When I first started playing the cello in 6th grade at Birney Middle School in Southfield, MI, I couldn’t get enough of it. I got my first cello in October 1995, and that’s when my passion for music truly ignited. I practiced every chance I had, diving into music with curiosity and enthusiasm. By the time I started lessons with my first private teacher in April 1996, I had already taught myself the first three Suzuki books and learned to read four clefs.
Despite this early passion, I didn’t actually know how to practice effectively until grad school. Between the ages of 11 and 22, my “practice” sessions consisted of running through assignments once or twice and then spending hours sightreading or exploring scores that fascinated me. While this helped me develop strong sightreading skills and the ability to study large symphony scores by age 15, I lacked the discipline and strategies to progress at a competitive level. For example, I didn’t use a metronome or tuner until I was well into my 20s!
When I arrived at the Cleveland Institute of Music (CIM) for grad school, I was no longer a “big fish in a small pond” but, as Robert DeMaine once said, the “tiniest fish in an ocean.” At Wayne State University, where I completed my undergrad, there were only two or three cello performance majors. At CIM, there were at least 50 cellists, many already winning international competitions or securing performance jobs. It was humbling and overwhelming.
My teacher at CIM, Stephen Geber, taught me how to practice—a skill I now pass on to all my students. Early on, he asked me how I practiced, and I felt embarrassed explaining my disorganized approach. He encouraged me to structure my practice sessions like lessons: start with scales and arpeggios, then an etude, and finally, repertoire. I wondered why I hadn’t thought of that before—it was how every lesson had been structured since I started playing!
Under Geber’s guidance, I began to use a metronome and followed his scale bowing exercises, which took at least 90 minutes to complete. I practiced my scales chromatically, rotating through keys every 24 days: Day 1 was C major, Day 2 C minor, Day 3 D-flat major, and so on. The metronome became my constant companion, set to 60 beats per minute for steady practice and sometimes slowed to 48 bpm for detailed work. That slower tempo really resonated with me and allowed me to focus on precision.
With 1.5 hours of my daily 3.5-hour practice devoted to scales and arpeggios, I divided the remaining time between etudes and pieces. I didn’t practice everything every day but made sure to cover each part of the assignment at least twice a week. Sundays became my “catch-up” days, often involving six to seven hours of focused practice.
At age 24, I finally began using a recorder and drone tuner daily—tools I could have started using much earlier. These resources helped me refine intonation and phrasing, making my practice more productive and intentional.
Looking back, I consider myself a late bloomer, still learning new ways to practice effectively. Today, my practice time is more balanced, focusing on both detail and broader preparation for performances and gigs. Whether I’m working on solo repertoire or orchestra music, my goal is always to be fully prepared for the first rehearsal.
The journey of learning how to practice never really ends. It’s about constantly discovering new strategies, adapting to your current needs, and striving for progress, no matter where you are in your musical journey.