Short and Quiuck

The Maestro is at his lesson right now.  His lesson schedule has been a little more tricky the past month or so.   Pink and her family went on vacation for a couple of weeks, and when they got back they announced that they were moving west for a new job.  This is the first week they are permanently gone, but last week there were all sorts of packing and cleaning activities going on.

 

Hildr has been by and large coming to visit me at work, but I get tired of keeping her safe in a chemistry lab and there are only so many times I want to walk her up and down the stairs.   Last time we went to the Library.  This week Riley was having clock management problems and Hildr had recently gone down for a nap when it was time to leave for the lesson.   So, I caught the bus home, intending to work on the computer while she napped.  She changed her mind about the nap, so I am writing this off and on while she plays in her silky blanket and jumps onto a beanbag "pool" and yells "Splash!"

 

This week certainly hasn't been an ideal cello week.  I only know of one cello practice that The Maestro had since his last lesson.   Granted, they don't always tell me about their cello practices, but Riley has spent a lot of time this week primping our house and I don't imagine a lot of cello practices went on.   Last night about 10:00, a For Sale sign went up in our front yard.  Now we can mostly stop worrying about getting last minute things done and start worrying about being logged onto the internet when someone might call, and keeping everything neat in case someone wants to stop in for a look.   We'll see how much room cello gets this week.

 

Last week, The Maestro came home from his lesson in a pretty good mood.  It seems like the approach of having Hildegard play a request as a reward when The Maestro demonstrates some technique is still working.   Last week he came home all excited about learning the "Telly-and-Terra" as one of his rewards.

 

On another musical note, this week The Maestro renewed his interest in conducting.  Saturday and Sunday both he got dressed up in his conducting uniform – a black suit jacket with vest and black dress pants.   He then set himself up on a small folding chair to conduct whatever he happens to be listening to.  This was nice for me on Sunday because he had wanted to conduct in the morning, and I didn't have to get him dressed for church because he could wear his conductor's outfit.   The jacket is getting a little small but if he doesn't care, I don't care.

 

This week I had a couple of ideas for Christmas presents.  He doesn't have a music stand and I think he would dearly love one.   Also, a real conductor's baton shouldn't be too expensive.  He would like that better than conducting with a drum stick or some other stick that he can find.

 

Update:

Somehow we dropped an hour from our day.  Riley and The Maestro got back from his lesson about an hour before the time I usually get home from work.   I had started dinner, and people were hungry, so we ate.  As dinner ended it became apparent that dinner should be followed by baths and bed for everyone, just like a normal night.   The Maestro was in bed by six o'clock and none too soon.  I'm not sure what happened, but he was seriously frayed.  

 

When he got home I asked him how his lesson went, and he told me it was "Quick and short."  Apparently he also learned about tunnel fingers, so you can finger on the D string without mashing the A string also, but he wasn't so interested in showing me how that works.

Punkin' Circumstance

It's been a while since the Maestro had a lesson.  Two weeks ago, he didn't have a lesson because Riley and Hildr took the car into the City to pick up Riley's sister Smiley, and her two girls at the airport.   The Maestro and I were homebound, except for the short bike ride we took down to the creek.  The Maestro practiced crawling across the log that hung over the creek.   I mucked about with a stick trying to get leaves and sticks to make a damn.  We had good fun doing the things that Riley wouldn't let us do if she was home.   So, we had no lesson.

 

Smiley and her family were here for almost a week, and the girls had lots of fun playing with the Maestro and Hildr.   Everyone did really well, and handled the change in routine admirably.  They went home the morning of the next week's lesson day, and the Maestro has spent the next four days recovering from having other kids at our house.   No one was surprised when the afternoon they left the Maestro was too tired to concentrate at a lesson.  No one has told me how the lesson didn't happen; it just didn't.

 

Late this past week, the Maestro started composing symphonies.  I think it was Thursday that I got home and he was filling a paper with quarter notes, all stem up, along a one bar staff.   In spite of there only being one bar on the staff, the notes did go up and down, and when Hildegard came over for dinner, he sang to her how his first two symphonies went, complete with crazy composer hand waving.   The first one was relatively low, with lots of staccato and cymbal crashes.  The second one was higher, with more legato.   Towards the end, it started to sound a lot like the Overture to the opera Carmen, by Bizet.  Since then, he has decided that his first symphony is actually "Punkin' Circumstance", which some of you might think is by Elgar.   It isn't.  It was composed by The Maestro in my kitchen this past Thursday.  His third symphony is quite reminiscent of that Grieg piece that ends up in all the cartoons.

 

The interesting thing about all of this, aside from his renewed interest in conducting along to a CD of Punkin' Circumstance, is his willingness to sing.   You may remember several months back the concern we had that he might never sing to Hildegard.  It was a monumental day when he first got out a couple of Tuck-a's in her office on campus.   This week he didn't need any coaxing to sing for what seemed like five minutes the music he had composed.  Part of this is his increased comfort with Hildegard; I'm sure he wouldn't be quite so forthcoming with most other people.   I think though, that he has grown considerably in his confidence to perform. 

 

Last Sunday, Smiley's husband, Uncle 'Fredo, arrived.  He had had to work, so he came on a later flight.   Through a variety of circumstances, he and the Maestro and I ended up visiting, just us three.  The Maestro wasn't comfortable yet talking to Uncle 'Fredo and insisted on whispering in my ear everything that he wanted me to tell 'Fredo on his behalf.   In spite of his unease, the Maestro did decide that he wanted to give a concert for his uncle.  He told us all the parts of the cello, and demonstrated how to adjust the bow hair tension.   Then he sat and played two or three songs that he has put together.  Performing for a new audience has to some extent become easier for him than meeting new people.

 

We should be able to get a good lesson in this week, as far as I can see.  The Maestro is excited to go on a field trip to the woods tomorrow, and he has no school on Tuesday, so he should be in a good state of mind Wednesday.  

