I'm at the Suzuki Conference in Minneapolis surrounded by esteemed, even legendary Suzuki pedagogues.
There are many great ideas being shared, interesting talks and presentations, both practical and theoretical. But perhaps the most striking thing so far has been an informal discussion between members of the Reunig family some of the first teachers to embrace Suzuki in America. They knew Dr. Suzuki well, and their daughter, five at the time Suzuki first came to America, became one of the first guinea pigs. It was wonderful to hear them speak so openly and comfortably in front of a large audience that only seemed to make them feel warmer. As the mother, Joan, said at one point, this was their family. It is beautiful to see the lineage of love that has been strung in this community, to see the generations of teachers and family members dedicated and passionate about sharing the gift of music with children.
Carrie, one of the children of the family, helped moderate the discussion, and shared her experience, something very rare, of what it was like to be a student with Dr. Suzuki. She shared the feeling of working with him, as she had many occasions to do. She said she was never nervous with him, that there was a real safety with him, that she was completely taken care of. She said she felt really seen and known by him, as though there was a real soul to soul connection. "He presented a potential that he could see in me.....he held out a bridge for me, on which I just needed to take a step closer to that potential....I had a feeling of respect for myself and confidence in myself....he had a vision to give this feeling to every child."
Just as recordings cannot really replace a live performance, hearing these words from someone who lived them and experienced the life energy of such an incredible person has no replacement in written or even recorded anecdote. Ideas are so accessible in this world, and yet this sort of experience still has a value that nothing else can touch. Presence is irreplaceable. And yet, we were able to hear and experience Dr. Suzuki through their words and they way they shared them. We are able to transmit something.
Dr. Suzuki said to the Reunig parents, "Surround your children with wonderful people." How wonderful to be such a child.
Friday, May 27, 2016
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Gratitude for freedom
Being a great teacher really requires understanding the wavelength a student is on. Seeing them more and more fully. So I felt like a very young teacher today when I walked into the 14th (13th) floor Central Park West apartment for my practice partner session, and upon seeing the chairs that this soon-to-be 6-year-old had set for our session during the 5 minutes I was running late, wanted to tell him how deeply I appreciated his courtesy and thoughtfulness--how touched I was that upon ringing the doorbell to the apartment, he had opened it immediately. He had been waiting.
But it was impossible to express to him how significant this was to me after a day of struggling to find respect at the school where I was teaching. Earlier in the day, I had to make the expectation clear that we don't talk while another person is playing for their evaluation, that we don't throw flashcards around, or jump up and scream after playing a piece. Expectations that I had somewhat expected would be in place for a 9 or 10-year-old. And here, this kid, not even 6, thinking to set up chairs so that we can get started with our lesson as soon as I arrived. How silly to think I could explain my gratitude.
But on the other end, those kids that can't sit still. How deep are their emotions and their confusions I cannot possibly know. It terrifies me to think. I learned through an assistant teacher today that one of the ones that is a constant struggle is insecure about going to middle school, that friends are mean to her. They are all under pressure now to take their state science test. And the tears and the backlash come in class. Some are able to control themselves and to manage the stress. And others are very sensitive, or distracted, unable to make sense of all the input that is trying to form and conform them into test-taking beings. What are we learning to be and to become? There is so little time and space in the classroom to be deeply considerate of a child. I admire those who can do this well.
There is a lot more to see. But I also appreciate that I get to see several sides of what is possible. There is a deep disadvantage in certain communities, a chaos that causes a fearful gripping in its members that does not exist in others. It is a feeling in the body.
It occurred to me the other day that the absence of fear is not courage, but rather, freedom. And I wonder how many people have the comfort to even consider this, shoulders up and pushing forward into life. It begins from childhood. I can see it in the ease with which my practice partner has consideration for me and trust in my guidance; and the correlating distrust in my other students and their inability to be considerate, even at an older age. It is not a judgement of them as people. It is what they have been given and taught. It is a challenge to me personally to teach with this distrust, it is a challenge for these students to be vulnerable enough to really learn, change and grow, and it perplexing and frustrating to me as to how, in a group setting, in this teaching atmosphere of breeding test takers, I can push against the waters.
