Losing students is a normal part of running a studio. Here's how to handle it calmly, fairly and professionally.
In this episode:
Why a student leaving feels so personal, even when it isn't
The most common reasons students stop lessons, and when a pattern is worth a closer look
How my one-month notice period works, and the email I send when a student gives notice
What to say when a family leaves without paying their notice period
How I make the final lessons count, for children and adults
Why a waiting list changes how a departure feels
Links mentioned:
Monthly Billing Transition Toolkit (£12)
Episode 7, How I Built a 50-Person Waiting List
Episode 11, What Makes a Good Music Teacher (where I first shared the festival story)
Rock Out Loud Live, for online lessons (affiliate link: I may earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you)
If this episode helped, I'd be so grateful if you left a rating or review wherever you listen. And if you know a teacher who's feeling the sting of a student leaving, please pass it on.
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Part 1: Why it feels so personal
Eight students in eight months
About a month ago, a message popped up from a teacher friend of mine. He started by telling me he'd listened to every episode of the podcast so far, which was really lovely to hear. Then he got to the real reason he was writing. By the end of August, he'd lost eight of his students this year, which is one a month. He still had quite a lot of students (I think it was 50 or so), and when he went through the reasons, not one of them had anything to do with his teaching. Yet his question for me was, "Isn't that quite a lot?"
I totally get it. When you lose quite a few students in a short space of time, it feels really scary. Suddenly you think, "What's going wrong? What am I doing? I must be doing something to drive them away. I need to fix this. I have no idea what's going on." So it's perfectly normal to need that kind of reassurance.
He shared the reasons they'd stopped. A couple had left school. One wasn't practising, and his mum said he wasn't quite ready for the maturity needed for lessons. Two had passed their Grade 8 and felt they'd taken it as far as they wanted to. One was short on time and struggling with the skills. One was quite elderly, and one had money problems. So even though all those reasons point somewhere other than the teaching, my friend still couldn't really see for himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong, and it still felt like a lot of students to lose. That gap, between what we know logically and what we feel when a student leaves, is what this episode is all about.
I'm Victoria. I started teaching piano part-time 18 years ago, alongside a career in pharmaceutical market research, and I made pretty much every mistake you can make when it comes to running a teaching business. But today I run a thriving studio from my home on the south coast of England, with students I love and a waiting list I'm proud of. I started this podcast because I want that for you too.
If you've ever said yes to a reschedule you really didn't want to do, felt your heart sink when your phone buzzed with another last minute cancellation, or found yourself putting off increasing your fees for another year because the timing never feels quite right, this is the podcast for you. I've been there and come out the other side with a teaching business that lights me up every single day, and I'm here to help you do the same.
What this episode covers
Welcome to today's episode, which is all about what to do when students quit, and the fact that it's really nothing to do with your teaching, even if you think it might be. It covers what to do emotionally and practically when a student stops lessons. We'll cover why it feels so personal when students leave, what "normal" turnover (in inverted commas) looks like, how notice periods work in my studio, just to show you how I deal with it, and how to end each relationship well.
Before I had a waiting list, when someone said, "I've decided to stop lessons," it was a real punch in the gut. It wasn't only the lost income, but the lost relationship, the progress we'd built together, and all the energy it takes to build rapport with a new student.
The online lesson that went wrong
I had an adult student whom I taught in person before COVID (infamous COVID), and who was reluctant to move online. After about nine months, she got in touch with me again. We were fully in online teaching mode, with no in-person contact, and she wanted to try online lessons, which was great. I thought, "Oh, this is wonderful. She's come back, and she still wants piano lessons."
I taught her for a further four months online, and it was great. She was quite a self-critical person, which showed in her body language and the way she'd get really frustrated with herself. I think you've probably all seen that if you teach adults. As adults, we're a lot more self-critical anyway, but she was particularly so. She'd often switch off, close up her digital piano and shut the book before the lesson had finished. This was while we were teaching online.
Emotionally, I found it quite difficult. I've talked about this before: I feel everybody's emotions, which is why, if I'm in a room with an anxious person, I get really anxious. Obviously there was some anxiety here, and the self-critical nature of it, so it was quite an emotionally charged time teaching her.