 

 

The Arms Race

You might have noticed that I haven’t been posting updates lately. I was stuck in the depths of an academic job search which has since proven successful. I spent a couple of weeks cramming preparation for interview visits, and a couple of weeks going on interview visits. I think that lessons were somewhat irregular while I was gone. With the combination of kids being sick, Hildr’s babysitter and family being sick, and other interruptions, the scheduling didn’t work out.

The job that I was offered is only a few hours away from The Maestro’s cousins. They are slightly older, and are also taking strings lessons. He is excited to be able to go Play with them. When I was there a few weeks ago, they each gave me a concert. Both could play several songs in the First year repertoire, and so far, the Maestro has yet to play more than the proper rhythm for the Twinkle variations. It is interesting to see how his progress is different from theirs. My sister says that different teachers stress different aspects of playing, and theirs is not one who stresses technique. That may not be the word she used; maybe it was precision. The point is, the Maestro is constantly working on holding the bow the right way, sitting the right way, fingering the right way. Sometimes I think that he will never be able to play a full version of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, but then I think that when he plays something he calls “Schniggle cumba liiiingo znok flok”, he will play it with precision.

The Maestro has been making progress this whole time, in spite of my lack of posting. He has regularly been making up songs to play, incorporating various things he has learned. Hildegard provided me with a partial list the other day: Flower Dance, Cabbage Dance, Rhody Accompaniment, Grieg rhythm, See the Pretty Flowers, I Love my Cello, the B song, Dinosaur, Earthquake, and the Schubert accompaniment.

He has given me a couple of lessons, or more precisely, he has spent time correcting my technique when I try to play his cello. As discussed previously, he loves to play the Teacher role.

One of the tough things with the Maestro is that things he has to be the one with the ideas. He is a free spirit who would rather Jam than play what you tell him. He often wants to play the Double Bass instead of the Cello because he sees Jazz musicians doing things that you aren’t allowed to do on the Cello. Riley reports that he is starting to put the “Tucka Tucka Stop Stop” rhythm into some of his composed songs, now that it has been long enough since we were on him to pass his rhythms off. Now that it can be his idea, his is interested.

Hildegard is doing a good job of fitting some structure around his impromptus. I really liked today’s lesson in which he brought a suggestion of a song that could be part of the warm-up, and later when she taught him a scale that was connected to another song he liked with “Funny bowing.” The real trick with him is to find what he wants to do anyway, and add something that he needs to learn into it. Whenever we find something that works with that, it works for a while, until he wants to move on to something else. Sometimes it feels like an arms race, trying to match the pedagogy with his interests.

Week 32

Hildegard's Weekly Lesson Summary

Week 32

3-23-07

This week is spring break. I made appointments for Riley and myself at the beauty salon, after which she gently reminded me that I had scheduled them during The Maestro’s lesson time. Oops. We rescheduled the lesson for 8:30 this morning (Friday) so that Elwood could stay home with Hildr before going to work.

The Maestro got a lot of sleep and was at his best. I wasn’t feeling so great myself, but gave my best effort. It took The Maestro a bit of persuading to get his cello out despite his excitement and focused attention. He was having a lot of fun with his miniature bubble-blowing trumpet. I asked Riley if he was nervous. She suggested that no, he was just testing his limits. As The Maestro sat fixed at the door’s entrance, Riley feigned a sigh and said, “Oh well, I guess we shouldn’t have a cello lesson.” I started to strum Julie-O in order to coax him into the room. He gradually worked his way in and, although Riley got out the bow for The Maestro, he took out the cello by himself.

I played bits of songs while The Maestro got his cello out. Then he said, “There’s a song on our Great Symphonies CD. It’s called the Swan.” I asked, “Does it go like this?” and started to play. He said, “Yes. I’d like to play along with you.” I suggested that we could do this after we learned two new songs. He responded, “Maybe we could do that after… I think … that should be one of our warm-ups.” (He’s getting the routine down, isn’t he?) I pointed out to him by showing him the muscles in my hand that big, long songs require stretching so that you don’t hurt yourself.

I tuned his cello and sang each note beforehand. He and Riley both laughed when I sang the low C string. I had realized last Sunday, while sitting next to The Maestro in his child Sunday School music class (taught by Riley) that he responded extremely well to instructions that were disguised as actions in songs. This shouldn’t have been news to me, but it was a reminder that my own technically-based, conservatory training was usurping what teaching techniques would work best with a four-year-old, and especially with The Maestro. In other words, I realized last Sunday that, just like a large number of teachers in this country, I need to talk less and make music more. In fact, for The Maestro, the entire lesson could be one big cello opera.

I continued to sing instructions to him, repeating the C note, and then singing warm-up instructions (touch your head, touch your knees, touch the fingerboard, etc.) in a C Major slow version of Twinkle. Then our warm-up became a little more complex as I sang “If you’re happy and you know it” with activities including sliding on the string and tapping vs. flapping cello hand fingers. He flaps very well but it is of course trickier to tap right on the fingertips. I had him show Riley his fleshy fingertips. Our last verse was, “If you’re happy and you know it rock and roll.” He started by bouncing the bow and I helped him settle it on the green sticker. After some spotting, I let him rock the bow on his own, which he did quite well and with a pretty good bow hold (oh, we need to focus more on that bent thumb – We’ll have to do some thumbkin songs and other thumb-based activities).

He had a song to play for me. I asked him what it was. He said, “Black Cat Smat Crangk Bangk Klaza Baza Naz Baz.” I said, “Wow, that’s hard to remember every time.” This reminded me of my own childhood, when I would make up a foreign language to speak at people. Riley and I smiled as I said, “All right. Let’s hear it!” And then the creativity and expression set in as The Maestro performed. Rock and roll was featured, as was finger slapping and vibrato on the first finger. Riley said, “Can you throw a B in there for Black Cat?” He obliged and then went back to bowing.

