It has been over a year since Yuki started her violin. Just looking back on it, it's kind of amazing how she (we) knew nothing about violin a year ago and now she (just her) can make sounds that resembles music on what appears to be a very, very difficult instrument. Back in November, Yuki finished the Suzuki Violin Book One. Her teacher Ms. Linda informed us that at Suzuki, when a student finishes Book One, it is celebrated by a solo concert because it is a HUGE bench mark and an achievement. Ms. Linda said it can be of any size and in any venue and she will come and accompany Yuki. Yuki opted to have the concert at our home.
There are total of 17 piece in Book One. But the first piece, Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star has 5 variations so really, it's actually 22 pieces. And you play all 22 pieces in a row, alone. It is a daunting task for a seven year old. Hell, it's a daunting task for any year olds. Of course, some of the pieces are short, but still, she has not played for that long in front of an audience.
It seems like it would be a lot to all of a sudden go back to piece number one and try to review all of them. But this is where the magic of Suzuki method comes into play. In Suzuki, as you learn a new piece, you are constantly going back to the old pieces to refine your technique. Every time you go to the group lesson, the teacher will name a song from any book and if you know it, you play it, and if you don't you sit out. And as you advance, more times you get to play and you naturally acquire a skill to be able to recall any piece you ever learned and play it. So this was not actually a very difficult process because Yuki knew them all strictly because of how they teach. The only challenge, and this, her teacher emphasized, was to build endurance to play all of them in a row.
As we practiced for the concert, I thought about how much we've all learned. For Yuki, more than anything else, it has been a great deal of learning about discipline. In the first group lesson, she cried and pouted because she felt it was unfair that she didn't get to play. At about 6 weeks in, which is right when stuff is very difficult because it's all about posture and position and building muscle to be able to hold the instrument under the chin and you don't really get to make any sound yet, she asked "when is violin over?' To which I replied, "it's over when I say it's over." I told her that this was an instrument of her choice and that she should not give up so easily. And that this was the hard part so hang in there until she got to the good part. She learned that you don't just pick up an instrument and start playing well, that you have to practice everyday (or most everyday) for your body to learn and retain what you learn, that when you do practice, you get better at it, that there is no short cut to the end of the book, that you don't play angry, that you don't take your frustration on the instrument or your parents, that it should be joyful, that you should walk away from practice if you feel too mad, and most of all, it is so enjoyable when you play a song just right. Or just play a song, period. And for me, I learned that I need to turn on my educator patience and not be short (which is incredibly hard to do in my own home after hours), that I shouldn't make a face or wince when she hit a sour note (also near impossible to do given this is violin she is learning), to stop practice or suggest stopping when it feels like it's headed for a fight as opposed to fighting my way through it just to make a point, and to push myself to make her practice even on the days I don't feel like sitting through it.
It is true what Ms. Linda said. Book One is the hardest. Because you start from no knowledge. And to get through all of that is indeed a team effort between the child, the teacher, and the parents. Well, that is like any learning, I suppose. It does take a village.
Throughout the year, we witnessed Yuki master her skills, slowly but surely. And what is most joyous to see is how her body and face gets into to when she plays. She has a musician's body language and that very focused look string players get with small twitches when they come to a difficult note and the slight sway when they come to a lyrical part. Things you can't teach. And I can't believe how much she has grown.
But there is a flip side to that joy. When I see her playing, my heart aches. Not just because I am proud of her, but because how I wish my mother was here to see it. There were so many times during this past year that I almost burst out crying in the middle of her lesson because I missed my mother and I felt unjust in not being able to share this with her. My mother was a pretty accomplished pianist and was an avid supporter of music. I know she would have been so proud, which makes my heart weep from the deepest place of my soul. I wish she was here to see it. I wish Yuki was able to get her very excited, high pitched, over the top praise she was so good at giving to her grand children. But alas, we are not to hear that.
Of course, I still have my father.
He told me that when he was a child, he was invited by a couple of his buddies to take violin lessons, but the request was denied by his father because he "couldn't imagine the kind of noise he will make in the house practicing." So every time we have gone to Tokyo since Yuki started this endeavor, she has played for my father. Needless to say, he is immensely pleased. Not as loudly was my mother would have been, but I can see it in his eyes how much he enjoys it. And I can't forget that.
So on one November afternoon, we gathered our "urban family" of friends, and did a solo concert in our own living room. Just to personalize things, we added few touches:
It is now nearly the end of January and she is 5 pieces into Book Two. I hope she continues to play and enjoy making beautiful music.
