An Assignment of the Heart

When I start a new family in the studio, we go through a parent orientation class.  This is always a valuable time to get to know the new family and share ideas about the Suzuki Philosophy.  Each time I review the material something new pops out at me.

I was reading how Dr. Suzuki would give his students a non-musical assignment.  The example given was that Suzuki asked the children to straighten the shoes at home several times a day, without being told.  They were to do this in secret as well, thus teaching the lesson of doing something for others without expecting recognition.  Dr. Suzuki didn't live in Minnesota, in my house, where the pile of coats, mitten, hats, shoes, boots and wet socks can reach epic daily proportions--and I only have two children.  Dr. Suzuki didn't know what he was asking for.

In Texas I had one coat and about five total pairs of shoes.  When I visited my husband's Eagan apartment when we were dating, I seriously couldn't believe he had a whole closet full of coats.  One for rainy weather with temps between 30-50 degrees, one for dressing up between 15-30 degrees, one for skiing, one for bitter cold work outside. There were shoes for shoveling show, for exercise, for work, for yard work. .  . you get the point.  This was NOT the simple life.

I digress.

So I thought about this character training idea.  I'm not going to try this on my students yet, but I'm trying it on my own family.  The assignment this week.  No yelling.  Our family doesn't yell in anger.  We just yell. MMMMAAARRRYYYY.  CCCAAALLLVVVINNNN.  MMMMAAAMAAAA.  DADDDDDDY.  Yep.  We yell.  Across the house, down the stairs, up the stairs.  Whenever we need someone's attention.  So this week:  no yelling.  Go find the person.  Especially if it is me.

One small step for character training.  One giant leap for household peace.

Courage

Look at these brave little daffodils. . .most of the snow was melted by the time I took this picture.  
Yes, the kids did the church egg hunt in the snow this morning.  Only in Minnesota.

I don't remember very much about last Easter.  I think my sister and brother-in-law made a nice dinner and put on a very sweet treasure hunt for Calvin and Mary.  Pastor Kris had real chicks in church.

I remember every nuance of every moment from Easter two years ago.  It started with Palm Sunday.  We drove down to Iowa to watch my dad conduct the Seven Last Words of Christ cantata.  It was put on by the community choir in Tipton, Iowa, composed of the church choirs of several local denominations.  (Yes, there are other denominations than Lutheran in Iowa. . . )  He wasn't feeling good, but managed to inspire the large choir to a very moving performance.  He rented a tux.  I never saw my dad in a tux before.  He sang the bass solo of "God, My Father, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me."
After the performance he slept through the whole after-glow party at the house.

He went in Monday for tests.  We didn't hear the "C" word until Maundy Thursday.  Good Friday confirmed his tragic diagnosis.  Saturday I fumbled my way through coloring Easter eggs with the kids while listening to some music that seemed to speak to me that these moments, these lifetimes, are all just specks on eternity.  It would be okay.  Easter Sunday I fought my way through the fight or flight panic that there was no where to run to, no place to hide, nothing to do except to just go through this with my family.

Nobody ever spoke aloud the rancid irony of Daddy singing that solo, but I think many of us went there inside our hearts.  He never did.  He retained a simple faith throughout the whole remaining five and a half months of his life.

The previous Christmas I got a key chain from the James Avery company. It has three bronze circles intertwined that say "Wisdom, Serenity, and Courage."  Somehow I never put it together as the same words from the "Serenity Prayer."   I do recall thinking that wisdom and serenity were somehow greater virtues than courage.  Courage is for soldiers.  Police and fireman.  Heroes.  Maybe even Olympic athletes. Who needs courage really?  

I didn't know that my dad would be the most courageous person I would ever know.  Facing a terminal diagnosis takes a kind of courage I could never have imagined.  Courage is for all of us.  Everyone who ever holds the hand of someone who is dying.

Holy week will always remind me of my Dad singing the Seven Last Words.  There isn't too much I can do about that.  But it's okay.  It's okay because Holy Week ends with Easter.

Easter makes everything okay.  It makes holding that hand a little easier.   Easter makes courage a little easier.

Big and Little Goals

Most of us have some goals at some point in our lives.  They might be fitness, financial, educational, spiritual, or other unique goals.

My students leave the lesson every week with a goal.  The goal might be to learn the right hand of Cuckoo, or memorize the exposition of their Sonata.  It might be to make sure they get to the piano everyday.   It might be to check on their posture during their review pieces.  Setting the goal is a very flexible procedure, it is sometimes suggested by the student or parent, and sometimes I suggest the goal.  When the student returns the following week for his lesson, I ask if he achieved the goal, and if so he can mark a tally on the chart toward a larger reward later in the semester.  This sets the tone that we really expect something to get done during the week.  Something specific and tangible.  This help us realize that progress is cumulative--growth is built on many many small steps.   Dr. Suzuki said never hurry, never rest.  Slow and steady wins the race every time.  Fast and furious can often lead to trouble.  Likewise, folks can meander along for a long time and never realize that they are floundering.

