A couple of lesson reviews from The Teacher. The report that I got from the Maestro after this week's lesson was "I don't want to tell you about it." He was willing to talk about what silly things Riley had to do. She did the flower dance for the Teacher, and even sang! What did the Maestro do? He didn't want to tell me.
It turns out that the main thing before getting his real bow is to show Riley 100 bow holds. That is great, but also riddled with anxiousness for us. We have realized recently that having his real bow will make it harder to keep him within the guidelines of what is allowed, rather than only allowing him more freedom to explore. It raises the stakes considerably on this venture. I'm not sure I am explaining that well... Anyway, here is Hildegard's view of what happened this week.
9-26-06
The Maestro, Riley, and Hildr visited me at my office today so that Maestro could sing Twinkle for me. He was apparently quite excited to do this and couldn’t wait until his next lesson. Riley and I made an effort to make this extra visit work out. I was a little skeptical if he would actually be able to do it, because my office environment isn’t so friendly or familiar, and this was his first time meeting me there. Indeed, it wasn’t as easy as I think he and Riley had hoped it would be. At Riley’s suggestion, the four of us went into the bathroom and turned off the lights so that we could see the glow-in-the-dark stars they had brought. Riley ended up singing Twinkle twice through by herself. I could sense that she was a little disappointed. I wonder if Maestro could sense that as well. Nevertheless, she remained kind and patient in her words, which was wonderful. Finally, on the third(?) attempt, Maestro joined in for a few words at ends of phrases. He did not sing on pitch, which did not really concern me. There are many potential reasons for this, including: (a) nerves, (b) an ability to audiate but an inability – at this point – to translate audiation into vocalization. I need to read up on Gordon’s audiation stuff before I say more on this. Maestro met my office mates. He was terribly shy and it reminded me of how he was with me when I first met him. I had just thought that he had grown up a lot, but it appears more likely that he has just opened up to me over the past few weeks. Perhaps he is beginning to trust me.
9-27-06 –
As I watched the videotape of today’s lesson, I was immediately impressed with Maestro’s ability to stay focused. I moved at a slow and gentle pace, but he did not get distracted. He did get tired of activities if they went on for too long, but he then turned his attention toward some other musical topic or thing, including asking about my cello mute and the sheet music for the Bach Suites. It was very easy to turn these musical distractions into a different teaching moment. Throughout, I let him pick the pace and the topics for the lesson. I kept thinking as I watched the video that my pace was too slow; however, I’ve found that Maestro prefers a gentle approach rather than an overenthusiastic one. I think in this case I’ll use his bright-eyed excitement as a pacing guide, rather than paying heed to what would usually work for the typical 3 year old. He sat with the cello for 30 minutes today.
Note on the audiation vs. vocalization theory: today he sang the parts of the cello with me. His eyes brightened when I told him he sang well for me yesterday. Today he was able to sing correct pitches within a 3 or 4 note range. My trick was to find exactly where that range was. Perhaps Maestro’s grandparents would be willing to pay for piano tuning? If so, Riley could figure out Maestro’s range by playing notes on the piano and having him sing. Then we can build from that area and gradually increase both sides.
Progress is excellent. Maestro has now performed every step in lessons 1a-6a, and 7a is coming along very well. 8a done, 9a coming along, 10a done today (hooray!). We need to spend more time on 11a. 12a complete (he even taught Mom!). 13a almost complete. 14a loud/soft complete. He hasn’t officially been done high/low fast/slow but I have no doubt this will be easy for him. I’ll ask Riley to remind me to check on that. 15a coming along. He’s not quite ready to perform the flower dance for me, but seeing his mom’s courage today will perhaps motivate him to perform soon.
Bow exercises: 1b complete. 2b coming along. 3b coming along. He can work on 4b and 5b at home this week. 6b involves singing autumn leaf songs while bringing the bow down carefully to the string. To be taught with the practice bow, but passed off with the real bow down the road. There are some great Primary songs that talk about leaves. Perfect timing with the weather change.
I think once we get the patterning down (2b) we’ll be set. 7b is just around the corner…
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Clarinets and Punk-Rock
Hildegard and Riley got into the car the other day, and I had left the radio on so it came on playing something of dubious quality and high volume. I don’t know what it was, but certainly when I HAD been in the car, the radio was playing something more genteel. Certainly. Anyway, this led to a discussion of what music the Maestro gets exposed to.
I listen to a lot of different things, and the Maestro occasionally gets to listen to them with me. Early in the summer I bought Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” CD, and the Maestro spent several weeks requesting to listen to it. Typically he catches hold of one song and wants to listen to it on repeat for hours. With Tom Petty, it was “Honeybee.” He also really likes No Doubt’s “Just a Girl” played on infinite repeat the same way. He likes the Cowboy Junkies alright, and Great Big Sea, a Newfoundland Celtic Pop group. He does not like REM and he really doesn’t like The Killers. He can take Blue Rodeo or he can leave them.
When he was small, he would occasionally get an earache and wake up screaming in the night. Natalie Cole and Norah Jones were usually the best for calming him down. He likes Ella and Louie, but because Riley likes them, he has listened to them enough that he is tired of them. He prefers his Jazz New Orleans style anyway, with lots of polyphonic lines that he can use to pick out the instruments. He likes the Swing Kids soundtrack a lot.
Last Christmas, I was installing a CD player in our car and we had to go to Best Buy to get some wiring. The automotive audio section of course had the big display of car speakers. Pushing different buttons activated different sets of speakers so you can visualize (audiatize?) how they will sound in your car. There were a few songs that this display would cycle through, including Metallica’s “Enter Sandman”. It was so loud, and the bass was so strong that I could put my hand on the Maestro’s chest and feel his rib-cage resonate. He stood there transfixed, lost in the sound and the feeling of it. “Hey Maestro, can you feel that in your chest?” “… … Uh-huh.” He didn’t want to leave, and I had to carry him out, crying to go back.
In the car with Riley, he gets a lot of classical NPR. This has led to a number of trips to the library to find something similar to what he heard recently. This summer I found myself in line at the library waiting to check out CDs. In one hand I had a stack of clarinet concertos, because my three-year-old had been pestering me to get him some. In the other hand I had a stack of Blink-182 CDs, to see if I liked them. It turns out that I don’t really like Blink-182, and that the Maestro liked the Bassoon concerto on the CD I got better than the Clarinet concerto he had asked for. That didn’t take away from the irony of the situation though.
Sometimes when I turn on the car, the radio is tuned to something I don’t really care for, like Boston. When I try to change the station, he yells out “I want to hear that!” So we have to listen to that station until the song is over.
He has never been passive in the music selection process. Ever since he could talk, I could ask him what we should listen to, and if he didn’t have any ideas, he still had opinions. The only common feature I can pick out of the music he likes is that he likes to be able to identify instruments. He can point out all the melodies in a Benny Goodman song, and his favorite No Doubt song is “The one with the guitar”, not that they all don’t have guitar, but it is the guitar in “Just a Girl” that he likes. He’s asked about the feminist metaphors, but I haven’t been able to explain them satisfactorily yet. His favorite part of Ella and Louie is the trumpet. He prefers concertos to symphonies, generally. Rock music often has snare drums and cymbols that he likes. I think that “Honeybee” is the only non-kids song I can think of in which lyrics contribute to his interest and it has a strong guitar part anyway.
For kids music, he likes Jim Gill a lot, and he has fun lyrics as well as an adult satisfying musical complexity. He has a Wiggles CD that he listens to occasionally, but not too often, thankfully. I just can’t handle Captain Feathersword.
He asked me once why Captain Feathersword was a pirate. I said that his parents were pirates, and they taught him to be a pirate, just like I could teach him to be a chemist if he wanted, someday. He said “Oh, OK…. But dad…” Lip begins quivering, just a little. “I don’t WANT to be a chemist!” I know, buddy, I know.
I listen to a lot of different things, and the Maestro occasionally gets to listen to them with me. Early in the summer I bought Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” CD, and the Maestro spent several weeks requesting to listen to it. Typically he catches hold of one song and wants to listen to it on repeat for hours. With Tom Petty, it was “Honeybee.” He also really likes No Doubt’s “Just a Girl” played on infinite repeat the same way. He likes the Cowboy Junkies alright, and Great Big Sea, a Newfoundland Celtic Pop group. He does not like REM and he really doesn’t like The Killers. He can take Blue Rodeo or he can leave them.
When he was small, he would occasionally get an earache and wake up screaming in the night. Natalie Cole and Norah Jones were usually the best for calming him down. He likes Ella and Louie, but because Riley likes them, he has listened to them enough that he is tired of them. He prefers his Jazz New Orleans style anyway, with lots of polyphonic lines that he can use to pick out the instruments. He likes the Swing Kids soundtrack a lot.
