The first lesson was arranged by my mother with Mr Woodruff, so I did not meet him until that time. The studio was nice and clean and I arrived with no one other than Mr Woodruff there. I sang for him, scales, arpeggios, a hymn or two, and then he gave me something to sing. One of the first ones he suggested was Danny Boy. Mother sat through this on the couch.

I liked his teaching style and his strong encouragement with very little judgment, always positive and progressive. This philosophy has stayed with me ever since. I’ve seen other teaching styles used, and they never work as well. Part of his attitude in music was to be practical. In my second lesson, I discovered this part.

For my second lesson, my mother drove me over to Eighth Street and as before we opened the door and walked in, this time hesitantly because there was a student already in there having a lesson. He said to come in, that they were done, and we would start my lesson. The other student — and I don’t remember her name, maybe Diane Allen? — just said hi and left.

My lesson went well and I got some more pieces to buy at Brodt’s. I was a good sight reader, so I could sing music that Mr Woodruff gave me there in the studio, and he could play enough to make an accompaniment of sorts, mostly the chords to keep things going. About half way through, someone walked in to the studio for their lesson, and I assumed that I would need to say goodbye and leave. Mr Woodruff said, “Where are you going?” I said that his next pupil was there so I needed to leave. He firmly chuckled and said that we weren’t finished and that the next student would sit on the couch while we had the other 15 minutes. I was petrified, and he could see it. Performing in front of others is one thing, but taking a lesson with all of its slips, errors, corrections, repeat errors, stopping, starting, getting lost, singing wrong notes, and on and on is quite another. The other student had already sat down and had begun reading something, paying absolutely no attention to me whatsoever.

I told Mr Woodruff, sheepishly, that I was a little uncomfortable having someone I had never met before he had introduced us thirty seconds before hearing and watching my lesson. I was just getting used to him as a teacher. This was, after all, only my second lesson. I was in junior high school, adolescent and perpetually uncomfortable, with a higher-than-normal pitched voice to boot! Clearly, I had a right to feel this way.

Well, actually, no. Mr Woodruff laughed and said to go on as though there was no one there. He told me to get over it right then and there. He said that the life of a musician, especially a singer, was expected to be filled with instances of appearing in front of people. Sometimes you were fully prepared and sometimes, well, you “made do.” He proceeded with my lesson and pushed me through this, for me, very difficult hurdle in working through voice problems, learning notes, and basically learning to perform in front of someone else.

He was right. If you can have a lesson in front of one person or get through a master class in front of  a hundred, you can easily and stand up and sing your aria which you know perfectly with all the confidence in the world. I do not remember what song I was preparing then, but I do remember that I learned this during my second lesson.

Michael Johnston