July was a rich month, pedagogically speaking. While I didn't make it to the biennial Suzuki Conference at the end of May, I did teach at two Suzuki institutes in July. While I was there to teach, I couldn't help but be inspired by my colleagues. The colleagues who inspired me have many, many years of experience. Some are Suzuki parents or even grandparents. A short list of the ways they inspired me: They...
-helped me stick to my convictions both musical and pedagogical
-opened my mind to new ways of thinking and acting and to new pedagogical and musical ideas
-forced me to think outside the box (or to explore that box a little more carefully)
-listened to me and offered sincere, down-to-earth advice and feed-back
-played music with me
-discussed pedagogy with me and one another
-offered respect, support and compassion to those around them
-behaved in the true Suzuki spirit in and out of the lesson studio
-allowed me to observe their inspired teaching
-gave my young daughter their patience, friendship and enthusiasm
I could easily go on, and in light of the pedagogical boost I received, I am very excited to be teaching at a third institute later this month. I'm sure I'll have more to learn.
All this said, I had some surprising pedagogical revelations in a completely different arena this past week. My 2.5 year-old loves the water. I've been taking "Parent and Tot" swimming classes with her since she was an infant. The most recent class (of five consecutive days of 30 minutes a day) ended a few days ago. The teacher did NOT impress me at first. During the first class, she exhibited an off-putting brusqueness I had not observed among my daughter's previous swimming teachers. Also, she kept looking away from us (the parents and tots), and toward the pool office, or some far-off location. It was weird and unnerving. Also, when first introducing herself to my child, she asked what her name was. My daughter, being 2.5, doesn't always answer in a full and articulate voice when interrogated by a stranger. She mumbled her name, keeping her hand in her mouth. In an echo-y pool environment, the teacher heard nothing and retorted: "You have a name, don't you?!" I was pretty taken aback. I did, though, keep my cool, and made an effort to reserve judgement. My daughter was pretty clingy (not a word I like...) during the whole class, and asked for her previous teacher, several times. This was just the first class, maybe things would improve.
During the course of the week, I did notice encouraging changes in both my daughter AND the teacher. The teacher seemed to relax a great deal. She also told us, that without her glasses, she had trouble reading the clock on the pool's wall, and therefore had trouble telling what time the class should end. (That could explain her shifty gaze on the first day.) What I noticed most, however, is how subtly my daughter adapted to her quick style of teaching. She (my daughter) displayed a HUGE leap in independence in this class, compared to the last class she took earlier in July. I realized that this teacher had some pretty strong priorities in what she wanted the children to be able to do. She clearly WANTED the tots to progress and evolve over the course of the week. While my daughter's previous teachers have been sweet, kind and ever-smiling, they haven't really pushed my daughter very much. Now, I realize the goals of these classes are to give the child ease and enjoyment in the water, so concrete, achievement-type goals are not really de rigueur, but I found it refreshing to have a teacher who had clear objectives for the children. And, in the end, those objectives would lead to them enjoying the water more, and learning to swim and be safe in the water. As a result, my daughter grew very fond of this teacher, talked about her at home, and though she found some of the tasks difficult, and a little out of her comfort zone, she made true efforts to accomplish them. Among these, was putting her face in the water -- which she did manage to do by the end of the week, if only for a few short seconds. She also improved dramatically in her back-floats, bubble-blowing and going underwater. I was thoroughly impressed with such dramatic progress in such a short time-span.
I am not sure that this young teacher -- who is going into her final year at university in politics and something else... I forget -- had necessarily thought through her pedagogical approach. Or had she? She told me that after university, she plans to attend teacher's college. She wants to be a teacher. And, she already is a teacher.
So, after this month of pedagogical vitamins, what do I take away? What do I add to my toolkit? Sure, I've accumulated several new tools for my teacher toolkit. But, it's as a parent that I've learned the most. Above all, I've learned to allow my daughter to learn from others, unhindered by my re-interpretation of their words. Unless the (pool's) acoustics truly prevent her from hearing the teacher, I will keep my mouth shut. She and I have already refined our communication skills. What she needs from me, is my silent, supportive presence as she refines her communication skills with others.
