...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.