Notes vs. Code: How 13 Years of Musical Education Made Me a Better Dev and More

Sat, 07 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000

Notes vs. Code: How 13 Years of Musical Education Made Me a Better Dev and More

Lately, I’ve realized more and more that the greatest return on investment (ROI) I experience daily is my 13 years of primary and secondary music school. What’s even more incredible is how that invested time influences almost EVERY area of my life. But first, let me tell you a bit about what those dozen or so years actually looked like.

13 Years in the Suwałki Music School: My Foundation

At the very beginning, I want to say that I was lucky enough to work with the best educator and… friend for all those years. My trumpet teacher, Mr. Paweł Misiukiewicz, spent over a decade instilling in me not just the knowledge of every sharp and flat in every scale (the horror! D:), but also how to be determined, responsible, and mature in a way that far exceeded my age and the circumstances outside of school.

Besides demanding those traits, I’d be lying if I said he was the only challenge. The one playing “second fiddle” as a teacher was the trumpet itself. In my opinion, it’s the most versatile, beautiful-sounding instrument, and I wouldn’t trade it for any other (it’s the best, obviously), but… it is ungrateful in its own way. I used to curse it, but today I see that all these benefits are the result of ‘brute force’ that this instrument simply forced upon me.

Firstly, when playing the trumpet, you play with your lips—which means a small but very real muscle—so consistency is perhaps the most important thing (technical aspects aside). It always annoyed me that pianists might practice longer statistically, but if they took a week off during the summer, it was no tragedy. The trumpet? 3 days off == 10 days of getting back into shape—that was the formula Mr. Paweł gave me, and it’s actually true.

Consistency: 3 Days Off == 10 Days of Recovery

And so emerges the first trait I practiced for 13 years and try to train today, even though I spend much less time with the trumpet – Consistency. When I set a goal, working toward it step-by-step is no problem at all; it’s hardcoded into me like Arch Linux in a typical Redditor. I don’t need to explain that whether it’s studies, work, the gym, or ANYTHING, life requires consistency. That’s how I’ve achieved things completely unrelated to music—like regular gym workouts, polishing a language, or consistent reading. I know someone might think: “Buddy, plenty of people work out without needing a decade of music school XD.” I agree, but I’m talking about the naturalness of it—the fact that it feels ordinary and, I dare say, relatively simple.

The next trait of the trumpet is also closely linked to the first. We can already see a pattern: the trumpet requires time and consistency, and therefore, excellent planning. If I had to name something I like about myself, it’s that I’m a really good planner, because for 13 years, this was a daily reality—a requirement to move forward.

Technical Exams and “Making Music”: Plan or Fail

Exams in music school often consist of a specific program. It looks different for every instrument, but on the trumpet at an intermediate level (secondary school), we have two exams. One is technical, focusing—as the name suggests—on the mechanics of playing: execution, difficult “notes,” large intervals, demanding tempos, and endurance tests. The second exam focused on performing a longer piece with accompaniment, usually piano. I always had the pleasure of playing with the best and most reliable Mrs. Danuta Long. I hope neither Mr. Paweł nor Mrs. Danuta will mind me mentioning them by name, but it’s impossible not to speak directly about whose contribution I value and what made me look back at those years of work with a smile.

This second exam was more about “making music.” That’s a broad term, but I mean performing a piece in a way that is correct, objectively beautiful, and true to the composer’s intentions. Add to that syncing up with the accompaniment, which required teamwork rather than just individual effort like the first type.

I’ve sketched out the requirements—you can see it’s no walk in the park. An exam means many hours spent practicing solo with sheet music or with the accompanist. And then there were the regular exams, various concerts with the orchestra, and more (I had the chance to play in different ensembles, the school orchestra, the city band, and many side projects, like caroling with Suwałki’s pro volleyball players).

For every event, there was a deadline and organized rehearsals. For each one, you had to prepare bit by bit, focusing on what was working the least at that moment. Every etude, every piece—literally everything that passed “through my fingers”—had a purpose: whether it was technical drills or those two specific lines I struggled with most. The process was simple: I always had to divide the material to finish with a buffer, and during execution, identify what was going worst and focus on those parts.

Oh, and I almost forgot: most exams required memorizing the material. I don’t need to say much here—without ego, I can state my memory is sharp as a blade, limited only by the time I have to learn and how many things I’m doing at once. I’ve recently realized my memory does have limits, but that’s a topic for another post.

Honestly, these things accompanied me from a seven-year-old to a—as Mr. Paweł would say—“stary koń” (translation: an imprecise Polish term for someone old enough to be held accountable; age undefined, in this case, around 20). How are these any different from my current requirements at work? I get a “ticket” on Jira, I have to plan what needs to be done, what I’ll do first, set a deadline, and identify what requires the most work and heavy testing.

Debugging Stress: How to Beat Stage Fright?

It’s easy to imagine that not just planning, but stress was an inseparable part of exams and performances. I can admit I’m someone who gets more stressed than others, even when I feel well-prepared. However, the fact that it required more effort from me meant that I got to know myself very well. I’m lucky enough that I feel stress practically only before a performance; the moment I start acting, it all vanishes.

Stressful situations hit us daily: at university before a major project, at work during a presentation to the whole team. I know myself well. I know I need to keep my mind busy beforehand, and I have a few techniques that help me tolerate that stress and not let it dominate me—and most importantly, not let it turn into fear or force me to quit.

