a little girl and her first violin

Nell has been watching me play and teach the violin since she was a newborn.  As a baby, she sometimes sat in her swing while I taught lessons, until she was old enough {i.e. mobile and / or noisy!} that she really needed to be with a sitter during those times.  Nowadays she often wanders into the music room when I'm teaching, first waiting at the doorway for an approving nod from me that she can come in.  She knows she must sit quietly if she wants to be with me, and she sometimes chooses to do that for a bit before returning to her play with her sitter.

I have a little pencil sharpener shaped like a violin, and for several months now, she has frequently asked to hold it.  She happily exclaims, "wee-wee-wahn!" (violin!), and tucks that tiny little thing under her chin.

So, when I was placing an order of sheet music and teaching supplies and the like from Johnson String Instrument earlier this week, I decided to add on one of their little cardboard violins with bow.  For $10.95, I thought she would get some enjoyment out of it and it would be well worth it.

The package arrived yesterday afternoon, as Nell was just coming out of two days of a high fever and cough.  Poor girlie.  I eagerly opened the box, thinking that little violin might bring her some happiness.  It was easy to assemble, and I presented it to her, explaining, "I got you a special pretend violin to play!"

She was so excited.  She asked me to help her tuck it under her chin, and she quickly moved the wooden bow across the ink-printed "strings."  Her enthusiasm vanished as quickly as it had come, and she gave me the saddest look, and carefully set the "violin" down on the floor.  Silently, she walked into our TV room and climbed into Nathan's recliner, dejected.  I followed her in there and said, "Nell, you don't have to play with the violin if you don't like it.  It's okay."

She looked up at me, and her eyes filled with tears, and she said, "Not workin'!"

Oh my goodness, my heart just about broke.

I guess I should have put a little more emphasis on the "pretend" and a little less on the "violin" when I presented it to her.

We talked about it, and I explained how it was just for pretending, and she could imagine the music or sing it while she held the violin if she wanted to.  In a few minutes, she was ready to give the cardboard violin a second chance -- and this time around, she loved it.  She loved it so much she wanted to wrap it in a blanket with her while we read her bedtime story.

And today, it occupied her for more than an hour!  She played it by herself, then "played" along with me on over a dozen songs, turning pages of sheet music on the music stand in between songs and instructing me "This one, Mama," while pointing with her little bow.  She cried when I told her she couldn't take the violin into her bed for her nap because it might get squashed.  And later in the afternoon, when I ran out to the grocery store, she "played" along with Nathan as he played songs on the piano for her.  And she played it again while I made dinner.  I think she is loving getting to participate in her own small way in the music-making that is so often going on around here.

At one point this afternoon, she started looking down at her right elbow as she played, lifting it a bit higher, and saying, "Elbow up, elbow up."  I guess she's observing more than I realize when she sits in on those violin lessons... I do indeed have a few students with perpetually sagging bow elbows who receive frequent reminders about it!

I caught a few moments of her playing her "violin" on video.  I couldn't help myself.





{She could probably learn to pronounce the word "violin" correctly now, but I still love hearing her say "wee-wee-wahn" the way she has for so long.  I can't quite bring myself to correct her on it just yet.}

Oh, how we love that girl.


P.S. -- Disclaimer for those violinists out there.  Yes, I am aware that she isn't holding either part of the equation properly.  No, I am not yet attempting to teach my 2.5 year old at this time... just letting her have fun with her own version of her mother's much-coveted musical instrument.

{phfr}

I'm joining Like Mother, Like Daughter for another {pretty happy funny real} post today.

{pretty}

After my violin studio recital this past weekend, one of my students gave me possibly the sweetest, most charming little bouquets I've ever received.  

I also have tulips on the dining room table, daffodils on my kitchen windowsill, and roses on my bedroom dresser, all thanks to my students.  I love having flowers in the house -- and right now, it helps to slightly offset the general feeling of despair at the fact that it snowed again earlier this week.  This has truly felt like 'The Long Winter' here in Massachusetts!