But it makes me at least wish to try to listen more closely to what is going on with each of them. There is more that I can understand and in turn help them understand if I do. To help those that are guarded know that there is another way. And those who are not, to know this as well.
But it was impossible to express to him how significant this was to me after a day of struggling to find respect at the school where I was teaching. Earlier in the day, I had to make the expectation clear that we don't talk while another person is playing for their evaluation, that we don't throw flashcards around, or jump up and scream after playing a piece. Expectations that I had somewhat expected would be in place for a 9 or 10-year-old. And here, this kid, not even 6, thinking to set up chairs so that we can get started with our lesson as soon as I arrived. How silly to think I could explain my gratitude.
But on the other end, those kids that can't sit still. How deep are their emotions and their confusions I cannot possibly know. It terrifies me to think. I learned through an assistant teacher today that one of the ones that is a constant struggle is insecure about going to middle school, that friends are mean to her. They are all under pressure now to take their state science test. And the tears and the backlash come in class. Some are able to control themselves and to manage the stress. And others are very sensitive, or distracted, unable to make sense of all the input that is trying to form and conform them into test-taking beings. What are we learning to be and to become? There is so little time and space in the classroom to be deeply considerate of a child. I admire those who can do this well.
There is a lot more to see. But I also appreciate that I get to see several sides of what is possible. There is a deep disadvantage in certain communities, a chaos that causes a fearful gripping in its members that does not exist in others. It is a feeling in the body.
It occurred to me the other day that the absence of fear is not courage, but rather, freedom. And I wonder how many people have the comfort to even consider this, shoulders up and pushing forward into life. It begins from childhood. I can see it in the ease with which my practice partner has consideration for me and trust in my guidance; and the correlating distrust in my other students and their inability to be considerate, even at an older age. It is not a judgement of them as people. It is what they have been given and taught. It is a challenge to me personally to teach with this distrust, it is a challenge for these students to be vulnerable enough to really learn, change and grow, and it perplexing and frustrating to me as to how, in a group setting, in this teaching atmosphere of breeding test takers, I can push against the waters.
But it makes me at least wish to try to listen more closely to what is going on with each of them. There is more that I can understand and in turn help them understand if I do. To help those that are guarded know that there is another way. And those who are not, to know this as well.
Monday, May 16, 2016
Yay Students!
Today I wanted to try a meditation practice with the kids.
"OK scholars, today we are going to start class with one minute of listening. This is what musicians have to do really well, so we are going to practice this. So for one minute we are going to be silent and just listen to the sounds around us. Can you hear the highway noise, people talking down the hall? See how much you can hear."
"So is this a game????"
"Um, sure, yeah, it's a game. Definitely a game."
If every endeavor could just be viewed as a game. Playing all these things that we do in life, things that are stressful or difficult. It's just a game. And they seemed to like this game.
There are so many intriguing challenges in teaching. It's part puzzle, part intuitive guidance. And what a pleasure to meet all these people. Today after class, one of my student's mothers was a little late, unusual for her, and she said that she had family visiting from her country. "Ah and where is that?" "Senegal." "And how often do they come?" "Oh my brother comes for 10 days (?), but my mother, this is her first time. I told her last night, 'You should go to bed,' and she just looked at me and said, 'No, no I can't, I'm just so happy to see you.'" What an incredible reunion and wonderful to share in her joy of it.
And now I'm building a studio of adults which is really exciting. A woman from India, a classically trained Indian vocalist, who works as a graphic artist. Another who is a traveling nurse but studied cello for 4 years and after a year off is taking advantage of being in New York long enough to start lessons again. Another who is a photographer and enjoys helping hoarders de-clutter. A woman from China, an architect who has lived here for 2 years, who caused me to bow to her humility as she entered my apartment and immediately took off her shoes, bowing as she did so. And tonight a New York lawyer, who's family moved here from Russia in 1905 (so, a real New Yorker!), who had direct questions for everything we did, and is learning to play the cello at 71 for better aging. It's a great group of people. I'm so excited to be working with them.
And the same for my young ones in Harlem. I look at them and see them growing. Such wonderful people.