Last Christmas, I was installing a CD player in our car and we had to go to Best Buy to get some wiring. The automotive audio section of course had the big display of car speakers. Pushing different buttons activated different sets of speakers so you can visualize (audiatize?) how they will sound in your car. There were a few songs that this display would cycle through, including Metallica’s “Enter Sandman”. It was so loud, and the bass was so strong that I could put my hand on the Maestro’s chest and feel his rib-cage resonate. He stood there transfixed, lost in the sound and the feeling of it. “Hey Maestro, can you feel that in your chest?” “… … Uh-huh.” He didn’t want to leave, and I had to carry him out, crying to go back.
In the car with Riley, he gets a lot of classical NPR. This has led to a number of trips to the library to find something similar to what he heard recently. This summer I found myself in line at the library waiting to check out CDs. In one hand I had a stack of clarinet concertos, because my three-year-old had been pestering me to get him some. In the other hand I had a stack of Blink-182 CDs, to see if I liked them. It turns out that I don’t really like Blink-182, and that the Maestro liked the Bassoon concerto on the CD I got better than the Clarinet concerto he had asked for. That didn’t take away from the irony of the situation though.
Sometimes when I turn on the car, the radio is tuned to something I don’t really care for, like Boston. When I try to change the station, he yells out “I want to hear that!” So we have to listen to that station until the song is over.
He has never been passive in the music selection process. Ever since he could talk, I could ask him what we should listen to, and if he didn’t have any ideas, he still had opinions. The only common feature I can pick out of the music he likes is that he likes to be able to identify instruments. He can point out all the melodies in a Benny Goodman song, and his favorite No Doubt song is “The one with the guitar”, not that they all don’t have guitar, but it is the guitar in “Just a Girl” that he likes. He’s asked about the feminist metaphors, but I haven’t been able to explain them satisfactorily yet. His favorite part of Ella and Louie is the trumpet. He prefers concertos to symphonies, generally. Rock music often has snare drums and cymbols that he likes. I think that “Honeybee” is the only non-kids song I can think of in which lyrics contribute to his interest and it has a strong guitar part anyway.
For kids music, he likes Jim Gill a lot, and he has fun lyrics as well as an adult satisfying musical complexity. He has a Wiggles CD that he listens to occasionally, but not too often, thankfully. I just can’t handle Captain Feathersword.
He asked me once why Captain Feathersword was a pirate. I said that his parents were pirates, and they taught him to be a pirate, just like I could teach him to be a chemist if he wanted, someday. He said “Oh, OK…. But dad…” Lip begins quivering, just a little. “I don’t WANT to be a chemist!” I know, buddy, I know.
...But Not for Cello Teachers
The Maestro is working on his bow hold still. Whenever he demonstrates a good one, or does the wrist rotation “windshield wiper” activity, he gets a glow-in-the-dark star. He likes them in his room where he can see them, and in the bathroom where it gets really dark. Here is Hildegard demonstrating the proper bow hold. the Maestro is best at getting the springy trampoline thumb, and he often has his fingers straddle the elastic band. He often likes to grip more with his fingers than he is supposed to, however. Decent progress though, I think.
On Saturday, I was talking to the Maestro, and he told me “I want to go see the Teacher. I want to tell her that Beethoven has a symphony called Number 5.” I said that was a good idea, and that he could sing it for her.
He said “No, I don’t like to sing for Cello Teachers.” I thought this was an interesting comment, because it was the first time that he had drawn a distinction between singing for other people and singing for Hildegard. I asked him if he thought that she would not like his singing, and he said yes. I realized a little too late that this was a leading question, so I suggested that she might be so happy that he sang for her that she would tell him “That is excellent!” He did not think that would happen.
Sunday he told me that he likes to sing, just not for cello teachers. He and Riley had a good Cello practice in which he sang every word of “I Love My Cello.” Usually he wants to just fill in the blanks.
Monday, he asked Riley if they could go see the Teacher, because he wanted to sing for her. She said if he wanted to sing for Hildegard, we would definitely find a way to make it happen. They set up to visit her on campus during her office hour.
When I got home, I asked Riley how it went. She said “He sang a few notes, but not very many. And, he kind of just talked them.”
I asked the Maestro how it went. He said it went great. They went into the bathroom and sand “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” with stars in the dark, and then again in her office. Hildegard’s bathroom at her work doesn’t have a bathtub. I asked her what she said about his singing, and he said that she said “It was great!” I told him that I had been sure that she would say that, and he smiled at me.
He was playing in his swing during this conversation, and after a few more swings around the room, he had another editorial comment to add. “I am a good singer for Cello Teachers. I am a lucky boy to have a cello teacher to sing to.”
He has his real lesson today. I’m hoping that his positive self-talk about singing contributes to him singing again today. As we see over and over though, pushing him doesn’t help anything but his resistance. If we leave it alone and casually suggest something while continuing to work on other things, he usually makes up his own mind.
On Saturday, I was talking to the Maestro, and he told me “I want to go see the Teacher. I want to tell her that Beethoven has a symphony called Number 5.” I said that was a good idea, and that he could sing it for her.
He said “No, I don’t like to sing for Cello Teachers.” I thought this was an interesting comment, because it was the first time that he had drawn a distinction between singing for other people and singing for Hildegard. I asked him if he thought that she would not like his singing, and he said yes. I realized a little too late that this was a leading question, so I suggested that she might be so happy that he sang for her that she would tell him “That is excellent!” He did not think that would happen.
Sunday he told me that he likes to sing, just not for cello teachers. He and Riley had a good Cello practice in which he sang every word of “I Love My Cello.” Usually he wants to just fill in the blanks.
Monday, he asked Riley if they could go see the Teacher, because he wanted to sing for her. She said if he wanted to sing for Hildegard, we would definitely find a way to make it happen. They set up to visit her on campus during her office hour.
When I got home, I asked Riley how it went. She said “He sang a few notes, but not very many. And, he kind of just talked them.”
I asked the Maestro how it went. He said it went great. They went into the bathroom and sand “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” with stars in the dark, and then again in her office. Hildegard’s bathroom at her work doesn’t have a bathtub. I asked her what she said about his singing, and he said that she said “It was great!” I told him that I had been sure that she would say that, and he smiled at me.
He was playing in his swing during this conversation, and after a few more swings around the room, he had another editorial comment to add. “I am a good singer for Cello Teachers. I am a lucky boy to have a cello teacher to sing to.”
He has his real lesson today. I’m hoping that his positive self-talk about singing contributes to him singing again today. As we see over and over though, pushing him doesn’t help anything but his resistance. If we leave it alone and casually suggest something while continuing to work on other things, he usually makes up his own mind.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Hildegard Joins The Blog
We have decided, with Hildegard, that she can use her experiences with The Maestro as part of her degree work. Because there is only one Maestro, he can't be part of a large number quantitative study like we are used to in the physical and biological sciences. In education there is another option, the qualitative study, which seems like it is basically a summary of what was done and what happened. Hildegard gave us some examples of what that would look like for the Maestro by writing some lesson summaries.
I posted them, so new old posts that you haven't read are available. They are labelled "Hildegard", so if you find one with with a Hildegard link at the bottom, click on it, and it will bring all of them up for you.
I'm not exactly clear on what aspects of their lessons will end up as papers. I think that there will be four papers, with at least on being a long range study. I think that means that Hildegard will call us every few years to ask us if the Maestro still likes music.
I guess since I run this blog, but I post emails that Riley sends to Hildegard, and Hildegard's assessments, and my own psychotic musings, I ought to go back an put Riley and Elwood City labels on our stuff as well, just so those of you keeping score at home can keep us straight.
I posted them, so new old posts that you haven't read are available. They are labelled "Hildegard", so if you find one with with a Hildegard link at the bottom, click on it, and it will bring all of them up for you.
I'm not exactly clear on what aspects of their lessons will end up as papers. I think that there will be four papers, with at least on being a long range study. I think that means that Hildegard will call us every few years to ask us if the Maestro still likes music.
I guess since I run this blog, but I post emails that Riley sends to Hildegard, and Hildegard's assessments, and my own psychotic musings, I ought to go back an put Riley and Elwood City labels on our stuff as well, just so those of you keeping score at home can keep us straight.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Review, Review, Review
9-20-06 – Lesson 6
Today was a fabulous review day. We didn’t focus on much that was new today; rather, we reviewed and solidified many previously taught activities. The Suzuki approach is unique in the amount of time that is devoted to regular review, and I’ve seen nothing but good come out of it.
I had a student in Bonn (we’ll call her Allison) who was taught much like The Maestro, and started at about the same age. She is now twelve and is in Suzuki Book 5. She reviews every other song each day (odds in each book one day, evens in each book the next day). She starts with Twinkle and ends wherever she is currently studying. By then she is plenty warmed up and is ready for serious practice. If you think about it, by doing this review she has practiced every technique she has previously learned so nothing can be forgotten.
