Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Eyes of Children

It is amazing to me that I do not remember any of my cello lessons with my incredible first cello teacher.  Except for the time I accidentally drooled in my lesson.  I learned so much from her, but my child's memory doesn't remember the moments in our lesson time.  I remember her standards, I remember her passion and hard-work for keeping the Suzuki program in the schools, but I don't remember working on the pieces, or what she said, or how she said it.  I wish I did, because she was a very good teacher.

It's occurred to me that many of my interactions with students may be washed from them in the end, but not their impression of me.  I remember the aura around my teacher, that she was serious about doing things correctly, that she was unapologetic about her advocacy of the program in the face of funding cuts.  I learned how to hold a bow from her, how to hold a cello, how to put my fingers down, what a key signature was, how to read music (also with some help from my father).

It's amazing how well I learned without remembering learning.  How important that teachers give themselves as whole people, because words will likely be forgotten.  Perhaps the same for all interactions.  Important to self-reflect, to be self-aware, because as forgetful as children may be, they are very aware, even without their own awareness of being so.

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