{happy}

Another recital perk: a lovely gift bag from my students, with a card signed collectively and filled with sweet sentiments.  A mother of a student of mine was behind planning this, and filled a bag with such thoughtful and enjoyable gifts, from cookies and caramels to candles and linens and a scarf and more.  I felt thoroughly spoiled as I went through it the next day {after recovering from recital exhaustion}.  It's so very nice to have treats like this every once in a while!

{funny}

After finishing the quilt for the baby (arriving any day now, and I must admit, I hope for sooner rather than later), I got to work on a similar quilt for Nell.  It seemed like a big sister deserved something to commemorate the occasion, and since she now sleeps in her own crib and loves to have blankets, stuffed animals, and her baby doll surrounding her, I think she's actually at an age to really enjoy the comfort of a special quilt.

In any case, I'll have to post some better pictures of the finished quilt soon, but the 'funny' part is that every time over the past few weeks I would say to Nell, "I'm sewing!" she would reply, "Brrrrrr!!!"

Sewing... snowing...

Words can be a little confusing when you're not yet two years old.

{real}

Three bags sit beside my dresser now, one packed for myself, one 'overnight' bag for Nell, and one with things for the new baby.

Yes, seeing them there certainly makes her impending arrival feel very real!

An Ode to Teaghan

I recently made the decision to stop driving to a nearby town once a week to teach private lessons at the high school there.  Instead, I'm focusing exclusively on my home studio.  I have plenty of students here and, with Nell in the picture now, I no longer needed the stress and headache of teaching outside of the home in exchange for the few additional dollars it provided.

Three of my students from that town are continuing lessons with me here at my home.  Four of them will be studying with a different teacher now.

One of them in particular I am going to miss.  This post is about her.

Teaghan is bright and capable, confident, a tomboy with tangled brown hair and no interest in cute or matching clothes whatsoever.  She's a bookworm.  She once came to a lesson with a black eye, and when I exclaimed, "what happened?" she replied, "I walked into a signpost."  I couldn't help laughing as I said, "I bet you were reading a book while you walked!"  Yes, she had been.

Teaghan's relationship with the violin had its shares of ups and downs over the three years, give or take, that she took lessons with me.  

{This was from a lesson a year ago.  Note the scrawl at the top of the page: 'I'm really mad at my bow!!!'}

She started the violin around the age of seven, as I recall, and is now a fourth grader.

This past fall, her school teacher issued a challenge: to do one thing, an activity of the student's choice, every day for thirty consecutive days.  Teaghan decided to practice her violin each day for those days, without missing a day.  And she did it, too - despite the setback of missing a day when she was nearing the end of her goal, and having to start again from the beginning.

She met her goal, and then she just kept going.  At her last lesson with me, she was on her 131st day of consecutive practice.  One hundred and thirty one.

Can you believe that?

In addition to her Suzuki pieces, she had a book of music from films that she was working on.  She particularly liked some of the music from Harry Potter.  At one recent lesson, as I was writing in a few fingerings and bowings for her, I mentioned in passing, "Someday if you come back to this piece, you could play this passage in third position..."

At her next lesson, she had taught herself how to play that section in third position - just from hearing me mention it and watching me do it.  This from a girl who has not yet actually learned third position.

Teaghan is a pretty special person.

At her last lesson, I told her how much I had enjoyed being a part of her journey with the violin.  How I knew she'd like her new teacher very much.  How proud I was of her.  I gave her a hug, and my heart was full.  She was crying.

And there was this:

These are the moments.  All the students, all the lessons, the squeaky notes, the broken strings, the conspicuously empty practice charts, the hurried passages, and the inaccurate intonation... it all feels so very worthwhile in moments like these, with students who practice, who engage, who connect.

So here's to you, Teaghan.  Here's to hundreds more days to come, to third position and beyond, to the enjoyment of Beethoven and Harry Potter and Bach.  I wish you a lifetime of loving music.

my students lately

I think we're overdue for a post featuring some of the things my students have said lately, don't you?

1.

A conversation with eight-grade violin student E. C.:

Sarah: Who's your favorite violinist?

E: You mean in this room?

Sarah: There are only two violinists in this room!  No, I mean, who's your favorite violinist in the world?

