Archive for April, 2009

Suzuki Sunday: Focus

Sunday, April 26th, 2009

Focusing is one of the hardest things to teach a student, especially a young one.  Some children are naturally focused, concentrating on a puzzle until every piece is fitted in or staying up late to complete a homework assignment that they can’t bear to leave unfinished.  But many more are unfocused, changing course mid-activity or mid-sentence to something completely different.

Much has been said about the negative influence of multimedia, but I think it bears repeating; our lives are measured in short, colorful, attention-grabbing bursts.  TV commercials interrupt the plotlines of programs every few minutes; even when we check our e-mail, we are bombarded with the latest news headlines and dancing, migraine-inducing advertisements.  Even seemingly innocuous media is suspect; a good friend of mine, raised in the Middle East, commented that she was amazed by children’s books from the United States.  Very few of them contain actual plot; instead, they are collections of images and concepts, almost like flashcards.  One might illustrate different colors; another, animals or vehicles or a collection of everyday objects beginning with a certain letter.  “No wonder so many children suffer from attention problems!” she said.

We can’t change the world in one day, but we can change ourselves, if we are up to the challenge.  Here are five ways to cultivate focus in your child:

1. Make sure you are focused first. If you are too busy with the telephone, the computer, or your own concerns to focus fully on the budding musicians in your household, what kind of a message must that send?  The first step is to ensure you are ready to practice.  If necessary, brew a cup of tea or coffee or do a simple, mindless activity that will calm and center you.  Your demeanor and attitude are extremely contagious, so if you are calm and kind, your children will emulate that.  If your attention wanders during practice, they will emulate that, too.

2. Ensure the child’s posture is correct. When a student has trouble keeping her feet still at the lesson, I can be fairly certain she is not using a foot support at home; almost every one of my students should be sitting and propping her feet up on something in order to maintain the 90-degree angles which are ideal to practice posture.  Many studies have proved that when we relax our posture, we relax our attitudes, and not in a good way; we don’t take music as seriously while we’re casually slouching on the piano bench.

3. Be patient. I very frequently find that parents are overly eager to speed up the lesson, telling their children to stop asking questions or commenting on the pictures on my cards.  The truth is that their many questions and comments are actually helping them to learn; they are connecting with the pieces in the only way that they know how.  I allow them to clear their minds by talking the thoughts out, while taking care not to allow those thoughts to divert the lesson away from its main purpose.  I try to listen first, indicate I have understood, them, and then move on with the lesson.  Obviously, you know which of your children are prone to procrastination and stalling, but do allow them an extra measure of mercy; they may be helping to ensure their knowledge is retained for a long time.

4. Remain calm. A power struggle ends with two losing parties; the child is humiliated and embarrassed, while the parent has lost his opportunity to teach.  Controlling with force is sometimes necessary in parenthood, but very rarely (if ever) in piano practice!  If you speak softly, your child will have to concentrate to hear you, and if you wait for silence and stillness before you do so, they will be ready to accept your instruction.  This is my ultimate goal in teaching: to help the child learn to control herself.

5. Take one step at a time. Focusing is hard work; you may need to work up to an entire practice session.  For small children, practice “rest position” while counting slowly, starting with the child’s age: for a four-year-old, place the feet and hands in position, and then slowly count: one . . . two . . . three . . . four.  Give lots of praise if the child focuses during one repetition, then ask, “Can you do that again?”  Gradually, you’ll find that slower but more focused practice is the most effective and rewarding.

May you find calm in your music.

Three Vulgarisms

Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009

Part the First

At the Earth Day Bake Sale during lunch today, I’m trying (largely in vain) to get students to watch The Story of Stuff, which is being projected on the wall in the same room.  We’re allowed to dress down if we’re wearing green, and I notice one girl in a kelly-green shirt from an Irish pub.  On the back, in thick uncials, are the words Pogue Ma Thoin.  I’m not exactly conversational in Gaelic, but thanks to this band and their album of the same name, I’m familiar with the phrase.

I approach her discreetly and ask where she got the shirt.  At the beach, she says.

“Do you know what that means?” I ask pointedly.  She says she does.  (I’m not sure she does, but I’ll bet she does now.)

“Well, I think it’s pretty inappropriate to wear to school,” I say in my best Teacher Voice.

She flounders.  “I — we were supposed to wear green and — sor-RY!”

I never know if I’m handling these things right.  But I can’t stand to think that this student’s going to go around thinking she pulled one over on all of us.

Part the Second

We’re on day two of The Kite Runner, discussing a moment of anagnorisis between two key characters.  I decide it would be a good idea to have two students read the characters’ lines as the dialogue grows more heated.  Two volunteers begin to read; scanning ahead, I notice a profanity in the next paragraph.  Oops.

The reader sails through without a hitch.  Good for you!  I think.  Then, a few paragraphs later, there’s a whole string of them.  It’s too late to do anything.  Here they come . . .

To their credit, the class doesn’t bat an eyelash, at least, not from what I can see out of the corner of the eye I won’t raise to look at them directly.  I begin furtively reading ahead, and soon notice one word I just can’t allow this poor girl to say in my presence.  “Thanks, both of you!”  I say, interrupting them.  “I think that gave us a great feel for the scene.  Now, let’s talk about the motivations of Rahim Khan’s blah blah blah . . . ”

Part the Third

Josiah, aged eleven, is working on a particularly difficult passage in his newest piece.  To keep him motivated, I pull out the Big Guns: a box of tiny rubber animals from which I never remove more than a few at a time.  This keeps the students completely on edge as to WHAT THEY ALL LOOK LIKE?!?!

