Why Your Tech Partner Should Think Like a Teacher
A few months ago, a fellow music educator reached out to me.
She’s brilliant. She’s the person I go to when I have questions, need inspiration, want help breaking down a lesson, or need ideas for staging a performance. I’m not the only one. She’s a sought-after presenter at conferences and workshops, and she had just been selected as a featured presenter at an international conference.
And she wanted my help.
My first reaction was surprise. She’s already an expert in our field. What could I possibly add?
Then she explained. She had a full day to plan and more ideas than she knew what to do with. She needed someone to bounce those ideas off who understood the context. She needed help organizing her thoughts. She had a deadline for participant notes that had to be submitted early, and she was teaching full time while preparing for all of it. She wanted to spend her energy on the presentation itself, the songs, the lessons, the concepts she wanted to share. Not on formatting a PDF or building Canva slides.
And she wanted someone who thought like a teacher. Someone who understood what the people in that room would be looking for.
She sent me her notes with a warning: there was still a lot of work to do, and they were a mess. So I started there. I laid them out the way a participant would need to see them and sent them back.
The relief in her voice on our next call was obvious. Just seeing her notes organized brought her clarity. She knew where she wanted to go and what the day would look like. From there, she could focus on the repertoire and the lessons, and I took care of the rest: the notes, the slides, the notation software, and the piano backings she didn’t have hours to put together.
That’s the work I love most. And it’s also why I’m not your average virtual assistant.
You can’t teach experience
When I finished my music education degree, I walked into my first classroom thinking I knew what I was doing.
I still laugh at the lesson plans I wrote in college. They were incredibly complicated. I was an accomplished pianist in the middle of all that academic thinking, and I was sure young minds would want ALL of it. How rhythmic notation in 4/4 breaks down mathematically. Why a certain chord progression shows up in so much popular music. The inversions. All in one 40-minute lesson.
What was I thinking?
First graders don’t need any of that yet. First they need to feel the beat. Move to it. Put it in their bodies and on instruments. Only then do they have something to connect to when you introduce the symbol for what they’ve been doing all along.
I had read about scaffolding and taken classes on breaking things down. But I didn’t truly understand it until I stood in front of real students and saw what landed and what didn’t, what was too much and what was too little.
Many coaches and experts fall into the same trap when they build a course or a workshop. They want to explain everything, or they skip the steps that feel basic. But those steps only feel basic because they’ve been doing this for years. It’s easy to forget what it’s like to be a beginner in your own expertise.
A room full of variables
Experience isn’t something you finish getting, either.
Right now I’m teaching a new generation of students with a whole new set of needs, and some of my usual approaches simply aren’t working. So I reflect. I adapt. I try this, then I try that. And I rarely get a quiet day to think it through. Sometimes I have a few minutes between a full-class meltdown and the reset.
I don’t always get it right, but I always do my best to make it right. Every class is a room full of variables, needs, and personalities, and my job is to find a way to make it all work.
I’ve been doing that for 24 years.
What that means for you
Yes, I can help with the practical side: setting up your email platform, organizing your files, keeping things running behind the scenes. But the real value is in how I approach it.
I look at all the pieces, your ideas, your audience, your deadlines, and find the path that makes them fit together. I can adapt and pivot, because most people don’t need a one-size-fits-all solution. And I’m always thinking about the person on the other end. The one reading your workbook, following your slides, or taking home your handout.
It shows up in places you might not expect. Right now I’m helping a client create a family cookbook. We’ve talked a lot about the stories behind the recipes she chose, and about which ones need more detail. Not everyone in her family cooks regularly, and a recipe that feels obvious to her might leave a nephew guessing. That’s the same question I ask about every course or workbook: who’s reading this, and what do they already know?
Here’s where I can help:
Courses and workshops: structure, flow, and an honest look at what’s working
Workbooks, handouts, and participant notes: designed for the way people actually use them
Presentations and slides: clear, clean, and ready on time
Platforms and setup: email sequences, forms, and the tech behind your work
Audio and music: editing, and even royalty-free backing tracks for things like meditations (being a musician comes in handy)
Personal and creative projects: like a family cookbook that captures the recipes and the stories behind them
Who I’m not for
If your goal is clicks, going viral, or fast money without putting in the time, I’m not your person. Our online space is already cluttered enough, and I’m not interested in adding to it.
I want to work with people who are putting something good into the world. People who want to help others, make this world a little kinder, and are willing to do the work and carry the responsibility that comes with it.
If that sounds like you, I’d love to hear what you’re working on.
Tell me what you’re working on: Creative & Tech Support Form
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