I was at Tooele High School in early 2024 to coach my student who was preparing to solo with her orchestra class for Concerto Night. I was so inspired and intrigued by something that I heard the orchestra teacher, Amanda Poland, tell her students on that occasion, that I decided to ask her if I could interview her for a blog post. This also fits one of the requested topics from my subscribers when I sent out a survey. The request was for tips for performance anxiety. You'll see that the comment that impressed me is embedded later within one of the questions.

Another reason I appeal to Mrs. Poland’s expertise in this case is because I confess I haven’t dealt with performance anxiety very much. I have enjoyed the positive attention received from performing for an audience since I was five years old. Sure, I’ve occasionally had my heart thump before stepping on stage, had the experience of a shaking bow or extra uncontrolled vibrato in front of hundreds of strangers (for me this is especially frustrating when the reaction is due to external factors, such as cold temperatures in the venue), or had the common preemptive, imaginative nightmare of showing up to a highly anticipated performance late or unprepared, which always ends up proving unfounded, btw. In my case, I am thankfully able to calm my nerves by appealing to logic. I ask myself in my worried state, “Have you ever actually shown up to a performance completely unprepared? No. So relax. You’ll do your homework.” I’ve never broken down on stage or had to leave for fear of throwing up. But after a lot of experience observing and teaching K-12 orchestra students in public, and violin students privately, I know anxiety is a problem that deeply affects many others.

So I hope some of Amanda’s tips and stories are helpful to my readers! At the very least, I hope they can find comfort in the fact that they’re not alone. Note: I have done my best to interpret my quick note-taking to the best of my memory. Any unlikely mistakes I am made aware of will be fixed.

Before I report the interview, I’ll begin with summarizing Mrs. Poland’s story:

As a music education major on viola, she was to play a Prelude by Bach at Weber State University in her first masterclass performance. Despite taking her usual deep breaths, her anxiety kept getting worse through the experience. She wasn’t even sure she remembered to play the middle section. After receiving feedback, she sat down. She remembered the following week someone else playing the exact same piece. But the overall experience wasn’t lost on her. She realized from that series of events that she wanted to enjoy performing! So she worked at it. She practiced breathing, grounding, getting out of her own head, and eventually got better at managing her emotion. At one of her recitals, she realized the importance of accepting she was going to make mistakes! She loved music, and that realization kept her performing despite her challenges. “When I thought less about me and more about the music I was sharing, that’s when things really changed for me.”

Below are the specific questions I asked Mrs. Poland, along with her answers. Keep in mind she has over a decade of full-time orchestra teaching experience in public middle schools and high schools in Logan and Tooele. That’s a lot of knowledge to pull from!

Q. What percentage of your students would you say deal with some form of performance anxiety?
A. 100%.

Q. How many of those suffer in silence, without having admitted to you that it’s a concern?
A. I’d estimate 65%.

Q. I remember hearing you tell a group of your students that anxiety and excitement are the same emotion. What source does that statement originate from? How would it help a performer to know that ahead of time?
A. I listen to a lot of mental health podcasts and YouTubers, many of whom are licensed Utah mental health workers, such as John Delony (a co-host for Dave Ramsey), Emma McAdams, and Jonathan Decker. [It always helps to know what you’re up against so you can prepare and even redirect your emotion.]

Q. Are there physical manifestations of anxiety, whether visible to others or internally only?
A. It manifests itself in loss of bow control, pitch problems, turning pale, or hyperventilation.

Q. Do you think there are different levels of anxiety based on type of performance? For example, does performing in an ensemble feel safer than having a solo? Does audience size matter? What about age?
A. Yes, [I’m] generally more scared with a solo. And anxiety is a new experience for students [so it can affect them more intensely]. The level of expertise in an audience is also a factor.

Q. Does anxiety ever serve a purpose? What does the science say?
A. Yes. Anxiety is a natural bodily reaction to keep us safe! I still struggle. But instead of seeing myself as a victim with a problem, I realize anxiety is a natural response that is trying to tell me something. I ask myself what I can do with that and what can bring me peace. “Peace” is my word for the year. Anxiety can be like “stress on steroids.” If I can’t control it, I try to think of what I CAN do. Now I acknowledge it, but I don’t focus on it, because that response is just feeding it.