I'd been teaching her online for about four months by then, and there was one Zoom lesson (yes, I was using Zoom; it was before I discovered Rock Out Loud Live, which, by the way, is wonderful if you want to teach online, and I'll put the link in the show notes). I had all the special settings on for music lessons and so on. I'd been teaching online for 10 months at that point and had never had the sound cut out entirely. Occasionally it would go a bit quiet and then come back, depending on the signal, which was annoying, but that was all we had. If you wanted to keep teaching, you needed to go online.
In this particular lesson, the sound cut out completely, but the picture was fine, which makes me suspect a button was pushed, or some setting was clicked by accident. Anyway, we couldn't get the sound back, and her husband walked in on the silent lesson. I sent her a message offering to carry on by phone, on speakerphone, if she'd like, which she didn't want to do.
Very soon afterwards, I got an email from her saying she was stopping because online lessons weren't working. It felt really unfair, because I hadn't done anything wrong, and the fault could just as easily have been at her end. It was like, "Oh, I've tried so hard. You came back, you were having great lessons for four months, and then this one experience changed your mind." But it is what it is. We have to accept it when a student wants to stop lessons, whatever the reason.
Standing up for my notice period
In that email, she asked for a refund of all the lessons she'd paid for. Back then I was charging termly, and my notice period was a term's notice, because I charged termly. She effectively had nine lessons of credit left, but she wanted a complete refund and an immediate stop.
I'm proud to say I did stand up for my policies back then. It was probably one of the earliest times I did, because I reread the email I sent. One thing I'd change is that I wouldn't explain my notice period quite so much. I went into a bit too much detail, which I always advise against. You don't need to explain your notice period or your policies. They're your policies, and they should be adhered to.
Anyway, I offered to waive the notice period and keep the nine lessons of credit on file for her for when lessons resumed in person, because she'd said the online format just didn't work for her (even though she'd been fine for four months), and she wanted to revisit it when things went back to normal. This was January 2021. I opened for in-person lessons again in April that year, but at that point we didn't know how much longer the lockdowns would continue. So it was understandable. But she wasn't happy for me to keep the nine lessons of credit; she just wanted a full refund, to call it quits, and that was that.
I was pleased that I didn't just give up after reinforcing my policies once. I explained that my notice period also covers the time I'd spent researching materials and buying exam preparation material for her: all the time and money I'd invested in planning for a student. So I offered her a refund of six lessons, and reduced the notice period (if we were going to stick to a notice period) to the end of half term, rather than the end of the full term. She was happy with that, or accepted it, anyway, and didn't push back again.
It was one of the first times I really had to battle to keep my boundaries in place, and it was quite uncomfortable. I remember my heart racing over all these emails, as you do when you have to confront someone who's trying to bypass your boundaries. The thing that really stung was that she'd just decided, as she put it, "I don't think your contract is suitable for our current situation with COVID," and that was her reason for wanting a refund.
It was an odd time, and you bet I changed my policies after that. I added a clause saying that if government legislation meant in-person lessons weren't allowed, lessons would move online, and the terms of the studio policies would still apply, including the notice period to stop. That's been in there ever since COVID and that experience.
But because of the emotional charge in those lessons, thinking back, I didn't really mind losing her as a student. Teaching someone with that much self-criticism every week was emotionally quite heavy, and for me personally, it wasn't the end of the world. But obviously, whenever any student chooses to stop, we take it really personally, even though we shouldn't.
The cost of taking it personally
The problem with taking every student departure personally is that it really chips away at your confidence. If you already have quite low self-confidence, you'll see each departure as proof that you're not good enough, which is so far from the truth.
When you think about student turnover (or really, student retention: how long students stay), how often does a student leave your studio? It can vary enormously depending on the types of students you teach, because adults and children have different priorities and different levels of stability. So I don't think it's possible to put a real number on it, and I assume it varies from place to place as well.
But nearly every time a student leaves, it comes down to things outside your control. What matters isn't the number of students leaving. It's being able to tell the difference between a normal number of departures and a worrying pattern, and that's how we take the fear out of it.
For my teacher friend, nothing on his list of reasons pointed to his teaching, nothing at all. It was all examples of life happening to his students, not a verdict on him as a teacher, which is what I told him: "It's fine. It's not you. Look at all the reasons. It's nothing to do with your teaching; it's all these other things."