After the Black Cat performance, I suggested one more Happy and you know it version, with Tuckas rolling from the D to the A and back. The Maestro did well. Then he asked, “Are we ready for the swan?” As I explained to him that we had done one song and had another to do, he reached over, smiled, and smacked my bow with his bow. Here’s the reason I use my cheap bow in lessons – I can stay calm at these moments. After hitting my bow, he looked up at me to watch my reaction. I looked at him and said, “Oh dear. If bows get hit they’ll have to go away.” Riley gave an “oh” of her own in unison with mine. The Maestro’s face changed instantly from a smile to a look of sadness mixed with fear. He set his cello down (carefully, I might add) and then skulked quickly out of the room.

We chose to let him be for a minute, taking the opportunity to talk about his progress on the Flower song. Riley reported that they had practiced it with either her doing the fingering or the bowing/plucking to make it easier for him. I was delighted by their efforts.

Just as Riley and I decided that she would go and talk to The Maestro, he started to make cat noises from the other room. Is this a subtle request for emotional encouragement? I was again reminded of my childhood, as I am whenever The Maestro runs out of the room and waits for someone to come and talk with him. I used to do the same thing with my parents – honestly, I think I still do it sometimes – and I truthfully felt like I couldn’t bear the thought of moving a muscle until someone came and gave me emotional encouragement. I don’t know if this is a trained response from years of knowing how to melt my father’s heart and get him to comfort me rather than learning to do it myself, or if I really did need that scaffolding in my zone of proximal emotional development, if you will. One thing I know is that The Maestro definitely has the emotion needed to be a musician.

As Riley talked to The Maestro in the other room I played the G Major Sarabande (fitting, I thought, in preparation for the apology I would soon be receiving). Riley interrupted my playing by saying that The Maestro had something to say. He said, “Sorry.” I told him I forgave him, and asked if we should have more cello lesson. He said yes. Since I had his full attention and humble cooperation I decided to go for the big stuff. I brought up the Flower song, and he and Riley started to show me what they had done. She planned to pluck the string while he put his fingers down. His eyes and mouth twisted as he fought his frustration; this is very difficult for him to do. Riley and I both encouraged him along, telling him he was getting stronger and stronger all the time. When he started to give up I put out my arm to see if he could finger on that (thinking that this would show the finger placement without the necessary step of pressing on the strings). He didn’t quite understand what I meant, and I don’t think Riley did either. Again, too much conservatory thinking and not enough appeal to a 4-year-old whose fine motor skills are still developing. The Maestro started to cry and he said, “Hildegard, I already did it.” He rubbed his eyes. Riley rubbed The Maestro’s back and said, “I know you feel like it’s kind of hard. Let’s just set the timer and try for one minute.” She set the timer and he kept his fingers down. I felt awful – I knew how hard he was trying and I just didn’t have the creativity and know-how to break up the steps into manageable enough ones for him. Again, the conservatory mode was usurping the fun and the songs. I punted and began to tell him that Yo Yo Ma used to get frustrated and had to practice things over and over and then he finally got them. Riley added: “This is how you’ll eventually get to play songs like the Swan.” She reset the timer and we tried again.

A few weeks ago I engaged in a debate with a classmate, who suggested that learning music isn’t always fun and games, and that sometimes it’s just plain hard work. I agreed with him but added that I wanted to save this card as a last resort – that it was up to the teacher to find ways to make learning fun and enjoyable, and that it was a sign of poor pedagogy when the teacher had to say, “You’ll just need to keep practicing” to a student who was obviously trying. And here I was, in my opinion, displaying poor pedagogy. But, little emotional teacher – enough self-pity over your weaknesses. It’s time to get to work inventing creative games and songs to scaffold The Maestro’s left hand development.

With the timer reset, The Maestro said, “Hildegard, I want you to do the Swan now.” Riley said, “After we do this. You can do it, buddy. Just show us your best.” The three of us worked together. Riley placed his fingers, I kept his elbow wing up and put weight down on his fingers, and Riley plucked the strings. The Flower Song was accomplished with the three of us working together. I then told him that, with practice, he would soon be able to play it all by himself. I said, “You are getting so strong!” Then, remembering T. C.’s advice that children prefer to have parts of their bodies talked to rather than their whole person (focusing evaluation on technical effort rather than on personal worth), I took his hand in mine and said, “Fingers, you are getting so strong.”

Our hands squeezed gently and then we played the Swan. He immediately started with vibrato. Since we had not played this piece before, he spent a lot of time watching me before choosing an action. He giggled with glee twice in the middle of our performance, but for the most part his facial and body expressions matched my musical phrasing. He said, “Again!” I explained that I needed to rest before playing it again (it was very early and I truthfully wasn’t warmed up).

I asked him what Yolanda and Emily had played for him the other night that he wanted to learn. He said, “The song with all the funny bowing.” I thought for a moment, and realized he was referring to the Vivaldi Double Concerto. I played measures 19-23 for him, and he smiled. Riley noted that I kept my bow right in the middle of the green and yellow dots. I told him (admittedly with an agenda in mind) that Yolanda and Emily learned how to play this song by first learning a scale. I had him imitate my fingers (no pressure, and no mention that this was the Flower Song in reverse) as I climbed up the scale. Contrary to what some pedagogues suggest, The Maestro showed much less resistance to fingering an ascending scale than to fingering a descending one. I showed him how 4th finger D and open D are octaves (we had talked about octaves with his piano). As I repeated the two D’s, I broke out singing Purple Haze to my own accompaniment, totally off key but having fun. The Maestro liked it at first but then, when I got a little wild, he lost interest and said, “Not that song.” Riley caught on to the fact that the scale was the Flower Song, and asked about it. Thinking (perhaps incorrectly) that this would discourage The Maestro from trying to playing a scale, I started to play the octave D’s to distract him while we talked. It worked; The Maestro yelled, “Hey, let’s play the whole song.” Back to Vivaldi then. I had told him the scale would lead to Vivaldi, and he hadn’t forgotten. I played a mixture of the top and bottom parts of the duet (whichever was more interesting), and The Maestro jammed along, his expressions yet again matching each musical style of the piece.

