Bach: A Strange Beauty

A parent of one of my students brought over a new CD to share with me. It is "Bach: A Strange Beauty." The pianist is Simone Dinnerstein. She performs a mixture of solo and concerto selections. I didn't know about her, I don't get out much. I enjoyed listening to the CD and I also enjoyed the liner notes. She uses the quote:

"There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion"

-Sir Francis Bacon (1561-1626)

She goes on to discuss Bach's music and compares it to different paintings of famous painters as well as some large scale pieces painted by her father. She talks about how Bach at first seems predictable and follows all these rules but then at some critical moment breaks the rules, changing the harmony or putting the melody on an off-beat. That is the strange beauty. She had small copies of the paintings and brought out examples of incongruities in the paintings as well. I enjoyed thinking about this and I listened to the music a little differently because of having read the liner notes.

I think Bach is under-rated and under-played. High school kids don't seem to think it is cool. I was really uplifted when one of my busy high school kids chose to tackle all three movements of the Italian Concerto. There was quite a bit of Bach on the Advancing Recitals last weekend and I really enjoyed it. There were those moments of terror where the student falters and you pray and cross your fingers and visualize her weaving her way back into the real notes.

There is a strange beauty all right and it can make Bach terribly difficult to perform confidently. I was so nervous to perform Bach on a recital in college that I forgot to play a whole dance from the French Suite I was performing. If you put one wrong finger number on a note you might run out of fingers and crash. My Dad never liked me to play Bach, he said it was five dollars work for a dollars pay. Not much flash for the effort.

Sometimes when our organist Kris Henry shoots off a four part Bach fugue, as a postlude that not that many people are even listening to as they exit, I can't believe it. It takes a special kind of brain work to do that.

I think I will try to listen to more Bach in February. February is a good month for that. I'm going to listen to: Two Part Inventions, The Goldberg Variations, Preludes and Fugues from Books I and II, the French Suites, and I think I will go out and buy my own copy of "A Strange Beauty." If I try to get it from itunes I won't have those great liner notes. That should about get me through February.

Here is Calvin playing some Bach, the Invention No. 1 in C Major. 

Stay Connected to the Child

Daniel Coyle, author of "The Talent Code" spoke at our Suzuki Convention last May. I confess that I meant to order and read the book and forgot, but I did take really good notes at his keynote address. He presented three ideas that the teachers and coaches from the talent hot beds around the world share.

• Make a connection with the student at every lesson
• Use short pinging corrections
• Use games to learn

I was thinking about the connections we make with our students. I thought about how usually when I have gotten to a point where a student wanted to quit, in hindsight, I had lost my connection with that child. Maybe for weeks, maybe for months, but the connection was lost. There was probably some point where he stopped making eye contact with me. I stopped trying to be funny. Maybe there was a moment when I was frustrated with the practice or progress and instead of conferencing with the student and parents, I just let it go. This is particularly the case with adolescent kids. I feel some guilt about letting some of these kids go along the way, instead of making the effort to stay connected. After all, nobody ever looks back and says "I'm soooo glad my folks let me quit." (If any of you are out there, you can always come back. . . )

When we stay connected with the students they are accountable to us. In more ways than one. Of course I was accountable to my childhood teachers regarding practicing, but there was also a point in high school when I didn't really give a hoot what my parents thought, but I sure wasn't going to do anything to disappoint my music teachers and our pastor.

Sometimes I feel like a masters in psychology may have served me better than the pedagogy thing. Stay connected to the child. How? Most of the time the lesson is all about the music, but occasionally it is all about the child. What is going on in there?

The elephant in the room is that if it is important for teachers to stay connected with their students, how much more important is it for parents to stay connected to their children. I confess I have had many practices with my children that I felt like getting up and walking out. I've had it. Stop noodling. Stop talking. Stop crying. Stop whatever it is that is so completely annoying at this moment. And when they don't stop I feel like walking out. I never have. I never will.

Mary Sheedy Kurcinka is the author of "Raising Your Spirited Child" which I do own and have read, many times. She also spoke at our Suzuki Convention three years ago. She sings this song to the tune of Happy Birthday, I hum it when I am tempted to disconnect:

Stay Connected to the Child

Stay Connected to the Child

Stay Connected to the Chi-ild. . .

Stay Connected to the Child

The Dishwasher is Fixed

Further testament to the power of positive reinforcement. (See: When Theology, Psychology, and Pedagogy Coincide)

In the battle of husband vs. dishwasher. Husband wins another round. As it turns out the timing mechanism was sticky or something--causing it to stop before the drain cycle. WD40.

It all started when Sears came out the first time it broke and told me it needed a new motor. They also happened to offer me a $200 coupon for a new dishwasher--as the cost of replacing the motor was worth more than the dishwasher was worth.