I had three unexpected student departures last year myself. One had lost motivation and wasn't practising enough, one moved away, and one was the parent I mentioned in a previous episode, who withdrew her daughter from lessons after a disappointing music festival experience. I'm going to count that one as a bit of a red herring, because that had never happened before.
The reasons students give
The reasons I hear most often, as I'm sure you do too, are not practising enough to make good use of the lessons (usually what an adult will say when they stop), or not having enough time to practise, which is really a similar reason. Moving house: people move away, and it's just too far to come, which is a very practical reason. And by far and away, too many other activities, which ties in with not having enough time to practise.
I put this question to my Facebook group the other week as a poll: "What's the most common reason your students give when they decide to stop lessons?" By far and away, it was too many other activities, which really shows the state of the world at the moment, particularly how overscheduled children are.
In fact, it's one of the red flags I check for during a trial consultation lesson, or even before that, when a prospective student contacts me. I have a Google Form I send to all my prospective students, with a question asking them to tick their availability from Monday to Friday. The day is divided into four sections of time: 10 till 12, 1 till 3, 3 till 5 and 5 till 7, I think. So you get the four sections of the day. If they can only tick one or two spaces at most, that's an indicator: if that's the only time they could have a lesson, when are they going to have time to practise?
Then you can ask about it. During the trial lesson, I always ask, if it's a child, "What other hobbies or after-school activities do you do?" If they start listing all sorts of things, I'm honest: "If you're going to take on piano lessons (in my case), you need time to practise, and it doesn't sound like you'd have time, so this probably won't be a fruitful activity for you." Anyway, I digress.
In terms of the reasons people give, I believe they're the truth, with the exception of the festival parent. That was a whole new list of reasons that appeared suddenly after two years of teaching her daughter. But I do think our students tell us the truth when they're finishing lessons.
In my experience, adults are slightly more likely to stop sooner, more often than not because they underestimate how much time it takes to make good progress on an instrument, especially one like the piano. But if it clicks with them and they get a structure in place, they do really well. It's down to the individual. If they have a really stressful job and are always travelling, for example, that's exactly the sort of thing that can get in the way of making progress on an instrument.
Not everyone will love music the way we do
The other part, which I really want to point out, is that not everyone will fall in love with music the way we have. It's rare that they will, and it's not a failure on your part. I'm making a point of this because it took me a surprisingly long time to realise it.
We've experienced everything in our own lives, and we've found the true joy and beauty of music. That's why, more often than not, we've become teachers. So it's very easy to think, as I naively did as a young teacher, "I want to introduce everyone I can to the wonderful world of music," because of how much it has done for me (and I presume for you too), and the huge, beneficial role it plays in my life, particularly for my mental health, wellbeing and confidence, and all the other good stuff you get from studying music. I wanted to bring that to everyone. But it doesn't do that for everyone, and it took me so long to realise that, because everybody's different. It doesn't click for some people.
I've seen conversations online where teachers have particularly talented students (I say "talented" because they find things easier and they do practise, but that's another conversation entirely), and they're so sad when these students, who are naturally so able at their instrument (often piano, because those are the groups I hang out in), stop lessons to pursue academic studies. They drop one so they can go further with the other. It is sad, because you think, "Oh, they're so good and so capable." But if they don't love it, it's the right thing for them to stop. If they have to choose between one and the other, they might find their joy in a completely different subject. I know that's hard to say and hard to hear, but it's the truth.
When it might be a pattern
In thinking about students leaving, what would worry me personally is if I spotted a pattern: maybe children always leaving within their first year, or a whole cluster of them, like half a dozen giving notice in June to finish in July. That would give me pause for thought.
But even then, always look at the individual reasons. Yes, they might cluster together, and you might think, "Holy cow, what's going on? All my students are leaving. What is happening?" It might just be a coincidence that three have moved house, one has taken on two more activities at school, or an older or younger sibling has taken up an activity that means driving all over the place. Those things make it difficult. So always look at the individual reasons before assuming it's something you've done as a teacher.
Part 2: Notice periods and final invoices
A clear notice period
Okay, the practical side of students leaving: notice periods and final invoices. If you have a clear notice period and use it consistently, it turns a student quitting from a really awkward, uncomfortable guessing game into a calm, professional process.
My policy at the moment, and since I switched to monthly billing, is one month's notice, because it matches the billing cycle. It used to be a term's notice when I billed termly, as I mentioned earlier. Then I changed it to giving notice by half term to finish at the end of term, because no one ever stuck to the term's notice anyway. But hardly anyone stuck to that either, because I had the policy but didn't stand up for it. I've admitted that before.
