WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED ...
As the piano teacher, it would have seemed reasonable to try and come up with a way to remedy the technical problems Sebastian was encountering. Or, as was suggested in a few of your comments, work on helping Sebastian extend his attention span. But when I switched from thinking about his playing to thinking about Sebastian himself, what I saw was simply a tired child who needed a break.
I said to Sebastian “When I am practicing, and notice that what I’m working on is getting worse instead of better, I know I need to stop and do something else for a while. Lots of musicians do this! Do you think it would help you right now?” My purpose in phrasing it this way was twofold:
A) to preempt any feelings of guilt or failure he might feel by doing something other than guitar.
B) to let Sebastian know that he had a choice in the matter.
Consider …
Years ago when I gave violin lessons, it was tacitly assumed by everyone involved—students, their parents, and myself—that with all there is to master, the child should spend every moment on task, instrument in hand. So even when I knew in my heart that a student would benefit from a few minutes away from the violin, all I could think of was to keep coming up with “clever” strategies to proceed onward. Certainly there are times when pushing beyond our limit is appropriate—even necessary. Many of us have experienced this (in my case, as a professional violinist and author). But when forging ahead is counter-productive—particularly when someone else is in charge of the learner’s experience—and taking a break would be an effective way to rejuvenate, why is there no option to do this in a music lesson? The answer lies in the way many cultures see progress.
A widespread belief holds that in order to achieve success, not only do we need to keep going—we need to keep going at all costs. We are frightened into believing that allowing oneself any breathing room puts both the individual and society at risk of falling behind. Pain is gain, we tell ourselves, and fighting against our fatigue is considered admirable to the point where the fight itself becomes part of the productivity, leading to an illusion of accomplishment. Unable to see work and rest as compatible, we separate them, relegating rest time to naps, recreation, and vacations. Ironic, given that incorporating periods of rest into the work environment can be advantageous to the work itself.
All activities that require mental or physical exertion benefit from intervals of rest. Not only does rest allow the learner to rejuvenate, but the subconscious continues to process whatever is being learned. When we are able to take a break, not only do we return to the task re-energized, but may find that we are actually ahead of where we were the previous time! Perhaps you’ve experienced this with crossword puzzles. You fill in as many answers as you can and eventually get to a point where you cannot come up with any more no matter how long you stare. But when you return to the puzzle some time later, you find several new answers! Or learning a language, where, during the interval away from active studying, the new vocabulary continues to percolate. Research cites this as a good reason to study something just before we fall asleep. While we sleep, the learning continues. And in a music lesson, just a few minutes of rest can work wonders.
Suppose a teacher wants to try incorporating opportunities for the student to rest. What might that look like? Well, how would you relate to a tired human child if you weren’t the child’s music teacher? Listen to some music, look at a book, perhaps have a conversation about how the child’s day went. How about discussing the benefits of rest?! Whether in a music lesson or other learning environment, any genuine, compassionate, human to human solution would address the student’s needs.
What is your relationship with work? Do you already weave rest into your work time? If not, what might that do for you?