We're definitely signing up for swimming lessons in the fall.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Monday, April 30, 2012
Renewing the Commitment
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about the priorities in my life. The conclusions I've reached are pretty simple, on the surface, but scratch a little, and the hard truth about matching our intentions with our actions become apparent.
At the end of March, a fellow Suzuki violin teacher and I organized a workshop for our two studios of students. This is an annual tradition, one we both look forward to, since it not only inspires and recharges our students, but our own teaching as well. One of our guest teachers is a woman from Quebec City. She lives and teaches and raises her two young daughters there. She and I went to school together, and took Suzuki Pedagogy courses together in grad school. From chatting with her during the week-end, some things became clear to me about what is important in our relatively short time on Earth. This woman has a 3-year waiting list for students, she also teaches her own two daughters violin, something I swore I'd never do... but wait... the day after her departure, I started teaching my 2-year old. We've practiced every day for a month now -- no exceptions -- no matter how tired, run-down or impatient I felt.
Back to my epiphany. I decided to make a list of what is really, REALLY important to me. Here it is:
Music (making music, teaching music and finding happiness, employment and fulfillment through music)
Exercise
Healthy food
Absent from this list? TV, facebook, doing housework. Well, it's not like I won't ever watch TV, check in with fb or do laundry, but, if I don't keep what's REALLY important at the top of the list, the other, less fulfilling items will creep in and take over my life.
Hence, the violin lessons began with my young daughter, the morning after my colleague hit the road for la Belle Province. I've also made a commitment to be more involved with the musical groups I play with. I had been feeling overwhelmed with the job of being a mother, and had been somewhat neglecting my involvement with these two groups. While my daughter will inevitably come first most of the time, I can also make the time not just to practice, but to be truly involved. Also, I've been selecting pieces to practice on both my modern and Baroque violins. Keeping up my chops between concerts feels good, sets a good example for my daughter, and is fun! (Now, if I could only practice during nap time, without waking her!)
At the end of March, a fellow Suzuki violin teacher and I organized a workshop for our two studios of students. This is an annual tradition, one we both look forward to, since it not only inspires and recharges our students, but our own teaching as well. One of our guest teachers is a woman from Quebec City. She lives and teaches and raises her two young daughters there. She and I went to school together, and took Suzuki Pedagogy courses together in grad school. From chatting with her during the week-end, some things became clear to me about what is important in our relatively short time on Earth. This woman has a 3-year waiting list for students, she also teaches her own two daughters violin, something I swore I'd never do... but wait... the day after her departure, I started teaching my 2-year old. We've practiced every day for a month now -- no exceptions -- no matter how tired, run-down or impatient I felt.
Back to my epiphany. I decided to make a list of what is really, REALLY important to me. Here it is:
Music (making music, teaching music and finding happiness, employment and fulfillment through music)
Exercise
Healthy food
Absent from this list? TV, facebook, doing housework. Well, it's not like I won't ever watch TV, check in with fb or do laundry, but, if I don't keep what's REALLY important at the top of the list, the other, less fulfilling items will creep in and take over my life.
Hence, the violin lessons began with my young daughter, the morning after my colleague hit the road for la Belle Province. I've also made a commitment to be more involved with the musical groups I play with. I had been feeling overwhelmed with the job of being a mother, and had been somewhat neglecting my involvement with these two groups. While my daughter will inevitably come first most of the time, I can also make the time not just to practice, but to be truly involved. Also, I've been selecting pieces to practice on both my modern and Baroque violins. Keeping up my chops between concerts feels good, sets a good example for my daughter, and is fun! (Now, if I could only practice during nap time, without waking her!)