I stopped in the middle and showed him how, in his favorite bowing part (mm. 19-23), my fingers tapped the strings to facilitate the open strings that followed fingered notes. Riley noted that I was fingering a sort of scale. The Maestro added, “I want to play that.” Riley suggested that we could do grinding scales. The Maestro didn’t like this – he said it was too loud. While I showed Riley a way to break the scale into “finger, bow, go” The Maestro imitated me by flapping his fingers on the strings. Boy, his fingering progress is gradual but it nevertheless is gradual progress.

The Maestro sat patiently while Riley and I talked about the etymology of “cello” from “violoncello” and then we played the first part of the Vivaldi again. During measures 19-22, he tapped his fingers on the string – not the right fingers, but definitely the right motion. This second time around, his motions became even more imitative of mine, and his bowing started to imitate mine as well. Riley asked if I had a recording of the Vivaldi. Of course I do – in my home town. But I know where to get one!

I started to tell Riley that Yolanda and Emily had won several competitions with this song, winning bow rehairs and concert tickets. He said that he would like concert tickets. I started to look at what else we would do today, not realizing that we had already been going nearly 40 minutes. When he looked disinterested in further activities, I asked him if he would like to bow. He stood and said, “Thank you for teaching me.” As we put our cellos away Riley told me that they had been practicing the cabbage song. I started making up verses while plucking the accompaniment.

After the lesson, Riley hurried out to the car to relieve Elwood at home. As The Maestro started to get in the car, he stopped, turned around, and said, “We didn’t play Mini-Chester!” Riley told him that we would have to hurry to get back so Daddy could go. He started to sob. I told him to take a deep breath and come over so I could tell him a secret. He came close, and I told him I would bring Mini-Chester to his house tonight at dinner time.” While still crying, he said, “I would like that very much.” The crying continued as he got in the car and they drove away.

Week 26

Hildegard's weekly lesson summary

Week 26

2-7-07

I wasn’t surprised at all that today was not the greatest lesson. In fact, I would have been more surprised if it had been great. First of all, last week was absolutely incredible, both in the lesson and many visits to The Maestro’s home. The Maestro had several great learning opportunities and musical time with me. Second of all, The Maestro has a cold today. Third, I had a concert last night, which The Maestro and Riley attended, meaning that we are all a bit tired today. We did manage to learn a few things so I feel good about that.

The Maestro seemed much more interested in my cello case than in getting out his own cello. He pointed to several items asking, “What is that?” After three or four times I asked him directly, “Would you like a lesson today, or would you not like a lesson?” He said yes, but didn’t move. Riley explained to him that maybe he could hear more about my case after the lesson.

The Maestro had a difficult time holding on to things today. Carolyn was dropped three times in the lesson. The first time looked almost like a deliberate toss on the floor. Riley and I were sure to mention the importance of holding Carolyn carefully and to check for cracks each time it gets bumped. The Maestro ran out of the room, first stopped by Riley, who whispered to him to get his wiggles out before returning. He came back, picked up the cello, and got ready.

I introduced the “mirror game” as a warm up today. We did this several weeks ago, but The Maestro’s attention span was much longer today, as was his ability to use fine motor skills. He imitated my use of my isolated index fingers as well as my isolated pinkies touching the bridge (although I pointed with only my pinkies, he actually challenged himself more by using his index fingers and pinkies, keeping the middle fingers tucked).

The Maestro asked to do “Tucka tucka stop stop” for the review piece. He took great care to place his fingers on the bow. I attribute our time with the practice bow and with 100 bow holds to this strength in his posture. The feet are well placed thanks to Riley’s motivation of free play time being contingent upon flat feet. We do need to work on keeping him tucked (Riley has recently added this requirement for a fourth minute). Riley and I should try coming around from the back and placing the cello in place (he leans forward to the right).

The Maestro played several Tuckas in a row, even using his first finger on various stickered notes. This is a new skill I’ve seen him use in the last week since my guitar playing – I wonder if Riley saw it earlier than that. I praised him for this and told him that once I saw him doing a second finger. I left it at that, hoping he would try it on his own in his free play. Anyway, for the record, we had a distinct part of the first Twinkle variation in there. (B to A).

Riley asked The Maestro to do the tennis ball sirens for his second review. He hesitated and scrubbed away on his cello. I asked him if he would like to play tennis balls alone, or with me. He ignored me and played on. He even ignored Riley’s more intriguing question: “Would you like to do a solo or a duet?” He continued to scrub away. I lifted his bow off the string, telling him it wasn’t time for a “The Maestro song” yet (which he didn’t like – he said “Yes!” with an angry tone). I ignored this, looked him in the eyes, and asked my question again. In a very soft voice he said he would like us to play together.

As we played I became aware of just how low his head was bowing. I asked Riley to pull my head in various directions with a make-believe puppet string. The Maestro liked watching this, but when I asked if he would like to play, he said no. He did agree to pull my head twice with an imaginary string. I’m not surprised that The Maestro didn’t want to cooperate with someone “manipulating” him. We will need to find a way to get him to keep a good alignment. The “one minute for tucking” idea is a great one, but he only tucks for a moment before playing.

When it was time for the “The Maestro Song” I suggested that we stop after two minutes and reassess whether The Maestro had maintained his feet stance and his tuck. If he had, then he should be able to continue. The Maestro didn’t appear to quite understand what I was getting at, and Riley tried to explain it to him. I think he realized that it wouldn’t be in his favor because he ran out of the room. (The trick will be to make him feel like – and, actually recognize – that this is in his favor). Riley said, “Oh, we don’t want to be done. Do you?” Riley and I stayed in the room and didn’t chase after him. After five seconds he ran back in and sat down. I suppose he decided it was better to do two minutes than none at all. The “The Maestro Song” was quite uneventful. He did a few pizzicatos and placed his finger on various fingerboard spots, with slow and meticulous playing (quite focused on fine motor skills – hooray for that). He stopped at two minutes and seemed finished. We didn’t talk about going on for two more minutes (was that a mistake? He just simply didn’t look interested).

