Week 13

Week 13
11-9-06

The Maestro had a tricky time focusing at the beginning of his lesson. He didn’t look me in the eyes much, and needed help getting his cello out. I asked Riley to bring a visual timer they use at home, with the intention to motivate him to sit for 15 minutes by teaching him a song after that point.

The Maestro was very interested as I tuned his cello with the tuning pegs. I taught him “bird wings” but he wasn’t willing to demonstrate. Perhaps he couldn’t see how this would help him with his cello playing. Ski jumps and knuckle knocks went very well with the bow hand, but he wasn’t ready to show me the cello hand. I asked him if his cello hand was shy, and he said, “Yeah, it’s always shy.”

The copy game still works marginally for The Maestro. I haven’t determined if it is hard for him or if he’s just not interested. Sometimes he’ll do it right on except to add a note, while other times he’s quite off with all the strings. I do remember him delightfully saying, “I did it!” a couple of times in early lessons, which makes me think there is some tricky element to it for him, which might encourage the goofiness.

As soon as we switched to the practice bow, The Maestro started to squirm. Is it the motor skill requirement, or the fact that it’s not a real bow, or both? Riley sang “Curious George,” which I think they sang at home while his fingers climbed up the practice bow. After she finished, The Maestro immediately ran out of the room. I couldn’t detect any reason for this except perhaps that he would next be asked to perform. Riley encouraged him to come back in by reminding him that I had a song to teach him at the end of the lesson. I pointed to the timer and showed him how long it was until then.

After a little more squirming on the floor, Riley suggested that they show me “Stucka Stucka help-help,” where Riley pretends to get stuck in the door, pulled out by The Maestro in the first Twinkle rhythm. His whole body leaned back and forward with the beat. Riley had turned a fine motor skill into a gross motor skill in order to help him internalize and then perform the rhythm in what is most likely an easier way for him. As a reward for this rhythm “performance,” I had him help me bow that rhythm with my cello and my bow. Riley first modeled the activity for him by placing her hand on mine and “going for a ride,” but he actually imitated along with us. Then he placed his hand on mine. I could sense his excitement at this activity, feeling his grip get tighter on my hand and his arm try to take over the control of the bow. I kept physical control while providing him choices about which string we should play and at which sticker we should start each time.

The lesson ended with the song I had promised to teach him. I played a “Death and the Maiden” CD for him (Emerson SQ). He was in the process of pointing to something before the music started, and when the music played his index finger jerked back a little but stayed suspended in air as his jaw dropped and his eyes doubled in size. He listened intently, swaying his head at one point. After we listened to a short excerpt twice through, I showed him 4 notes to pluck along with the CD, landing on the first beat of each of the first four measures. As he was asked to copy along, his attention shifted dramatically and he got squirmy. Riley took the cello and demonstrated for him, imitating me. It seemed to me beforehand that this would be an easy task for The Maestro, but Riley and I decided that she would have to break it down for him at home.

He listened to the music as it continued, and as I started to talk over the music Riley immediately reached for the CD player to shut out what was most likely sensory overload not only for The Maestro but for her as well. She had allowed me to get up and turn it off every time before, but was quick to jump in this time. Orchestra teachers learn to tune out a lot of extra noise – this is not necessarily a good thing.

A couple of big motivators today. We’ll see how things progress.