Am I fun to practice with? Do I willingly spend the time to create a successful practice? Do I enjoy practicing with my child? Would I enjoy practicing with someone like me? How many ways can I think of to have fun at the piano with my child?
Are my words sweet? Do I pay more attention to what is going right or what is going wrong? Am I kind and respectful in my comments to my child? Am I courteous and understanding? Are my expectations realistic? How many ways can I think of to notice the good things my child does?
Am I fun to be around? Am I mostly positive or negative? Am I calm and Patient or do I have a temper and a nasty disposition? Do I make my child feel good about their effort? Would my child go out of his way to be with me? How many ways can I think of to encourage my child?
Do I place a High Priority on music study? Does piano practice tend to be last on my list? If there is a soccer game at the same time as a piano recital will I choose soccer (baseball, basketball, etc.) over piano? Can my children tell by my attitude how much I value music education? Do I find it easy to skip lessons, arrive late, leave early? Am I committed to daily practice and daily listening or do we try to fit it in when we have time? How many ways can I find to show my children that I value the richness music brings to our lives?
Does my child have a voice? Do I let him make appropriate choices about his music study? What time shall we practice? Which piece shall we study first? How many repetitions will make this part beautiful? Do you think this part should be loud or soft? How many ways can I find to give my child choices?
Do I help my child to own the music? Do I invite my child to evaluate? Do I encourage my child to develop independence? Do I notice that he can do some things well on his own? Do I allow him to explore? How many ways can I find to help my child to develop independence and ownership for his musical ability?
Do I understand the magic of listening? Do I understand what listening to the CD has to do with learning the music? Am I consistent about keeping the CD playing or am I content with listening once in a while? When the music is in the way do I turn it off or turn in down? Do I have a CD playing in several parts of the house? Do I play the CD in the car? Am I playing the CD for the next book? Do I know how to program my CD player to repeat? How many times and places can I use to create listening opportunities?
Do I structure the practice to help my child be successful? Do I follow the teacher’s instructions? Do we refer to the teacher’s notes, do the requested number of repetitions, check the fingering, and enjoy the improvement we see each day? Do we keep a record of our practice? Do we try out practice tips we have learned from our teacher or other parents? Do I expect my child to be accountable for his effort? Am I willing to be accountable doing my part to make the practice successful? How many ways can I find to create successful practicing opportunities?
Have I created a musical environment? Do I love music? Do I love the benefits that come from music study? Do I find music an enriching and rewarding part of my life? Do I enjoy sharing this gift with my child? Do we love new CDs, going to concerts, performing, learning new songs? How many ways can I find to enjoy music with my child?
Linda Garner
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Friday, November 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
The Best Reason to Practice
A true Story, told by Dr. Beth Cantrell, Nov 3, 1998
The Afternoon had been an ordinary teaching adventure. Then, late in the day I received a great gift of wisdom in a most touching way.
The student and his mother were already in my room when I returned from the school office where I teach;, chair and rug in place, cello and bow unpacked and ready to go.
"Okay," said mom, "time for cello, take your seat."
"The child dissolved into tears. "I don't want to play cello!" came the response.
"Yes, but it's your lesson time."
"I don't want to play cello!"
"We can talk about that after the lesson. Please sit down in your chair."
Oh, I thought, this is going to be a challenge. I cast about in my mind for what to do next, the boy clung more tightly to his mother, and the wailing grew louder. When mom finally offered to count to three, an offer he evidently couldn't refuse, the boy did sit down, but the sobbing continued.
As I sat on the floor in front of the little chair, smile frozen on my face, all the stories about such occurrences shared by colleagues, or in teacher training (what to do if...) flashed back through memory.
As the wailing continued, I frantically darted about mentally, failing to discover any sure fire tricks lying about unnoticed. At last, after an interminable 45 seconds or so, with an inward smile over this little one's woe, I excused him to blow his nose, which was now running copiously. After all, I thought, one can laugh or cry over this. It would be better if I didn't cry, too.
Whilst the youngster busied himself with his tissue, in a hushed and hurried exchange with the mother, we agreed that we wouldn't stop the lesson. The child returned, quiet at last, but dragging his feet. He looked at the two of us, then climbed into mom's lap.
"I don't want to play cello." Same song, next verse.
And then came a woundrous moment. Mom rocked the boy, and asked in a tender voice, "Do you think if you said you didn't want to go to school, I'd let you stay home?"
"No," came the snuffly response.
"Do you think if you didn't want to eat, I'd let you starve?"
"No." (sniff)
"Do you think if you wouldn't drink, I'd let you go thirsty?"
"No.."
"Well, cello feeds you, too, in here (she tapped his chest gently). It feeds part of you that you can't see, your heart and your soul and your spirit. I won't let you go hungry and thirsty there, either."
As I sat in humble silence before this great truth, reflecting on how the boy's cello time had become my life lesson, he slid off his mother's lap. Smiling, he sat down in his chair and proceeded to have a delightful lesson.
The answer had satisfied him. He had learned the best reason to practice.
The Afternoon had been an ordinary teaching adventure. Then, late in the day I received a great gift of wisdom in a most touching way.
The student and his mother were already in my room when I returned from the school office where I teach;, chair and rug in place, cello and bow unpacked and ready to go.
"Okay," said mom, "time for cello, take your seat."
"The child dissolved into tears. "I don't want to play cello!" came the response.
"Yes, but it's your lesson time."
"I don't want to play cello!"
"We can talk about that after the lesson. Please sit down in your chair."
Oh, I thought, this is going to be a challenge. I cast about in my mind for what to do next, the boy clung more tightly to his mother, and the wailing grew louder. When mom finally offered to count to three, an offer he evidently couldn't refuse, the boy did sit down, but the sobbing continued.
As I sat on the floor in front of the little chair, smile frozen on my face, all the stories about such occurrences shared by colleagues, or in teacher training (what to do if...) flashed back through memory.
As the wailing continued, I frantically darted about mentally, failing to discover any sure fire tricks lying about unnoticed. At last, after an interminable 45 seconds or so, with an inward smile over this little one's woe, I excused him to blow his nose, which was now running copiously. After all, I thought, one can laugh or cry over this. It would be better if I didn't cry, too.
Whilst the youngster busied himself with his tissue, in a hushed and hurried exchange with the mother, we agreed that we wouldn't stop the lesson. The child returned, quiet at last, but dragging his feet. He looked at the two of us, then climbed into mom's lap.
"I don't want to play cello." Same song, next verse.
And then came a woundrous moment. Mom rocked the boy, and asked in a tender voice, "Do you think if you said you didn't want to go to school, I'd let you stay home?"
"No," came the snuffly response.
"Do you think if you didn't want to eat, I'd let you starve?"
"No." (sniff)
"Do you think if you wouldn't drink, I'd let you go thirsty?"
"No.."
"Well, cello feeds you, too, in here (she tapped his chest gently). It feeds part of you that you can't see, your heart and your soul and your spirit. I won't let you go hungry and thirsty there, either."
As I sat in humble silence before this great truth, reflecting on how the boy's cello time had become my life lesson, he slid off his mother's lap. Smiling, he sat down in his chair and proceeded to have a delightful lesson.
The answer had satisfied him. He had learned the best reason to practice.
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