Why you ask, in suburban Minnesota did I not put a new dishwasher on my Sears card right then? As an act of rebellion against replacing a seven year old dishwasher, and to show the kids that we can't just rush out and buy something new every time something breaks, I decided to go ahead and replace the motor. When the serviceman arrived, funny. . . it turned out it was only a $7 plastic valve that had broke.

Since then, we--okay--Bill, has replaced two handles, the entire door mechanism and rebuilt the steam escape do-hicky. He is going to order the pump and the motor, the only pieces that haven't been replaced. If those parts are sitting in the basement shop, that should ensure the health and well being of the appliance for several more years.

At the risk of sounding too virtuous, the real reasons I don't get a new DW are thus: I like the handles to match the stove, and I can't bear the thought of shopping for a new one.

I think this might be a rare occasion where the simple life and the beautiful life are as one.

Speaking of beautiful, the real reason I wanted to write tonight is to say congratulations to the eight students who played so musically and I would add, passionately, yesterday at the Recitals for Advancing Students, put on by the Twin Cities Suzuki Piano Teachers Guild. Calvin, Oliver, Lena, Grace, Aidan, Anna, Christina and Cassy--I was so happy in my heart to hear you all play. Can I add that I had tears in my eyes at several moments? You are one determined group! Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!

The Log in the Child's Eye

My friend Kris happens to be a pastor and her daughter Annika happens to be about the same age as Calvin. Last Sunday Annika was sitting with our family in church while her mother was leading the service. At a point in the liturgy when the congregation stands up, Annika and Mary were busy making a home for their webkinz animals under the pew. Feeling very self righteous in his first communion stole, Calvin whispers in my ear, "Annika should really be standing up--she is the PASTOR'S DAUGHTER." Oh, Calvin, do you really want to go there?

My initial annoyance with this attitude turned quickly to internal laughter and ultimately to thanksgiving. I thought about what a great teaching moment this would be later in the day when I had a chance to talk to him in private. He is after all, the PIANO TEACHER'S SON. Wouldn't people expect that he would play with the loveliest of hand positions and always note perfect with expressive dynamics? Not to mention that he should be able to sit through an hour long recital straight backed in a chair without making a paper airplane out of his program. . .

I have to state two obvious points for the record: number one Annika is an angel who later that day at lunch brought my kids to religion in the form of table manners--that is the miracle of eating pancakes without getting syrup in one's hair and all down one's sleeves, as well as making it through an entire meal without talking with food in her mouth. Number two is that is was only about last week that Calvin finally started following the church service and singing the hymns without me poking him repeatedly in the ribs for the entire hour. I just had to say that. . .

Monday morning at the piano, I broached the topic. "Remember yesterday at church when you asked me about Annika and how she is the pastor's daughter?" Do you really want people to expect things from you because of my job. . .

"Mama, I already know where you are going with this." And he did. And we laughed.

Where is that elusive line between good behavior and self righteousness? How do we teach our kids the value of being good without the superiority thing? I pride myself, on having never been as self righteous as the people around me. . .

For the record that was a joke, but even kids are quick to find the speck in their friend's eye while missing the log in their own. The early seeds of the hypocrisies that we all harbor at some time or another. Perhaps laughter is the best medicine. If we can step back enough to not take ourselves and our children too seriously, it is probably a good step in removing the log from our eyes.

By the way, tomorrow at the SPTG recitals, Calvin will probably not play perfectly in every way. Hopefully, the next time Annika sees him play she'll have a chance to ask her mom why he forgot to bow. . . after all, he is THE PIANO TEACHER'S SON. . . And we will have to laugh.

"Everything Changed. . . " part two

There is a corollary to the Story People quote, "Everything Changed the day she figured out there was exactly enough time for the important things in her life." The dirty little secret is that it runs both ways. What we make time for, is ultimately, what is important to us. That is, if we are living deliberately. If I clean my house instead of reading with my child or having coffee with a friend, I am at that moment in time, placing more importance on things than relationships. I'm working on that.

Nobody will look back on their life and wished they had surfed the web a little more. Or watched a little more TV or played a few more video games. Or kept the house a little cleaner.

I once asked my high school group to write down the things they value in order of importance. What I was taught way back in confirmation, was: God, Spouse (if you have one), children (if you have them), parents, friends, health, work, recreation, etc. . . This list will be different for each of us. Most parents would make a list for their children something like this: family, academics, spirituality, music, sports, scouts, etc. . . Again, this list will be different for each family.

Back to my group--I then asked the kids to write down how many hours they spent each week in each endeavor that they valued. I asked them to keep it private, I didn't want or need to see it. I asked them only to reflect on the value of the activity versus the time spent doing that activity. I wondered if they matched up.