I gave him a choice between the Zubin Cabbage song, the Pizzicato Cabbage song, and the Crab song. Unsurprisingly, he chose Zubin. For this song, he played with his bow on the D string (quite a tricky thing for him to maintain – his arm and elbow need to be a bit higher). I asked him to hold the bow on the green spot and not start until I said, “ready, get set…” This was challenging for a boy who wanted to play (I must admit I could picture a scene from my childhood, where my brother would place a piece of meat on a dog’s nose and require the dog to hold it there). I think with practice he’ll get that. Riley helped him bow on the D string, which was good so he would get the idea of the song. I fingered the notes for “Bile them Cabbage Down” while they bowed. It was slow but this will be good for future steps.

I asked The Maestro which song he wanted to do next. He put his endpin in while saying, “Next week.” Riley asked him if he would like to learn one more song to practice this week. He said nothing, but the cello dropped out of his left hand and slid to the floor. From his look of shock, it appears that this drop was unintentional. While Riley and I looked at each other with a raised eyebrow, The Maestro said, “Let’s turn it over…. Don’t see any cracks to me.”

The Maestro was obviously done. I stood in a final bow position without mentioning bowing. The Maestro didn’t catch my hint, but knelt on the floor. Riley leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Let’s thank Hildegard for this lesson by doing our bow.” The Maestro stood up, but lost his balance and took the cello with him. Riley helped him stand. His eyes widened and he exposed all of his teeth. He stood facing me, but instead of bowing chomped with his jaw. Riley again whispered in his ear, “Thank you for…” Then he bowed just fine. As he strummed his cello I realized the C had fallen out of tune. I tuned it and Riley asked him to put the cello away while she loosened nook schnook (the bow). The Maestro placed the cello in the case but left it unzipped. Riley: “Is the cello ready to go in the car?” The Maestro: “No.” Riley (laughing): “What needs to happen?” The Maestro: “Zip.” He turned to the cello and zipped it up.

Today he wanted to play Mini-Chester. His bowing and fingering were so strong that he knocked the bridge out three times. I commented that he’s getting so strong at cello playing that maybe he has outgrown Mini-Chester. He didn’t quite understand. I told him that he was too big for Mini-Chester and needed a big cello now. Riley said, “It’s a good thing you have a big cello!”

The Maestro packed up and walked out the door without saying good bye. Since he’s four I won’t read too much into this, but I know we were both quite tired and he was feeling sick.

Ah well, he learned a few new things today. And I’m sure learning a lot about teaching.

[Two hours later: Riley emailed to tell me that The Maestro fell asleep on the way home from the lesson. She had to wake him up when she got to the store. I’m not surprised – poor guy!]

Week 25

Hildegard's Lesson Summary for this week

Week 25

1/31/07

The Maestro walked in the door today and held up a paper French horn and piccolo that he had colored pink, and pasted to cardboard to keep sturdy. After he took his shoes off he immediately ran toward me to hug my legs. After I touched his back he tugged at my legs and said, "I'm pulling you down." It had been days since I had been over to his house to visit with him and play with him on the ground. I told him I had missed him, and then picked him up, singing "Once there was a Snowman" with him, raising and lowering us both together as the snowman got "tall, tall, tall" and "small, small, small," respectively. Then I told him that we could play on the floor after his cello lesson. At this he ran into the studio, but without his cello.

Hildegard: "What do you need for a cello lesson?"

The Maestro said nothing, but ran out to get his cello. While I tuned The Maestro got wiggly, running first around the studio, then around his chair, and then out of the room. I told him I had something to show him. Riley told him to get out his last wiggles, and then he came back into the studio. I had placed markers on the activity chart, and I asked him to count how many markers there were for each activity. One warm-up, two review activities, three new songs, and four "The Maestro songs." He looked excited, but then yelled: "I needa pee! I needa pee!" He ran to the bathroom. Riley whispered to me, "You're quite special. That's the first time he's taken himself to the toilet in, like, a week."

After the bathroom trip, we tightened our bows. I told them I had something to show them about tightening the bow that I had just learned that day, and I would show them after the lesson. We forgot all about this by the end of the lesson. (In truth, after I mentioned learning something, I realized that I would have to take the bow apart to show them, and I worried that The Maestro might want to take his bow apart forever more after seeing me do it). I'll show Riley at her lesson and let her decide if we should show him.

I asked Riley to give The Maestro a choice of warm-ups. She offered him a choice between ski jumps, "up like a rocket," or knuckle knocks. He ignored the question and sawed away at his cello, with the bow in the left hand. (Granted, he kept his bow scrubs in the "bow zone" and kept the bow at a "T"). I thought as I observed this that The Maestro is not a fan of warm-ups; they're "old news" and he perhaps can't see their relevance to cello playing. Note to self: Even though he's just barely four years old, The Maestro loves explanations and will work harder if he knows the purpose behind the activity. When The Maestro refused to give an answer, Riley chose for him: "OK, I guess it's 'up like a rocket' then." The Maestro prepared his bow hold with excellent detail to the placement of each finger – first with the left hand and then with the right (as Riley and I often do, even when The Maestro scrubs away with two sticks or some other type of pretend violin/viola of his own creation that he picks up and starts to "play," I asked him which hand was his bow hand and he instantly made the switch).

The Maestro started to bounce the bow on the strings.

Riley: "Oh, it's time for 'up like a rocket.'"

The Maestro: "But I don't want 'up like a rocket.'"

Riley: "Oh, but I gave you three choices and you didn't choose, so I chose for us."

