Coming back from vacation, and the fruits of happy practicing

Yesterday, I saw several students after they'd had a full week off from school.  Three of them were exhausted and having trouble adjusting back to their school schedule.  (Make that four tired people who were having trouble coming back to school, if you add me to the mix!)

But one 6 year old student came into the room smiling and said "I missed you!!!"  Then she had a fantastic lesson.  She sight read some As and Bs from the I Know a Fox book. Then she warmed up on a couple of Twinkles.  First I played along on the melody with her, then I played the harmony, and then at her request I played the piano part.  In a similar manner, we went through Lightly Row, Song of the Wind, Go Tell Aunt Rhody, O Come Little Children, and May Song.  We discussed dynamics, staccato and legato, the details of the bow hand position, tone production, and she played her arpeggios for me.  All smiling. All in 45 minutes.   As the lesson was ending, she said "I love the violin!!"

It was obvious that she had practiced a lot during the past two weeks.  After all, this is a student who only could play Twinkle and Lightly Row a month ago. 

We talked about her practice habits.  I mentioned that I have another first year student who is practicing up to an hour a day.  This student's mom said that her daughter doesn't practice for long stretches--she just does a little at a time, but keeps going back to it over and over.  I told her that I think this is a great way to practice.  I used to practice this way when I was a kid.  I'd do one longer period before school or immediately after school, and then I would play for 5 minutes in between subjects when I did my homework. It's good for your brain to keep repeating things but spread out many times throughout the day.

Her mother has told me that her daughter wants to play the violin all the time.  It's obvious that she loves it, but I can't help wonder, which came first, loving the violin, or practicing regularly?  Most of the children I meet are interested and like the violin when they start lessons.  So, what builds that love as they go forward?  I am certain that regular practicing helps keep them motivated and loving it more than irregular and sporadic practicing.

Stepping Stone: an old story

Years ago, I let a student go from my studio. It had been a difficult situation from the beginning. At first, I was the teacher for viola as a secondary instrument, and they continued violin as the main instrument with a famous teacher--I'm not sure that the teacher even knew about me, although the mother promised full disclosure to that teacher. He auditioned for New York Youth Symphony and got in, and became more serious about viola, gradually dropping lessons on violin, and asking for all the extra lessons I could fit into my schedule.

I initially found the student a bit challenging to teach, because he was so repertoire focused, and didn't really do the technical exercises I assigned that much. I chalked that up to youthful excitement, and kept trying to push him to focus on more technique, and on digging into the details of his pieces. But he wasn't taking the time to really learn how viola was different--vibrato too fast, slightly out of tune (didn't know geography and new spacing of viola), and needed work on more flexible and heavy bow arm.

All of a sudden, a crazy whirlwind of making videos for summer programs started. Questions and tons of emails and extra meetings with the mom alone--all to discuss the best strategy to make a recording that would get him into the most competitive summer programs in the country. They sought black and white answers to grey situations, quoting other teachers as saying things that were more definite (they liked that a lot!). Probably 30 different recordings were made, in at least 6-7 venues, and on three different recording devices. Mom coached him to smile the entire time he was playing during the videos. The end result were recordings that were slightly out of tune and not very musical--the result of making so many, not being happy with them, and finally going to a professional studio and doing them all in one three hour block, falling over from exhaustion and stress.

After the recordings were done, I managed to get about 3-4 weeks set up of only technical studies and solo Bach (his favorite and strength). He made more improvement in that time than in the whole fall semester. Vibrato started to improve, bow arm started to really pull a sound, and intonation greatly changed from slow Schradieck work, and his understanding and self-awareness started developing finally. His practice habits were changing, too. I asked the mom if she heard all of this wonderful improvement. She said "No, I can't really tell. I'm not musical."

At this point, talk of Juilliard Pre-college and needing to get in that spring (just months away) started. It finally became apparent that there was an ultimatum from the dad. The student needed to show that he was competitive with other kids his age (14 years old) in order to keep playing. "If he couldn't get into pre-college right now, how would he ever be able to get into conservatory later?!"  (This is a kid who practices 3-4 hours a day, and got into NYYS as a 14 year old.) A barrage of questions about how to navigate the politics of it all was repeatedly thrown at me. They asked if I would be okay with them meeting some of the Juilliard pre-college faculty and taking lessons. I said that was fine, and next time I saw them they'd already taken lessons with three people. I'd made recommendations on who I thought he'd work well with, and instead they asked for lessons from anyone they could reach. I was forced to answer questions in front of the student like "We should take any extra lessons from anyone that could be helpful to us, right, Suzanne? More lessons are better, right, Suzanne?"  (Of course, the faculty would not like this "shopping around" style of doing things.  They want students who are dedicated to working with them, and them alone.)

It became more and more glaringly apparent that they were seeing me as a stepping stone to get to Juilliard pre-college. They of course didn't see it that way--the desperation was thick in the air! They were always very polite and outwardly respectful, but so concerned with this goal that they would do anything to make it work. I'm guessing that once they'd achieved something that was a big enough achievement for the father, everyone settled down.