It was the September no-shows, when I used to bill termly with a term's notice. I'd be waiting on the first day of term for a student who never arrived. I'd send a message asking if they were coming to their lesson, and get a message back saying, "I'm not coming back. Thanks for the lessons." No goodbye, no chance to give any parting advice, and I couldn't send an invoice, because they weren't expecting to pay anything. It was just, "Thanks for everything, I'm gone."
My notice email template
Now the picture is much better. As soon as I get a message that a student is quitting lessons, in whatever form it comes (email, WhatsApp or text), I get on my laptop and reply by email, so there's a paper trail. I have a template for these emails, so I don't have to think about it every time.
I say, "Hi [student's name], this is to confirm the termination of [student's name]'s piano lessons on [date], with one month's notice given on [the date they gave notice]." So the final day of lessons is one month from when they gave notice. Then I say, "The final balance is X, with calculations shown below for reference."
I show the fee calculations because of the monthly billing. I don't have to work it out any more, because I use the calculator tool in my Monthly Billing Transition Toolkit. You input the number of lessons they've had available in that academic year, up to the end of the notice period, and the number of payments you've received from them, and it calculates the cost of all those lessons minus the payments received. That's your final invoice.
I lay it all out in the email, so the parent can read it and see, "Okay, we've paid this much, and they've had this many lessons available." I say "available" because if they choose not to attend the last lessons of their notice period, that doesn't mean they're not paid for. So you describe them as lessons available. Then it's really clear why they owe a final invoice, and what they owe.
The rest of the email just says something like, "I've sent out final invoice number [whatever it is] for the above amount. Please note this replaces invoice number [the last recurring invoice that went out, if it was recent]." And that's it. I don't explain anything else.
Using this template takes all the emotion out of it, and that's exactly where you don't want emotion. You can have all the emotion you want in the final lesson, when you're sad to say goodbye to a student you might have been teaching for years. You've built up a relationship with them and their families. You've probably seen them grow up, if they started very young. You've seen them progress and enjoy their lessons with you. You might have seen them perform at a recital, achieve exam results, or perform at a festival and win a trophy. How great is it when you see pictures of your students holding trophies because they won their festival class? So it is an emotional investment, and it's okay to feel that. But when you're dealing with the notice period and the final invoice, you don't need the emotion. You can leave it out, use a template and keep it professional.
The small final balance
Just a note: with my monthly billing set-up, families are usually around one lesson behind, so there's nearly always a small final balance. Since I created this template and started using it consistently, without any extra explanation or padding (just the facts), no one has pushed back.
Occasionally someone might ask, "Oh, why do we still need to pay more?", for example if they stop in December, and they only have a couple of lessons in December before we break for Christmas and New Year. That's when I refer back to the calculations: "Well, you've made this many payments, which cover this amount, but this is the number of lessons that have been available, and that's how much they cost." That usually tidies it all up. No one really pushes back, because you can't really push back against facts, and that's what these calculations are.
As I said, some families choose not to come to the final lessons in their notice period. Most do, unless something has been really difficult, like they've just started a new job and literally can't attend any more. But they still pay for those lessons. It's completely up to the student whether they attend. I always find it's better when they do, because it's not a sudden cut-off. You get to say goodbye, which I think is really valuable, not just for them, but for us as teachers.
If you aren't already aware, I have a free studio policy template. You can use it to update your own studio policies if you wish, add to your own, or, if you don't have one already, use mine to get started. I'll put the link in the show notes, along with the Monthly Billing Transition Toolkit for the calculator tool. It's not very expensive, only £12, so if you'd like it, the link will be in the show notes.
Part 3: Ending well, and when students don't
Accept their decision
Okay, the final lessons. How you respond to the notice they've given you, and what you do in the last few lessons, really shapes how the family, and the student themselves, remember you. Don't forget that choosing to stop lessons feels uncomfortable. If you've ever had to stop doing something and tell the person you're paying that you won't be doing it any more, it feels awful for most people. No one enjoys saying it or doing it, which is why you sometimes get the ghosters: it's too uncomfortable for them to come and say, "I've decided to stop lessons." I can understand that side of it. It's not very professional or respectful, but it's understandable if you struggle a lot with that kind of emotion.