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Playing music for the youngest set
I regularly take my 2-year old daughter to a certain playgroup. I have become close with some of the other moms and my daughter has made some great friends. It came to the attention of one of the facilitators that I am a professional violinist, and today's demonstration/performance was the result of her asking me to bring in my violin to play for the children.
The age range of the children at today's playgroup was 6 months (I think) to 5 years. There was a sizable number of 1 and 2-year-olds. In total, I estimate there were about a dozen children and 10 adults: mostly mothers and some grandmothers as well as the facilitator.
I was to play at "circle time" the 15-minute period at the end of playgroup when we sit in a circle and sing songs and sometimes hear a story. Just before circle time began, I tuned my violin. The silence that ensued was instant and intense. Parents holding infants appeared stunned as their tiny charges STARED, completely rapt, while I unceremoniously tuned my four strings. When I stopped, the facilitator broke the spell by singing the circle-time-is-starting song.
I am very comfortable talking to young children, and have a lot of experience describing what I do to young audiences. I showed the kids how I make sounds with my bow and how I love to make special effects on my violin. "But," I told them, "what I love most of all, is playing songs with my violin." I played them songs I suspected they knew, and took some requests. Some sang along, many just continued to stare. I finished with a very short piece by J.S. Bach that is standard repertoire for very young violinists: I teach it to all my students. I then told the children that they could each try my violin because I'd brought along a tiny bow. I told them that I'd move around the circle, but, I was quickly MOBBED (albeit in a gentle and even reverent way) by preschoolers and toddlers. They seemed drawn like magnets to my violin. Only one child was too shy. I reassured his grandmother that observing was just fine and that there was absolutely NO pressure to try the violin and bow. Interestingly, my own daughter showed no interest in trying my violin. I found this funny because she has frequently tried to play it at home. But, she is a very social creature, and was happily snuggled in the lap of one of the other mothers.
So, that was the play-by-play. Now, here are my only-somewhat-well-formed thoughts.
It is clear to me, and it has been for decades, that children of all ages love to listen to and want to make music. I've never heard a very young child respond negatively to classical music. Unless they are taught that classical music is uncool, boring, elitist, snobby, lame, difficult, intellectual and hence not populist, un-hip -- they will love it. And, teaching hatred for classical music doesn't have to be overt or even intentional. Where does this aversion to classical music come from? Certainly not from any children I've ever encountered. When I spoke with some of the parents after the performance, they expressed real shock at how attentive their children were. Now, don't get me wrong, there was a fair bit of noise while I played, but for the most part, the kiddies were really attentive, and parents were not scolding them, they were just being attentive too. (Ah -- a topic for another post, perhaps?) Why then, don't more parents play recordings classical music for their children at home? And, why is it disappearing from the airwaves? Is it because most of today's adults never heard any classical music at school, or when they did, it was in stuffy, grim, SILENT environments, where teachers glared at you if you breathed too heavily? Having performed often in schools, I can tell you that teachers still glare at students, and that classical performances are made out to be precious, delicate, archaic museum pieces -- weird relics of a distant past, akin to stuffed dodos. I even have an extended family member who repeatedly told me how weird I was as a child and teen to have studied classical music. REALLY? This is what you say to someone who is not only developing an excellent work ethic, but an appreciation for something other than the fast-food-style pop music that is shoved down our consumer-throats every time we venture into a mall or store? OK, I'm starting to rant. (But, isn't that what a blog is for?)
A message to all the adults out there: your children love classical music. They have no prejudices, you do. So, give them the chance to experience something deeper than Bieber. (How about Biber?) They will love classical music not because it's popular, but because it moves them. I've stared into the eyes of a toddler, and I've seen the truth.
I'll be back.
The age range of the children at today's playgroup was 6 months (I think) to 5 years. There was a sizable number of 1 and 2-year-olds. In total, I estimate there were about a dozen children and 10 adults: mostly mothers and some grandmothers as well as the facilitator.