E: Myself.

pause*

Sarah: Why did you ask if I meant in the room or in the world if your answer was someone in the room anyway?

E: I don't know.

*{I admit it, I laughed out loud}

In case you're wondering if a completely self-assured, confident eighth grade boy exists, the answer is yes.

2.

Nine-year-old E. K. made me laugh at her lesson last week when she said, "My dad is old.  He's 43.  My mom is old too, but she wears makeup to try to look younger."

3.

My student T., who's about nine or ten right now, was challenged by a teacher at her school to do something (anything) for twenty-one days in a row without missing a day.  She picked practicing her violin!  That warmed my heart, of course.  And she stuck with it and succeeded!  But not only that... she has continued to practice every day without missing a day for over forty days now!

When she reached her goal of 21 days, her mom took her to see From the Top live to celebrate T's achievement.  T. loved it, although she did seem a little perturbed when she told me about the really incredible young violinist she heard perform.  I could tell the wheels were turning in her head... it was the first time she had encountered a truly remarkable player not much older than herself.  After her lesson that week, her mom told me, "I do think that hearing such an exceptional little violinist might have made her wonder why she's playing the violin, if she's not that good."

I was thinking about that as T. and her mom left the lesson, and suddenly I dashed out the door after them.  T. turned back towards me, and I simply said, "You know, T., you don't have to be the best in the world at something to enjoy it a whole lot."

{If I didn't think that was true, I don't suppose I'd be playing the violin myself, either.}

4.

Nine-year-old E. K. (yes, her again... what can I say, this girl is often good for blog material) was playing Minuet 1 in her lesson recently, and we were working on keeping a steady tempo without rushing.  After playing through a section, she stopped, concerned, and asked me, "Uh oh, did I fasten it up?"

So cute.

Also, when I demonstrated a section for her at her lesson last week, she said in quiet admiration, "You're so good!"

{Who needs fame and fortune?  I have sweet little students who think I'm pretty great.}

5.

M., a very young cellist in the youth orchestra I conduct, is just about the cutest little guy imaginable.  Recently in rehearsal I said to a violinist, "Hey now K., why can't I get you to look up at me at the end for the ritardando?"  And M. piped up, "Maybe she can't look at you because she's intimidated by your great beauty!"

{awwww.}

6.

N. is playing her violin for a production of Fiddler on the Roof this month, and T. is playing with his school choir and at his church Christmas Eve service, and J. is playing in his school talent show, and E. plays at his church quite regularly, and wow, it just makes me happy that my students go out into the world and fill it with music.

7.

Tonight I got an email from a student's dad, saying that Z. had left his lesson in great spirits after sight-reading Christmas music duets with me.  Apparently he was feeling tired and a bit down when he came to his lesson, and he returned home "in such a good mood."

8.

A final one from young cellist M. again.  He recently said in a rehearsal, "Miss Sarah, Miss Sarah!"  I reminded him to raise his hand if he had a question, and he waved his hand, saying, "Well, it's not really a question, but Miss Sarah, you know that note the cellos have that we were just working on?  I'm going to play that note with proud."

Yes, with proud.

I thought of him saying that over the past weekend while I was playing an arrangement of the Carol of the Bells in a Christmas concert.  I'm not sure why his little comment popped into my head as I played soaring high notes, but it did, and I found myself thinking that I would play those notes "with proud."

So here's to you, M.  We should all play our own parts in life with the kind of joy, sparkle, intelligence, and "proud" that you do.

one week down, eighteen years to go

Remember that post on mothering full-time and working part-time?  Thanks for your good blog comments, facebook comments, and emails, dear readers.  I love the dialogue, hearing your experiences, and just knowing I'm not alone in this balancing act.

I'm one week into the crazy fall schedule, and I guess you could say it's had its ups and downs.  Last Tuesday was stressful.  Wednesday went surprisingly well.  Thursday was awful.  Friday was okay.  And Saturday was, oddly enough, pretty good, despite it being my fullest day of teaching, Nathan not being available to watch Nell as he usually will be on Saturdays, and then having 40+ people fill my backyard just 15 minutes after my last private student left, for a kick-off picnic for the youth orchestras Abby and I conduct.  Phew.