Hildegard: "Up like a rocket, down like the rain…"

The Maestro joined in, with a smile so tense that his neck veins bulged. He yelled out a few of the words "rocket, choo choo, round, sun" with a voice I can only describe as a "tough guy." He was agreeable yet obviously not thrilled.

After the song I asked Riley to check both of our thumbs. Mine was a little tense (it didn't spring), and The Maestro's was put back into place. I announced that we would then do a review. The Maestro started to scrub away, louder and louder as Riley tried to give him his review choices. In the meantime, I observed that his scrubbing included two "Tucka tucka stop stop" rhythms, the first one using second finger(!) [he has never been shown this in a lesson] by the neck (third position, although he doesn't know it as such), and the second using first finger just a few inches below the end of the fingerboard. This boy is going to learn cello despite his teacher and mother. I thought to myself: "Forget the formality; let the boy play!" With this in mind, I decided to move his "The Maestro songs" to earlier in the lesson. I don't know if this was a good idea or not (more on this below).

The second review song was new to me. Riley had decided to use the song "Baby Bumblebee" to have him pluck his "B" on the A string. Old idea (therefore review), but a new way of practicing it. Brilliant. The Maestro grinned and moved his body as she sang, plucking the B with umph (almost a Bartok pizzicato, in fact).

As stated above, I let The Maestro play a "The Maestro song" before going to the three new songs I had ready to teach him. New to my observations was a left hand pizzicato above the nut, which produced a high, bright sound that made The Maestro smile. As he bounced the bow on the strings and created a slapping sound, I mentioned that this was called "col legno." I didn't explain more yet – I don't think I want him to know quite yet that people actually play with the stick of the bow in more modern music – but he was excited to learn that it had a name (I figured as much; he loves instrumental terminology, and regularly uses words like "valve," "reed," "bell," "ferrule," "mouthpiece," and "purfling.")

When it was time for him to learn his first new song, I opened the cupboard to find tennis balls. In the meantime, The Maestro scrubbed on his bow by himself with a somewhat nice bow hold and a flexible wrist.

Hildegard: "When you give your bow to your mom, I will give you a tennis ball." He kept playing (although a little softer). I held the ball in my hand and Riley held out her hand for the bow. The Maestro handed her the bow and I placed a ball in his left hand. I turned around to get my cello. The Maestro puffed up his cheeks with air and bounced the ball on his cheek in what appears to be the "I like apple pie" rhythm – but with one extra bounce at the end. Coincidence?

I taught him to slide it up and down the fingerboard. Remembering that The Maestro likes explanations, I showed him how the ball helps him have a nice hand shape and makes his left arm loose. He seemed to appreciate the first explanation but the second lost him. Too complicated? Too long of an explanation? As he slid the ball up the fingerboard, he performed a ski jump at the end.

Hildegard: "Was that a ski jump I saw?"

The Maestro did another (surprisingly – often he'll stop as soon as you make mention of him doing something you would want him to do)

I asked Riley to do the bow while he did the tennis ball.

The Maestro: "I want to do the bow and the tennis ball."

I should have known better than to offer for someone else to work his beloved bow for him. He performed sliding and bowing quite proficiently together. This was two steps in one, and I was delighted and surprised.

At a break in sound, I showed The Maestro how it was easier to do when his scroll was by his head (I moved the cello closer to his ear as I said this). In the meantime, The Maestro dropped the ball and I caught it. This "game" delighted him, so he dropped it again after I handed it to him.

Hildegard: "Oh, if we drop the ball we'll have to put it away because it might hurt the bridge." The Maestro held on to the ball.

For the next review, Riley gave The Maestro a choice of "I like apple pie" or "Roll to the cool string." He didn't speak, but started to slap the strings in rhythm.

Riley: "Oh, I guess it's 'I like apple pie.'"

Riley gave him a choice of using his bow hand or cello hand. He chose bow hand, and The Maestro and Riley performed one of these nearly perfectly (he slowed up just a little in the middle).

Riley: "Now let's do it with the cello hand."

The Maestro: "I'm tired." He crossed his wrists on his cello and put his head down.

Riley: "Oh, ok, let's do it with our cello hand and then I bet we can do something else." This time he was not nearly as successful. He got off on "apple" and stayed off, looking at me and slapping in one spot without showing any effort in trying to get back on with us.

I gave him a choice of doing another "The Maestro song" or learning a new song. He chose a new song. I told him the song is "THIS big" (holding out my arms) and I would teach him just a "little bitty part" (holding my finger and thumb less than an inch apart). I asked him to smile if he knew the song and to hold out his tongue if he didn't. I plucked the first part to "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik," which I knew he knew from one of his videos (I had watched it with Hildr when she and I stayed home sick and the rest of the family went to an orchestra concert for The Maestro's birthday) . He covered his ears and grinned at the same time. His smile seemed to be the same smile he often gives before saying, "You're so silly!" I sang "I like balloons, I like I like balloons" and his smile widened. I showed him how to put his fourth finger on the D string. He showed a gorgeous hand shape, which he lost once he started to pizzicato. I showed him how keeping his "chicken wing" up would help him keep the weight down. Too much - he started to "slap bass."

Hildegard: "As soon as it's quiet I'll show you how to do the pizzicato." He quieted down and I showed him one more time. This was enough for him. He stood up and turned around as I took his cello and demonstrated to Riley once more.

I started to ask The Maestro if he wanted to do another "The Maestro song," but I knew he was tired and I wanted to show him the Cabbage song. I told him again that we would learn "just a little bitty bitty part of the song" that didn't yet use the cello. I stood behind him, holding his arms up in the air and swinging him from side to side. D was upright, G was to the right, and A was to the left. Of course he doesn't know this yet, and he didn't seem to have enough stamina to sit through me playing it, but he's learning the bass part to the fiddle song "Boil them cabbage down." I'll teach it to Riley on Saturday so we can play it as a duet. Knowing The Maestro and taking a page from the Dalcroze approach, I figured having him first learn the spatial motion with his body would help him later be able to remember all of the notes in order. He smiled through the whole song. We did it twice, and that was enough for him. He got wiggly despite his smiles, and then went over to his cello and put in the endpin. He was through for the day. I told him I was proud of him, and we had a final bow.