One day in a group lesson I decided to give Allison a challenge. I asked her to perform Allegro Moderato from Book 3 on the spot, without forewarning. The other students looked at me as if I were an evil woman. Allison, however, smiled and went to it. Although I ask for review pieces in lessons, I hadn’t heard her play this piece for over a year. Nevertheless, she played all the way through, without stops, with all the correct dynamics plus a few of her own. Everyone was sufficiently impressed, but I decided to really drill the importance of review into everyone’s minds and hearts. So I asked another student to pick any song from Books 1-5 for Allison to play. She played this piece for us. And then another request, and another, and another. She performed five pieces that her classmates requested, making I believe only one note error in all (which she immediately fixed). How many young musicians can accomplish this? I think anyone who reviews has the capability.
The human brain and body need time to register all that is learned. In Teaching with the brain in mind, Jensen (1988) suggests that it is best for teachers to allow students time to process information, rather than pushing forward before they are ready. It appeared that The Maestro was in a processing state today. He performed impressively on previously learned activities, but didn’t seem ready for anything new. I tried to push a few times but it didn’t seem prudent. It is exciting to see his greeting and farewell bow so strong. This is the first thing he learned and the repetition has paid off. It is exciting to think of the day when Twinkle is as automatic for him. Or when Brahms is as automatic for him. Heck, when Prokofiev is as automatic for him - let’s think big and let The Maestro decide where he wants to go.
The bow hand is coming along. He does grip a little too tightly but will relax with reminders. He’s really excited about that practice bow. I’m still unsure about how his aural skills are coming along. He obviously has the sensitivity to sound but I think he’ll need some harnessing on what to do with the pitches. I’m wondering if he doesn’t know what to look for when we play the “eh?” game. Is a scratchy sound wrong, in other words? I need to have Riley think of some ways to help him with the copy game when I’m not there to play another cello. Or just to simply get him to repeat the right amount of notes. I’ll ponder, too.
T.C., who I think is the world’s greatest Suzuki cello teacher, was in Elwood City a couple of weeks ago. I wish I had known. Not too much of a sad thing because she lives in Metropolis. I’d love to go up and see her, with or without The Maestro, and get some more ideas.
Today The Maestro passed off: 4a, (7a is coming but not quite there), (I need to do more “brain gym” with 8a – note to self), 10a (he did this plenty on Sunday, not singing but it’s good). He should focus on audiating a note (“sing an a” or simply “sing the same note I’m singing” – maybe Dad can join in on this too since it doesn’t require any knowledge of the lesson. I wonder if Hildr could sing notes sung to her?). The Maestro should continue reviewing everything, and focusing on 4b, 5b, and 6b especially (I do rocket song instead of Autumn song).
Today was a fabulous review day. We didn’t focus on much that was new today; rather, we reviewed and solidified many previously taught activities. The Suzuki approach is unique in the amount of time that is devoted to regular review, and I’ve seen nothing but good come out of it.
I had a student in Bonn (we’ll call her Allison) who was taught much like The Maestro, and started at about the same age. She is now twelve and is in Suzuki Book 5. She reviews every other song each day (odds in each book one day, evens in each book the next day). She starts with Twinkle and ends wherever she is currently studying. By then she is plenty warmed up and is ready for serious practice. If you think about it, by doing this review she has practiced every technique she has previously learned so nothing can be forgotten.
One day in a group lesson I decided to give Allison a challenge. I asked her to perform Allegro Moderato from Book 3 on the spot, without forewarning. The other students looked at me as if I were an evil woman. Allison, however, smiled and went to it. Although I ask for review pieces in lessons, I hadn’t heard her play this piece for over a year. Nevertheless, she played all the way through, without stops, with all the correct dynamics plus a few of her own. Everyone was sufficiently impressed, but I decided to really drill the importance of review into everyone’s minds and hearts. So I asked another student to pick any song from Books 1-5 for Allison to play. She played this piece for us. And then another request, and another, and another. She performed five pieces that her classmates requested, making I believe only one note error in all (which she immediately fixed). How many young musicians can accomplish this? I think anyone who reviews has the capability.
The human brain and body need time to register all that is learned. In Teaching with the brain in mind, Jensen (1988) suggests that it is best for teachers to allow students time to process information, rather than pushing forward before they are ready. It appeared that The Maestro was in a processing state today. He performed impressively on previously learned activities, but didn’t seem ready for anything new. I tried to push a few times but it didn’t seem prudent. It is exciting to see his greeting and farewell bow so strong. This is the first thing he learned and the repetition has paid off. It is exciting to think of the day when Twinkle is as automatic for him. Or when Brahms is as automatic for him. Heck, when Prokofiev is as automatic for him - let’s think big and let The Maestro decide where he wants to go.
The bow hand is coming along. He does grip a little too tightly but will relax with reminders. He’s really excited about that practice bow. I’m still unsure about how his aural skills are coming along. He obviously has the sensitivity to sound but I think he’ll need some harnessing on what to do with the pitches. I’m wondering if he doesn’t know what to look for when we play the “eh?” game. Is a scratchy sound wrong, in other words? I need to have Riley think of some ways to help him with the copy game when I’m not there to play another cello. Or just to simply get him to repeat the right amount of notes. I’ll ponder, too.
T.C., who I think is the world’s greatest Suzuki cello teacher, was in Elwood City a couple of weeks ago. I wish I had known. Not too much of a sad thing because she lives in Metropolis. I’d love to go up and see her, with or without The Maestro, and get some more ideas.
Today The Maestro passed off: 4a, (7a is coming but not quite there), (I need to do more “brain gym” with 8a – note to self), 10a (he did this plenty on Sunday, not singing but it’s good). He should focus on audiating a note (“sing an a” or simply “sing the same note I’m singing” – maybe Dad can join in on this too since it doesn’t require any knowledge of the lesson. I wonder if Hildr could sing notes sung to her?). The Maestro should continue reviewing everything, and focusing on 4b, 5b, and 6b especially (I do rocket song instead of Autumn song).
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Lessons Learned This Week
The Maestro has covered so many things in lessons so far that there is too much to cover in one practice session. You can have one good practice with the cello out, and cover other things later with the cello put away.
If you are going to have a practice without a cello, you don't even have to tell him that you are having a practice. You are just pretending to be a flower growing while listening to Cello music. That's fun, that's not work.
If you haven't told him that you are having a practice, you can end the practice whenever things stop working without it being an ordeal. You can also start it again whenever you want.
The Maestro is only three. We aren't going to get a good practice with the cello out everyday. That's OK. If consistency were the most important thing, we should have waited until he was 32. Apparently, consistency doesn't gain more importanance until he is five.He is quite sensitive to noise at lessons. That may be because he is listening carefully and has his defenses down. He is usually sensitive to noise, but he seems less prepared to handle loud things, including cello playing, at a cello lesson than usual.
Letting him improvise things that aren't text book during practices isn't all bad. Even the Teacher says so, as long as he holds the cello correctly.
The Maestro taking cello lessons from the Teacher is part of some universal plan. It's unclear what the result is supposed to be, but if it is not my plan, I have no right to develop expectations of what the outcome should be.
Week in Summary
It's been a while since my last post. Work has been busy with the Boss out of town and me teaching his class for him. Good experience, but pretty time consuming...
The Maestro has had what seems like a turn-around with both practices and lessons. He had a lesson on Wednesday that went great, probably his best one ever. The Maestro and the Teacher worked on plucking together. She would pluck a string, and he would tell her what string it was, and I THINK, repeat it. He had better note recognition than he had ability to repeat the correct number of plucks. The lesson lasted for quite a while, until things got a little too loud and off topic.
Thursday he had what seemed like the most fun practice he and Riley has ever had. They came up with several games that helped him show what he has learned so far. I think he used the enthusiasm from that practice to help him carry on to another lesson Saturday morning.
He was not convinced that he wanted that lesson Saturday. He said that he did, but he wasn't very helpful getting ready. After, he apparently came out and said something to the effect of "I wasn't sure that I wanted a lesson today, but then I decided that I did!" I'm glad he did, because he got to come home with his PRACTICE BOW! When he showed it to me, he told me that the rule was we don't use it on the cello strings. It is just for using ABOVE the stings. Let's all celebrate the birth of Air Cello! To the uninitiated, a practice bow looks like a dowel with stickers, elastic bands, and a corn-remover cushion on it to mark where things like fingers and thumbs go.
I had to spend all day grading exams Saturday, but Riley said that he carried it around all day. Sunday we had Hildegard over for dinner and she said that he was showing the bow-hold of a boy with three weeks practice. So that's great! Of course, she pointed out that we have learned not to count on linear consistent progress with him, and that next week he might have a terrible bow-hold.