As he plays each repetition, I add another animal to the parade, and he announces it.  “A tiger! . . . an elephant . . . a goldfish.”

I set a cute little donkey at the end of the line.  “Oh,” he says, a mischevious gleam in his eye.  “An ass.”

I can’t fault him for that, so I laugh with him instead.

The Catastrophe of Success

Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009

As Mr. Williams noted, fame and success have a downside.  On Monday, as soon as I walked into school, I was greeted by a staff member who said, “I saw you on TV last weekend!  You were great!”  I tried not to be shocked; it is a nationally aired program, and this is a very conservative and religious school.  Probably a lot of people saw it.  I have to say, though, I sure wasn’t expecting that, and I wasn’t prepared for how uncomfortable it made me feel.  Something about different worlds colliding, I guess.

Later in the day, as we were praying before class, I noticed two students whispering and giggling, their eyes directed at me.  They usually don’t try to get away with that in my class, so I asked them what was going on.  Reluctantly, one of them smiled shyly. “We saw you singing on TV.”  I tried not to let my embarrassment show, remembering that I was still In Charge.  “Oh, you did?”  I tried to sound breezy and unconcerned.  “I didn’t know you could sing like that!” she continued.  “And you were so well-spoken!”

I felt heat creeping into my face.  “I’m glad you liked it,” I said, and started to ask them to take out their books.  Someone asked a question about the segment, though, and another student answered from the other side of the classroom.  “You saw it too?”  I questioned.  She nodded, as did several others.  I was definitely blushing now, something that I have only done two or three times in my life.  “Wow!  How about that.  Well, let’s get star –”

“What station is it on?” another student piped up.  “I want to watch it now!”

The first student who had commented said, “Check your e-mail.”

“Lisa!”  I said, aghast.  “How many people did you tell?”

“Pretty much everyone in my Contacts list.”

Oh.  Okay.  Lent may be over, but I am still learning humility.

“I’m not angry. Just disappointed.”

Tuesday, April 21st, 2009

If you had even a bit of a conscience in your teenage years, those were the worst words your parents could have uttered.  We were discussing them yesterday as we began our last unit of the school year: The Kite Runner.  The year is winding to a close for the senior class, as is my time as a second-string AP / Honors English teacher: only five classes left until graduation.  I’ve been in regular contact with my friend who is sick, and she could really use prayers: most recently she caught the shingles from someone at the hospital where she was receiving chemo treatments.  Ugh!  Can you imagine?!

The Kite Runner is one of my favorite pieces of recent literature (and many of my other favorites are written in a similar style about similar cultures — go figure.)  If you haven’t read it, you should, now, before you hear anything else about it, and if you’re still stubbornly reading, you deserve the slight spoiler I’m about to deliver.

The plot centers around a very traumatic event that happens to Hassan, a young boy in Kabul in the mid-seventies.  His best friend Amir watches it happen, but does nothing, and guilt follows him for the rest of his life.  It gets to the point where Amir can hardly stand to be around Hassan because he feels so guilty about what he has not done for him.   Hassan is one of those fiercely loyal and virtuous people who are simply incapable of being selfish.  At one point, Amir pelts him with pomegranates from their favorite tree, daring Hassan to fight back so that his guilt can be eased a little.  Hassan refuses.  Finally, when Amir is unrelenting, Hassan takes a pomegranate and smashes it on his own face, saying, “Do you feel better now?”

It’s a wrenching scene, and I tried to get my students to understand what it was about it that was so awful.  They could understand the pressure and frustration of being around someone who was perfect all the time, but they didn’t react as strongly to Hassan’s resolution of the situation.  To help them relate, I brought up this famous quote, the one my parents used to make me squirm when I was unrepentant, never thinking they would react so strongly.  Unanimously, they recoiled in horror: “That’s the worst!  I hate when they say that!  I’d rather them just punish me!”  I pushed them: “Why do you think it’s so much worse for them to say they’re disappointed rather than angry?”

Their responses were enthusiastic and varied, but the most insightful came from a girl who isn’t one of my regular handraisers.  She said, “I think it’s because when you’re punished, you can measure it.  Four days with no phone.  Two weeks without going out.  It’s quantifiable.  Disappointment is not.  You just have to imagine how awful it must feel to know you have disappointed your parents, and understand that there’s nothing you can do, absolutely nothing, except try to win back their trust.”

Bright Monday

Monday, April 20th, 2009

Still recovering from the Paschal blitz.  Back to the usual cute-little-kid quotes tomorrow.  For today . . .

Christ is Risen!

Rob's godfather keeps chickens -- they lay pretty eggs!

Rob's godfather keeps chickens -- they lay pretty eggs.

Christos Anesti!

Our goddaughter made the egg collage last year.  She is already following in her artistic mother's footsteps!

Our goddaughter made the egg collage last year, already following in her artistic mother's footsteps.

Christos Haryev Emerilatz!

That’s all.  :)