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La vigilia degli esami
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It was Saturday afternoon.
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No students, no sounds in the corridors from one room to another. Just me, a few colleagues, and a room to set up.
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Tomorrow, the international examiner arrives.
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Moving a chair, checking the table layout, making sure everything is in place — these are simple gestures. Almost mechanical. Yet, while adjusting the last chair, I found myself thinking about the students. One by one.
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Tomorrow morning they will cross that threshold with their instrument and months of study behind them. With a focus that is built over time and cannot be improvised. Yes, they will be nervous. That is normal. They always have been, and they always will be — whether you are sitting your first session or your tenth. It is part of the ritual.
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But what an international examination gives you, no single lesson can.

It places you in front of someone who does not know you. Who does not know if you have had a difficult week, if you have slept little, if things went brilliantly last week.Â
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They assess what you can do. Full stop.Â
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And that is precisely what makes the experience so formative — not the grade, not the certificate itself, but the fact of measuring yourself against a standard that exists outside your school, outside your city, outside your country.
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It is an experience that stays with you. That marks you.
And then there is something else, visible only later: a passed examination opens doors. Not rhetorically — concretely. An internationally recognised certification travels with you in your CV, positions you, gives you an objective point of reference in the musical path you are building.
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At PERFORM School of music®, international examinations are not an addition to the training — they are part of the training. Because educating a musician also means giving them the tools to know where they stand. Not in relative terms, not compared to the student beside them — in absolute terms, against a system of assessment recognised across the world.
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As I finished setting up the room, I thought about how strange, and how beautiful, this work is.
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You build for months. You work in silence, lesson after lesson. And then a Saturday afternoon arrives — with chairs to arrange and lights to adjust — and you realise the moment is almost here. That something is about to happen.
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Tomorrow, Sunday the 28th of June, our students will sit their international examinations.
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In bocca al lupo to all of you. You have worked hard. Now it is time to show it.