What is good about that is that we were trying to figure out how to get him to hold the bow against his finger-tips, and he apparently doesn't need to. He isn't supposed to hold the bow with his fingers; he holds it against his fingers, fairly close to the first knuckle on each finger. This is just the sort of thing that Riley can take pictures of in practice.
Dinner went pretty well. The Maestro was at the end of his tether after church, and taking him to the park for a nature walk was only partially successful in renewing him this week. He was fairly well behaved once Hildegard arrived and we got settled. He even went to bed with her still in the house, which surprised me. I found out Monday morning that he had been counting on her still being there when he woke up in the morning. If he had known she would leave, he might not have been as ready to go to bed. He was quite disappointed.
The main challenge now is getting a perfect bow hold, and repeating it 100 times. Any suggestions are welcome. As we know, he tends to decide that he knows something and stop demonstrating. "Mom, I can do that already! See, I showed you three times already!" Right, only 97 to go.
The Maestro has had what seems like a turn-around with both practices and lessons. He had a lesson on Wednesday that went great, probably his best one ever. The Maestro and the Teacher worked on plucking together. She would pluck a string, and he would tell her what string it was, and I THINK, repeat it. He had better note recognition than he had ability to repeat the correct number of plucks. The lesson lasted for quite a while, until things got a little too loud and off topic.
Thursday he had what seemed like the most fun practice he and Riley has ever had. They came up with several games that helped him show what he has learned so far. I think he used the enthusiasm from that practice to help him carry on to another lesson Saturday morning.
He was not convinced that he wanted that lesson Saturday. He said that he did, but he wasn't very helpful getting ready. After, he apparently came out and said something to the effect of "I wasn't sure that I wanted a lesson today, but then I decided that I did!" I'm glad he did, because he got to come home with his PRACTICE BOW! When he showed it to me, he told me that the rule was we don't use it on the cello strings. It is just for using ABOVE the stings. Let's all celebrate the birth of Air Cello! To the uninitiated, a practice bow looks like a dowel with stickers, elastic bands, and a corn-remover cushion on it to mark where things like fingers and thumbs go.
I had to spend all day grading exams Saturday, but Riley said that he carried it around all day. Sunday we had Hildegard over for dinner and she said that he was showing the bow-hold of a boy with three weeks practice. So that's great! Of course, she pointed out that we have learned not to count on linear consistent progress with him, and that next week he might have a terrible bow-hold.
What is good about that is that we were trying to figure out how to get him to hold the bow against his finger-tips, and he apparently doesn't need to. He isn't supposed to hold the bow with his fingers; he holds it against his fingers, fairly close to the first knuckle on each finger. This is just the sort of thing that Riley can take pictures of in practice.
Dinner went pretty well. The Maestro was at the end of his tether after church, and taking him to the park for a nature walk was only partially successful in renewing him this week. He was fairly well behaved once Hildegard arrived and we got settled. He even went to bed with her still in the house, which surprised me. I found out Monday morning that he had been counting on her still being there when he woke up in the morning. If he had known she would leave, he might not have been as ready to go to bed. He was quite disappointed.
The main challenge now is getting a perfect bow hold, and repeating it 100 times. Any suggestions are welcome. As we know, he tends to decide that he knows something and stop demonstrating. "Mom, I can do that already! See, I showed you three times already!" Right, only 97 to go.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Wolf Tones
9-16-06 – Lesson 5 – is this really #5?
Before the lesson began, The Maestro told me he wanted to know more about the wolf tone. I told him we would do this once we learned the cello handshake. At this he turned into a kitty. I had to wonder if that’s because of my poor presentation last time of the cello handshake. Riley managed to encourage him to become a boy again rather than have to go home. It was obvious to me that The Maestro was fighting the “inner kitty” in order to stay for a lesson. We started with a few focused stares. He was great for two tries, but then, after some wiggling and a few small meows, it became apparent that it was time to move on.
I asked for The Maestro’s right hand. He gave me his left. I corrected him and taught him the cello handshake (supinated, relaxed, resting in my right hand, with a slight sideways rock from me in order to relax his shoulder). Then I brought out the practice bow. He was at first very excited but then mentioned something about his bow being under my bed. His parents apparently told him, to pacify his worries about his bow, that I was keeping it safe. I assured him that it was very safe. Then I taught him how to hold the pretend bow. Riley cautioned me in an email that he might struggle with this a little. What I saw was quite normal for a 3 year old. It is possible that The Maestro is so quick with other things, especially aural skills, that it might appear he is slow here when actually he is normal. But that is an assessment from one experience on my part, and I’m sure there is more to this story than I am aware of. I will keep an eye out for it and teach accordingly.
The Maestro then said he would like to bring out Carolyn. I didn’t realize that he wanted to do this in order to use the practice bow until the cello was out. I told him that he can “air-bow” above the strings but that the pretend bow could hurt the strings. I sensed some disappointment from him but he was a good sport about it. He really seems to have faith that I will eventually get him where he needs to be if he stays at my speed and does things that might not make sense to him now. I would guess that he’s getting that reinforcement at home from his parents.
We did a little of the copy game. After everything else his attention span was pretty well run out. I then showed him the wolf – I guess I should say I played the wolf for him. It was too loud today; he covered his ears and started to cry. I felt horrible but kept my composure. Riley reassured him. In her reassurance she mentioned that they should have asked for an explanation rather than a demonstration. She told me that he has a fascination with it although it makes him uncomfortable. I thought to myself that this is human – else why would horror movies be so popular? Oh dear… Anyway, I quickly explained that a wolf was created when a cello loves one note too much and sings it too loudly. Very basic but good for The Maestro’s needs, I hope.
The Maestro was again a good sport and came back in the room for a bow. He did great, again (like last week) speaking loudly and clearly. After the lesson we went in the front room, where we looked at the fish and then played with mini Chester. It’s fun to see his motions on the toy instrument become more “cellistic” each week.
Today The Maestro passed off the following: 12a cello handshake, 14a recognizing high/low. We didn’t do fast/slow or loud/soft, but I would be extremely surprised if he struggles with either of these concepts. At home this week they will be practicing 12a cello handshake,1b bunny face, 2b “air-bowing” Twinkle variation A rhythm, 3b setting bow hold (The Maestro might freak at the 100 times – we’d better find a better way of saying this to him), plus reviewing ALL the past steps. We can’t forget the importance of review and repetition.
Gary’s research talks again and again about the importance of singing before playing. I need some divine intervention here on how to get him to sing. Perhaps he is afraid that it won’t come out the way he hears it in his head, so he might not want to take the risk. I’ll ponder this one. I wonder if Riley sings to him regularly? Does Elwood? Do they sing as a family in the car, for instance?
Before the lesson began, The Maestro told me he wanted to know more about the wolf tone. I told him we would do this once we learned the cello handshake. At this he turned into a kitty. I had to wonder if that’s because of my poor presentation last time of the cello handshake. Riley managed to encourage him to become a boy again rather than have to go home. It was obvious to me that The Maestro was fighting the “inner kitty” in order to stay for a lesson. We started with a few focused stares. He was great for two tries, but then, after some wiggling and a few small meows, it became apparent that it was time to move on.
I asked for The Maestro’s right hand. He gave me his left. I corrected him and taught him the cello handshake (supinated, relaxed, resting in my right hand, with a slight sideways rock from me in order to relax his shoulder). Then I brought out the practice bow. He was at first very excited but then mentioned something about his bow being under my bed. His parents apparently told him, to pacify his worries about his bow, that I was keeping it safe. I assured him that it was very safe. Then I taught him how to hold the pretend bow. Riley cautioned me in an email that he might struggle with this a little. What I saw was quite normal for a 3 year old. It is possible that The Maestro is so quick with other things, especially aural skills, that it might appear he is slow here when actually he is normal. But that is an assessment from one experience on my part, and I’m sure there is more to this story than I am aware of. I will keep an eye out for it and teach accordingly.
The Maestro then said he would like to bring out Carolyn. I didn’t realize that he wanted to do this in order to use the practice bow until the cello was out. I told him that he can “air-bow” above the strings but that the pretend bow could hurt the strings. I sensed some disappointment from him but he was a good sport about it. He really seems to have faith that I will eventually get him where he needs to be if he stays at my speed and does things that might not make sense to him now. I would guess that he’s getting that reinforcement at home from his parents.
We did a little of the copy game. After everything else his attention span was pretty well run out. I then showed him the wolf – I guess I should say I played the wolf for him. It was too loud today; he covered his ears and started to cry. I felt horrible but kept my composure. Riley reassured him. In her reassurance she mentioned that they should have asked for an explanation rather than a demonstration. She told me that he has a fascination with it although it makes him uncomfortable. I thought to myself that this is human – else why would horror movies be so popular? Oh dear… Anyway, I quickly explained that a wolf was created when a cello loves one note too much and sings it too loudly. Very basic but good for The Maestro’s needs, I hope.