So when you get notice that a student is stopping lessons, I strongly advise you to just accept their decision. Don't try to change their mind. After they've built up the courage to tell you they're stopping, especially after a long relationship, trying to persuade them to stay just makes it more awkward for everyone. So I'd advise against it.
One thing I will say is that I've never bent my policies to keep a student, and that's something I'm really proud of, because I think it's fair to say that losing students is what nearly all of us fear most. We fear losing students when we raise our rates, and when we put boundaries in place, like not rescheduling lessons any more, or not carrying them over to the next month or term. But when a student decides to leave, that's just part of running a studio. You stick to your policies, because they're there to protect you and your income against unexpected changes like this.
The final lessons
If it's a child student, I try to make the final lessons really fun. We'll do lots of improvisation if they're comfortable with it (not everybody is). We'll play music games; I've got stacks of them on top of my piano that I don't use often enough. We'll play through old favourite pieces they've learned, and play duets together that they've learned before. So it's more about the music making, remembering how much fun it is to play the piano, and leaving them with the joy of music lessons. Whether they pick it up again with me or another teacher, or just get more involved with music at school, it's always going to be a positive thing if they have a positive association with music.
For adults, I try to send them off with something to keep them going. I might take them through some simple chord progressions, and help them understand how they can experiment and mess around with them. If they've been learning to read music, as the vast majority do, they can continue that; they know the rules and understand how it works. But being able to create music in the moment with a simple chord progression is really satisfying, and it can give them just enough to keep going on their own.
That chance to say goodbye and leave them with some parting advice on how to keep playing, whether it's a child or an adult, is exactly what the people who just didn't show up took away from both of us. I think it's really important to have that opportunity to say, "Thank you for being my student. I've loved teaching you," if that's the case (and I'm sure it will be), to see all the progress they've made, and to give them some encouragement that they can do whatever they want to do. Even if they don't carry on playing the piano, they've had music in their lives, and that's a good thing.
When students don't leave well
I want to touch on the situations when students don't leave well: when they just stop showing up, or you get a message from a parent or adult saying, "I'm sorry, I'm not coming back," and they have no intention of paying their fees, certainly not for the notice period, or anything they owed before.
Reflecting on how I've responded to this in the past, it really relates to my level of confidence at the time. When my confidence was pretty low, a student leaving just reinforced a negative story about my own worth. I'd think, "Well, it's just me. They've got busier things going on. It's fine, it's okay." That kind of thinking led me to completely disregard my notice period and any unpaid fees. I'd shake it off: "Oh, it's fine, it doesn't matter," because I was too afraid to deal with the confrontation, and didn't have the confidence to stand up for my policies.
As my confidence grew, as I'm sure yours has over the years, I noticed my reaction to being ghosted, or getting a single message saying, "We're stopping lessons, thanks for everything," shift more towards annoyance and indignation. When you think about it, you would never treat anyone like that, and you deserve the same respect. Even just a message before the next lesson is, I'd say, the minimum courtesy. So it's interesting how your reaction to students quitting changes as your confidence builds.
Where I am now, I do have compassion for these students, as I've mentioned. If they find it so difficult to be brave and say, "I've chosen to stop lessons because of X, Y or Z," I know it's an emotional decision. In fact, all our decisions are based on emotion, and some people just can't cope with that conversation, because it feels too hard. I do understand that.
In the past, I gave up chasing some unpaid fees because I decided the stress wasn't worth it. I shied away from the confrontation and thought, "I'll put my energy into finding new students." But when you have a notice period in place that everyone knows about, and templates so you can reply professionally and respectfully and confirm everything in writing, it stops you reaching the point of wondering, "Is the extra stress worth chasing up the notice period and the lessons I'm owed?"
Of course, it all depends on the individual situation. If things are particularly bad, it can be worth drawing a line under it and moving on, if it's going to cause you so much stress. I'm not saying you should power on with your notice period and policies in the face of intense anxiety. If something is going to make you unwell, use your judgement. But I was at the other extreme: I wouldn't even consider standing up for my policies, because the thought was terrifying. With a bit of self-confidence and self-belief, you realise that you run this business. This is your studio, and you have a policy. They signed it and agreed to it. So it's okay to remind them: "There's a notice period, so your lessons will end on this date, and this is the final invoice." It's okay to do that, even though it feels scary the first time.
