Week Eight Mummary

Last week was so spectacular that it didn’t surprise me to have a less than productive lesson today. Riley emailed me yesterday to tell me that things hadn’t gone quite so well in practice. She wrote:

The Maestro had really stalled out on his bow hold enthusiasm, so I'm getting creative. Last night for [family time] I put together 3 more practice bows, so we all did the bow exercises (lined up side to side, we were a sight!!), today if The Maestro does 10 bow holds (2 down, 8 to go), I told him we could come see your orchestra practice. We'll see how it goes...

They did show up for the practice, and watched about 15 minutes. The Maestro’s favorite part, at least from what I could tell, was when I asked him to listen to how soft the instruments could play.

From the beginning of the lesson it was obvious that The Maestro wasn’t as motivated today. Last week he charged right in the apartment and went straight to the studio. Today, he stayed outside the apartment to play with the leaves. He came in the studio but twirled on the chair, in no rush to get out his cello. He pulled his tongue out at me in a playful way. He did bow, play cello gymnastics, and a little of the copy game (he’s really improving). I suggested that Riley help practice this with him by plucking his cello. He was thrilled to discover the ring of the C peg in his ear.

His practice bow was falling apart, and I made the mistake of trying to fix it during the lesson. [19:20] I asked him to sing Twinkle with Riley, and (in order to test his ear) asked him to sing a D. He sang “Deeeee” dead on, while spinning on his chair restlessly. I restrained my excitement (probably a mistake – I don’t know if he realized he had done it right and probably could have used the positive reinforcement). Riley then came over and tried to sing a D with him. This time he sang “Twinkle” but was too high. I asked him to help Riley sing the right note by asking if she was too high or too low. His patience was gone and he jumped out of the room like a frog. I’m always curious as to why he suddenly is ready to stop the lesson. What lost his motivation? I wonder: (a) was it a coincidence that he sang the D the first time? (b) Does he know what a D sounds like, but doesn’t realize that Twinkle should always start on a D? (c) Did he lose excitement and give up on the lesson because he thought he had sung the right note, but then got confused when Riley said, “The Maestro, should we try to sing that note?” (d) was he confused when Riley sang a perfect Bb, exactly 2 notes under pitch?

Even the mini cello seemed more like routine and less like fun today. I’m not ready to get discouraged – all three of us had stuffy noses, sore throats, and were plenty tired. Things will look up once we get our energy back.

In the meantime, Riley should continue to practice rhythms with him, both clapping or tapping (i.e., the copy game with rhythms) at any time during the day. The Twinkle CD should be a daily part of listening life. Finally, Riley and I should do some singing exercises without The Maestro, to focus her own pitch center. She has a beautiful, beautiful voice (much nicer than mine) when she sings with piano accompaniment, but since she hasn’t had vocal training the tonal center can waver when she sings a capella. I wonder if she would trust me enough to do some singing practice together.

I’d like to try another mini lesson later in the week to see how his air-bowing rhythms are coming. I might steal a bow frame from S.P. or make one myself.