The Maestro was again a good sport and came back in the room for a bow. He did great, again (like last week) speaking loudly and clearly. After the lesson we went in the front room, where we looked at the fish and then played with mini Chester. It’s fun to see his motions on the toy instrument become more “cellistic” each week.
Today The Maestro passed off the following: 12a cello handshake, 14a recognizing high/low. We didn’t do fast/slow or loud/soft, but I would be extremely surprised if he struggles with either of these concepts. At home this week they will be practicing 12a cello handshake,1b bunny face, 2b “air-bowing” Twinkle variation A rhythm, 3b setting bow hold (The Maestro might freak at the 100 times – we’d better find a better way of saying this to him), plus reviewing ALL the past steps. We can’t forget the importance of review and repetition.
Gary’s research talks again and again about the importance of singing before playing. I need some divine intervention here on how to get him to sing. Perhaps he is afraid that it won’t come out the way he hears it in his head, so he might not want to take the risk. I’ll ponder this one. I wonder if Riley sings to him regularly? Does Elwood? Do they sing as a family in the car, for instance?
Friday, September 15, 2006
Bunny Face
Hildegard,
Yesterday, The Maestro and I had our most enjoyable practice (since the honeymoon ended, at least). Today’s was not so good, and he quickly crashed right after for a nap.
He is quite interested in coming to have a mini lesson with you tomorrow a.m., but I will call you if he feels differently.
The only possibly relevant factor I have to report is that I have been sneaking in a little bit of fun ( I can't call it work since it hasn't been...and we've just been doing it as we are hiding in forts, etc.) with the bow hand bunny face (it was illustrated in A Suzuki Parent's Diary. The Maestro doesn't have any idea that it has any relevance to cello. Hildr really likes bunnies, and we've played at making shadow puppets, etc. But, it is quite hard for him- the tucking both middle fingers under especially. His ring finger doesn't want to go or stay under. He actually has a bit of a fine motor delay (secondary to sensory issues), seems like something we should have mentioned before... Anyway, I don't know if that affects any plans you might have...
Yay! I get to go to bed now. I'll have to tell you sometime how this afternoon I accidently tried to make a special dish called "cook book". :)
-Riley
Yesterday, The Maestro and I had our most enjoyable practice (since the honeymoon ended, at least). Today’s was not so good, and he quickly crashed right after for a nap.
He is quite interested in coming to have a mini lesson with you tomorrow a.m., but I will call you if he feels differently.
The only possibly relevant factor I have to report is that I have been sneaking in a little bit of fun ( I can't call it work since it hasn't been...and we've just been doing it as we are hiding in forts, etc.) with the bow hand bunny face (it was illustrated in A Suzuki Parent's Diary. The Maestro doesn't have any idea that it has any relevance to cello. Hildr really likes bunnies, and we've played at making shadow puppets, etc. But, it is quite hard for him- the tucking both middle fingers under especially. His ring finger doesn't want to go or stay under. He actually has a bit of a fine motor delay (secondary to sensory issues), seems like something we should have mentioned before... Anyway, I don't know if that affects any plans you might have...
Yay! I get to go to bed now. I'll have to tell you sometime how this afternoon I accidently tried to make a special dish called "cook book". :)
-Riley
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Qualitative Assessment
Hildegard is considering having her lessons with the Maestro be part of her degree somehow. We aren't really sure yet what role they will play, mostly because she isn't sure herself. Her advisor is quite interested in where prodigies come from. As we call the Maestro the Maestro, we seem to qualify as a prodigy, at least in our own estimation. She figures that this will involve "Qualitative Assessments", and provided us with a sample, which you find below. As she pointed out, most of the assessment is of herself, as the Teacher.
9-13-06: Lesson 4
The Maestro came in “ready to learn.” I told him I would teach him the cello handshake after he and Carolyn got warmed up. He took out the cello, talked with me about the ebony on the bottom of Chester. The opening bow took only two tries! Beautiful! We reviewed a few parts of the cello, including the saddle, tailpiece, “spike,” and bridge. I asked him how big his cello was. He told me “this big” and put his hands on each side of the cello. Duh, teacher… I changed my question and asked him if it was a quarter size. He said, “No, an eighth.”
Call and response activity: I asked him to play what he heard. I plucked a few strings and was delighted at his accuracy in answering. Pitches seem much easier for him to detect than quantities of repetition. In other words, he could pick out a G from an A with no problem, but could not repeat three notes in a row with the same accuracy. I will have to remember this – usually I have had students who do better at repeating than they do at guessing pitches. I think this is due to the extra-sensitive hearing I wrote about yesterday.
I then had him put down the cello so he could learn the cello handshake. He knew his right from his left, but since I had planned beforehand to have to teach him this, I neglected his readiness and instead stayed with my original plan. I tried to teach him a singing song based on “do as I’m doing.” I got excited, sang too loud, and also got off track from the cello handshake that he was apparently ready for without all the “to-do.” Not only was my voice too loud, but it’s possible that a simple little cello handshake appeared too complicated for him because I added unnecessary steps. Focus, Hildegard. Sing softly, Hildegard. Too late – he scampered out of the room. The kitty was back. Riley was quick to observe that the volume of my voice was too much for him. She pointed this out to me ever so sweetly, demonstrating her trust that I would learn from her advice rather than get offended. Her kindness motivated me to do just that. I’ll have to remember this in future lessons, or any time I’m around The Maestro. Years of training as a von Bingen, a loud singer, just won’t do here…
Note: I wonder when the “kitty” came into being. During the lesson today I found myself talking about a kitty sitting on the back of The Maestro’s chair – something I always do with beginners. Did The Maestro turn into a kitty before his first lesson, or was he impressed by that image?
The lesson was over. We asked him if he was through and he said yes. We asked him to come back and finish the bow. Fortunately, the kitty disappeared and The Maestro came back in. He bowed brilliantly, saying “thank you for teaching me” very clearly and audibly. We talked a little bit more about our cellos and I resisted the urge to try and teach him the cello handshake. We had declared the lesson over, and I shouldn’t push him just because I wanted him to keep going. He had told me he was through for the day. One point for my self-control. Two things to remember for next time: (a) let The Maestro’s needs determine the lesson plan, and (b) keep my voice soft.
Elwood wrote in his blog that The Maestro isn’t as interested in stickers as are most children. ; I thought of that today when the intrinsic motivation of getting the notes right in the call and response far outshadowed the need to get another sticker. In fact, I didn’t even bring the stickers up. Riley has made a great picture chart for him that helps him recognize his progress. I think that’s much better for The Maestro.
For the record, today The Maestro accomplished the following in his lesson (numbers correspond to activities on his chart):
A (general preparation): 1,2,3,4*, 5,8,10,13.
C (cello hand preparation): 1 (with mini cello)
*not presented officially, but done in parts throughout the lesson
9-13-06: Lesson 4
The Maestro came in “ready to learn.” I told him I would teach him the cello handshake after he and Carolyn got warmed up. He took out the cello, talked with me about the ebony on the bottom of Chester. The opening bow took only two tries! Beautiful! We reviewed a few parts of the cello, including the saddle, tailpiece, “spike,” and bridge. I asked him how big his cello was. He told me “this big” and put his hands on each side of the cello. Duh, teacher… I changed my question and asked him if it was a quarter size. He said, “No, an eighth.”
Call and response activity: I asked him to play what he heard. I plucked a few strings and was delighted at his accuracy in answering. Pitches seem much easier for him to detect than quantities of repetition. In other words, he could pick out a G from an A with no problem, but could not repeat three notes in a row with the same accuracy. I will have to remember this – usually I have had students who do better at repeating than they do at guessing pitches. I think this is due to the extra-sensitive hearing I wrote about yesterday.
I then had him put down the cello so he could learn the cello handshake. He knew his right from his left, but since I had planned beforehand to have to teach him this, I neglected his readiness and instead stayed with my original plan. I tried to teach him a singing song based on “do as I’m doing.” I got excited, sang too loud, and also got off track from the cello handshake that he was apparently ready for without all the “to-do.” Not only was my voice too loud, but it’s possible that a simple little cello handshake appeared too complicated for him because I added unnecessary steps. Focus, Hildegard. Sing softly, Hildegard. Too late – he scampered out of the room. The kitty was back. Riley was quick to observe that the volume of my voice was too much for him. She pointed this out to me ever so sweetly, demonstrating her trust that I would learn from her advice rather than get offended. Her kindness motivated me to do just that. I’ll have to remember this in future lessons, or any time I’m around The Maestro. Years of training as a von Bingen, a loud singer, just won’t do here…
Note: I wonder when the “kitty” came into being. During the lesson today I found myself talking about a kitty sitting on the back of The Maestro’s chair – something I always do with beginners. Did The Maestro turn into a kitty before his first lesson, or was he impressed by that image?