Then, today was the first rehearsal of the year for the youth orchestra, and also Nell's first time being left at the house with anyone other than Nathan.  Even though I was only gone for just over two hours, it felt like much longer.  It made me realize that the way we experience time can be so strange; two hours at home with Nell goes by so quickly ("oh, it's already time for another diaper change/feeding/nap"), and I often feel like I haven't gotten much done.  But in two hours this afternoon I met twelve new little ensemble players, did introductions all around, went over two new pieces of music, clapped and counted and marched rhythms, dealt with paperwork and such things, and came home feeling like I'd been gone practically all day.  I couldn't wait to hold Nell, to sink into my armchair in the living room and nurse her and snuggle her.

There have been some stressful moments in the past week.

But there have also been some lovely moments.

Like a conversation with E. about how her violin practice at home has been going, to which she said, "I don't mind practicing; I just don't want to give in when my dad tells me to do it."  And then hastily waved her hands nervously, and whispered, "Don't tell him I said that, don't tell him!"

{I love insights like that into the minds of children.}

Or the parent who came up to me today and told me that her son C., who moved up to the next level in the youth orchestra program, said in the car on the way to rehearsal, "I hope I like Miss Abby as much as I liked Miss Sarah last year."

{Warms my heart, I tell you.}

Parenting and working.  It's all a learning experience; and how could it be otherwise when Nell is growing and changing so fast that any time I might think we might have a 'schedule', she up and changes it?

There were moments in the past week when she sat happily in her chair and listened to lessons with wide-eyed interest without making a peep.  There were moments when she needed to be held.  And there were moments, particularly late in the afternoon/early evening on Thursday, when she downright fussed, and I ended up feeling unhappy, a bad mother and a bad teacher simultaneously, and in desperate need of a nap.   

But here we both are, still alive.

{I bought her a little 'walker' chair off Craigslist, because I had begun to notice that she preferred sitting more upright to reclining in a swing now.  And sure enough, she loves that thing!  By the way, see those darker blue ruffles on her onesie?  Yeah, those are the same color as the rest of the fabric.  She's just become the world's most drooley baby in the past few weeks, that's all.}

I'm working on arranging someone to watch Nell at least on Thursday afternoons, when I teach lessons at a nearby high school and it's much, much more difficult to keep my girl happy than it is at home where she can nap in a quiet room.  

I think everyone knows this, but I just need to say it:

Nell really isn't a source of "stress" in my life.  I hope it doesn't ever come across on this blog like she is.  She brings us joy and laughter, a new sense of purpose and fulfillment, and can always, always bring smiles to our faces.  Sure, having her in our family means some restructuring of our lives, increased communication between Nathan and me about our schedules, and times of worry.  But it's working part-time that causes me to stress out a little, and only because I love this baby girl so, so much, and want to be a good mother to her, and I worry about how to help her be the happiest, and safest, and most well-cared-for that she can be.  I hate feeling like I have to adapt her to my schedule, because the best days of all are the ones when we don't feel scheduled at all, and I can just respond to her cues and help her be the happy little girl she naturally is.

So that's the balancing act of my new life.  Being a teacher to my students and a mother to my daughter, and figuring out what that looks like, one day at a time.

And I know she looks super dopey in this picture, but I can't help posting it because I love her grin.  Here's Nell again in her new walker.  She can sort of propel herself around in it in an accidental sort of fashion, either by flailing her arms with glee, or by kicking her feet against the floor a bit, which moves her backwards.  So I pull her towards me, she scoots backwards until stopped by a wall or object, and we repeat the process.  With lots of smiles and laughs throughout it.

Look at those chubba-chubba-licious arms.  I made those adorable rolls!  I've nourished this baby from a single cell!  So maybe I've got an added roll or two of my own for the time being {sigh}, but I look at this little human I've grown, and I try to cut myself some slack.