What I'd say now
Where I am now, with a lot of confidence in myself and the way I run my business, if a family told me tomorrow they weren't coming back and didn't expect to pay their notice, this is what I'd do. For starters, I'd put it in an email, so there's a paper trail. It's also more professional than WhatsApp or a text message.
I'd say, "It's a shame X wants to stop lessons. As per my studio policy, there's one month's notice, meaning the last lesson will be on [date]." I used to over-explain things: the notice period, all the research and preparation I'd done, and what it's for. Now I don't explain at all. It's just the policy, and this is what's left: these are the piano fees still due. "Yes, you can continue to come to lessons until this date, or not; the choice is yours, but these lessons are paid for."
So you're making simple statements that aren't "I"-based or "you"-based. There's some basic psychology for you: when you're dealing with stressful things like this, take the "I" and "you" out of your statements. You can say, "I'm sorry to hear they're stopping lessons," that's fine. But then it's: "This is the policy, this is the length of the notice period, this is the last date, and this is how much is due." It takes away the potential for anything to be read as a personal attack, and keeps things factual, which is the way it should be, as I said before.
A waiting list softens the blow
Having a waiting list doesn't completely change how it feels when a student leaves, but it softens the blow, because you know you have prospective students waiting. Before I had a waiting list, it really was (I can't think of a better way to say it) a punch in the gut: "Oh, this person is leaving," plus the worry about the income, and the energy of starting again with someone new.
But once you have a few people on a waiting list (it doesn't have to be a huge one, just a few people who've put their hand up and said, "Yes, I want lessons with you, please put me on your waiting list"), the reaction becomes, "A place has opened up for someone on my list." It could be really positive for your studio, because the more you learn about students and how you interact with them, the more you learn who your ideal students are. Finding those ideal students, and attracting them to your studio by showing who we are as teachers, is what we should all be doing all the time.
Because when you get to teach your ideal student, life is great. Everything ticks along nicely. You get to be the best teacher you can be, they progress, and they're happy. It's like Barbie Land for music lessons; everything is wonderful every day. Obviously I'm exaggerating, and there are ups and downs, but you know what I mean. When you get to teach your ideal students, it's a real blessing.
A waiting list also makes it easier to look really honestly at the students you have. Who are the ones who draw too much energy from you? Who are the opposite of your ideal students? Are there any you're constantly having to chase for payment? When I say ideal students, I include the family if it's a child, because they're the ones who need to pay you, be organised, bring the child to lessons, pay the invoices and so on. A waiting list lets you be more rational when you look at the students you have.
Sometimes you make allowances for students: "Oh, but they need someone, and I'm their teacher." That's perfectly fine; it's fine to give more energy to certain students because they need it. But it's also useful to reflect, because sometimes that energy-draining student might be taking energy away from the rest of your students that day, for example. I'm not saying go and fire all the students who aren't your ideal students, not at all, and I don't think you'd do that. But it's useful to be aware of it and ask, "Are they getting the most out of these lessons? Am I trying unreasonably hard to make this work?"
Because we're not the right teacher for every student, and vice versa. I keep talking about this because we want to be right for every student and do our best, but there's a limit, because we're all human. Some combinations of personalities work, and many don't. That doesn't mean you're a bad teacher, or that they're a bad student; it just means the combination doesn't work. So it's worth thinking about if you have the brain space, which having even a small waiting list gives you.
Many should have stopped sooner
Here's a counterintuitive truth for you: many of the students who've left your studio probably should have stopped much earlier, whether because of very little practice, an unsuitable instrument, a lack of motivation, or just not making the progress they expected.
When I think back on the students who've left me, quite a few departures weren't a surprise, because they followed a period of very little practice, or a loss of motivation for various reasons. We're very good at adapting as teachers when we see a student losing motivation. You try different music, give the sight reading a rest for a bit, try improvisation or composition, anything to get them excited about music again, or offer to teach them their favourite song with chords, by rote and so on. But after a while, if the spark doesn't come back, it makes sense that they'd choose to stop.
I know I've had situations where I probably should have ended the lessons much sooner than the student did, because letting a student go almost goes against the grain for us, doesn't it? So we often leave it to the student to decide when to leave. I'm not passing judgement on that; I'm just reflecting on my own experiences, and I'm sure you'll have had similar ones.
