The speed will come

Slow, consistent, precise repetition creates beauty. (Image by Eric Blochet)

During my career as a music teacher, I would usually demonstrate things very slowly, at a tempo that my student could match. However, sometimes, I would demonstrate a passage at speed (meaning, at the performance tempo) so that they could hear how it would eventually sound.

When I did this, my student would often forget about the “eventually” part. It sounded cool, and they wanted to try. They would attempt to replicate it at the same tempo, with poor results. If it didn’t work, they would try again several times in quick succession, leading to a stuttery, messy sound.

Mastery is so compelling! When someone makes a skill look easy, we want to copy them. The actual path to smooth, fluid execution is counterintuitive: Only when we slow down to a point where we are in full control and awareness of all of our actions can we build speed.

Whether we are playing music, touch typing, reading aloud, tying our shoes, wrapping a gift, or driving a car, rushing (that is, trying to go fast) leads to mistakes and reinforces incorrect technique. At worst, things get broken and people get injured. Even if there’s no train wreck, it’s discouraging to sound bad and feel awkward.

It is hard for learners to believe that the speed and facility manifest in an expert’s performance came from slow, patient practice of the basics. “Slow down and the speed will come,” seems like something a teacher would say just to make things less fun, and the learner tries to muscle through.

I have often spent ten minutes of a thirty-minute music lesson simply guiding the student (whether an adult or a child) to find the calm, focused state that will allow them to build skill. It’s time well spent. When every movement is precisely executed, in the exact same way every time, it is inevitable that these movements will get faster. Ironically, this process can happen very quickly once that “sweet spot” of slowness is found.

Trying to go faster stops the progress; backing off to a speed slow enough that everything is in perfect control will allow it to resume.

At my best, I can type over 100 words per minute. However, that’s only when I’m making no mistakes. If I try to type quickly, the result is chaos. I’m hitting the delete key fast, but I’m hitting it constantly; my net progress is not very impressive. I do much better if I will just slow down and focus on accuracy. This may mean that I’m only operating at about half of the speed that I’m capable of, but a funny thing happens: A few minutes at the slower speed reminds my fingers what it feels like to type well, and then I can zip up to a faster speed (this time, with improved accuracy).

I have observed this phenomenon in my own work and that of my students across a wide variety of skills. The universal principle, “slow down to get faster,” always holds. Have you tried it? Are there any skills that have been slow to develop where you might apply this concept?