Have I mentioned that I love this girl?

ten little things

ONE

The perfect green smoothie:

spinach

frozen banana

almond butter

soy milk/coconut milk/whatever

generous amount of cinnamon

seriously delicious.

TWO

A boy in my Montessori violin class is always saying the funniest things. For example:

"Have you had your baby yet?"

"No, it's still in here."

"Oh. Well, when you get it out, can you bring it to violin class so I can check and see if it's a boy or a girl?"

THREE

And another humorous comment from him, upon seeing a bug on the window screen in our classroom:

"Ooooh, my killer instinct is tingling!"

FOUR

I ate a lot of hard-boiled eggs just after Easter. I've always been more of a yolk girl than an egg white girl (the texture of a boiled egg white seems squeaky on my teeth or something), so when I cut into this egg I found myself wishing all eggs could be like this. Look at the size of that yolk!

FIVE

You know you've played in too many pit orchestras when you walk through a high school hallway, hear a voice from a classroom saying, "When I want you to know, I'll tell you!", and think to yourself, "Oh, they're doing Fiddler on the Roof." True story.

SIX

I stopped by a farm stand today on my way home from running some errands, and found this sign pretty humorous:

SEVEN

I've been taking walks when I can, enjoying the nice weather -- although the 70 and 80 degree days are a little less delightful for me than they seem to be for everyone else, leading to swollen, puffy feet and hands that ache. But still, walks are great. I took one walk around the college where Nathan works, after picking him up for a quick "date" dinner at Panera recently, and then dropping him off again for a rehearsal.

So beautiful!

Some geese decided to waddle around with me.

{Us waddlers have to stick together.}

EIGHT

Another walk I took recently was a rather strange one: Nathan and I decided to walk our rototiller from property #1 over to our new house, which is about 1.5 miles away. We had left it in the garage at the rental property all winter, and now we need it here to till up some space so I can plant a vegetable garden. But of course, we can't fit it into his Honda Civic or my Ford Fusion. So we just walked it all the way here a few evenings ago, at about 8 pm, in the dark. An adventure!

NINE

How ridiculous is this? I think this grammatically incorrect sign has been displayed in the bathrooms at my school for my two years of grad school, with no one ever bothering to correct it and reprint it!

{One can only assume that they actually mean "use designated disposal boxes."}

TEN

Nathan and I had our first Bradley childbirth class last night. We have a wonderful instructor who agreed to cram what is normally a 12-week course for groups of couples into just three one-on-one sessions with us, given our crazy schedules.

I figure I'd better learn how to have this baby, given that he or she could arrive within the next month, right?

Paris

My young violin student G. said to me, quite seriously, "You should take some time off after your baby is born. Go to Paris."

{via}

His mom was silently cracking up behind him at this, as I told him that while Paris certainly sounded lovely, I wasn't sure I'd really be able to maximize the potential of such a trip with a newborn in tow.

Oui, maybe someday...

a big self-esteem boost... or not

The following story has not been altered in any way for dramatic effect. These statements are recorded exactly as they occurred.

~~~~~~~~~~

young Montessori class violin student: Oh Sarah, seeing you today just reminded me of a scary dream I had last night.

me (laughing): Oh no! Do I look that scary?

violin student: No, I just mean, because you're an old lady and my dream was about an old lady.

me: ... this is not making me feel any better ...

~~~~~~~~~~

Kids. They're downright charming.

The Tormented Student

Oh, the funny things my students say and do.

A young student recently brought her practice chart to her lesson with a little note, scrawled in righteous indignation no doubt, written across the top.

Such dramatic language from an eight-year-old, right? I love it.

What she means, of course, is that her parents make her practice an acceptable amount, and sometimes withhold her current novel until she is finished with her practicing. The little bookworm has a hard time putting down a book to do much of anything else of her own accord, from what I understand.

Of course, this is the same student who gave me the cute Christmas card telling me how much she loves her violin lessons with me! Poor, tormented little student that she is, deprived of things and forced into violinistic slave labor.

twinkles and pizza

My little Montessori school violin class performed earlier this week at a weeknight school "coffee house." I was so proud of them for learning their Twinkle variations and theme so well. And I couldn't help being pleased to hear more than one teacher or parent comment with apparent surprise, "I thought the beginning violins would sound the worst of all the beginners, but they sound great!"