On that note, you know I spend a lot of time reading conversations and posts from other piano teachers and music teachers. Some of the really outspoken ones express their opinions so bluntly that it can feel quite jarring. When someone asks for advice ("I have this student, and X, Y and Z is happening"; it doesn't matter what, as long as it's less than ideal), so many jump straight in and say, "Ditch them." It's really harsh. I read those comments and think, "Wow, is that really how you think?" Or maybe they're just not thinking about their own students. But giving that advice to another teacher isn't good enough. You need to be a bit more sensitive to things. Anyway, that's just how I feel.
I will be doing a future episode on knowing when it's right to end lessons with a student, because it can be really difficult to know when the right time is, until you reach the end of your tether, and we don't want to get that far. So look out for that episode if you're interested in learning a bit about it, based on my own experience and what I've seen other teachers do.
One other point: if you're thinking about where your ideal students come from, Episode 7 is about how I built my 50-person waiting list. I'll put a link to it in the show notes, so you can hear all the ways I attract my ideal students, and how you can start attracting yours too.
Students sometimes come back
Students who leave sometimes come back. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen, and I've had it a couple of times. The lady I talked about earlier, who didn't get on with online lessons (or rather, the one online lesson that went wrong), had started with me in person, and when COVID happened she wasn't interested in online lessons. Then she contacted me again to start lessons near the end of 2020. So she came back; she still really wanted to keep the piano in her life.
I've also had families of children who've stopped go on to recommend me to others lots of times, which has been really wonderful. I had a younger student who came back for lessons and then stopped again. I think the parents really wished she'd get on well with piano, and that wish for lessons belonged to the parents rather than the child. Sometimes you do need a second attempt, but it confirmed it just wasn't right for the child.
And I had an adult student who stopped a few years ago because life was too busy to practise, and she's recently come back. She went through quite a difficult period in her life, which changed her priorities, and she wanted the piano back in her life. She's so much fun to teach, and she's a lovely person. Almost every lesson, she talks about how much she's enjoying playing her pieces, and it makes me really happy to see her so happy about it, because that's the kind of joy I want to inspire in students. So she did come back, and it's been fantastic.
Because some students do come back, or recommend friends and friends of friends who join your studio, ending lessons warmly leaves the door open. You can't predict who will come back, or who will send someone your way.
Part 4: Objections, and one thing to try
"I can't afford to lose a single student"
Okay, on to the objections. These come from my own experience and from conversations with other teachers.
Here's the first one: "I can't afford to lose a single student. I'm not earning enough as it is." When money is tight, every student who leaves feels terrifying. But I'd argue that, more often than not, the bigger income leak is elsewhere. It's hidden in things like rescheduled lessons (which, by the way, is teaching for free: giving away a lesson for free) and refunds (literally giving your money back). That's free time given away.
It's even in things like over-delivering. If you spend an hour writing notes for each 30-minute lesson, you don't need to write that many notes. You can still help a student make really good progress, and keep progressing yourself as a teacher, without dedicating that much time per student. So an honest look at your policies and your time often finds more income and energy than holding on to a student who isn't committed. And if you have a notice period in place, a student leaving shouldn't leave you out of pocket overnight.
"If a child stops, I've failed to show them how wonderful music is"
Another objection: "If a child stops lessons, it means I failed to show them how wonderful music is." We touched on this earlier. It's so easy to assume everyone can feel about music the way we do, but most don't, and that's okay. Some do, and you know who they are, because they're your best students. They love it, they feel the music and get the joy in it, and they don't need reminding to practise; they can't wait to get on the piano, or whatever instrument you teach. You can share everything your instrument has to offer and still not spark the same fascination you have for it. That's about the individual person, not the quality of your teaching. So please don't take on that burden. It's not yours.
"Asking them to pay the notice period feels awkward"
Another one: "Asking a family who's leaving to pay their notice period feels awkward." Yes, it does. It feels really awkward. It's confrontation, it's horrible, and no one wants to do it. But you're the business owner. You're a professional, you're a teacher, and you respect yourself enough to protect your income, and the time you've already spent on that student.
It's really awkward the first time you ask someone who's leaving to pay the notice period. But the notice period is in the policy they agreed to. They signed to say, "Yes, I'd like lessons with you on these terms." And the notice period gives you time to fill the space. Confirming it by email, with the dates and the final amount, keeps it factual and kind. Since I've done this consistently, no one has ever pushed back. So make sure you have your policy, and that it's signed, and try not to shy away from reminding families of the notice period and your policies.