It is challenging to think of what a person needs, whether it's enforcing discipline or encouraging freedom, whether it is a specific technical challenge or a mental block. There are so many ways to see and interact with another person. So many resources to offer them and directions that can be taken. And in the midst of it, despite these challenges and maybe because of them, I can feel my voice for teaching starting to grow again.
"OK scholars, today we are going to start class with one minute of listening. This is what musicians have to do really well, so we are going to practice this. So for one minute we are going to be silent and just listen to the sounds around us. Can you hear the highway noise, people talking down the hall? See how much you can hear."
"So is this a game????"
"Um, sure, yeah, it's a game. Definitely a game."
If every endeavor could just be viewed as a game. Playing all these things that we do in life, things that are stressful or difficult. It's just a game. And they seemed to like this game.
There are so many intriguing challenges in teaching. It's part puzzle, part intuitive guidance. And what a pleasure to meet all these people. Today after class, one of my student's mothers was a little late, unusual for her, and she said that she had family visiting from her country. "Ah and where is that?" "Senegal." "And how often do they come?" "Oh my brother comes for 10 days (?), but my mother, this is her first time. I told her last night, 'You should go to bed,' and she just looked at me and said, 'No, no I can't, I'm just so happy to see you.'" What an incredible reunion and wonderful to share in her joy of it.
And now I'm building a studio of adults which is really exciting. A woman from India, a classically trained Indian vocalist, who works as a graphic artist. Another who is a traveling nurse but studied cello for 4 years and after a year off is taking advantage of being in New York long enough to start lessons again. Another who is a photographer and enjoys helping hoarders de-clutter. A woman from China, an architect who has lived here for 2 years, who caused me to bow to her humility as she entered my apartment and immediately took off her shoes, bowing as she did so. And tonight a New York lawyer, who's family moved here from Russia in 1905 (so, a real New Yorker!), who had direct questions for everything we did, and is learning to play the cello at 71 for better aging. It's a great group of people. I'm so excited to be working with them.
And the same for my young ones in Harlem. I look at them and see them growing. Such wonderful people.
It is challenging to think of what a person needs, whether it's enforcing discipline or encouraging freedom, whether it is a specific technical challenge or a mental block. There are so many ways to see and interact with another person. So many resources to offer them and directions that can be taken. And in the midst of it, despite these challenges and maybe because of them, I can feel my voice for teaching starting to grow again.
Friday, May 13, 2016
Guarded Empathy
This was the first high school I've been to with escalators. Also the first where 8 bullet-proof vest-wearing armed security guards questioned me on the other side of a metal scan and x-ray security check. On the 4th floor was the actual school where I was going to sub for another cellist, a middle school in the same charter school network where I teach my 4th graders. I got to seem them in four years, or at least where they will be. Larger people, wearing similar uniforms, still being reprimanded by faculty. "You can't be here without a pass, watch him and make sure he goes back to his room," "Well, you can't eat in here and you can't eat in the hallway. I guess you should have had your lunch when it was scheduled." There is still a tension between rules and disregard of rules.
Of the five cellists I was supposed to have in my class I saw three, one of which came in, then left to go to lunch but somehow missed it, then went to a homeroom classroom to eat her lunch telling me she wouldn't be in cello class. Another came to the class 4 minutes before it ended, just enough time to run through their ensemble piece. And the other, the shy, golden-hearted one, who came early and had an awkward private lesson with me for 45 minutes. Thinking that at any moment the others might arrive, it was hard to dive into anything. Also since she is not my students and my presence, maybe never to be seen again, was completely unsolicited by her. I shared a perspective on vibrato with her, and shifting, and ensemble dynamics.
It is hard to have a situation that is so endemic that one can throw love and more love into it and not feel that anything comes out of it. But then what is love? Are we, am I, really putting it in? I've never taught in quite this setting, and certainly not in the style expected of this institution which is so far from what I would like to share. It's a difficult thing to balance, and something that I hope with start to make more sense.
And shortly after, rehearsing with a good friend for a chamber music concert reminded me of skills and feelings rarely practiced these days. Flexing that muscle of what it means to really play with another person, to feel what they are feeling. Music can teach us such empathy. And what scary thing that might be at times. In these schools, children feel like objects, I feel like an object, we are animated objects. But in chamber music, empathy is essential. How can I teach this?
