Gear infatuation runs rampant in instrumental circles (see: trumpets, trombones, and especially saxophones). In reality there is no mouthpiece, reed, or $100 thumb-rest that will replace hard work.
Merlin is talking about National Novel Writing Month, but I think it applies across all creative endeavors and to educational philosophy. A big part of teaching is allowing a student to learn. Giving a student no opportunity for failure gives them little opportunity for ultimate success.
Choose Something Like a Star
by Robert Frost, 1947
O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud —
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.
Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says “I burn.”
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats’ Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far,
We may choose something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid.
Someday, when I have a space to put it, I will buy one of these. The great conductor, Tim Reynish, once told me, “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Be creative.” This piece plays on that idea, but they idea of making a “better” mistake implies a contradiction that I find compelling and humorous at the same time.