We can take so much for granted now that used to be quite an effort to get The Maestro to do. It's always a delight to see him play his "own thing" on the cello and to watch his mind and body at work, free from outside pressure. Now it's so fun to see that he's picking up little bits of songs each week. This is definitely not the linear learning approach I personally would have wanted it to be, but I'm getting a real delight as I observe The Maestro learn the cello in his own special way. This experience is unique to The Maestro and not like I would have imagined it, but my word! The Maestro is really learning to play the cello.

After the lesson was over and we left the studio, The Maestro pulled at me again to get me to play on the floor with him. I wrestled with him a bit (he pinned me quite soundly) and then told him he ought to hurry home to get Ellie, who was at the babysitter's. I was quite impressed with how he was able to differentiate play time from cello lesson time. I think having the special "cello lesson room" helps with this, but he's also a bright boy.

Happy Birthday Maestro

As I have mentioned before, The Maestro likes novelty, but only if it is routine.  This makes cello practice a challenge sometimes, because he would rather play than practice.   Our favorite eastern musical philosophers might say that play and practice are not different, but The Maestro doesn't care about Eastern Philosophy much.

 

The most efficacious technique so far has been the puppets coming to visit during practice time.  As with everything else, it has run its course.   I had to leave for a week to visit my parents recently, and when I got back, he was done with the puppets.

 

This past week, enough people involved were sick that there was no lesson.  The main event last week was the Maestro's fourth birthday.   The Maestro has changed in the past year, that even now I am sometimes agast at how he handles things sometimes.  I started to write this post a week ago, and ended up writing a food blog post instead.  He is the same, yet not the same. 

 

He still loves music- that is for sure.  While I was in Canada, he asked Riley if he would still have his cello after he dies.   When she tried to explain that he couldn't take it all with him when he dies, he started to cry and yelled "But I LOVE my cello!"  His lack of enthusiasm for practicing is not to be confused with wanting to give up cello lessons, apparently.

 

For his birthday, our friend who is the Bassist in the City Symphony gave up comp. tickets for their annual family concert.   Before-hand, the Music Shop put on an instrument petting zoo that I took him to.  He got to play a 1/10^th size violin – complete with good cello bow hold, the zoo-keeper pointed out – a French Horn, Clarinet, Trombone, Guitar, and Flute.   He had some problems getting a sound out of the Flute, but finally succeeded.  He wanted to take a closer look at the Cellos, but we needed to get home to get Riley.   Hildr and Hildegard were both sick, so they camped out and kept each other company whilst Hildr enjoyed and Hildegard tried to avoid analyzing a Little Einstein video.

 

The concert was great.  My experience with concerts has been that they often expose you to music that you wouldn't choose to listen to on your own, and that there is often a good reason for me to make that choice.   So, I was delighted to learn that they would be doing Winter from Vivladi's Four Seasons, as well as Smetna's Moldau, two pieces I really enjoy.  It turned out that the music was organized around a theme of visiting places through sound, kind of like a musical world tour.  We also enjoyed Ferde Grofe's Sunrise, from the Grand Canyon Suite, and Morning on the Ranch, by Aaron Copeland, from The Red Pony Suite.   I didn't care for the Rainforest of Puerto Rico, which may be why I can't remember what it was called.

 

The concert was about 15 minutes too long for the Maestro, but he sat well.  The longer it went, the quieter he got, actually.   At the beginning, he would point out all the instruments when they played, and ask questions like "What is making that sound?"  I would point something out to him, like "Do you hear the trumpets?"   He would either say yes and smile, or ask "Where ARE the trumpets?"  I at first thought that he wanted their physical location, but no, he wanted to know where the sound was.   When they played again, I could say "There they are!"  He already knew that they were in front of the Timpani.   The more tired he became, the further back he sat in his chair and the less he talked.  He was particularly interested in the percussion section.   They make great sounds, without a readily recognizable timbre.  Besides which, they are often small, and hard to see.

 

When the concert was over, we went on-stage to talk to Bass Player and her family.  Bass Player's husband is Celiac Faculty Member, and their daughter, Princess, is in the Maestro's class at pre-school.   While I was in Canada, they came over to play, and did a Bass-flute duet for the Maestro.  Cool people.  They had a set of CDs for the Maestro, and we got to take a closer look at some of the percussion instruments as they were being put away.  The Maestro has been listening to Tubby the Tuba ever since. 

 

 

Checklist

Riley's email update to Hildegard about progress this week.

I'm making up a computer spreadsheet with our practice items. It's time to whittle down the list a little bit, so I was thinking of having "toes tickle". Beginning bow, use foot chart, come off the chart. They have become so routine that I don't think I need to check them off. I was thinking of having a "warm up" spot on the checklist. Would you consider knuckle knocks, ski jumps, bird wings, "up like a rocket" and rock and roll to be warm up? Some of these have lost their appeal, or aren't much of a challenge, so maybe I can come up with a way to reinvent them… Are there others that I'm not thinking of? Sirens, and the "I like apple pie" slap base are still a stretch for Evan, so I was thinking of having those in a diff. section. How do you feel about me leaving plucking to Death and the Maiden off the chart for now, based on what we'd previously discussed? Our progress on last weeks assignments has been mixed: moderate with "I like apple pie" and have gotten resistance on "roll to the cool string". He is now up to 105 bow holds with his real bow. His four fingers are staying more and more in their place as he saws, but his dear thumb still reverts right to its tight hold on the whatchamacallit (nice huh? The thing with the "moon")

Back in Town

Hildegard came back Friday.  Riley and the kids picked her up at the Shuttle depot, while I hurried home to make sure the dinner didn't burn.   After dropping her things off at her apartment, they all came home and we had dinner.  Hildr was pretty excited that Hildegard was at our house.   I know this because she kept dancing around the living room, saying "'Cited!  'Cited!"