Of the five cellists I was supposed to have in my class I saw three, one of which came in, then left to go to lunch but somehow missed it, then went to a homeroom classroom to eat her lunch telling me she wouldn't be in cello class. Another came to the class 4 minutes before it ended, just enough time to run through their ensemble piece. And the other, the shy, golden-hearted one, who came early and had an awkward private lesson with me for 45 minutes. Thinking that at any moment the others might arrive, it was hard to dive into anything. Also since she is not my students and my presence, maybe never to be seen again, was completely unsolicited by her. I shared a perspective on vibrato with her, and shifting, and ensemble dynamics.
It is hard to have a situation that is so endemic that one can throw love and more love into it and not feel that anything comes out of it. But then what is love? Are we, am I, really putting it in? I've never taught in quite this setting, and certainly not in the style expected of this institution which is so far from what I would like to share. It's a difficult thing to balance, and something that I hope with start to make more sense.
And shortly after, rehearsing with a good friend for a chamber music concert reminded me of skills and feelings rarely practiced these days. Flexing that muscle of what it means to really play with another person, to feel what they are feeling. Music can teach us such empathy. And what scary thing that might be at times. In these schools, children feel like objects, I feel like an object, we are animated objects. But in chamber music, empathy is essential. How can I teach this?
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Turning Inside Out
It doesn't matter that I don't like the teaching style at the school where I teach, or that I don't enjoy teaching in such a manner. It doesn't matter that I feel bogged down in the nagging tone of voice that I feel I acquire while teaching there, or the fear that it is coming from within me and will haunt me forever. It doesn't matter that I likely won't be teaching there, again, or that a part of me is looking forward to the end of the year.
What matters is the students that I'm teaching. And for everything in my class and in our time together towards which I can be critical, the only answer is to find another way, or to keep looking for new ways. Children really do learn what you give them and surround them with. Somehow they are playing the cello. But teaching them something more is what is needed. There is no turning away from that. There is more consideration needed–in our technique, in our words, in our actions.
What matters is the students that I'm teaching. And for everything in my class and in our time together towards which I can be critical, the only answer is to find another way, or to keep looking for new ways. Children really do learn what you give them and surround them with. Somehow they are playing the cello. But teaching them something more is what is needed. There is no turning away from that. There is more consideration needed–in our technique, in our words, in our actions.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Try Again
Yelling to get a child's attention equals I lost. Teaching takes practice so tomorrow I'm going to try to turn awareness of others into a game.
Monday, May 9, 2016
New Students
This is an exciting time of beginning an adult cello studio. There are several trials this week and this evening was the first lesson with one of them. It is also inspiring to me to meet adults who are interested in learning something, and it is really fun to take them over hurdles they never imagined doing. And adults are really cool in that they have already experienced a lot of life. They have stories and complex emotions, and yet there is still so much more that cello can teach them. It's a reminder that I too can learn these lessons from the cello as an adult.
I am really excited to meet each of these new people, and excited at the idea of having a group of adults all beginning at the same time, capable of having a group class together and sharing in that social aspect of learning and growth as well, supporting one another in this journey. It is a really exciting thing to think of, going forward.
I am really excited to meet each of these new people, and excited at the idea of having a group of adults all beginning at the same time, capable of having a group class together and sharing in that social aspect of learning and growth as well, supporting one another in this journey. It is a really exciting thing to think of, going forward.
Friday, May 6, 2016
Day in Westport (remembering the board)
It has been a moving day. From a sincere exchange on the bus with a former opera singer (about growing older, contending with one's body, finding a new career, and sharing the new found calm), to the tour I received of Westport Connecticut from a potential employer at the Suzuki School there (the beaches, the million dollars houses, the moss on the trees), to all the new students and their parents that I met (to the mother that sent me a heartfelt email about my lesson with her son), to the cab driver that shared his working day (after day after day) life with me after having been laid off from a payroll management job at a non-profit. It has been a day with my cello, a trip up the coast to try on a new potential job.