A Lesson in Humility: “Look the Part Even if You Don’t Play the Part”

While writing this post, I realize everything is connected. Like pulling a thread, I notice with every tug that I discover something new. Failures and expectations were my biggest struggle. Sometimes I hated the trumpet for that: when you mess up and “clams” (missed notes), everyone knows. It’s not like a squeak on a violin (maybe it isn’t, but that’s how I imagine it); the trumpet, with its volume and grandeur, announces to the world: “This guy just made a mistake”—so everyone can hear it.

I still remember an orchestra concert and my not-so-successful entrance that everyone knew about (or maybe I just thought they did? I’ll never know). I also remember the conductor’s comment, Mr. Czarek (warmest regards—I believe discipline and professionalism were always the foundation of a good ensemble, and playing in that orchestra truly felt that way): “Benek is buying everyone a beer.” Nothing more needed to be said. I also remember a brass quartet concert where a performance was seen by half the school because SOMEONE made sure to record and share it.

So, there were plenty of failures. I should also mention that the trumpet requires a great deal of self-confidence. If you play quietly to avoid sticking out, you only increase the chance of a mistake. Only at the end of my education did I settle things with myself and decide to just play—to not be afraid and not think that a mistake would be more audible. The paradox is that by trying to hide it, you only increase the chances of it happening.

Looking at it all: you can see that dealing with failure and having a “tough psyche”—and by that, I mean coming to terms with yourself, accepting the mistake, and saying: “Okay, let’s move on, I’ll try harder next time”—was crucial. Moreover, after an “unsuccessful” concert, a dramatic escape from the stage or showing everyone how sad I was wasn’t allowed. I still remember the last terrible note played on a disastrous quartet concert day: taking the trumpet from my lips, standing up with a wide smile, bowing, and leaving the stage. Only then did I drop the act.

Well, as we say: “Co się nie dogra, to się dowygląda” (what you don’t play right, you make up for with how you look)… And it’s not just about appearance or puting on a “brave face” (literally!). It’s more about not allowing yourself to show weakness on stage, not falling apart while the ball is still in play. Simply accepting the state of things but maintaining professionalism until the very end, even if it went badly. As I write this, I think of a captain going down with his ship. It’s similar: you don’t give yourself space for emotions in that specific moment; you hold yourself together. I approach mistakes the same way today: failure isn’t making a mistake; it’s failing to draw conclusions and making it a second time in exactly the same way.

Finally, let me add the biggest challenge that crowned my history in music school—the diploma concert. I don’t know if this sounds like a small thing to some, but for me, it was the biggest event of my life so far. A diploma concert is about an hour-long, open solo recital (from a trumpeter’s perspective) to which you invite family and friends (so if you mess up, it’s in front of those you care about most). I had the pleasure—for which I am grateful to Mr. Paweł—of having a free hand regarding the repertoire. I spent some time researching, but finally performed pieces I truly liked, and working on them was pure pleasure (Centennial Horizon and Sonata by Jean Hubeau).

I remember the final year very well. I was already in my first year of Computer Science, traveling every two weeks from Poznań to Suwałki to rehearse with Mr. Paweł. We practiced mostly the diploma pieces, and I loved it because the rehearsals were in a large concert hall, and we focused mostly on “making music”—making the performance as good as I was capable of. And I think I nailed that concert. Why “I think”? Because the stress was so high I remember very little of it, but I know one thing: I delivered. I didn’t let down my teacher, my family, and most importantly, myself. I graduated with the highest grade (celujący), and in my head, it stands as one of my greatest life achievements. Every time I face a major, stressful event, I remind myself of this: through sheer work and hundreds of hours, I delivered something much heavier and bigger. So why wouldn’t I handle this now?

And that’s how I’ll end this lengthy post. I didn’t write about the obvious things like ensemble playing, as that feels natural—the whole orchestra is in sync often down to milliseconds and hertz. I also didn’t write about how much I appreciate music thanks to the school, its craftsmanship, and the emotions it evokes in me. How the sight of an orchestra sometimes truly grabs my heart.

Coda: Thanks to those who are still with me today

I’ve never had the chance to share my thoughts on school, music, and this whole story. So, from this place, I would like to thank:

Mr. Paweł – a friend, a teacher not just of music, but of life;
Mrs. Danuta Long – the best accompanist and ally when I needed an “advocate” with Mr. Paweł;
Mr. Grzegorz – who involved me in his ambitious projects and trips (I still remember them today!), even though I didn’t always play everything perfectly;
Mr. Czarek – the orchestra conductor (and neighbor!), of which I was a proud member and where I felt like a professional;
and all my friends – we played many a gig, went on many trips, and shared many great moments together.

And as they say: last but not least – thank you to my parents. They are the ones who pushed me into the 1st degree, drove me hundreds of miles to lessons, waited patiently, and took the news when I screwed something up. But I thank them even more for NOT PUSHING me into the 2nd degree. I feel that was the most important part -> it was My decision (with a capital “M”), and that sense of agency gave me the greatest boost of empowerment.

I look back at this time with sentiment, and I won’t lie—I try to stay involved in the artistic sphere in my free time, whether it’s theater or playing “Centennial Horizon” for myself again, because I feel it is a huge and inseparable part of who I am.

I don’t have a recording of my own performance, but if anyone is interested and would like to hear my repertoire, I encourage you to embark on this absorbing journey:

Thanks for reading this post. Maybe you’ll start learning an instrument, or encourage someone who’s considering it? Until next time!

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Notes vs. Code: How 13 Years of Musical Education Made Me a Better Dev and More