14/01/2026
The Die of Destiny, Reborn….
When you are 8 years old, and you play a piece of music, would you choose to repeat the fun bit that you can already play without fault? Or work on the tricky part, where you know you probably fall over?
And if you have ADHD and your brain has already moved on to the next thing before you have mastered any part of the piece, would you choose to play it more than once? Maybe you would. Or maybe you would find repeating anything tedious in the extreme.
The Die of Destiny came into being for just such an occasion. When I wanted a young man to fix the tricky parts of a piece, and he said no. This young man in particular is fun and vibrant and a very, very good sport. So we turned it into a game.
I labelled sections of his piece with the numbers one to six. No, actually, I labelled them with the numbers one to five. The number six was reserved for something else…
Enter the Die of Destiny. With a casual roll of the die, Destiny selected which part my student should play - with a specific focus each time (note reading, rhythmic accuracy, dynamic shaping…). It soon became apparent that this could occupy an entire lesson, with no objections whatsoever. Of course, the whole thing can become more targeted when only particular problem areas in the piece are labelled. Then at the end of the lesson he plays the piece all the way through. And now it's ALL doable, all fun and none of it needs to be avoided.
So what does rolling a six mean? Well, this student finds it difficult to sit for any length of time and play the piano. He just needs to work off a bit of physical energy every few minutes to keep him focused. So we make that part of the game. Six star jumps, push-ups or hops. (I watch in incredulous fascination, as I would struggle to do ONE push-up without turning into a beetroot and collapsing on the floor.) It turns out it's even more entertaining if 5 means student push-ups and 6 means ME doing star jumps.....
For years, the Dice of Destiny has been faithfully putting in the hours, until the last week of term when tragedy struck.
It was no longer possible to ignore the fact that Destiny's dots had faded into invisibility, rendering them null and void.
So, Sharpie in hand, with the aid of a mini roll of sticky tape whose inner dimensions happen to be the perfect template, I have restored it to its former glory.
Long live the Die of Destiny!