Why low rates can be expensive

A few years ago I took on a new student who asked me, at the very first lesson, whether I could be a little flexible on the price. His mother was standing beside him, friendly, explanatory. I said yes. Ten percent off, agreed verbally, nothing on paper. I was glad to help.

Six months later he cancelled for the third time in a row on the morning of the lesson. Not maliciously, just busy. Football, homework, a friend. I sent a friendly message. He replied late. I had kept an hour free that I could not fill.

That hour cost me more than time. It cost me the small amount of discipline that is needed to keep a healthy professional relationship going. That discipline was absent, because the price had already said it was not required.

That is the thing I understood too late: a rate does not only communicate something about money. It communicates something about the nature of the arrangement. A student who pays what the work is worth, and knows what he is paying, has a different relationship with cancellations than a student who is receiving a favour. Not always, not automatically — but structurally, yes.

I hear from colleagues who work with the same logic I used back then: a low rate lowers the barrier, more students, stable income. That holds up to a point. But beyond that point it starts to chafe. Not for the students, but for you. You work more hours for the same money. You say yes to arrangements you actually want to decline. You put off a conversation about raising your rates, month after month, because it feels awkward.

And then there is something I find harder to say, but which I think is true: students feel it when you undervalue your own work. Not consciously, not as a critique, but as atmosphere. Undervaluation leaks. A teacher who does not believe his lesson is worth something has a hard time convincing a student that practising is worth something. That might sound far-fetched, but I recognise it in my own lessons on the days when I was tired of the back-and-forth over prices.

Raising your rate is not a sales trick and not self-glorification. It is a recalibration of the arrangement. It says: this is what I deliver, this is what I ask, and I stand behind both. Students who are willing to pay that are the students who take seriously what you do. They cancel less. They practise more. Not always, but the likelihood is greater.

I finally did it — a rate increase, a year and a half after I had first thought about it. Four students stopped. A handful stayed. The two students I took on afterwards paid the higher rate without a single question. One of them is now two years in and the most motivated student I have.

I do not know whether that is causal or coincidence. But I do notice that I walk into lessons differently now. Not more arrogantly, but more calmly. With less of a feeling that I have to prove something to justify the rate.

What would change in how you prepare your lessons, if your rate actually matched what you put into them?