Teaching Genius

This is the title of a book I am reading. It is subtitled "Dorothy DeLay and the Making of a Musician." The author is Barbara Lourie Sand.  My first question was: is the title referring to the teacher or the student?  I guess in this case, the answer is both.  DeLay is one of the legendary violin teachers of the Juilliard School of Music.  Her students include Itzhak Perlman, Midori, Sarah Chang and the list goes on and on.  The book is about an American woman who became one of history's greatest pedagogues.

I want to share a quote from the book.  There are many more to come, but this one is enough to chew on for awhile.

Delay is basically in the business of teaching her pupils how to think, and to trust their ability to do so effectively.  This is a much more difficult undertaking than telling them to copy what she does, or to repeat a passage over and over until it--at least in theory--gets better.  To Delay, learning and thinking are inextricable connected, and the core of her philosophy lies in continually challenging her students to look for their own answers. (pages 65-66)

Isn't this our most important and primary goal as teachers and parents?  This is what Doris Harrel is after in every single teacher trainer class she teaches, maybe it is a Juilliard thing. . . but Doris teaches how and why to trust our musical instinct.  She was the first teacher to teach me that.  She teaches how to find musical clues, through harmony and texture and countless other hints from the composer.  I'll never go to Juilliard, and I'll never perform in Carnegie Hall, but I know how to trust the musical instincts I do have.  I know how to teach that to a child.  I'm not saying I have mastered this.  I'm just getting started.  But, after all, knowing what the goal is, is half of getting there.

If we do our jobs as parents, we nurture our kids today for a healthy independent adulthood tomorrow. We all want the next generation to be smarter, happier, more self actualized, more spiritual, wealthier. . insert your own family goal.

If I do my job as a piano teacher, the students will graduate from the studio with the confidence, insight, and intuition to interpret any piece of classical piano music.  Best case scenario, if I do my very best job, the student goes on in life to be a better musician than me and maybe even comes back as guest teacher.  Nothing would make me happier.

Musical Cottages

Sarah Susanka is an architect who has made a name for herself with the idea of the "Not So Big House."  She has authored umpteen books about how smaller spaces tend to feed our souls more than the suburban mansions people have built in recent years.  She is interested in the materials and details of a home and how they effect the people who live there.  I like these ideas.

Edvard Grieg had the same idea about piano pieces.  He writes:

 It is not for me to build lofty places and mighty cathedrals of music, but rather cottages, in which men may dwell and rest their hearts.

I like that too.  I have a student, Lena, studying a few of his Lyric Pieces.  These are short pieces with a Norwegian character and many have programatic titles like "Butterflies" or "March of the Trolls" that truly paint a picture in our minds.  Maybe I like them because growing up I thought I was Norwegian.    It's just that my grandma and grandpa lived so close to Decorah, Iowa and we went to the Nordic Fest every year and ate all the foods and bought all the little Christmas ornaments of the little painted wood and yarn people.  I just assumed.  I still have a little Nordic Christmas Tree.

Uff Da. Turns out I'm Czech.  I should be giving students Dvorak and Janacek.  I'm still going to rest my heart in a few little Grieg pieces.  Good luck with Puck, Lena.

Assignment of the Heart Week 2

Upon Mary's request. . . the assignment of the heart this week is to pick up after yourself.
How ironic.  Her ability to instantly trash a room by tipping over everything in sight has affectionately been called the "schmoo dump" since she was about 9 months old.

I'm not holding my breath on this one.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter!

We had a lovely Easter weekend.  This is a photo of Mary releasing one of the 35 butterflies we raised as a favor to Pastor Kris for her children's sermon today.   On the way into church Kris asked if I could help with communion.  The Easter service requires many volunteers.  For whatever reason, in all my years as a Lutheran I have never done this.

Saying the words, "the Body of Christ Given for You" several hundred times to several hundred people, most of whom I didn't know turned out to be a very moving experience for me.  Here I was, at one of six communions stations at one church, in one city, in one state, in one country.  The thought of Christ dying for all these people throughout all the world and all of history was moving.  For God so loved the world. One by one by one.  Each of us.  "The Body of Christ Given for You."

Puppets and Perfect Peppew-pippews

The piano kids are preparing for the spring recital, May 15, 12:30 in Eagan.  Each student is playing one classical piece.  My preliminary estimate is 85 minutes. . . still much shorter than the four hour dance recital I sat through last May.  My mom and Bill's sister got MAJOR brownie points for their attendance although there was some pretty heavy texting going on between us all by the last dance.  Mary was only in two dances.  ($120 worth of costumes. . . cough and gag)  Calvin started to cry when he turned the program page and saw that there was a whole second half. . . Bless his sweet heart, I almost cried too. We opted out of dance this year.

For the record--texting is not allowed during piano recitals.  And yes folks, I will have a talk with Maggie about holding conversation throughout the studio recitals.  Sorry.  There is no costume to buy, by the way.  You can wear sequins if you really want/need to.

The kids are preparing for the recital.  One thing we do to prepare is to tally perfect repetitions.  The goal is to achieve 50 perfect repetitions by the recital.  These perfects can be slow, right and left hands alone, section by section, however they want--they can be.  A tally has to be worth the equivalent of the whole piece played note perfect. The first tally is always the hardest.

I am careful to express that the reason we do this is not to require the student to be perfect.  Musicality always trumps technical perfection.  We tally perfects to build awareness, concentration and confidence.  Until we listen for a note perfect repetition the kid can play a hundred wrong notes and barely notice.  After logging 50 perfects, we also have a much better statistical chance of getting it right as well.  How can you expect to be comfortable at the recital if it isn't easy to play your piece accurately.  Of course in 2002 Kyle Serafin proved me wrong by nailing the Beethoven Sonata Op. 49, No. 2 at the recital after never having gotten through without crashing at the lesson.  Hope springs eternal.  Most of us will need the perfect repetitions.  Kyle is now a composition major at the University of Wisconsin for those of you who remember him.  He friended me on facebook, but I'm not so sure he wants his childhood piano teacher looking in on his college conversations.  Another blog topic. . .

Calvin and Mary have a stuffed puppy puppet who helps out at the piano.  Puppy talks in a funny voice and calls the perfect repetitions "perfect peppew-pippews."   As in, "May-we, awr you ready to doo yew pewfect peppew-pippews?"  Who can say no to puppy?   The perfect rep is rewarded with puppy cuddle time.  Works for me.  Every parent has to find their own calling. . . mine is great puppy voices. . .

After the recital the students get to collect from me: m&ms or Skittles equal to the number of perfect reps they tallied, with a limit of 100 pieces of candy.  (I have mercy on the parent of the over ambitious child who plays Mary Had a Little Lamb 500 times perfectly).

It's not about the candy, it's not about being perfect.  It's about preparing wisely to share your music with a caring audience.  It's about being comfortable so you can have a positive experience playing the piano. Good luck students and get busy!

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.