I decided to stop teaching them. I didn't want to go along for any more of that stressful ride. And the extra time it took to soothe the mom--and all for a student that wouldn't actually be my student!! I gave them some ideas/names on how to proceed to get ready for the auditions. In only 9 months of working with someone, I would only have scratched the surface of helping the student improve. I told them repeatedly that it made more sense to work with me for two years so that we'd have time to get to know each other, I could have fixed problems, and have helped them prepare rep really well, with a sense of self awareness on the student's part. But they wouldn't even consider it. They said they respected me, but words are words. They respected me to a certain point. I felt badly, because I knew that the mother didn't understand. She didn't think she did anything wrong, and she said she didn't see this coming--despite my frustration and repeated explanations of why this wasn't good for the student.

I know that this idea of losing good students to pre-college programs is par for the course, living in NYC. Losing a student I've had for several years--or even that I've taught since the beginning--is one thing. But I really don't want to get the reputation of being that person to whom people go to get coached for less than a year in order to prepare for the pre-college audition.

I found out later that this student got into the Curtis Summerfest that year, using one of the recordings for which I'd helped him prepare.  Bittersweet.

A sensitive topic

Something that I'd like to delve into a bit on my blog is a way to communicate with parents about things from the teacher's perspective.  Not only about how much we invest in our students, and how much we're trying to do what is best for the students, but also about the unique qualities of each teacher, and how our feelings play into the parent-teacher-student triangle.  As I've started to think more and more about the parent-teacher-student triangle project I'm working on, this very topic is the one that has caused a bit of writer's block.  Because we teachers care a lot--I care a lot--and my caring permeates my thoughts on the parent-teacher-student triangle.  Honestly, it makes my writing biased in a certain way, and I want to be as fair-minded and balanced as possible as I offer my thoughts on the Suzuki triangle.

The teacher's ego is a delicate subject, and one that is tricky to address.  I certainly have had more than one family leave my studio on less than pleasant terms.  I'm certain this is because of my own sensitivity.  I think that this very sensitivity is at the core of what makes me a good teacher, but it also makes it hurt even more when a parent doesn't trust me, assumes that I'm not a good enough teacher for their child, or pushes me to do things that aren't respectful of me and/or not what is best for their child (yes, those two things often go hand in hand).

As I continue working on all the relationships in the parent-teacher-student triangle (I have pages of brainstorming notes already!), I will post another story about a difficult relationship with a parent and student from a couple of years ago.  It is one about a parent who was feeling desperate and pressured, and therefore looking for ways to make things work for her child.  Certainly, something we can all sympathize with.  But it was at the expense of the teacher--me—and not in the best interest of her child’s learning.   If you're interested, please read the next post.

A story about a very young student, from 2015

Still thinking about my first encounter with a new student and his dad. Little boy is not even 3.5 years old. Dad is big, friendly, outgoing guy.

I walked up to my group class, and there was a tiny kid crying and struggling to get out of his dad's reach as his dad was trying to pick him up. The boy was so small, that I figured he was the little brother of one of the kids in my class. Turns out that he is one of the students in my class. First thing his dad says: "I just think he's too little. He doesn't want to come in." I said that they should just watch from the window, and if he wanted to come in part way through the class, that was ok.

About 10 minutes into the class, they came in and he sat on his dad's lap. He watched everything we did. At the end of the class, as the other kids packed up their violins, he took a slow jog around the room, smiling at everyone and watching them with their cases.

Then it was time for his 15 minute private lesson. Again, his dad was thinking they shouldn't even try. I said we could just go up to the studio and talk and see how he did. So, leaving the door open, because he wasn't immediately sure that he wanted to come in, we had a little lesson.

It took about 30 seconds for him to come all the way in and sit next to me. His dad kept saying "he's so shy, maybe this is too much for him right now."

I let him pluck the strings on the violin. As he plucked each one once, I said "elephants, ants, dirt, ground" to remind him of the song we'd learned in group class. He smiled and giggled, and then started over with E again. He plucked three steady Es, and waited while I sang "stepping on the" and plucked three steady As, and waited again. We did the whole song just perfectly. He giggled and toddled around the room a bit.

His dad was gobsmacked. With no encouragement, he just played the song. What a sponge!

And we ended the lesson with the little boy having a little conversation with me. His dad had to interpret most of it for me, because much of it was nearly unintelligible. I have to laugh, because his dad said that it was amazing that the little boy was speaking in his clear speech--usually he mumbles when he's around someone new. haha!

I just love how much expectation the father had for the lessons to not work. And yet, the little boy, given the chance, showed us both that he is ready!

Article: Ten Reasons to Let Your Kid Major in Music

Yes!  As a few of my high school students have approached and are approaching graduation and college, I've been doing quite a bit of pondering about whether it is smart for me to encourage them to follow their dreams and go into music.  I know that the life of a musician is tough, but I also know that musicians are thoughtful, intelligent, and creative people.  Whether my students end up with a career in music or not, a degree in music will cultivate this sensitivity and introspection that I see lacking in our culture more and more. 

