Inching Through Twinkle Variations with Non-Pareilles

Johnny has had four violin lessons and one group class. It’s so strange to see how different two children can be. After years of telling friends that my kids were more alike than not, as violinists at least they show their proclivities. Lila’s bow-hold was right-on from the start; Johnny grabs his fat marker in his fist and doesn’t comprehend that one does not wield it like a sword. We are supposed to be clapping out each of the six Twinkle variations to our new teacher’s words, but Johnny wilts after one-half of one, where Lila dashed ahead, graduating from her Twinkles in less than nine months. I take his fists in my two hands and tap them together for claps, but he says, “Dis gives me a stomach ache.” And more painfully, “Dis is my body and I get to do what I want!” Who can argue with that?

In Paul Tough’s new bestseller How Children Succeed (which I am supposed to be reading but haven’t started yet, but I did listen to half the This American Life piece about it) he argues that the skills most necessary to teach kids are self-control, to learn to focus attention, and to delay gratification. The exercises our teacher gives us are all about these skills. We start with a bow in which Johnny says, “Good morning” or “Good afternoon” or “Good evening,” depending on what time it is. We listen to the Suzuki Slow Twinkle CD and clap along, as I said above, and we listen to the Twinkles up to speed while he sways back and forth, his feet in playing position and his box violin on his shoulder. Then we do “Up Like a Rocket” with his pen-cum-bow and his bunny bow-hold. He wants to make up his own lyrics, but his teacher insists on hers. Delay gratification. He wants to make his pen go horizontally for “back and forth like a choo choo train,” but his teacher makes him keep it vertical. Self control. He ends each practice with “Thank you for the wonderful lesson,” and a bow. Nothing to complain about that. It’s teaching him good manners.

So why is this all so hard for me? Because he doesn’t always want to do any of it, and I feel foolish, frustrated, helpless, and most of all like a Tiger mom. A failed Tiger mom at that. We set up his foot chart (a 20″ cardboard with construction paper cut outs of his feet positions) and it can take 20 minutes for him to get in rest position and bow. Before he can do this, he has to fall on the floor a few times, balance on one foot and go, “Whoa! whoa!” and wave his arms around, ask for a drink, decide he has to pee, take off his shirt, roll up his pants legs, look out the window to see if Gulliver the Cat has come over, look out the window to see if his dad has biked home yet, set up his favorite cars to watch the practice, go get his ducky to watch the practice, count the marbles in his marble jar and then fall on the floor crying and insisting he hates violin and never wants to play again.

And we haven’t even picked up the actual violin.

Lila’s teacher Emily Greene says that whatever you are dealing with in terms of family dynamics will come out in the violin practice. As an author, and a teacher of writing, I notice that whatever is hard for me in life is hard for me on the page, and so it goes with my students. If a student doesn’t know herself, it is hard for her main character to be known. If a student is impatient and in a hurry, her scenes will skim by. If a student is fluent in the language of emotion but slow to take action, her scenes will be rich studies of humanity but lacking plot. And if a person cares more about being liked and well-thought of by teachers and other authority figures (but not little boys) and is the tiniest bit afraid of confrontation, violin practice sessions can turn into the Clash of the Titans.

Today I wised up. I looked at what we were being asked to do. Johnny can’t make it through even one Twinkle, either in the swaying exercise or the clapping one. Our teacher doesn’t know this because I haven’t told her. Instead I have brought her practice sheets covered with stickers (and let’s be truthful: the stickers are for me, not Johnny. I am the one who puts them on and gets a big hit from seeing them taking over the yellow lines of the paper.) But I will go in on Thursday and tell her we need to slow down, even though progress seems snail’s-paced to me as it is. And this morning, I got down a shaker of non pareilles which I used to bribe him to do each item on our practice sheet. I had Johnny bow, do one Twinkle variation for swaying, one for clapping and his up like a rocket. It all took five minutes. I hugged him and praised him and he bowed deeply. “Sank you for a wonderful lesson,” he murmured.

About nields

musician, writer, mom
This entry was posted in Nerissa, Suzuki and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Inching Through Twinkle Variations with Non-Pareilles

  1. Amstr says:

    This all sounds so familiar! Both of my kids (aged 5 and 7 now) have been taking violin for just over a year. I found great freedom from this post by bluegrass multi-instrumental teacher Jack Tuttle (his kids’ playing is amazing): I especially like his advice to start small–even 2-5 minutes a day for a 7 year old, might be the right amount. Depending on the 7 year old. The biggest changes in practices have come with they feel ownership over their learning. We still have many practices that involve tears, but ones where my son figures out the measure past what his teacher said to do are amazing–he’s wanting to learn music, and has the skills to do so (that were hard won) and the motivation to do so as well.

    I’d love to hear about how you decided to put J. in violin lessons and not to continue with guitar. What do you anticipate with two kids on the same instrument?

    I’d also love to know what your goals (and your kids’ goals) are for music lessons. We just looked for a new teacher recently, and many asked what our goals were–competitions? orchestra? basic enjoyment? the experience of taking instrument lessons?

    • nields says:

      Hi Anne-Marie,
      So great to hear from you! And I relate to the tearful practices with the breakthroughs of getting to the next measure. That is one of the many reasons I persist.

      I don’t have a great reason why we stopped with guitar and started violin. The guitar teacher couldn’t seem to get J off his back during lessons. He made noises about starting violin and I leapt at it since it’s been so great for L. Eventually, he will have Emily Greene, L’s teacher, though for the next year she is on maternity leave and not taking on new students. I think she is the greatest teacher of any discipline ever. So I guess that is the reason.

      Your last question is so good I want to write a whole post about it. I will try to do so now!
      Love, Nerissa
      PS hugs to the kids and Trevor!

      • amstr says:

        Hi Nerrissa,
        I loved your “why do music lessons” in your other post. I have the same answer, but it’s been hard to find a teacher that really gets it. So many in our area are high-powered with competitions and getting their students in the best orchestras, etc. We really want our kids to learn what you can accomplish with practice, and to have the joy of creating music. It’s a tough road to get the skills to do so, but whenever we do a mini family concert, or they decide to try to play for tips for an unsuspecting babysitter or visitor, we see little glimpses. Thanks for sharing! A-M

  2. karmeleon says:

    I have 4 kids, but only the youngest started with instrumental lessons early at 2+ for piano and 3 for violin. And yes, it’s important to have a plan and goal for each practice. Once all done, that’s it, pack up! I get too angry when I expect more. *sigh*. Bad mommy. The early violin practices were like 5 to 10mins maximum. Now 1 yr on and at the end of book 1, I wish we could make do with shorter practices! But then that would only cover warming-up, I think! *sad*.

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