I have always wanted to understand why something must be done one way and not the other; why some people act the way they do, or why things are the way they are. So it seems fitting to explain why I decided to dedicate at least four years of my life to a PhD.
The most direct motivation came from all the “whys” I could not answer. While teaching at a music school, I started to feel that the expectations of children (or their parents) and the school were very different, leaving me as the teacher with little flexibility to navigate between them. Why should I demand musical notation skills from students who cannot yet read, rush students to learn scales when they have no interest in them, or send a child to a graded performance when they are crying from the shock of a recent accident involving a loved one?
On a human level, these situations should not even be up for debate. Yet, from the music school’s perspective, these real-life examples were viewed as deviations from the norm, curriculum, tradition, or other standards, and resolving these issues felt like a favour to me or my students rather than the obvious, humane thing to do. Fortunately, I also know of schools that do put students’ and teachers’ well-being first, where such situations would be unthinkable. But in short, I was looking for a solution to my dilemma that would allow me to teach at a music school with a clear conscience. What I learned was that everything depends on the school: students’ and teachers’ experiences can range from extremely positive to unbearably difficult.
A vivid example of this is a student who was labelled as “average” at one school and was told to repeat a grade. However, after switching to a more supportive school, where teachers explained things patiently, this student finished the first school year at the new school with honours, earning top grades in all subjects. Having seen this up close, for any sceptical readers, I can assure you this was not a case of easier grading. Given the chance to grow, this child finally found joy in attending music school, and with newfound motivation, they began to pick up new skills with ease.
It feels unfair that access to musical training and the quality of that experience depend on which municipality one lives in. Moreover, children’s rights to equal opportunities to participate in cultural life and engage in the arts are clearly stated in the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child1, which Estonia joined already in 1991. In my PhD research, I hope to answer why the current situation still sometimes fosters inequality and what could be done to ensure that musical education is equally accessible to everyone, tailored to their expectations and abilities. Anyone interested in sharing their opinion on this is welcome to get in touch!
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