After the violins had performed, a wandering flutist in fourth or fifth grade was looking for the program order, and I pointed it out to her and showed her which performance was about to begin. She declared, "Thank you! See, the world isn't all evil and corrupt after all. Thank you for being helpful."

Kids. So funny.

But right after that, someone took the last piece of pizza that I had been eyeing.

So maybe the world is corrupt.

It makes you wonder, anyway.

Knitting

I've really been wanting to learn to knit for a while now. Maybe when I finish my master's degree this May I'll have some time to sit down and learn. I think I need someone to teach me, though; the patterns are, for all intents and purposes, in a foreign language indecipherable to those not already in the know about knitting.

Well, today my eight-year-old violin student Elaine told me that she's recently knitted a hat, and some hand puppets, and tiny gnomes, and all manner of other items.

And then I felt pretty unaccomplished.

Sheesh, kids. Limitless potential and all that.

the sincerest form of flattery

Today in the Montessori violin class I teach, a little student named Juliette said to me,

"Look, I wore a skirt today so I could be like you!"

Snapshots of a Day

Number One:

I spent the morning at Cara's house working on a craft project. She had the day off from school because of the Jewish new year, and I had the morning free, so we had made plans to get together. We decided to use the time to make tile coasters following this tutorial. It was a nice, relaxing morning... so good to do something home-y and domestic.

I selected my color scheme to go with our new couch and pillows in the living room:

A view of the little pads on the back:

Now we just need a coffee table to put them on!

{I think these coasters would make a nice gift idea. So, my dear family members, if you happen to receive a set of coasters for Christmas this year, just pretend to be surprised. An appropriate response might be: "Oh, how ever did you think of this... I've never seen anything like it... coasters, fancy that!"}

Number Two:

I had a half hour to practice in between Tierra's lesson and Elaine's lesson. Elaine and her father walked into the room and heard a few measures of Biber, and her dad, who has quite the dry sense of humor, said, "Okay, that sounds very good... I don't think you even need to have a lesson today, Sarah, but you can stay here for Elaine's lesson if you want to." Funny guy... but the best part was seeing nine-year-old Elaine, usually so quiet, smile and laugh about it.

Number Three:

For some reason, this conversation struck me as very sweet... perhaps because Elaine is usually so reserved.

Sarah: Do you think you can listen to Lightly Row ten times this week? It will make it so much easier to remember where the long bows are.

Elaine: Yes, I think I can do that...

Sarah: Our brains have a way of remembering music we listen to. I still remember all the songs I listened to when I was your age... it kind of amazes me.

Elaine: My mom says that about music, too. She remembers musicals really well, all the words.

Sarah: Oh, musicals are the best... I still remember all the words to the ones I used to listen to, too. Do you watch or listen to musicals with your mom?

Elaine: Yes, like... is Annie a musical?

Sarah: Definitely... that's a good one. Except I used the think the part on the bridge was scary. You're probably braver than I was, though.

Elaine: Well, I can never tell what's really going on in that part. Is it a bridge?

Sarah: Yes, I think it's a drawbridge... and I just remember thinking Annie would fall.

Elaine: Yes, it's kind of scary, but I'm usually okay.

*pause*

Elaine: Whoah, I just thought I saw a horse trot by in the hallway out of the corner of my eye.

Sarah: Wow, that would really be unexpected.

Elaine: I like horses. And I rode on an elephant once, when I was three. I kind of remember sitting on it, but I can't remember how I felt about it.

{Aren't kids fun to talk with? I love having little windows into the things they think about.}

Number Four:

This is what the practice chart of a very frustrated seven-year-old violin student looks like.

Poor Teaghan... I took one look at her crumpled chart and asked her, "Were you angry at your violin? Or having a bad practice day? What happened?" She replied, "I was angry at Allegretto!"