This Forbes article clearly makes an argument for why a degree in music is as good at preparing a student for the real world as any other: 

Ten Reasons to Let Your Kid Major in Music

Pictures of students from 2011

easy vs. hard

As many of you know, much of Suzuki teaching is set up to be fun and feel easy.  The idea is that the student won't become frustrated, and they won't even realize that they've learned a difficult skill.  The idea of playfulness has always appealed to me (however the idea of games has always repelled me--more on that in another blog post).  The idea is that when learning is fun, the child will enjoy it and it will feel easy.

That said, it's always been my instinct that it's good to challenge students with something tricky or "fancy" that is just a bit harder than what is the actual task.  That can be as simple as standing on one foot while practicing a piece, or a warm up for independent fingers that I give a cute name (fingertwisters or waterslides), asking a child to plan out (with my help) all finger preparations for the first six notes of Minuet 2, or as challenging as a Sevcik style trilling exercise on doublestops.  I often take very difficult professional level exercises and warm ups and make just a few notes of them into mini-exercises for my young students.  I believe that doing these very small challenges with my students stretches them and gives them better skills so that their actual repertoire feels easier.

I just read this article about practicing and the effects of always keeping it easy, compared to adding additional challenges and pushing yourself outside your comfort zone.  It really resonated with me, especially regarding this issue of how easy to make a young student's lesson.

Article from https://bulletproofmusician.com, the website of Noa Kageyama:

Why it's probably not a good sign if practicing starts to feel easy

Incidentally, I went to Oberlin at the same time as Noa and his wife, and their daughter was in one of my Suzuki Pre-Twinkle classes several years ago!

When the duck quacks

Today I saw one of my young students.  He's five and a half, and has a relatively late lesson, and he's very tired after a long day at school.  The hardest lessons are when he falls asleep in the car on the way.  Some of these lessons end up being okay, but some begin with tears.  He's usually willing to do things for me, but it's difficult for him to do his very best.  I even have a video of him playing a Twinkle with tears streaming down his face.  The fact that he'll play anything when he's that tired is amazing to me.  I will admit that he usually is fairly happy by the end of the lesson.  I feel quite grateful for that.

He came in this evening rubbing his eyes, and was obviously just up from sleeping.  But he chose to take the first lesson before his older sibling.  He willingly played several Twinkles, and worked on refining the rhythms of them.  By the end of the Twinkles, he was smiling.  When I was a little silly with him, he giggled and said "Don't be silly, Miss Suzanne!" because he was trying to not get too silly so that he could keep playing.

Then we worked on his prep spot of Lightly Row.  He experimented with me on ways to not bump the A string when changing to the E.  He was interested and engaged.  I was able to introduce a new concept, and he was very proud of doing it.

All of a sudden my "duck quacked".  (I always set an alarm on my phone to signal the end of lessons so that I don't have to watch the clock.  My students are used to the duck, and know what it means.)  I said in a mock angry tone "SHH! Duck--be quiet!"  My student, still in playing position said "Turn that duck off--let's have a longer lesson!"

Later, he told his mom "I had a great lesson today!  I think I'll do that again."

To celebrate the good lesson she took him to the "snack-spitting machine".

Article on developing imagination in older students

https://ww2.kqed.org/mindshift/2018/02/01/how-to-help-older-kids-develop-a-sense-of-imagination/?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=npr&utm_term=nprnews&utm_content=20180204

Viola?!

I have a violin student who started lessons in August.  She is just 7 years old this month, and had been asking for violin lessons for a long time (I think her mom said two years) before she started.  I'm sure she is my most enthusiastic student, and that says a lot because I am very lucky to have a studio full of mostly happy and dedicated students at the moment.  I wish there were a way to capture the delight on her face when she gets to learn something new, but photos and videos wouldn't even do her justice.

This week she practiced a significant amount, and recorded it in her practice log.  It ranged from 30 minutes to 54 minutes.  (And 54 minutes of Twinkle and Lightly Row is really something!) This is a girl after my own heart.  When I was young, I had to record the exact number of minutes I practiced--even doing 20 extra seconds to make it so I could round up to the next minute.  I told her that I was like that (and apologized to her mom, because this kind of tendency can make a person a little nutty, and I'm pretty sure I drove my mom crazy!), and she replied talking fast and barely taking time to breathe,"I just kept playing and playing.  I didn't want to stop.  I love the violin so much--I want to play it for my entire life!  But I also want to play the viola."

I looked at her mom.

"Does she know I am a violist?"

I said to my student "Do you know what a viola is?  Most people around here aren't so familiar with it.  How do you know?"

My student said "I heard it on the radio, and I thought 'Hey that's not a violin. And that's not a cello, it must be a viola.'"

She seemed to be waiting to know if that was something she could do, to play both violin and viola.  I told her that was certainly possible. 

What a gem!  This is one of those lessons to remember for all time.  I have to save it for a rainy day.
My mother says that some people are just born happy.  So it seems!  I wish I could bottle her enthusiasm.