I was to play at "circle time" the 15-minute period at the end of playgroup when we sit in a circle and sing songs and sometimes hear a story. Just before circle time began, I tuned my violin. The silence that ensued was instant and intense. Parents holding infants appeared stunned as their tiny charges STARED, completely rapt, while I unceremoniously tuned my four strings. When I stopped, the facilitator broke the spell by singing the circle-time-is-starting song.
I am very comfortable talking to young children, and have a lot of experience describing what I do to young audiences. I showed the kids how I make sounds with my bow and how I love to make special effects on my violin. "But," I told them, "what I love most of all, is playing songs with my violin." I played them songs I suspected they knew, and took some requests. Some sang along, many just continued to stare. I finished with a very short piece by J.S. Bach that is standard repertoire for very young violinists: I teach it to all my students. I then told the children that they could each try my violin because I'd brought along a tiny bow. I told them that I'd move around the circle, but, I was quickly MOBBED (albeit in a gentle and even reverent way) by preschoolers and toddlers. They seemed drawn like magnets to my violin. Only one child was too shy. I reassured his grandmother that observing was just fine and that there was absolutely NO pressure to try the violin and bow. Interestingly, my own daughter showed no interest in trying my violin. I found this funny because she has frequently tried to play it at home. But, she is a very social creature, and was happily snuggled in the lap of one of the other mothers.
So, that was the play-by-play. Now, here are my only-somewhat-well-formed thoughts.
It is clear to me, and it has been for decades, that children of all ages love to listen to and want to make music. I've never heard a very young child respond negatively to classical music. Unless they are taught that classical music is uncool, boring, elitist, snobby, lame, difficult, intellectual and hence not populist, un-hip -- they will love it. And, teaching hatred for classical music doesn't have to be overt or even intentional. Where does this aversion to classical music come from? Certainly not from any children I've ever encountered. When I spoke with some of the parents after the performance, they expressed real shock at how attentive their children were. Now, don't get me wrong, there was a fair bit of noise while I played, but for the most part, the kiddies were really attentive, and parents were not scolding them, they were just being attentive too. (Ah -- a topic for another post, perhaps?) Why then, don't more parents play recordings classical music for their children at home? And, why is it disappearing from the airwaves? Is it because most of today's adults never heard any classical music at school, or when they did, it was in stuffy, grim, SILENT environments, where teachers glared at you if you breathed too heavily? Having performed often in schools, I can tell you that teachers still glare at students, and that classical performances are made out to be precious, delicate, archaic museum pieces -- weird relics of a distant past, akin to stuffed dodos. I even have an extended family member who repeatedly told me how weird I was as a child and teen to have studied classical music. REALLY? This is what you say to someone who is not only developing an excellent work ethic, but an appreciation for something other than the fast-food-style pop music that is shoved down our consumer-throats every time we venture into a mall or store? OK, I'm starting to rant. (But, isn't that what a blog is for?)
A message to all the adults out there: your children love classical music. They have no prejudices, you do. So, give them the chance to experience something deeper than Bieber. (How about Biber?) They will love classical music not because it's popular, but because it moves them. I've stared into the eyes of a toddler, and I've seen the truth.
I'll be back.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Playing at a long-term care facility
I have been so neglectful of my blog. My zero followers are sad for sure...
Yesterday, I performed with three colleagues at the Carleton Lodge: a long-term care facility.
The performance, on Baroque instruments, went quite well. That said, we played in a lobby, with an elevator going up and down in a glass case, behind the harpsichord. The sound was boomy, and we had trouble hearing ourselves and each other.
It was so easy to get worked up by inadequacies in the performance venue, that it was easy to forget why we were there: to play for those who don't have the freedom, the capacity to just get up, drive downtown, and attend a concert, a movie, a play, whatever.