The lesson was over. We asked him if he was through and he said yes. We asked him to come back and finish the bow. Fortunately, the kitty disappeared and The Maestro came back in. He bowed brilliantly, saying “thank you for teaching me” very clearly and audibly. We talked a little bit more about our cellos and I resisted the urge to try and teach him the cello handshake. We had declared the lesson over, and I shouldn’t push him just because I wanted him to keep going. He had told me he was through for the day. One point for my self-control. Two things to remember for next time: (a) let The Maestro’s needs determine the lesson plan, and (b) keep my voice soft.
Elwood wrote in his blog that The Maestro isn’t as interested in stickers as are most children. ; I thought of that today when the intrinsic motivation of getting the notes right in the call and response far outshadowed the need to get another sticker. In fact, I didn’t even bring the stickers up. Riley has made a great picture chart for him that helps him recognize his progress. I think that’s much better for The Maestro.
For the record, today The Maestro accomplished the following in his lesson (numbers correspond to activities on his chart):
A (general preparation): 1,2,3,4*, 5,8,10,13.
C (cello hand preparation): 1 (with mini cello)
*not presented officially, but done in parts throughout the lesson
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Spoon Bowing
Hildegard,
Well, I can't say that a whole lot has changed. Most days, I still feel like I am almost pulling teeth to get The Maestro to come sit with his cello. In reading the book today, I have renewed determination to find creative solutions to help that part be fun. Meanwhile, he spontaneously sang Twinkle all the way through today. Yesterday he checked out a rain stick from his preschool library and had fun trying to rain-stick to the rhythm of one of the Twinkle variations. We also do a "modern dance", mimicking a flower growing, to one of the Twinkle variations.
Listening to Joshua Bell's Mendelssohn Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in E Minor, The Maestro got a huge kick out of two great pizzicato in the middle of some lively bowing, so we let him sit with his cello and pluck with the music (I'm sure this isn't ideal, but he positively insisted on "bowing" with a big wooden spoon, and since he was actually wanting to be with his cello, we let him go ahead. He thought it was awesome.)
Anyhow, like the book reminded me, there is a lot going on inside The Maestro, even if he balks at bowing to me lately, or if he won't likely produce "I Love My Cello" tomorrow. I've been really emotionally tied to seeing physical, sit-with-the-cello progress, but it will probably help if I calm down about it a bit.
We did stop by your office (and left muffins) -- we were out in that part of town to do a couple of other things. I should've called you this morning to see if you would be there. I am realizing that telling the Maestro "Well, she might not be there" a few times really don't soften the blow of not getting to see his new favorite grown up.
Well, I better go do some cleaning, but we are looking forward to tomorrow’s lesson.
Your friend,
Riley
Things left to do
Here is "Wrists-Crossed" Rest position. I think that he should be able to pass this off soon. He has demonstrated this to enough other friends, that he should be able to do it for the Teacher. Granted, she IS a rock-star, so you never know. Last night we were up late and had a practice. He was doing things well until we decided to practice showing the Teacher something. I was the Teacher and He and Riley came to see me on Campus. I said "Hello Maestro. I'm so glad you came to see me!" and he immediately fell to the ground and started meowing. Eh?!
I guess he wanted it to be a realistic role-play.
Here is an alternate view of that rest position. If it weren't for the replacement door in the back-ground, this picture could be a CD cover someday.
Hands on Knees Rest position.
This is the proper Pizzicato technique. He is very good at this. He isn't as good at plucking each string three times in a row and stopping. It's a concern about following instructions.
Picture Progress
The approach the Riley and the Maestro are taking this week is to do a photo-chart. He has a sticker chart, but hasn't EVER been motivated by getting stickers off one paper and putting them on another paper. He did think the Teacher had some cool treble clef stickers, but I think that's more of an aesthetic appreciation than a motivational one. He does like to see pictures of himself, though. The plan is to take pictures of him doing the things that he has practiced at home and put them on a large card stock. Then, after he demonstrates them for the Teacher, he gets another picture in the "Demonstrated" column.I really like this picture. This is him holding eye contact. I lose track of how long he has done this for, but much less than 10 seconds. This is a very hard thing for him. Even in coloring book form, you can see how serious he can be about things.
After school the other day, they stopped at the Teacher's house and he demonstrated his bows. I think that it was a short visit, and that was the main point. He did get to play with the little cello, though. I am starting to think that playing with the Teacher's little cello defines a successful visit for him.
Here is a side-view of the Maestro bowing. Note the hands at the sides, rather than straight out behind him. This is his understanding of a proper bow, rather than "the deepest of bows."
Then we have the Maestro taking his cello out, and putting it away. His finger strength seems to have really improved as his pulls the zipper.
Riley was hoping to bring the kids to campus today and show off some more things to the Teacher.
Some friends from work dropped by on Saturday and he got his cello out and showed them how to pizzicato properly. I tried to get him to do the "I Love my Cello" song, but of course, he wouldn't. He DID demonstrate which strings were which.
I have some more pictures of things that he still needs to pass off that I can show you.
Friday, September 08, 2006
...or are they?
Lesson Update.
The Maestro had his best day ever at school, according to the Genie. Then, on the way home, they stopped at the Teachers, and he showed her both his beginning and ending bows! I am ready to learn. Thank you for teaching me.
Then, becuase he had done the bows, and was being a boy, she let him play with her small scale toy cello. He likes that a lot, but he wanted to tell me about it later.
Riley decided that the approach to take it to be positive and supportive of The Maestro in other areas than Cello. More one on one time for stories in the afternoon, and things like that. The transition to pre-school has probably been as tough on Riley as it has been on the Maestro. Because she drives him, it hasn't really given her more time, and she's been trying to "get things done" when the Maestro is playing on his own. Playing on his own doesn't mean that he doesn't need attention though, and he ends up as a kitty who needs to be petted and doted upon.
Who knows, we may have the wheels back on.
The Maestro had his best day ever at school, according to the Genie. Then, on the way home, they stopped at the Teachers, and he showed her both his beginning and ending bows! I am ready to learn. Thank you for teaching me.
Then, becuase he had done the bows, and was being a boy, she let him play with her small scale toy cello. He likes that a lot, but he wanted to tell me about it later.
Riley decided that the approach to take it to be positive and supportive of The Maestro in other areas than Cello. More one on one time for stories in the afternoon, and things like that. The transition to pre-school has probably been as tough on Riley as it has been on the Maestro. Because she drives him, it hasn't really given her more time, and she's been trying to "get things done" when the Maestro is playing on his own. Playing on his own doesn't mean that he doesn't need attention though, and he ends up as a kitty who needs to be petted and doted upon.
Who knows, we may have the wheels back on.
metablogging
One of the difficulties I have in Blogging about the Cello Lessons is that for most of it, I am not actually there. I come home and Riley says "The Teacher said..." so I put that in the blog. What she sometimes means, but doesn't say, is "The Teacher agreed to..." This morning, she read what I had written and wanted to point out that it was her idea to have another mini-lesson soon if the Maestro would act like a boy.
When she tells me, it's information. The Teacher DID say that we could do that. I think that when I blog it, she figures it's supposed to be a narrative of what occured. Is that to protect the reputation of the Teacher if Riley's idea goes poorly? I don't know. Anyway, sometimes what I report here is the consensus result or expectation, and not what was actually said by Riley, the Teacher, The Maestro, or Gourmand the GastroGnome, in the words or the order they said it.
This is the same thing that happened with my "RockStar" comment.
When she tells me, it's information. The Teacher DID say that we could do that. I think that when I blog it, she figures it's supposed to be a narrative of what occured. Is that to protect the reputation of the Teacher if Riley's idea goes poorly? I don't know. Anyway, sometimes what I report here is the consensus result or expectation, and not what was actually said by Riley, the Teacher, The Maestro, or Gourmand the GastroGnome, in the words or the order they said it.
This is the same thing that happened with my "RockStar" comment.
The Wheels Come Off
Things haven’t gone what you would call well this week with the Maestro and the Cello. As you read in Riley’s email to the Teacher, he whacked Carolyn with a piece of cardboard on Sunday. Since then, he hasn’t really wanted to practice. He’s shown up for all of his practices as a kitty, and has not been paying attention.
He went for a lesson on Wednesday. Well, the cat did; the boy did not. He wouldn’t stop being a cat long enough to show the Teacher anything. To be fair, he’d gone straight from school to having his stitches removed, and it had gone very poorly. He’s had to be strapped down again, and I wasn’t there to help him calm down. According to one report, it ended up being more stressful for him than having them put in. Everyone had a short break, and then they’d gone to the lesson. So, he was working under non-ideal circumstances…
The teacher told him that she wanted to give lessons to a boy, and not a kitty. He wouldn’t stop being a kitty, so the ended up leaving without any lesson at all. He cried all the way home, and wondered again why she took his bow. He hated the idea of going home without a lesson, but he wouldn’t do what he needed to do to get a lesson. Isn’t that the way everything goes with kids? Good thing I was never like that, right?
