by Adam Sweet
In the years leading up to 2020, private music instruction was the heart of my professional life. I taught violin, mandolin, and guitar to students of all ages, both in person and online. The rhythm of weekly lessons was steady and familiar — a tradition as old as music itself. Then the pandemic hit, and everything changed.
The world had shifted, and so did I.
Today, I find myself leaning fully into songwriting. It's not a retreat; it's a return — to the part of music that first lit me up. Songwriting allows me to process, reflect, and connect. It gives voice to the stories that matter most to me. I'm still teaching, just in a different way. Every lyric, every phrase, every melody carries the lessons of a lifetime in music.
And yet, I mourn a little for what we’ve lost. The music education landscape feels fragile now. Schools are cutting back. Budgets are tighter. Fewer kids are picking up instruments. Private teachers across the country — especially those who teach traditional or classical instruments — are feeling the pinch. It's not about competition or pricing. It's about shifting priorities. In a world of screens and scrolls, attention is harder to hold. Commitment to practice is rare.
But I still believe in the power of music education — maybe more now than ever. Music is one of the few disciplines that connects mind, body, and spirit. It builds patience, self-awareness, emotional intelligence. Whether I'm writing a song about a summer hike, a piece of New England history, or a memory I want to preserve, I carry those values with me.
This isn't the end of teaching for me — just a new chapter. I’ll always welcome students who are curious, who want to learn, who are willing to dig into the process. And I’ll keep writing songs that speak to where we’ve been and where we’re going.
Thanks for being part of this journey. If you're still teaching — I see you. If you're writing — keep going. If you're listening — thank you.
Let’s keep the music alive, in whatever form it takes.