One of the Wonderful Things {Recital Week!}

In my last post, I mentioned that this week is chock-full of wonderful things.  One of those looked like this...  :)

 Josiah and David performed in a violin recital last evening; and both did quite well, if a mother is allowed to brag a little.  ;-)

David played Minuet by Boccherini, the last piece in Suzuki Book 2; and Josiah played the second piece in Suzuki Book 4, which happens to be a movement from a Seitz concerto.  I never remember which one.  Hang on, I'll look it up.

Talk amongst yourselves, please!

OK, I found it!  Here's the official info: Concerto No. 5, 1st movement, by F. Seitz.

The "F" stands for Fritz, in case you were wondering.  ;-)

I had the honor of accompanying, not only my sons, but also most of the other violinists in the program last evening; and I enjoyed it so much--not simply because of the pleasure of making beautiful music together, but mostly because of the chance to help them shine and to affirm their good qualities.  That means doing my very best to help them succeed musically, whether it be remembering that Dennis (who performed in the recital last evening) takes "Etude" quickly, but Lydia (who is performing tomorrow in the other recital I'm accompanying this weekend) takes the same piece much more slowly and carefully...or knowing that Victoria plays the last 10 measures of her piece extremely fast, and I'd better be ready or she'll leave me in the dust...or keeping in mind that Hillary intends to play the doubles of Perpetual Motion, but she'll probably pause after the singles because she's forgotten to go straight into the doubles so I need to pause, too...and so forth.

But even more than that, it is speaking words of encouragement to them, apart from how things go musically.  It's telling Emma, "I like your dress; it's so pretty!" and watching her beam.  It's asking Meg after the recital how she felt like it went for her, then listening as she describes how terribly nervous she gets, and then telling her some of the things I've learned through the years about how to keep nerves in line before and during a performance.  It's exclaiming to Julia's mom, "Julia did GREAT!" because her mom wasn't sure she would.

But my favorite interaction with a student during this week of music-making came one afternoon as I was practicing with individual students.  This particular student is a boy whom I had not met before, but he was scheduled to play a very simple piece from Book 1.  I was a little surprised when he appeared in the practice room, because he was quite a bit older than most beginners are; but of course I didn't say anything, and we proceeded to go through the piece several times together.  As he was putting away his violin, I happened to ask his dad if they had a lesson to go to either before or after our practice time, or whether they had made the trip just for our session (which was quite short).  The dad said that his son was supposed to have a group class after our rehearsal, but he didn't like to go because he was so much older than all the other students and he felt embarrassed.

My heart went out to him.  He didn't know it, but I knew exactly how he felt.

So I said, "Let me tell you something.  I took Suzuki violin lessons right here, and I was 10 when I started--much older than some beginners in the Suzuki method are.  I remember feeling so awkward in my first group classes because I was bigger than everyone else.  But here's the thing: I advanced much more quickly than most of the younger beginners, simply because I was older and more mature and it came more easily to me.  I have a feeling that's exactly what will happen to you!"  I went on to tell him how I used to teach piano lessons, and how my older beginners almost always progressed more quickly than the younger ones, just because of the added skills and maturity that come from being a little older.

I don't know for sure what he was thinking--maybe wondering why this crazy old lady was talking to him when what he really wanted was to head out the door! ;-) --but if I read his face accurately, he was encouraged by what I said.  And his dad--well, it was obvious that he was soaking in those words and was so grateful for them.

After they left, I thought, "You know, that might have been the most important thing I did all week.  All these practice sessions and both recitals might have just paled in comparison to the awesome privilege of speaking life and hope and encouragement into that 12-year-old boy's heart."  In that moment, I *almost* envied teachers who get to do that on a regular basis.  :)

Well, I don't get to do that for very many students very often, but at least I get to do it for my five (one of whom is not in this picture because he--Tobin--was in line for the food at the reception after the recital) every single day.  And that is a privilege I do not take for granted!  :)

P.S. Moriah IS in that photo, but she thought it was MUCH more interesting to touch the piano keys than to stand and face the camera.  Can't say that I blame her; those keys ARE fascinating.  ;-)