I also like to plan with a student what her goal is for the year.  Are we moving toward a graduation recital or just enjoying some repertoire for a few months.  Planning an individual recital is extremely motivating for the student.  We have to plan out several months in advance what she will play and what will have to be memorized and accomplished at each landmark along the way.  These are truly periods of growth and polish.

What is the goal for the lifetime of the student?  Again, Dr. Suzuki says--we are not trying to raise professional musicians.  That is not our goal.  We are teaching first for the love of the child and second for the love of music.  As it happens--students often leave the Suzuki studio well prepared for a career in music.  My very first Suzuki student--Kristen Sowell--is doing teacher training with Doris Harrel in Texas.  When I left  Texas she went on to work with my friend Janie, and then on to college.  I'm sure by now Kristen is playing circles around me.  At least I hope she is.  That is what every teacher loves to see.  Other students have majored in music and won very nice scholarships in music.  But that it not our goal, and woe to the student who actually does choose a career in music.  Many a musician has lost their love for their instrument in a competitive and ruthless environment.  I do not wish that upon anyone.

Time spent thinking about goals is never wasted.  I encourage parents and students to reflect on their goals for the summer and the upcoming year.

My goal?  Facilitate each student to reach his great musical potential, which may or may not include further college study, but which will definitely result in a beautiful heart and a lifetime love of music.

Piano Priority What?

In the policy letter that I give students each Fall, it states that my studio is a piano priority studio.  In other words, this experience is geared toward families with a high level of commitment to piano.  This is fine to say on paper, but what does it really mean?  It is intended to mean that my students are supposed to prioritize piano above their other activities.  Hmmff. 

Obviously, I have very little leverage to support this.  It has never been my style to "fire" an uncommitted student.  I truly believe that every child can succeed at the piano, but our success is contingent upon a few key elements--the Suzuki triangle--an excellent teacher, a caring parent committed to the process, and a kid.  The kid gets to just be the kid.  

So what leverage does the teacher have to promote excellence in the studio?

Lesson time.  

I have always thought that in a perfect world the student could just show up for the lesson and it would take as long as it takes.  When we were done with everything the lesson would be over.  Could be 30 minutes, could be a couple hours.  Heaven knows we could fill the time.  We might even stop for tea. But, I'm not Mozart and this isn't 1776 and we don't have wealthy royal patrons to support us all. 

Instead, starting this summer I am changing my studio requirements for lesson length.  Students in Book 1 can take a weekly 30 minute lesson, but students in Books 2-5 will need to take at least a 45 minute lesson.  Students in Book 6 and beyond will be required to take an hour lesson.  No exceptions.  

How can we promote excellence if we don't ever have enough time to get through the lesson material? 

If this policy becomes a financial hardship on any family I will work out a plan with them.  It isn't about the money, it is about the quality of the lesson.  

Next Fall I am taking over Beth Turko's position as president of The Twin Cities Suzuki Piano Teacher's Guild.  We have been having some great discussions at our meeting about increasing the quality of our teaching.  I am going to encourage our group to make sure students are getting appropriate lesson lengths.  

I think this is a really important step for some of my students.  Most of them are already taking long enough lessons.  The few who aren't will be pleasantly surprised at the amount of progress they will make when given enough quality lesson time. 

Who Am I?

Periodically I find myself requiring some confirmation of just exactly who I am and what I am trying to accomplish in this relatively short time I am given here on earth.  Am I the only woman who ever feels this way?

I think some women have it easier than others in this regard.  'Tis a gift to be simple.  Those of us with myriad interests and ambitions can find it harder.  I find myself wishing I had several different lives to live.

In one, I would be like one of my college piano professors, whose living room was empty but for the wall to wall CD shelves.  He went to the church of Tower Records every Sunday morning.  The furniture in his home was scant but for a Hamburg Steinway and a few chairs for visitors.  Any empty hours easily filled with practice and study.

In another I might be like Martha Stewart minus the jail term and the hair cut.  I would wander around my garden and home tweaking things until they were all set for the photo shoot.  Weekends would be spent at flee markets and small town Iowa antique shows.  I could have hundreds of cats.

The next life might find me a stay at home mom making cookies timed to come out of the oven when the bus pulled up.  Family dinners "Leave it to Beaver" style.

Another life would be late night gigs, sleeping late and drinking coffee in bed all morning. No children . . .

I probably could have been happy doing a lot of different things in my life.  I even enjoyed working at the bank with my Dad during summer vacations.

Pastor Bohlman made it sound so clear back in eighth grade confirmation.  If we keep our priorities as God intended we would always be happy--and to him that order was clear:

• God
• Spouse  (if you have one)
• Children (if you have them)
• Other family and friends
• Job
• Hobbies

At least that is how I remember it.  I could pull out my notes scratched into Luther's Small Catechism in 1980 to confirm. .. 

But here we are in 2011 and it doesn't always seem that clear.  Things are different now.  Women juggle more things.  Because we have more choices, life can seem more difficult.  More fragmented. 

