinn und die Verbindung zu dem, was wir tun, muss man auch wirklich spüren."