I got to sit and observe my colleagues and our audience during the two pieces I didn't play. That is when I began noticing the effect our performance was having. One woman was draped with an overly cheery, cherry-red, institutional blanket. She wore white sneakers that have not seen many a sidewalk. She sat, eyes shut, in a large, electric wheelchair. She looked, this will sound strange, elegant. I imagine that for some of the residents, the process of loosing their independence has been a dehumanizing one. For some, a rapid stroke caused their lives to change. For others, the changes were perhaps more gradual. In any case, they must wait to be moved around, to eat, to use the bathroom. Their voices or bodies do not obey their brains, or perhaps their bodies are fine, but their brains are scrambled. Back to our "elegant" audience member. I could easily imagine her sitting primly, calmly at a concert in a large concert hall: her hair, just so, in a modest but fashionable dress. During the concert, her toes swayed gently. I hope she was enjoying the music. Maybe it provided some salve.
After the performance we milled around and chatted with the residents. The staff were quickly taking them back to their rooms, so not many were left to chat when I made my rounds. I missed the elegant lady, but had a lovely chat with a woman who just could not stop singing. Another woman beckoned me with arms open -- ready to hug me (albeit awkwardly, since I was still holding my violin). I soon realized she had lost her ability to speak. Her face was BEAMING at my. Her smile was contagious. I thanked her for listening to our music. She expressed, with her smile, that she loved it. It could not have been more clear, she *really* loved it.
As I left Carleton Lodge, I was overcome with thoughts of life, and aging, and my baby (now 19 months old!). We all want to age -- who wants to die young? But, at the same time, no one really *wants* to age... I don't have any answers right now. I'm grateful my daughter only speaks in one or two-word fragments, for, at this moment, I could not handle any existential questions.
I think I need to perform more for the elderly, and less for the "well-to-do"... I need to think of who needs my music the most.
Yesterday, I performed with three colleagues at the Carleton Lodge: a long-term care facility.
The performance, on Baroque instruments, went quite well. That said, we played in a lobby, with an elevator going up and down in a glass case, behind the harpsichord. The sound was boomy, and we had trouble hearing ourselves and each other.
It was so easy to get worked up by inadequacies in the performance venue, that it was easy to forget why we were there: to play for those who don't have the freedom, the capacity to just get up, drive downtown, and attend a concert, a movie, a play, whatever.
I got to sit and observe my colleagues and our audience during the two pieces I didn't play. That is when I began noticing the effect our performance was having. One woman was draped with an overly cheery, cherry-red, institutional blanket. She wore white sneakers that have not seen many a sidewalk. She sat, eyes shut, in a large, electric wheelchair. She looked, this will sound strange, elegant. I imagine that for some of the residents, the process of loosing their independence has been a dehumanizing one. For some, a rapid stroke caused their lives to change. For others, the changes were perhaps more gradual. In any case, they must wait to be moved around, to eat, to use the bathroom. Their voices or bodies do not obey their brains, or perhaps their bodies are fine, but their brains are scrambled. Back to our "elegant" audience member. I could easily imagine her sitting primly, calmly at a concert in a large concert hall: her hair, just so, in a modest but fashionable dress. During the concert, her toes swayed gently. I hope she was enjoying the music. Maybe it provided some salve.
After the performance we milled around and chatted with the residents. The staff were quickly taking them back to their rooms, so not many were left to chat when I made my rounds. I missed the elegant lady, but had a lovely chat with a woman who just could not stop singing. Another woman beckoned me with arms open -- ready to hug me (albeit awkwardly, since I was still holding my violin). I soon realized she had lost her ability to speak. Her face was BEAMING at my. Her smile was contagious. I thanked her for listening to our music. She expressed, with her smile, that she loved it. It could not have been more clear, she *really* loved it.
As I left Carleton Lodge, I was overcome with thoughts of life, and aging, and my baby (now 19 months old!). We all want to age -- who wants to die young? But, at the same time, no one really *wants* to age... I don't have any answers right now. I'm grateful my daughter only speaks in one or two-word fragments, for, at this moment, I could not handle any existential questions.