There are total of 17 piece in Book One. But the first piece, Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star has 5 variations so really, it's actually 22 pieces. And you play all 22 pieces in a row, alone. It is a daunting task for a seven year old. Hell, it's a daunting task for any year olds. Of course, some of the pieces are short, but still, she has not played for that long in front of an audience.
It seems like it would be a lot to all of a sudden go back to piece number one and try to review all of them. But this is where the magic of Suzuki method comes into play. In Suzuki, as you learn a new piece, you are constantly going back to the old pieces to refine your technique. Every time you go to the group lesson, the teacher will name a song from any book and if you know it, you play it, and if you don't you sit out. And as you advance, more times you get to play and you naturally acquire a skill to be able to recall any piece you ever learned and play it. So this was not actually a very difficult process because Yuki knew them all strictly because of how they teach. The only challenge, and this, her teacher emphasized, was to build endurance to play all of them in a row.
As we practiced for the concert, I thought about how much we've all learned. For Yuki, more than anything else, it has been a great deal of learning about discipline. In the first group lesson, she cried and pouted because she felt it was unfair that she didn't get to play. At about 6 weeks in, which is right when stuff is very difficult because it's all about posture and position and building muscle to be able to hold the instrument under the chin and you don't really get to make any sound yet, she asked "when is violin over?' To which I replied, "it's over when I say it's over." I told her that this was an instrument of her choice and that she should not give up so easily. And that this was the hard part so hang in there until she got to the good part. She learned that you don't just pick up an instrument and start playing well, that you have to practice everyday (or most everyday) for your body to learn and retain what you learn, that when you do practice, you get better at it, that there is no short cut to the end of the book, that you don't play angry, that you don't take your frustration on the instrument or your parents, that it should be joyful, that you should walk away from practice if you feel too mad, and most of all, it is so enjoyable when you play a song just right. Or just play a song, period. And for me, I learned that I need to turn on my educator patience and not be short (which is incredibly hard to do in my own home after hours), that I shouldn't make a face or wince when she hit a sour note (also near impossible to do given this is violin she is learning), to stop practice or suggest stopping when it feels like it's headed for a fight as opposed to fighting my way through it just to make a point, and to push myself to make her practice even on the days I don't feel like sitting through it.
It is true what Ms. Linda said. Book One is the hardest. Because you start from no knowledge. And to get through all of that is indeed a team effort between the child, the teacher, and the parents. Well, that is like any learning, I suppose. It does take a village.
Throughout the year, we witnessed Yuki master her skills, slowly but surely. And what is most joyous to see is how her body and face gets into to when she plays. She has a musician's body language and that very focused look string players get with small twitches when they come to a difficult note and the slight sway when they come to a lyrical part. Things you can't teach. And I can't believe how much she has grown.
But there is a flip side to that joy. When I see her playing, my heart aches. Not just because I am proud of her, but because how I wish my mother was here to see it. There were so many times during this past year that I almost burst out crying in the middle of her lesson because I missed my mother and I felt unjust in not being able to share this with her. My mother was a pretty accomplished pianist and was an avid supporter of music. I know she would have been so proud, which makes my heart weep from the deepest place of my soul. I wish she was here to see it. I wish Yuki was able to get her very excited, high pitched, over the top praise she was so good at giving to her grand children. But alas, we are not to hear that.
Of course, I still have my father.
He told me that when he was a child, he was invited by a couple of his buddies to take violin lessons, but the request was denied by his father because he "couldn't imagine the kind of noise he will make in the house practicing." So every time we have gone to Tokyo since Yuki started this endeavor, she has played for my father. Needless to say, he is immensely pleased. Not as loudly was my mother would have been, but I can see it in his eyes how much he enjoys it. And I can't forget that.
So on one November afternoon, we gathered our "urban family" of friends, and did a solo concert in our own living room. Just to personalize things, we added few touches:
Platform borrowed from Youth Theatre Northwest, which Philip painted in a standard theatre black
Custom made Violin cookies
our make shift concert hall, which was full
Yuki playing through her 22 pieces, yawning at times while playing
To a standing ovation
And received her ribbon
Her pals came dressed up for the occasion
Memorable day for sure
It is now nearly the end of January and she is 5 pieces into Book Two. I hope she continues to play and enjoy making beautiful music.
Comments
With love
Catherine