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Rising Stars: Meet Scott Knight of Franklin

Today we’d like to introduce you to Scott Knight.

Hi Scott, thanks for joining us today. We’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
I’ve been playing guitar since I was four and a half years old—it just clicked for me in a way nothing else did. That early connection turned into everything: garage bands, small-town gigs, eventually performing at the Grand Ole Opry and even playing shows in Japan.

But here’s the thing—as much as I loved performing, teaching is where I found my real calling. There’s this incredible moment when a student finally nails a tricky chord or plays their first full song, and their whole face lights up. I’m addicted to that moment.

A major turning point came on my 19th birthday when I met my birth family for the first time. Meeting my birth grandparents and aunt, I learned that my birth mother—who passed when I was four—could sight-read piano, and my grandmother played too. Suddenly this lifelong pull toward music made total sense. It wasn’t just passion—it was in my DNA.

That discovery pushed me to attend the Guitar Institute of Technology in LA. I graduated in 1988 and started grinding—teaching private lessons at a local music shop while cleaning pools part-time to pay the bills. Unglamorous? Absolutely. But I loved it. Eventually my teaching schedule grew to fifty students across six days a week.

In 1993, I married my wife—my biggest cheerleader and the person who saw more in me than I saw in myself. With her encouragement, we made a crazy pivot: packed up our life in Ventura, California, left behind all fifty students, and moved to Nashville so I could study music at Belmont University. Terrifying? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely.

We spent ten years in Middle Tennessee before moving back to California to care for our aging parents. After years of being there for them, my wife and I recently moved back to Middle Tennessee—it feels like coming home.

Throughout this whole journey, I’ve had the privilege of teaching students all over the world. I built my online learning space because I’ve seen too many people quit music when it should bring them joy. My approach focuses on making guitar and ukulele learning fun, bite-sized, and rewarding—real songs, simple wins, progress that feels good.

What I’m most proud of isn’t the big stages or milestones—it’s the people. Watching someone realize “I *can* do this”—that’s everything. Music’s taught me patience, persistence, and gratitude. And if there’s one thing I know for sure: it’s never too late to start. If you’ve got a song in your heart, I’ll help you figure out how to play it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Smooth road? Ha! Not even close. But honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way—the struggles are what made me who I am.

Early on, I was juggling multiple jobs just to survive. Fresh out of GIT in 1988, I’m teaching guitar lessons whenever I can squeeze them in and cleaning pools the rest of the time to pay rent. Some days I’d be scrubbing tile at 7 AM, teaching back-to-back lessons all afternoon still smelling like chlorine, then loading up my gear for a gig that night. Exhausting? Absolutely. But every time I thought about quitting, I’d see a student have that breakthrough moment, and it recharged me.

Then there’s the pivot that nearly broke me: 1993, walking away from fifty students and a thriving teaching practice in California to move to Nashville for school. My wife believed in me more than I believed in myself, but man—leaving that security behind to become a broke college student again in my late twenties? That took everything I had. There were nights I wondered if we’d made a huge mistake.

And here’s something people don’t talk about enough: the emotional weight of being an adoptee meeting your birth family at 19. Finding out my birth mother—who I never got to know—had this incredible musical gift, and realizing music wasn’t just something I loved but something I *inherited*? That messed with my head in ways I didn’t expect. Beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.

Fast forward years later—moving back to California to care for our aging parents. That season was about putting everything on hold to show up for the people who showed up for us. It wasn’t about my career or my dreams; it was about love and responsibility. Hard doesn’t even cover it.

But here’s what I’ve learned through all of it: obstacles aren’t roadblocks—they’re redirections. Every struggle taught me something. Cleaning pools taught me work ethic. The Nashville pivot taught me that growth lives outside your comfort zone. Caring for our parents taught me what really matters.