I think I need to perform more for the elderly, and less for the "well-to-do"... I need to think of who needs my music the most.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
What I learn from babies
So -- I have a 9-month old baby girl. And, keeping up with her is taking all my energy. I have so much admiration for parents of more than one child. That said, it is endlessly fascinating to watch her navigate and negotiate her physical surroundings. She loves to pull herself to stand now, and will try to do so using ANYthing she deems appropriate -- a shelf, table, toy, person, drawer knob... Sometimes, thwarted, she cries... out of frustration, I guess. Other times, she is more patient with herself, or at least, seems completely unfazed by multiple failures at standing attempts.
As I observe her efforts (and rush to her aid to prevent or kiss the inevitable bumps along the way), I am reminded just how easily we adults are defeated by defeat itself. How many times have I said: "I really can't draw. I stopped taking Art after 6th grade."? (For the record -- I really CANNOT draw...) My point is that, we adults, and, sadly, many children too, put limits on ourselves. Sure, some of us are more "gifted" than others in certain areas (more about *that* in future posts, I'm sure), but, IMHO, I think more often than not, we are simply too afraid of failure to even TRY! So, I'm going to keep trying to learn new things, starting today!
I really want to get better and more confident at getting my baby on my back. I have a long woven wrap, which I have been experimenting with for months... I will continue to practice getting her up there... It's harder that I imagined... my baby likes to wiggle!
As my baby gets her bearings in the world, I am learning to get mine too.
As I observe her efforts (and rush to her aid to prevent or kiss the inevitable bumps along the way), I am reminded just how easily we adults are defeated by defeat itself. How many times have I said: "I really can't draw. I stopped taking Art after 6th grade."? (For the record -- I really CANNOT draw...) My point is that, we adults, and, sadly, many children too, put limits on ourselves. Sure, some of us are more "gifted" than others in certain areas (more about *that* in future posts, I'm sure), but, IMHO, I think more often than not, we are simply too afraid of failure to even TRY! So, I'm going to keep trying to learn new things, starting today!
I really want to get better and more confident at getting my baby on my back. I have a long woven wrap, which I have been experimenting with for months... I will continue to practice getting her up there... It's harder that I imagined... my baby likes to wiggle!
As my baby gets her bearings in the world, I am learning to get mine too.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
doing things vs. getting stuff done
Sometimes I feel like I go through my day doing a LOT of things. I do laundry, return e-mails, pick some berries, do more laundry, change several diapers, vacuum... But, at the end of the day, what did I accomplish? How do we measure a day's accomplishments? I used to measure the worth of a day by how much violin I practiced -- really. It was a source of pride for me if I'd practiced at least 5 hours. Now, just to get an hour in (usually in small chunks) feels like a huge accomplishment.
I'm trying to measure the worth of a day by its smaller accomplishments: spending time with my daughter: reading, playing, singing, taking a walk, eading a book for ME, playing my violin, preparing my group classes doing work for my teaching job.
This is a new way to look at my daily life, and it will likely evolve.
Accordingly, I will check off another accomplishment for today (on top of the list of household chores, socializing (!!) and playing with my daughter: making baby food from scratch. A wise person once said: "small steps". Small steps indeed.
PS: One thing I want to do MORE of is IMPROVISE on my violin. But, finding the time to do this will have to be a topic for a future post.
I'm trying to measure the worth of a day by its smaller accomplishments: spending time with my daughter: reading, playing, singing, taking a walk, eading a book for ME, playing my violin, preparing my group classes doing work for my teaching job.
This is a new way to look at my daily life, and it will likely evolve.
Accordingly, I will check off another accomplishment for today (on top of the list of household chores, socializing (!!) and playing with my daughter: making baby food from scratch. A wise person once said: "small steps". Small steps indeed.
PS: One thing I want to do MORE of is IMPROVISE on my violin. But, finding the time to do this will have to be a topic for a future post.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Life = brainstorming
This is my second try at the blogging thing... Life for me is a constant brainstorming session. I LOVE coming up with ideas... don't always manage to follow through, however.
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