Other lessons Mrs. Poland appreciated were during her years in Logan, from seeing the experiences of a student who always struggled with anxiety. At the big playing test, this student was physically shaking. Unexpectedly, though, when the class was asked for volunteers to go first, she quickly volunteered. Her approach was “I’m just going, I’m not going to think about it.” And she just did it! As Amanda tells the story, the anxiety didn’t have time to kick in until afterwards. The class celebrated this girl and cheered her on. This student also knew she had an advocate in her orchestra teacher. “The only reason” she went on tour with her orchestra is that she knew she could trust her teacher with her anxiety; she knew Mrs. Poland could relate to her and would help.

I’ve had experiences watching students in my private studio overcome their anxiety as well, by various means. By slow and steady efforts, Laura*, who didn’t think she could ever perform for anyone was gently encouraged and found that she could be eased into performing for her peers. Often, after a performance during a masterclass when I suspected this or another student was scared but hid it well, after congratulating them for a great performance, I’d make it a point to ask them in front of the class if they had been nervous to play. Inevitably, the performer, at this point relieved to have it over with, immediately admitted that yes, she was. Very much so. Then I asked the rest of the class if they could tell the performer was nervous, and the others shook their heads in disbelief, always clearly surprised to learn of the anxiety. They were just impressed with the performance. But after this new revelation, I could tell from their faces that they were even more impressed. Similarly, the performer, whoever he might be, was gratified to learn that he was able to successfully disguise his apprehension. For teachers and parents: I advocate this method of acknowledgment after a solid performance (asking “were you nervous) and feel it is better than asking a student just before a performance if they are nervous. In the second scenario, they’d be vulnerable to suggestion and perhaps without adequate time to calm their nerves before the event. I acknowledge that cases vary and no one is perfect, however.

Even when the stress cannot be hidden, success can occur. One dear student of mine (I believe of middle-school age at the time) came to a dead halt in the middle of her piece during a recital performance. The pianist, after attempting to prompt her, eventually stopped as well. Several seconds of silence that seemed like eternities ticked by with the audience waiting in apprehension, and I could see tears starting to form on my student’s cheeks. Fearing she would flee the scene and promptly quit the violin altogether, I held my breath. Imagine my surprise and elation when she stayed on the stage and started to play again! This student impressed me forever with that important decision! In a flash of inspiration, though uneasy myself, I picked up my violin which was nearby and joined her on stage, unrehearsed, for the rest of the song. Together, teacher with student, we made it through! It was a beautiful, heartwarming conclusion and hopefully changed the memory for many for the better. I realize now that my anxiety for her trumped my own personal anxiety in initially not knowing what to do. Sydney* taught me much about fortitude that day. I am convinced we can make a difference with our aid and mutual respect in calming our own inner storm or that of another!

Wrapping Up
Amanda’s advice is, “If you know you struggle with [performance anxiety], accept that you’re going to make mistakes. Because you’re human. And part of the beauty of music is the human quality.” I love that. Humans are emotional. And imperfect at it! But truly, that’s what music demands of us. Going farther with this idea, imperfect emotion is what makes our own experience with music meaningful.

Here’s another way of looking at performing. It may seem a strange analogy, but it seems appropriate to the topic. My favorite animal is a giraffe. Have you ever considered the strangeness of a giraffe? I like it partly because of it’s unique, somewhat goofy appearance. But also because it seems so content. It’s exaggerated height and curious spots and spindly legs don’t bother the giraffe at all: it is comfortable in its own skin and continually maintains an air of peaceful nobility. Improbable, but true, right? Has anyone else noticed that giraffes don’t seem at all self-conscious? Or, would you ever laugh at a giraffe? At least for me, I’m continually in interest and awe over these curious creatures.

In contrast, we as humans may read into our insecurities more. We may think we’re sticking out like a sore thumb, but even if true, that might be the reason we’re so lovable. Especially when we deal with our standing out in a crowd in a big way with grace. The older I get, the more I find I understand and appreciate the awkward!

We, all of us, myself included, make mistakes. But I like to think that we’re no less lovable, especially when we learn from our mistakes, whenever that learning occurs. And on that note, may we all learn from giraffes, from Mrs. Poland, and so many of our collective students who have braved the fearsome—they’ve taken a deep breath, dived in, and come out stronger in the end!

*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of minors.