A lesson - every lesson - was, for Abby Whiteside, an exciting and creative experience. Because of what she was striving for, the very nature, the content of her lessons differed from what one customarily expects. A lesson was a fundamental opportunity to transfer to the student the awareness of how it felt to play with a rhythm. For this purpose she used imagery, physical handling, and anything which suggested itself to her. Students would drop their hands, and gently pick them up in order to realize how they could have alert wrists with a minimum exertion of energy. Students twirled knobs - imaginary and real - to get an active rotary action and general aliveness of the arms. They snapped imaginary whips to learn how the upper arm controlled the actions of the forearm and hand, or held lightly a piece of paper or imagined holding a baby bird to make the palms alive for playing - transmitting the power of the arm. This meant that the student could learn something at a lesson which improved his playing even if they had not practiced all week.

Her primary mechanism was to listen for musical enjoyment. She did no coaching, but when her listening for musical enjoyment was interrupted by notewise playing, or for any other reason which made the student play without a subtle and pliant continuity, she would immediately stop them so that they could work on the problem. She would be apologetic about the interruption, but was certain that a fault would be easier to correct if one worked at it while the impression was fresh. She was endowed with a remarkable physical deftness which allowed her to use physical sensation to transfer to the student the awareness of just how the correct performance felt. Even in actual performance she could, by touching a student's elbow, forearm, or hand, without interfering with the playing, make the student notice when their hands or fingers were more active than their upper arms in finding keys.

She constantly stressed the necessity of being emotionally involved in practicing a performance. Early in her career she learned that the human body is so constituted that the physical coordination used when one is emotionally involved in a performance is different from one operating when one is not. Because she was searching for the basis of a beautiful performance, it was clear to her that an automatic, uninvolved performance - unfortunately, a commonplace state for the musician practicing exercises - is not merely negative, it is an actively harmful experience.