I would like to take this position, if the numbers can work out. There are so many possibilities here, in this life I'm living. Driving through the New England rain with a committed Suzuki teacher was a centering 45 minutes for me. Taking in hours of green and committed students was a different life than my current teaching situation. I'm considering another position as well in the city (still uncertain if there is really an offer), and in two weeks doing an audition for Teaching Artist Apprenticeship not knowing if that is really something that I would be able to do given these other possibilities or the direction in which I want to go. There are a lot of options. The fire is starting. But I have to be centered with what I want, what I envision.
I would like to take this position, if the numbers can work out. There are so many possibilities here, in this life I'm living. Driving through the New England rain with a committed Suzuki teacher was a centering 45 minutes for me. Taking in hours of green and committed students was a different life than my current teaching situation. I'm considering another position as well in the city (still uncertain if there is really an offer), and in two weeks doing an audition for Teaching Artist Apprenticeship not knowing if that is really something that I would be able to do given these other possibilities or the direction in which I want to go. There are a lot of options. The fire is starting. But I have to be centered with what I want, what I envision.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Stepping Into Something New
Spring time seems to be the time that people become interested in cello lessons. I have three trial lessons this week. That's up from zero the past two months. And there are some teaching prospects for the coming year as well.
I am wondering what my future will be for the school program where I am teaching. It has been a challenging year, and yet so rewarding to see the work that has been done. It is exciting to see students playing the cello, when 7 months ago they couldn't.
And yet, coming away from the belt test I am reminded of a teaching focus that I would like to strengthen in myself. It is something that I think can be quite natural and yet it needs practice. When I see my students struggle with finding good posture, or fluidity, or intonation, I remind myself of my own ability to see where I want to be, combined with my inability to be there. Teaching and learning require the pointing out and the following, the realization and the actualization. Neither is instantaneous.
I recorded my students for them to do their own self evaluations and for me to do them as well. It's funny to frame something, to see it set apart of the the run-up of the day and the week. Here is this perfect little person, full of many parts, from their family, from their family's past, from their school and peers. Sometimes trying, sometimes distracted. Seven perfect little people, doing things they once couldn't do.
I am wondering what my future will be for the school program where I am teaching. It has been a challenging year, and yet so rewarding to see the work that has been done. It is exciting to see students playing the cello, when 7 months ago they couldn't.
And yet, coming away from the belt test I am reminded of a teaching focus that I would like to strengthen in myself. It is something that I think can be quite natural and yet it needs practice. When I see my students struggle with finding good posture, or fluidity, or intonation, I remind myself of my own ability to see where I want to be, combined with my inability to be there. Teaching and learning require the pointing out and the following, the realization and the actualization. Neither is instantaneous.
I recorded my students for them to do their own self evaluations and for me to do them as well. It's funny to frame something, to see it set apart of the the run-up of the day and the week. Here is this perfect little person, full of many parts, from their family, from their family's past, from their school and peers. Sometimes trying, sometimes distracted. Seven perfect little people, doing things they once couldn't do.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Monday, May 2, 2016
More Pittsburgh
Took an audition this morning, but didn't advance. With every audition there is something to learn. I know my music well and can play it well, but something is happening at the point of auditioning that needs examination and reflection.
Afterwards, a native Pittsburgh cellist suggested a place to walk that had some restaurants and shops. I also took a detour across the river. It's a beautiful city. Ben and Jerry's only had a few flavors, but one of them (vegan peanut butter chocolate cookie) would have been the choice among hundreds. And then I took a walk to Point State Park to see the start of the Ohio river and look down to Cincinnati.
 |
| River walk, north side of the Allegheny River |
 |
| Meeting the three rivers, looking to Ohio |
Sunday, May 1, 2016
Weekend So Far
I am now in Pittsburgh, a beautiful city that reminds me a great deal of Cincinnati. A cab driver took me to the Airbnb where I'm staying by way of a paper map, a magnifying glass to read it, and a touristic approach to all the buildings we passed. I'm on a big hill overlooking a city, a spot that I can only imagine would cost millions of dollars in Manhattan, but here is covered with tiny winding streets and small modest homes. These pictures don't quite do justice, but it's an idea.
Yesterday's belt test was a very full day. It left me feeling both peaceful and reflective. Tomorrow is an audition, another event to round out this incredible weekend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)