The struggles made me a better teacher because I *get it* when students feel stuck or overwhelmed. I’ve been there—many times. And I kept going. That’s the story I want every student to know: the road isn’t smooth, but it’s worth traveling.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I teach guitar and ukulele through online instruction, but here’s the thing—I’m not just teaching people how to play instruments. I’m helping them discover confidence, joy, and a creative outlet they didn’t know they had in them. That’s the real work.

What I specialize in is making music learning feel doable. Too many people quit because traditional lessons feel like homework or they get stuck in the same boring exercises for months. I flip that whole approach. My method focuses on micro-learning—bite-sized lessons that build on each other—and getting students playing real songs as quickly as possible. Simple strategies that make progress feel natural and rewarding, not like you’re grinding through scales forever.

I’m known for meeting students where they are. Whether you’re picking up a guitar for the first time at 60 or you played a little as a kid and want to get back into it, I get it. I’ve taught hundreds of students over the years—from kids who can barely hold a pick to adults who thought they were “too old” or “not musical enough.” Spoiler alert: nobody is too old, and everyone has music in them.

What am I most proud of? Hands down, it’s the transformations I’ve witnessed. I’ve seen shy kids find their voice. I’ve watched stressed-out adults discover a form of therapy they didn’t know they needed. I’ve gotten messages from students who say music gave them something to look forward to during the hardest seasons of their lives. That’s what gets me out of bed every morning.

What sets me apart? A few things:

Experience that actually matters. I’ve been teaching for over three decades—not just in a classroom, but in the trenches. I’ve performed on the Grand Ole Opry stage, played shows internationally, graduated from GIT, studied at Belmont—I’ve lived this life from every angle. That real-world experience shapes how I teach.

I actually care. This isn’t just a business for me—it’s personal. Music literally saved my life, gave me purpose, connected me to my roots. When I teach, I’m not just passing along techniques; I’m sharing something that changed everything for me.

I make it fun. Look, learning an instrument should bring you joy, not stress. My approach is built around encouragement, celebrating small wins, and keeping things light. We laugh, we troubleshoot together, and we focus on songs you actually want to play—not just what’s in some dusty curriculum book.

I meet students in the real world. My online platform means you can learn from anywhere, on your schedule, without the pressure of a teacher staring at you in a room. It’s accessible, flexible, and designed for actual human beings with jobs, families, and lives.

At the end of the day, what sets me apart is simple: I believe in you before you believe in yourself. I’ve seen it happen too many times to doubt it—music is for everyone. And if you’ve got a song in your heart, I’ll help you figure out how to play it. That’s not just what I do—it’s who I am.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

What has been the most important lesson you’ve learned along your journey?
The most important lesson I’ve learned? People matter more than perfection.

Early in my career, I was obsessed with technique, with playing everything flawlessly, with being the most skilled musician in the room. I thought that’s what would make me successful—being really, really good at guitar.

But here’s what actually changed everything: realizing that connection beats perfection every single time.

I’ll never forget this one student—older guy, maybe late 50s, came to me wanting to learn guitar. His hands were stiff, his rhythm was all over the place, and honestly, by traditional standards, he was struggling. But week after week, he kept showing up. And one day he played through an entire song—not perfectly, not even close—but he played it. And the look on his face? Pure joy. He told me later that learning guitar gave him something to focus on after losing his wife. Music became his lifeline.

That moment rewired my brain. It wasn’t about me showing off what I knew or producing technically perfect players. It was about giving people a gift—a way to express themselves, to find joy, to feel capable of something they thought was impossible.

Since then, I’ve built my entire approach around that lesson. I don’t care if someone never plays a stadium or masters every scale. What I care about is whether music makes their life better. Does it give them confidence? Peace? A reason to smile? That’s the win.

This lesson showed up again when my wife and I moved back to California to care for our aging parents. I could’ve been frustrated about putting my career on pause, about losing momentum. But the lesson was right there: people matter most. Being there for them in their final years wasn’t a detour—it was life lived right.

So yeah, the biggest lesson? Success isn’t measured in accolades or technical mastery. It’s measured in the lives you touch, the moments you create, and the people you show up for. Everything else is just noise.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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