Having taught for thirty years, Lee Shu-teh is called the "miracle worker" of Taiwan's violin education. It's impossible to think of any leading "Made in Taiwan" violinists who didn't study with her.

Lee has become a legend in the eyes of her students. Born into a medical doctor's family in Pingtung, she was extroverted as a child. In that era of shy, retiring girls, Lee not only swam and danced, she was a record breaker in track and field.

As for her musical path, "My mother could play piano and my father could play anything well, and especially liked Nankuan music. Every holiday friends would come over to play, and I became entranced listening off to the side."

In her junior year in the Department of Music at the National Taiwan Normal University she first came in contact with formal musical rules and specialized music education. Then, saying of herself that she had "a head full of dreams," she ignored her parents' objections and headed to the U.S. with only 350 dollars in her pocket.

She found opportunities to work, and studied for seven years at the New England Conservatory of Music, earning a Masters in violin. She came away with the belief, "I want to return to teach; I want Taiwan to have the same kind of musical environment and correct concepts!"

In Taiwan, meanwhile, a group of children with basic music education were waiting for a teacher able to take them farther.

At that time, the musical environment in south Taiwan, especially Tainan, was robust. Gentry who had received musical training under the Japanese formed the "Tainan Three B's Children's Orchestra." Su Hsien-ta, a well-known violinist who came out of the Three-B group, recalls that, "Teachers only reached a certain level then. Professors in the north weren't willing to go south. You can imagine the explosion caused by the return of the first U.S. Masters student!"

Lee taught at her alma mater, but had a special feeling for the south. She became the instructor for Three-B. Within a year, as her students won prize after prize in province-wide competitions, students from across the island sought her out. She also actively selected the best students from competitions.

However,having students island-wide was tough for Lee Shu-teh. "When I was busiest, I went to eight or nine places in a week." She reels them off: Taipei, Hsinchu, Taichung, Changhwa, Yuanlin, Tainan, Kaohsiung, Pingtung. . . . Sleeping on the trains, and eating and relaxing at the homes of students became her fixed lifestyle.

Although she spent her youth rushing about, Lee, who has never married and is called by her students "the idealistic wanderer," has never shown a bit of regret. "She really passionately devoted all of her time to her students," recalls Liu Yi-man.

Lee's mission to bring music "down to the countryside" won her students' respect. But her "artist's temper" left an even deeper impression.

The strictness of her teaching is truly her most unique feature. Students have to be ready for an explosion of anger or frosty sarcasm. Even the parents off to the side can get caught in the fallout--because they haven't properly guided the child. "That's OK, too," says Hu Nai-yuan, "The adult and the child will both treat studying violin as something requiring complete dedication." Hu still believes Lee's unwillingness to let students "play around" at violin is reasonable.

Studying with Lee, learning swimming is a must. "How can one hold the violin properly unless one's health is good?!" She found chances to take her little charges to the beach for fun. She worked especially hard to draw out Hu Nai-yuan, who was shy and, due to childhood accidents, over-protected by his parents.

Lin Chao-liang has an even deeper feeling that Lee Shu-teh is "both teacher and mother." When the Chinese Children's Orchestra traveled to the Philippines, the kids went to play in the luxurious hotel swimming pool after the performance. The then-chunky and energetic Lin plunged right in. All you could see were bubbles floating to the surface and two little hands struggling. In the ensuing panic, Lee jumped in and "salvaged" him. Lin earned a spanking, learned a lesson, and recognized even more deeply the greatness of the Lee Shu-teh who saved his life.

"Now teachers are very busy, and teacher-student friendship is limited to the classroom. But Miss Lee gives a little bit more in teacher-student relations," says Yu Tao-chang, just turned 17 this year. When Yu won the scholarship provided by Evergreen Marine Corporation three years ago to go abroad, Lee Shu-teh accompanied him to the U.S. choosing a school, arranging a family to live with. . . . all relied on Lee's efforts. "That's why many people have the feeling 'a teacher for one day, a parent forever'," explains Su Hsien-ta.

Building "good vibes" between teacher and student is the thing Lee Shu-teh stresses most. She used to arrange summer collective practices for the Three-B group to let them hear themselves and each other playing together. And there were activities to make the players firm friends. Sometimes even the parents were brought in.

"Tainan Three-B' really brought along a lot of talent," points out Lee Shu-teh. Twenty-plus of the members from those early days are still active in the world of music in Taiwan or abroad.

In 1969, Three-B amalgamated with the Kwangjen Primary School orchestra to form the "Chinese Children's Orchestra." When the group went to the Philippines, Lee went as advisor. The orchestra included competition winners from throughout Taiwan, even Lin Chao-liang, who belonged to no particular orchestra at that time. "It was really a 'gathering of heroes'," recalls Su Hsien-ta.

Tainan's music scene flourished with Lee's intense guidance, enthusiastic parents competing with each other to put up money and effort, and children who thought of learning the violin well as "the highest honor." The exuberance of that part of Taiwan's music history was really the product of many hands, and many factors.

Su notes, "The golden era approached its end with the close of the Philippines trip." Kids were approaching middle school age; kids who wanted to advance had to buckle down to their studies. Those lucky enough to progress musically went abroad to bright futures.

"Teacher set a good foundation for us," points out Hu Nai-yuan. But if one only studies with one or two teachers it's impossible to create a good overall musical environment.

Lee Shu-teh says that "Times have changed," and laments that it is hard to find students who will concentrate fully. Hardest to take are parents who "talk too much" or are "in too much of a hurry." She says that in the past many of the parents were themselves musicians who understood that it takes time to teach. Today, parents want famous teachers, prizes in competition, overseas study for their little prodigy, and a glorious return home. . . . It destroys the interest of both teacher and student.

Lee Shu-teh doesn't often touch a violin these days. She rarely does demonstration performances for students. "What's the use?" she asks, partly to herself. She has already decided to resign her post at National Taiwan Normal University to make way for one of the younger talents returning home.

Her students came back one after another. The pieces they performed at her birthday concert were all simple ones they did with Three-B. With every note, they were intently saying, "Happy birthday, Teacher!"

[Picture Caption]

Lee Shu-teh holds students' notebooks from a day gone by. (photo by Vincent Chang)

Lee Shu-teh still gives instruction to five or six music classes at the secondary school level. The photo shows Lee instructing the twelve-year-old son of pianist Tsai Tsai-hsiu. (photo by Vincent Chang)

Hurry up and take a picture with Teacher!

This "violin" is a gift from a host of students.

Lee Shu-teh still gives instruction to five or six music classes at the secondary school level. The photo shows Lee instructing the twelve-year-old son of pianist Tsai Tsai-hsiu. （photo by Vincent Chang）

Hurry up and take a picture with Teacher!

This "violin" is a gift from a host of students.