 

After dinner, I asked the Maestro if he wanted to play his Cello for Hildegard, and he did.  He had his whole ambivalent nervous enthusiasm thing going on, in which he really wants to do something and gets upset if you talk about not having it happen, but drags his feet and gets distracted by anything when he needs to do something to get ready.   When we finally got Carolyn out, he was happy to show off many of the things he had been working on.

 

Hildegard was as impressed as I had hoped she would be.  After she read him his three bed-time stories and he was down for the night, we talked for quite a long time about what is going well, and why we think so.   The main thing is not that any one thing has made such great progress that it is ready to be passed off.  The main thing we are all excited about is that everything (qualifying talks with Riley and Hildegard are sure to follow that superlative) is making baby-step progress.

 

Practices are like real practices now, where noticeable progress is made.  Twice on Friday, in the afternoon when it was time for dinner and in the evening when it was time for bed, he had to stop a lengthy cello practice before he was ready.   He feels like he is making real music now, and it gives him more patience with receiving correction and suggestion on how to do things better.

 

The puppets are really making a huge difference.  He is really a natural teacher himself, you know.   He likes to stop people in the hallway at church or at school so he can tell them about bassoons or the Bach suite he was listening to.  He doesn't suffer fools gladly, and if you want him to tell you something that he figures you already know like which number finger that is, he plays games instead.   Now puppets, on the other-hand, have never had any music lessons before, so he is incredibly patient to explain and demonstrate anything they ask.  Finally he has a curious audience that allows him to show off everything he has learned.  This is the first time, really, that anything has worked for reviewing.   He loves pointing out to Dog or Snake what his fingers are doing.

 

The other thing that Hildegard pointed out, that we hadn't thought of, was his creativity in "composing" new songs.   A couple of weeks ago a friend gave us a copy of Disney's Fantasia.  For anyone who hasn't seen Fantasia recently, it is essentially a classical music concert by the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra, with an animated storyline.   One scene that had particularly impressed the Maestro was one with Dinosaurs in an Earthquake.  He wanted to know why the ground was doing that.   I tried to explain why earthquakes happen, but he wouldn't believe in plate tectonics.  We had to get several books from the library to get the details right, with good pictures, before he believed me.   Then he started stopping people he saw to tell them "There are earthquakes in California!"   He started playing an earthquake song on his cello.  Sometimes he will explain before he starts what all of the parts are, such as "When I play on my D string, that means the rocks are falling down."   I think that the earthquake song has shown up in every practice this week.

 

It seems to me that music as an artistic expression of a non-musical event, like an earthquake, is pretty advanced abstract thinking for an almost four-year-old.   Granted, he got the idea from watching Fantasia, but he did get the idea, and he uses it to come up with his own expression.   The earthquake song is his most advanced piece, and involves bow circles, playing on multiple strings, and often has spiccato and cello or left-hand pizzicato.

 

Riley also has him playing the dinosaur song, which is long slow bowing on the C and G strings.  This is good for moving his elbow, and for tone.   We have a dinosaur puppet that absolutely loves this song and requests it every time.  Friday he was excited to show us "That grating sound" in the dinosaur song.   I hadn't seen this before.  Earlier, he had liked to show me how he could get his string to spin by pulling slow on a bow.   Riley had borrowed some Bach cello suites transcribed for Bass in which a few of the notes were really low and rumbling, almost like grating.   He decided that he wanted to duplicate this and figured out how to get it to happen by pushing quite hard on the string with his bow.  It really sounds not good to me, like something is going to shake apart.   He was very excited and demonstrated this several times.  Afterwards, I asked Hildegard if that was a good thing, because she had complimented him on it.   She said that it is too much, and he will need to back off it.  It is too much of a good thing that it is often hard to get kids to do, so doing it too much at this point is really not a problem.

 

Things are going pretty well, I'd say.

Puppet Friends Come to Visit

It seems like my hope for the Maestro's practices this week is holding true.  A friendly fireman finger puppet came to practice Monday; Tuesday it was a mouse and a snake.  Another new puppet friend came to practice today.  It sounds like Riley is maintaining variety while trying to ride this puppet shtick while it will still work.  The Maestro told me today that he likes having visitors come to his cello practices, so it sounds like a good plan to me.

 

The Maestro really likes to use him imagination.  On Sunday he came into my room and starting telling me about his friend Spack.   Spack is a girl amd is a teenager who can drive.  She is taller than another friend of ours, and she lives in the Western United States.  Sometimes she drives to our town to visit other people, not us.  Sometimes she flies here, though, on an airplane.   When she is in town she comes over to play, and they play Bow and Arrow, and she watches him shoot targets.  He came up with all of this, and Spack isn't really real in our world.   He made all of that up and told it to me with a straight face.  After all that, why would giving a concert to a dog puppet be a big deal at all?

 

He had gotten pretty good at holding his feet in the right spot on the carpet and having his bow hold adjusted.   The emphasis this week is on maintaining a proper bow hold while playing.  When he saws on his cello, Riley noticed that he almost immediately shifts his thumb over so he can hold it more tightly.   Yesterday the mouse wanted to see him keep a good bow hold for a quick count of ten.  The snake wanted to see a good bow hold for a slow count of ten.  

 

Tonight I asked the Maestro how his practice went and he said it was good, good.   Riley said that it went really good, good.  He held his good bow hold for a good long time with springy curved fingers and thumb.  This is good.   The tighter you hold your bow the worse your tone is, as I understand it.  Hildegard gets back this weekend, and we are hoping that he can maintain a good hold while playing for extended stretches by the time she gets back.