Number Five:

I had a rather disturbing encounter with a squirrel in our house yesterday, scampering about the T.V. room faster than my eyes could track him. This encounter ended with me attempting to barricade the squirrel into the T.V. room, despite the fact that said room does not have a door, and leaving a Havahart trap with peanut butter in the middle of the room to entice him. My attempts failed, resulting in a very small squirrel roaming freely about the house and evading all our diligent attempts at detection.

This evening Nathan had his own encounter with the squirrel, who had apparently taken refuge in the attic but finally reemerged. After a few sprints up and down the stairs after the little guy, we both managed to get him into a bedroom upstairs and shut the door.

At this point, Nathan may have said, "As long as we have him isolated in one room, I suppose we could just leave him in there for a few days..."

And I may have answered, "Sure, as long as we feed him!"

And he may have looked at me like, "My dear woman, you are missing the point..."

So instead of leaving the squirrel alone in the room, we entered the bedroom, where I guarded the space beneath the door and Nathan chased the squirrel in circles around the room (right across my feet at least a dozen times... eeep!) and finally, chased him right into the Havahart trap and closed it quite swiftly, with the squirrel inside.

Look how cute he is!

We thought about keeping him for a pet, but decided to set him free outside.

So that was an adventure.

{Please don't think of us as the most disgusting people you've ever known, just because we had a fugitive squirrel in our house.}

And that was my Thursday. How was yours?

Group Lessons and Orchestra

While last week was the start of my grad school courses, it's this week that things really get underway with all my teaching and freelancing: rehearsals with both the L-- Symphony and the C-- A-- Symphony, private teaching on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday, and the beginning of rehearsals with the children's string orchestra I conduct as well as the first group lesson at the Montessori school where I've started teaching this year.

The first youth orchestra rehearsal went better than expected and I'm feeling optimistic that this year will be better than last year, which was in many ways a rough year for my group (and thus for me). At the end of the rehearsal two new students came up and hugged me, and I found myself surprised. Then I started thinking about how sad it is that when kids hug a teacher today our first thoughts are about whether it's appropriate, whether the child has attachment issues, and whether we might find ourselves with a lawsuit on our hands, instead of just able to appreciate what's probably a simple show of joy and affection from a six-year old.

I'm feeling positive about the Montessori group class, too. This Tuesday we sat on the floor in a circle and introduced ourselves, and then I gave each child a kleenex-box-and-paint-stirrer "violin." we learned which hand is the violin hand and which hand is the bow hand, we made foot charts, we learned rest position and playing position, we listened to the first Twinkle variation, we held the "violins" with nicely rounded "cupcake fingers" on the edge of the kleenex box, and of course, we learned to bow as a sign of respect, as a way of saying "thank you" to audience, teacher, and student alike. At the end of the class one student, Lucy, declared, "This was the strangest violin lesson I ever heard of!" as she tucked her kleenex box under her arm and prepared to leave.

{But she smiled all through the class, so I'm not taking it personally!}

Practice

Elaine is a student who started violin lessons with me at the beginning of the summer. With her dedication, sweet smile, and big brown eyes, she won my heart immediately.

But I liked her even more when her dad told me that after her first lesson, she said excitedly, "Dad, how much do you think I should practice? I was thinking at least three times a day."

One Lesson in May

Recently my seven-year-old student Teaghan came to her lesson and eagerly told me, "I taught myself to play the beginning of Silent Night on my violin!"

I smiled at her. "That's great! What made you think of playing Silent Night this time of year?"

"Well," she said - as though it were the most normal thing in the world - "I was lying in my bed early this morning, hoping my parents wouldn't know I was awake yet, and I kept thinking about Silent Night, and wondering how you'd play it on the violin. So I got out my violin and tried playing it really quietly, and it sort of worked!"

So I taught her the rest of Silent Night.

Yes, in May.

Why not?

Montessori School

Earlier this week found me at a nearby Montessori school demonstrating the violin to a classroom full of students. After playing for them and talking a little bit about the violin, I allowed each child to come try a smaller-sized violin.

I high-fived a girl named Sarah for having my name, and spelling it the same way.

I enjoyed watching a third-year boy be surprised to find that he liked the violin, after initially declaring loudly to the class that he didn't want to play that instrument. I exclaimed what a naturally good bowhold he had - and he really did.