Riley thinks that perhaps she hasn’t been positive enough with him about things that he DOES do. He used to go for 45 minute practices where you covered everything you were supposed to, and now you try for 5 minutes and only get as far as taking the cello out and the closing bow —instead of the practice-opening-bow— before he runs away. It’s pretty hard to be only positive when you know that he can do so much more but will not. It’s like praising me for brushing my teeth in the morning. Nice to hear, but it doesn’t really feel genuine when I’ve been brushing my teeth every morning for at least the last year. (that’s a joke.)
So we’re stuck in a destructive cycle. I think he feels pressure so resists, and because he IS resisting, we don’t know how to stop pressuring without just giving up. The Teacher said that when he had two practices as a boy instead of a kitty, she wanted him to come back. That isn’t very many, so it’s essentially re-trying the last lesson instead of setting a low bar for the next lesson. Her hope was they could do one today, I think. I don’t know if he qualifies, though.
Yesterday Riley brought the kids to campus, and she and the Maestro watched the Teacher conduct her string orchestra practice. The Music Building is kitty-corner (so appropriate!) to my lab, so I got to come and play in the hallway with Hildr so she didn’t explore the stack of music cases. We hid in the curtains and said “Bus!” instead.
The Teacher was really positive. She introduced him to her orchestra as “Her Cello Student!” He didn’t wave. He just grinned at them instead. He didn’t hide behind Riley’s legs, though, so that’s something. There were nine cellos there. They counted them.
I wonder about his bow. There are still several things that he is supposed to demonstrate before he gets his practice bow, but I wonder if he can skip them. What got this whole thing started was him watching “An Evening with Danny Kaye” and playing the cello along with the orchestra using wooden spoons. Now he has a real cello, but nothing to bow with, which is like someone who wants to be a racecar driver getting a car with no steering wheel.
I know that he is different than most kids. Most kids need to pass off all these things before they get their practice bow, and demonstrate 500 “bow-hands” before they get their real bows. Is he different in the ways that would make it OK for him to skip those? Would that be instead like giving keys to the kid who wants to be a racecar driver? We need to talk to the Teacher, but she had too many things going on yesterday.
In any event, I think that he doesn’t know when he will ever get his bow back. It’s hard for him to work on holding eye-contact as something that will get him his bow, because I don’t think he sees the connection. When you dangle the carrot so far ahead that the donkey can’t see it, it isn’t much of a carrot.
I am really full of metaphors this morning. It must have something to do with writing at 5:00 am.
Riley is wondering if he can be successful at both pre-school (yesterday was only his fifth day) and Cello lessons. We felt like he needed to do both. Well, we felt like school was a good idea, and we felt like Cello was a good idea. I guess that is not exactly the same as feeling good about both.
Mr. Miyagi, in “The Karate Kid” said that there are “No bad Pupils, only bad teachers. Teacher say, Pupil do.” So what do we say, so the Maestro will do?
He went for a lesson on Wednesday. Well, the cat did; the boy did not. He wouldn’t stop being a cat long enough to show the Teacher anything. To be fair, he’d gone straight from school to having his stitches removed, and it had gone very poorly. He’s had to be strapped down again, and I wasn’t there to help him calm down. According to one report, it ended up being more stressful for him than having them put in. Everyone had a short break, and then they’d gone to the lesson. So, he was working under non-ideal circumstances…
The teacher told him that she wanted to give lessons to a boy, and not a kitty. He wouldn’t stop being a kitty, so the ended up leaving without any lesson at all. He cried all the way home, and wondered again why she took his bow. He hated the idea of going home without a lesson, but he wouldn’t do what he needed to do to get a lesson. Isn’t that the way everything goes with kids? Good thing I was never like that, right?
Riley thinks that perhaps she hasn’t been positive enough with him about things that he DOES do. He used to go for 45 minute practices where you covered everything you were supposed to, and now you try for 5 minutes and only get as far as taking the cello out and the closing bow —instead of the practice-opening-bow— before he runs away. It’s pretty hard to be only positive when you know that he can do so much more but will not. It’s like praising me for brushing my teeth in the morning. Nice to hear, but it doesn’t really feel genuine when I’ve been brushing my teeth every morning for at least the last year. (that’s a joke.)
So we’re stuck in a destructive cycle. I think he feels pressure so resists, and because he IS resisting, we don’t know how to stop pressuring without just giving up. The Teacher said that when he had two practices as a boy instead of a kitty, she wanted him to come back. That isn’t very many, so it’s essentially re-trying the last lesson instead of setting a low bar for the next lesson. Her hope was they could do one today, I think. I don’t know if he qualifies, though.
Yesterday Riley brought the kids to campus, and she and the Maestro watched the Teacher conduct her string orchestra practice. The Music Building is kitty-corner (so appropriate!) to my lab, so I got to come and play in the hallway with Hildr so she didn’t explore the stack of music cases. We hid in the curtains and said “Bus!” instead.
The Teacher was really positive. She introduced him to her orchestra as “Her Cello Student!” He didn’t wave. He just grinned at them instead. He didn’t hide behind Riley’s legs, though, so that’s something. There were nine cellos there. They counted them.
I wonder about his bow. There are still several things that he is supposed to demonstrate before he gets his practice bow, but I wonder if he can skip them. What got this whole thing started was him watching “An Evening with Danny Kaye” and playing the cello along with the orchestra using wooden spoons. Now he has a real cello, but nothing to bow with, which is like someone who wants to be a racecar driver getting a car with no steering wheel.
I know that he is different than most kids. Most kids need to pass off all these things before they get their practice bow, and demonstrate 500 “bow-hands” before they get their real bows. Is he different in the ways that would make it OK for him to skip those? Would that be instead like giving keys to the kid who wants to be a racecar driver? We need to talk to the Teacher, but she had too many things going on yesterday.
In any event, I think that he doesn’t know when he will ever get his bow back. It’s hard for him to work on holding eye-contact as something that will get him his bow, because I don’t think he sees the connection. When you dangle the carrot so far ahead that the donkey can’t see it, it isn’t much of a carrot.
I am really full of metaphors this morning. It must have something to do with writing at 5:00 am.
Riley is wondering if he can be successful at both pre-school (yesterday was only his fifth day) and Cello lessons. We felt like he needed to do both. Well, we felt like school was a good idea, and we felt like Cello was a good idea. I guess that is not exactly the same as feeling good about both.
Mr. Miyagi, in “The Karate Kid” said that there are “No bad Pupils, only bad teachers. Teacher say, Pupil do.” So what do we say, so the Maestro will do?
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Riley's week 4 Summary
Hildegard-
I'm sorry that I didn't get back to you this a.m. like I said. I wasn't able to to get in contact with Maria D. until this afternoon. I'm hoping that 2:45 might be okay with you. It's not as early as I would like for The Maestro (especially after we made a bit of a fuss about trying to have his lessons early), but Maria and her daughter Pink could consistently watch Hildr at that time each Wednesday. Hildr tends to cry (and cry and cry) whenever I leave her with anyone but Elwood. When we've been at the D's, Hildr has let Pink carry her around,and into different rooms, which is a pretty uncommon for Hildr to allow that. So, if that arrangement goes well, 2:45 would be a good permanent time for us to come.
As for the report for this week, The Maestro was in kind of rough shape this weekend, and has really resisted a lot of things, including cello practice. (On Sunday, The Maestro wasn't willing to nap after church and we had cello practice in his tired state and he ended up hitting his cello with a cardboard box lid. He immediately felt horrible about it and sobbed and sobbed. ) I've wondered if maybe I was being too liberal with the correction, and have squeezed out a lot of the fun of it for him by putting restrictions on all of his favorite things to do with his cello, so the past few days we have spent a lot of time on singing and rhythm of Twinkle, and not as much time actually touching the cello. We've sung so many silly words to the different variations, have done windwands and dancing to the rhythm, and have learned a few new cello part terms (peg box, belly... etc). I feel kind of like I've slacked off, but I guess if ever a 3 1/2 year old needed a little slack, this week has been that week... I think I'm starting to get a hang of The Maestro's energy ebb and flow now that he's in preschool, so hopefully I'll be better at catching him at good times.
Well, I better go, but we are looking forward to tomorrow.