Think about the last time you agreed to some terms and conditions. If it was on your phone, you probably didn't read them (I'm guilty of that too). And even if you did read them, I doubt you've stored them all in your memory. So you need reminding, just as your families do, especially if they're stopping because things are so busy. It's very easy for them to forget, and it's okay; they need to be reminded.
"They'll never tell me the real reason"
Another objection: "They'll never tell me the real reason. They're probably unhappy with my teaching." Very few people would tell a teacher directly that they're unhappy with their teaching. They'd say it to someone else, a friend, and maybe it would get back to you, if that were the case. But more often than not, it isn't.
It's so easy to fill the silence with self-doubt. If they just say, "We've decided to stop lessons," without giving a reason, it puts you in quite a vulnerable position, because it's so easy to think, "Well, it must be me. They haven't said why, so it must be something about my teaching that they don't like, that I'm failing at." Assuming the worst without any evidence just feeds that self-doubt, and 99% of the time it's not true. In my experience, the reasons people give are nearly always the real ones: not enough time, not enough practice, moving house, too many other commitments.
We had a conversation in my group recently, off the back of the poll I put out about why students leave, about how really helpful it is when the student or family gives a reason for stopping lessons. It's very unsettling when someone says, "We're not continuing with lessons," without saying why. It's quite easy for them to say they don't practise enough. Maybe it's less easy to say, "We can't afford it any more," because that's not comfortable to admit to anyone, is it? I'm not giving advice on that particularly; I'm just saying that if they don't give a reason, it's not a reason for you to default to "It must be me, then. It must be something I've done," because more often than not, it won't be your fault.
To sum up
So, to sum up what we've talked about today: students leaving your studio is a normal part of running a music studio. Most reasons are outside your control. If you have a notice period, the clause protects everyone. And how you end things with students really matters; it makes a real difference.
One thing to try
I'd like to leave you with something to put into action. Think of the last time a student left and it really stung. Lots of them do, don't they, because you don't want to lose any of them. But think of one that really came out of left field, that you really weren't expecting.
Look at it with fresh eyes, now you can be a bit more detached. Look at how long they'd been having lessons, what instrument they had at home (if you know), how much they practised, and what support they had at home if they were a child. Really think about the situation they were in, and the reasons they gave for stopping. When you've looked at all those factors, ask yourself honestly: how likely is it that it came down to your teaching?
It's an exercise that will take you all of five minutes, and it's to bring to light that, even though it feels like it must have been something we did that stopped them falling in love with music, you can release yourself from the belief that you failed them. When a student leaves, it's not because of your teaching. Most of the time, it's things far outside your control. You care about what you do. Of course you do. You're doing a really good job, and not everyone will love music the way you do, however much we wish they would.
Think about the timing, too. More often than not, students give notice at the end of a term, especially coming up to the end of the summer term. That's when people tend to leave and give notice, if they're going to. So I'd say check the notice period in your policy now, before you need it. And if you don't already have one, check out the free studio policy template. You can adapt it to suit you, or just take the bits you need. Please do have a look, because there will be things you maybe hadn't thought of, like my clause that came in after the COVID lockdown experience.
So I hope this episode has reassured you that losing students is a normal part of running a studio. It's absolutely fine for students to leave, and it doesn't mean you're not a good teacher. Look at the real reasons they give: it's things affecting their lives, and it doesn't mean they don't love piano enough. Well, sometimes it means they don't love piano (or the instrument you teach) enough, and that's fine. But it doesn't mean you haven't managed to ignite the love of music everyone should have. We've all got our own thing that lights us up. For us, it's music and teaching, and for other people, it'll be something else entirely. None of that reflects on you as a teacher.
Thank you for listening to today's episode. If you enjoyed it, I'd be so grateful if you could leave me a review wherever you listen to your podcasts. Even just a star rating helps. If you're using Apple Podcasts, scroll down and you can click "Write a review" and leave a rating too. I'd be very grateful. And if you know a teacher friend who's struggling with students leaving their studio, share this episode with them, to help them feel more balanced and realise that it's not all down to things in their control. I look forward to seeing you in the next episode. Bye bye.