Upon further reflection I circle back to the list. I believe in the list.  I think of the energy that I put into my family and my home, my studio and my music study.  My faith.  All the choices we make, all along the way, large and small define who we are.  If I hadn't had three really flaky serious boyfriends break my heart I might not have seen the gem I found in my husband.  When my Dad got sick I started writing on Caring Bridge, I learned that writing is very therapeutic to me.  If my college French Horn teacher hadn't yelled at me and made me cry I might not remember how fragile we all can be.

Sometimes the sad things that come along make us stronger and more sure of what is important to us.  We are all on a journey and there are no limits to how far we will go.   If I had a wall of CD's and a Hamburg Steinway I might not have my husband.  I wouldn't have Calvin and Mary.  I wouldn't have a studio of children with beautiful hearts who happen to play the piano extremely well. I wouldn't be playing piano for a church choir that makes me feel like part of a community. I wouldn't have time for family and friends. I wouldn't have a garden and home that heals and frustrates me all at once. 

I wouldn't be me. 

Snippets

There are all sorts of people who research how our brains learn.  Daniel Coyle talks about brain research in his book, The Talent Code.   If I had a smarter brain I would probably understand how the brain works a little better.  That was my very tired attempt at a joke.  

I do know this much beyond a doubt: we don't improve a piece of piano music by playing through it once at tempo.  Yet, if left to their own devices most students I know, even the really good ones, when asked to practice a piece, would probably just play through it once at tempo and move on.  

We do improve and learn when we take a small portion of music, a snippet, and repeat it several times with intention. The snippet could be just a few notes, or a phrase, it could be one hand alone, or even one note.   It can also be called a practice spot. It is my non-rocket scientist understanding that every time we repeat a task, we build a synapse.  I tell my students, if they repeat a snippet once, they have built a weak synapse.  I visualize this by pointing my pointer fingers together.   If we play it twice it makes a stronger connection, like two fingers together.  If we play the snippet four or five times, the connection becomes very strong.  In other words, we might have some hope of actually remembering the task we were doing today, when we come back tomorrow.  

Every experienced music teacher will tell you that true progress can only be gained when a student learns how to do quality repetitions of the same task.  How to get those repetitions is the trickier part.  I use a lot of counting toys, dice, playing cards and m&m's.  A little chocolate goes a long way.  

Doris Harrel calls this "doing sets."  She recommends the student do only four repetitions in a set, but then requests the student do many sets throughout the day.  You will probably notice at some point in the repetitions the quality actually gets worse.  Then you know you have gone too far and the kid is tired.  Doing only four repetitions ensures that each rep will be high quality.  

I make charts for my kids.  At some point I realized that the chart was encouraging the "play through it once" mentality.  So I added snippets to the chart.  Now each song gets a play through, and then I get to pick a snippet to work on.  One of the cornerstones of the Suzuki Method is review, but the review is only worthwhile if something is actually getting done.  Picking a snippet gets something done.  

I noticed at choir practice tonight that Kris Henry, the music director also uses snippets, but she doesn't know that is what they are called.  The choir only has so much time to rehearse and so many pieces.  So she picks a snippet from each piece, that she has planned ahead of time.  Same.  

When the kids are little we have to pick their snippets.  As they mature they should start to be able to pick their own snippets.  

Snippets. Enjoy your snippets.  Fun to say.  Fun to play. Fun to type. . . 

That is all I have to say about snippets.  Off to bed. . . 

Serenity

Sara's Snowdrops

One of my friends is a pastor who is going through a particularly long call process for a new position at our church.  I imagine she feels that her whole future, her vision for the church, all the work she has done and all the relationships she has developed are in the tender hands of the call committee.

My Uncle Jim, my Dad's younger brother had a fluke fall down the stairs this weekend and broke his back in four places, fractured his skull, broke ribs and messed up his arm.  It looks like he will be okay but he has a long road in front of him.  His plan for healing is in the hands of the capable crew at the University of Iowa hospitals.

Back in November my husband was promised a promotion with his company.  He has been doing the work and shouldering the responsibility of the position since then, without the title or compensation.  His boss should sign those papers any day.

Our neighbor is a totally nice guy with a million unfinished projects going on his house and yard.  As we gaze out the window at the accumulated havoc, we wish he would either realize his dream of fixing things up, or pass on the property to someone who could.

When my Grandpa was alive I, used to ask him about my worries.  He would always say, in a gruff but loving voice, "I wouldn't worry too much about that, there isn't too much you can do about that." He was a farmer, whose whole livelihood depended upon something completely out of his control:  the weather.

We all have these situations all the time.  Sometimes serious, sometimes not so serious.  We all have facets of our lives that we are fully emotionally invested in, but yet SOMEONE ELSE is in control. We have very little or no control over the way things are going to turn out and we can't see what the future holds.

I have learned at these times to try to relinquish that control that I wish I had, those times when I want to pout and stomp my foot, those frustrations and hurts--to try to relinquish that control to God.  We do our best, but at the end of the day we have to let go. Someone else is in control, and ultimately that someone is God, who loves us very much.  "We know that all things work together for good, for those who love the Lord." Romans 8:28.  Sometimes it seems impossible to understand what good could come.  I guess that is where the serenity part comes in.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

the courage to change the things I can

and the wisdom to know the difference