-Riley
I'm sorry that I didn't get back to you this a.m. like I said. I wasn't able to to get in contact with Maria D. until this afternoon. I'm hoping that 2:45 might be okay with you. It's not as early as I would like for The Maestro (especially after we made a bit of a fuss about trying to have his lessons early), but Maria and her daughter Pink could consistently watch Hildr at that time each Wednesday. Hildr tends to cry (and cry and cry) whenever I leave her with anyone but Elwood. When we've been at the D's, Hildr has let Pink carry her around,and into different rooms, which is a pretty uncommon for Hildr to allow that. So, if that arrangement goes well, 2:45 would be a good permanent time for us to come.
As for the report for this week, The Maestro was in kind of rough shape this weekend, and has really resisted a lot of things, including cello practice. (On Sunday, The Maestro wasn't willing to nap after church and we had cello practice in his tired state and he ended up hitting his cello with a cardboard box lid. He immediately felt horrible about it and sobbed and sobbed. ) I've wondered if maybe I was being too liberal with the correction, and have squeezed out a lot of the fun of it for him by putting restrictions on all of his favorite things to do with his cello, so the past few days we have spent a lot of time on singing and rhythm of Twinkle, and not as much time actually touching the cello. We've sung so many silly words to the different variations, have done windwands and dancing to the rhythm, and have learned a few new cello part terms (peg box, belly... etc). I feel kind of like I've slacked off, but I guess if ever a 3 1/2 year old needed a little slack, this week has been that week... I think I'm starting to get a hang of The Maestro's energy ebb and flow now that he's in preschool, so hopefully I'll be better at catching him at good times.
Well, I better go, but we are looking forward to tomorrow.
-Riley
Sunday, September 03, 2006
L3 - The Honeymoon Ends?
They had their third lesson on Friday. Riley seemed convinced that it would not go well. At the second lesson, the Maestro wasn’t willing to perform anything he had practiced. Since then, he had gotten tired of doing several of the things that he hadn’t passed off yet, and was no longer doing them at home. He seemed more interested in playing kitty than playing the Teacher, and perhaps some of the Cello honeymoon had worn off. She had asked him if he wanted to show his Cello to anyone, and he had told her that he was NOT interested in that. Thursday night, she was feeling pretty discouraged.
Friday, the lesson went great. At least it seemed great from this side. He passed off both the “hands on knees” and “wrists crossed” rest positions, and focused gaze on the teacher for five seconds, if I remember correctly what I was told. His pizzicato technique garnered praise, even if he plucks notes that he wants to pluck instead of the ones he is asked to. He got some more assignments to work on, including something that looks like Cello Tai-bo.
He did spend good amount of time as a cat, hiding between the couch and the chair, but he came out sometimes to be a cello-playing kitty, so that’s some progress. Next lesson is Wednesday.
I made the Teacher some Preschool Banana-Nut Muffins this afternoon. Hope she likes them.
Friday, the lesson went great. At least it seemed great from this side. He passed off both the “hands on knees” and “wrists crossed” rest positions, and focused gaze on the teacher for five seconds, if I remember correctly what I was told. His pizzicato technique garnered praise, even if he plucks notes that he wants to pluck instead of the ones he is asked to. He got some more assignments to work on, including something that looks like Cello Tai-bo.
He did spend good amount of time as a cat, hiding between the couch and the chair, but he came out sometimes to be a cello-playing kitty, so that’s some progress. Next lesson is Wednesday.
I made the Teacher some Preschool Banana-Nut Muffins this afternoon. Hope she likes them.
Helping Parents Parent
One book Hildegard wanted us to read was “Helping Parents Practice”, by Edmund Sprunger. He makes several points in his book, but one that he comes back to over and over is that one of a kid’s most basic needs is to know that their parents love them, and will look after them. A lot of things that a kid does, or does not do, are motivated by their interest in not looking bad in their parent’s eyes. One thing he talks about is not trying new things. If you try something, and fail, then maybe you aren’t good enough and your Mom will stop loving you. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but the more we watch the Maestro do things like sing and dance and do actions and hand-motions along with a group, the more we can see that it applies to him. One of the consequences of this is that the best way to get a kid to freeze up in a cello practice is to criticize them. Everything must be positive. If there is any criticizing that needs to be done, let the teacher do it. They are more likely to “get away with it” in that the child will listen. It’s not that the child cares more what the teacher thinks, it’s that the child cares LESS what the teacher thinks. I’ve noticed Riley applying this to their practices together, but also in many other things that they do together, from putting shoes on in the morning to picking up toys before bed. It has really helped their relationship. Since he brought the Cello home, there haven’t been any days that have been filled with power struggles all afternoon.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Pre-school roundup
The Maestro has had a pretty eventful week. He started school, he got stitches on his chin, and he continues Cello lessons. It seems light-years from where we were Tuesday.
First off, the Maestro is the only kid his age that we know who is doing real pre-school. His other friends, or the kids of Riley’s friends (two groups that overlap somewhat) are doing Joy-school one day a week. There are several ways that this isn’t good for the Maestro. The infrequent schedule, the material they will focus on, and the personality conflicts he would have with those who are running it, all come quickly to mind. He would not have found it a joy. Another option that people we know have done is a pre-school run by some of the high-schools here. The advantage of that option is that they are only three days a week instead of five. The disadvantage of that option is that they are staffed by high-school kids. Do I need to explain that anymore?
Wednesday, he told me that school was “Pretty good”, but that he had been sad. Thursday, he reported joyfully that he hadn’t been sad! When Riley picked him up Friday, he said “I am sad when school is over.” He woke up that morning, drank his milk, and asked “Is it time for school now?” He likes his teacher, and she understands him well enough to watch how much snack he eats (or doesn’t); she can get him to sing songs, and do the actions for them. I have mentioned before that we can’t reliably get him to do that sort of thing for us. There is a cool gym, and a library that lets him check out musical instruments. And all this for only two and a half hours a day!
At first, I felt kind of bad about how much time the Maestro would be spending at school. He is only three, after all. That’s pretty young to get shipped off to have a stranger take care of you, even if it is a stranger with dual certification in special education and early-childhood education. Then I realized that before I started school, I used to spend that much time watching TV everyday. I used to watch Sesame Street and Mr. Dressup every morning, and that was an hour and a half. I am pretty sure usually I watched up to an hour of TV just waiting for those two shows to start. Riley took the more optimistic view that kids used to spend every day running around the neighborhood with their cousins, and ended up with no more adult supervision, but more bones broken and teeth knocked out.
It seems like the Maestro has made a seamless transition into being a pre-school kid. Everything has gone great. Then he put himself down for a nap at noon on Saturday. Things HAVE gone great, but it was eventful enough to wear him out. His excitement to go to school Friday, notwithstanding his reluctance to go Wednesday, demonstrates that this is not a kid who would survive home-schooling. Even if I thought that Riley would survive it, which I don’t. School with other kids and other teachers, that’s the way for us!
First off, the Maestro is the only kid his age that we know who is doing real pre-school. His other friends, or the kids of Riley’s friends (two groups that overlap somewhat) are doing Joy-school one day a week. There are several ways that this isn’t good for the Maestro. The infrequent schedule, the material they will focus on, and the personality conflicts he would have with those who are running it, all come quickly to mind. He would not have found it a joy. Another option that people we know have done is a pre-school run by some of the high-schools here. The advantage of that option is that they are only three days a week instead of five. The disadvantage of that option is that they are staffed by high-school kids. Do I need to explain that anymore?
Wednesday, he told me that school was “Pretty good”, but that he had been sad. Thursday, he reported joyfully that he hadn’t been sad! When Riley picked him up Friday, he said “I am sad when school is over.” He woke up that morning, drank his milk, and asked “Is it time for school now?” He likes his teacher, and she understands him well enough to watch how much snack he eats (or doesn’t); she can get him to sing songs, and do the actions for them. I have mentioned before that we can’t reliably get him to do that sort of thing for us. There is a cool gym, and a library that lets him check out musical instruments. And all this for only two and a half hours a day!
At first, I felt kind of bad about how much time the Maestro would be spending at school. He is only three, after all. That’s pretty young to get shipped off to have a stranger take care of you, even if it is a stranger with dual certification in special education and early-childhood education. Then I realized that before I started school, I used to spend that much time watching TV everyday. I used to watch Sesame Street and Mr. Dressup every morning, and that was an hour and a half. I am pretty sure usually I watched up to an hour of TV just waiting for those two shows to start. Riley took the more optimistic view that kids used to spend every day running around the neighborhood with their cousins, and ended up with no more adult supervision, but more bones broken and teeth knocked out.
It seems like the Maestro has made a seamless transition into being a pre-school kid. Everything has gone great. Then he put himself down for a nap at noon on Saturday. Things HAVE gone great, but it was eventful enough to wear him out. His excitement to go to school Friday, notwithstanding his reluctance to go Wednesday, demonstrates that this is not a kid who would survive home-schooling. Even if I thought that Riley would survive it, which I don’t. School with other kids and other teachers, that’s the way for us!
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