I am not asking them to put piano first, although it sure would be great if they did. I'm only asking them to be thoughtful about their time. Periodically reflect. Every year through eighth grade I signed up for summer softball. I hated it. I desperately searched for four leaf clovers in the outfield. "Look alive Stephens!" Why? Because my friends signed up.

I happen to have a tremendous bias that music should be right up there at the top of the list. No other activity has the ability to touch our souls like music does. There is one more Story People poster that I don't have in my studio for obvious political reasons. . . but here it goes. . . and it doesn't have to be soccer. . . it really could be anything. . . it just so happens that piano teachers have to unite against soccer with humor. . . thanks Brian Andreas for saying it so eloquently. . .

"How'd it go at soccer? I said & he said we worked on fundamentals & I said like why you were even chasing around after a ball in the first place? & from the way he looked at me I figured out that was probably too fundamental."

Field Trip

The Deerwood Elementary fourth graders took a field trip today to hear the high school band concert. Presumably this will help them to choose a band instrument, should they choose to participate in school band next year. Raise your hand if you like the drums. . . .

My mind is racing. My heart rate goes up. Ten years of my life flash before my eyes. My arms are open in prayer. Dear Lord, please let him not choose the French horn.

"Mama I really think I want to play the French horn."

My faith falters. . .

I wonder if the fifth grade band teacher is tracking with the fact that both Calvin's parents were instrumental music majors in college. The kids act like this is choosing a flavor of ice-cream at the mall. This is choosing which devil you are going to sell your soul to.

I'm not gonna tell him how many nightmares I have had and occasionally continue to have that I am playing first horn in the college orchestra. Except I haven't played in twenty years. In the dream I wonder if my chops will make it through the concert. I wonder if I will come in on the right note. I wonder if I even remember the fingering. Jeepers? Do I even have a horn to play as I walk on stage? I wake in a cold sweat. It is over. I quit. I sold my horn to pay a few months rent in 1996.

If he chooses the French horn it is because of all my sins in college. God is paying me back.

What would I choose for him? I don't know. He'll probably be a really good horn player. I have stacks of music and can probably come up with a really fine Conn II mouthpiece in a old box somewhere. Not to mention of shelf full of Barry Tuckwell CDs.

I'm thinking that this is the first really big decision in his life that he will actually take a part in. To me the stakes feel really high. To him all those coils look pretty shiny.

So here is the real prayer:

Lord, help me keep my own experiences and biases to myself. Help him choose an instrument that he will love to play, and that will deepen his love for music, and the magic that playing with other musicians brings. Help me use my knowledge to give him the appropriate amount of guidance at this tender moment when he makes this special decision.

Amen

"Everything Changed. . . "

". . .the day she figured out there was exactly enough time for the important things in her life."

That is from a Brian Andreas Story People greeting card I have had ready to frame for several months. Check him out at www.storypeople.com. I love it.

Sometimes MY life feels more like a Britney Spears lyric "Whoops, I did it Again. . . " Except I'm not doing whatever she's doing. My sin of the day is overbooking. Habitually. Perhaps it is because I married an airline executive. Ha. I habitually try to fit more in a day than is humanly possible. Sometimes I get a rush of adrenaline from this, but often it leaves me in a heap on the floor at the end of the day. Something or someone is gonna get bumped.

When I complain about being hopelessly over busy, my gracious husband reminds me that we are not victims of our lifestyle. We have choices. Most of us have choices. (I'm not talking about single moms and jobless people and people who are abused. . etc) I'm talking about most of us suburban families. He reminds me that we could move from house and garden to a simpler townhouse. We could change our lifestyle in such a way that I could be a stay at home mom. The kids aren't required to do piano, gymnastics, swimming, or even church. He could take a less challenging job that was less rewarding but also less stressful. We have choices. In the olden days. . . families lived in a house on a street with one car and one parent working. Their kids went to safe public schools where they could meet their potential. People survived without computers and cell phones and high-definition TVs. Kids walked or rode their bikes to their activities. They got by with a lot less. Less money, less activities, less stuff, less responsibility. We have choices.

When reminded of the reality of our choices, I realize that I really wouldn't change a thing. I love my family, I love teaching, I love our home--I love my life. I find value in the activities and obligations we have chosen. Sometimes we choose something for awhile and then realize that it doesn't add value to our life. I am constantly assessing and reevaluating our schedule. Some activities turn out to not be in line with our values and we let them go. We all have occasional weeks where we are in a heap on the floor at the end, but we can't sustain it as a lifestyle.

I still have too much to do this week--deadlines for S.A.M. and the Piano Teachers Guild--stuff to keep my own studio running smoothly. Sleep, exercise, practice, groceries. And those two little people who live with me are needing some attention too.

But--when given a choice--I wouldn't change a thing.

There is exactly enough time for the important things in my life.