Luna giggled as we made the "Statue of Liberty" pose going from rest position to playing position; I said, "I know the Statue of Liberty isn't really holding a violin... but it would be cool if she was."

A girl named Juliet smiled when she played the first seven notes of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

And another student declared, "This is fun!"

I stayed and chatted with the music teacher a bit afterwards.

And she asked me to start a violin program there.

And I think I will.

{Even though I am already so busy.}

Because I think that children learning to play the violin makes the world a better place.

On Illness, a Recital, and the Wonders of Tylenol

This past Sunday was my studio recital. An event involving 22 of my students performing their [hopefully] well-practiced pieces in recital, accompanied by my clever husband Nathan, to a room full of proud parents and grandparents and friends. And then followed up by four ensemble pieces played by groups of students, two of them played by absolutely everyone, from the littlest Twinklers to the high school students.

So of course, Saturday night I came down with a raging fever and sore throat. Nathan was so great; he offered to make me any thing I wanted, and I requested honey and lemon juice in hot water, just like my Dad used to make it. Of course, I had to describe [painfully, because my throat hurt] each step of the process, like where to find the mugs, and how to squeeze juice out of a lemon, and where the honey was, and what the honey-to-lemon ratio should be. But nonetheless, he did it. And the end result rivaled my Dad's honey and lemon.

All Saturday night I tossed and turned and couldn't sleep. I'd doze for a few minutes, dream about accomplishing my lengthy to-do-list before the recital [print programs, organize all books of accompaniment parts, gather paper plates and cups for reception, etc.] and then wake to realize that I hadn't done any of it yet, and that I felt sicker than I had ten minutes ago.

I felt so sick that I moaned and whimpered throughout the night, I am told. Well, okay, I'm not proud of it, but there you have it. But when I curled up towards Nathan, he held my hands in his. Strange how that can make everything seem better.

By Sunday morning I was sicker than I remember being in years. Standing up made me dizzy. I was alternately sweating and shivering. My throat burned. Every muscle ached, and every inch of my skin hurt.

Nathan had gone to church, but when I texted my friend Melissa and asked her to pray for a miraculous recovery so I could make it through the studio recital, she promptly drove to my house bearing juice, cough drops, and Tylenol.

OH TYLENOL. Being a non-drug-taking quasi-hippie, I did not fully understand what Tylenol can do for a miserable person. Two extra-strength Tylenol plus four Ibuprofen (hush with your cautionary judgment now; I was desperate!) brought me back to the land of the living. I could stand up. I could see clearly.

I took a shower. I drove to the recital location.

Then Melissa and my brother-in-law Andrew helped get everything set up.

And Melissa helped me tune all those little violins.

And the recital happened.

There were lots of people there.


And I was proud of my students.


And I was thankful for a good husband and good friends who can help a girl out when she's down for the count.

{Oh hey, here's a picture from last year's recital! My how the little ones do grow.}


When I think back on the weekend, I'm glad my students played well. I'm inspired by the positive feedback from students, their parents, their grandparents, and their friends. And I'm grateful for the beautiful flowers a parent gave me.


But it's strange, the strongest memory I have is of being just so very miserable, and having Nathan take my hands in his own as I was trying to get some sleep Saturday night. And then feeling that everything would be all right.

And it was.

Proud

My student D's mother is a violist with a degree from a prestigious conservatory, so it was with the teeniest bit of trepidation that I took him on as a student this past fall when he was looking for a new teacher.

I cannot tell a lie; I was a little pleased when, at a recent lesson, his mother said to me, "Congratulations, Sarah. He is sounding so much better. He has already come so far under your teaching."

Of course, he's the one doing all the work.

But I can be proud of him, right?

Candy

Dear Maria,

Thank you for bringing me a pack of sour patch kids at today's youth orchestra rehearsal. Those two loud boys who kept misbehaving really had me at my wits end, and you made my day brighter. Of the kids in the orchestra this year, I have three favorites. You're one of them. Shh, don't tell the others.

Love,
Sarah