Wow! What a fabulous time we had at the 2007 Bigler~Lloyd-Watts Music Camp. To the students, teachers, parents and faculty, thank you for sharing your talents and your positive energies. You are the magic that happens every year.
This camp's Young Artist Concert for strings, piano, flute, voice and guitar was one of the best we've ever heard. What a thrill it was to witness the confidence and skill of the young performers on stage. From the daily recitals to the Friday Gala Concerts, students from 3 - 19 gave us pure pleasure.
We all experienced the excitement of achieving wonderful new levels in lessons, group classes, teacher training and enrichments. Carole and I feel so blessed to have shared this with you.
We look forward to seeing you all again at the 2008 Bigler~Lloyd-Watts Music Camp!
Hugs,
Valery
P.S.
This is our final blog entry. Other demands call us away. We really enjoyed blogging and enjoyed receiving wonderful comments from you. If you'd like to be in touch about anything here, please email me at valery@valerylloydwatts.com.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Parents' Thursday
Here we are at Thursday already in the first week of the music camp. It's a fabulous experience. We love the committed, joyful, talented students and the wonderful parents and teachers who make this a special place. We are loving every minute with you.
Parents, please send us your thoughts, comments and question. We want to hear from you!
Parents, please send us your thoughts, comments and question. We want to hear from you!
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
What Do You See?
After our brochure for this summer's music camp was sent out, we received a letter from a fine, conscientious teacher. With good intentions, she pointed out that a child shown at the keyboard in one of the pictures we had chosen had a poor hand position, and this, she concluded, reflected poorly on the standards of our program. I immediately checked the picture, and sure enough, she was right. But as I looked at it, I realized why we selected that particular picture.
We chose the picture because we were captivated by the expression of delight on the child's face and did not even notice the hand position! Our goal was to communicate the positive spirit and nonjudgmental attitude that we value above all else in our learning environment. It is easy to fix a hand position, but not so easy to fix a broken spirit, a discouraged student or a fearful child.
What we pay attention to determines our experience. In Creating Health, Dr. Deepak Chopra explains: "When you buy a rose, you also buy its thorns. If you notice the rose, you have an experience of beauty; if you notice the thorns, you have an experience of pain." What do you see?
We chose the picture because we were captivated by the expression of delight on the child's face and did not even notice the hand position! Our goal was to communicate the positive spirit and nonjudgmental attitude that we value above all else in our learning environment. It is easy to fix a hand position, but not so easy to fix a broken spirit, a discouraged student or a fearful child.
What we pay attention to determines our experience. In Creating Health, Dr. Deepak Chopra explains: "When you buy a rose, you also buy its thorns. If you notice the rose, you have an experience of beauty; if you notice the thorns, you have an experience of pain." What do you see?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Travel Broadens the Mind!
As a child, I often heard the adage, “Travel broadens the mind”. Naturally I had no concept of what that meant, if it was other than my head would look funny. Having come back from two heavenly weeks in Venice and England, I am beginning to have a better idea (or maybe my head really does look a little funny). I was privileged to hear eight operas, including and especially Death in Venice, two musicals (Dirty Dancing and The Drowsy Chaperone), plus five concerts of piano and chamber music, six plays and visits to one of the world’s greatest art galleries, the National Gallery of London. Each event was inspiring and uplifting (they had to be, since I will not go to an event that features horrible things).
Even sitting on the vaporetto (the boat that takes you from the airport to the city of Venice or the bus in London was marvelous, observing the different energy of the people of these incredible cities. The skyline of Venice, seen from the water, is one of the beautiful sights of the world. At the study day for Death in Venice, the historian showed paintings of Venice from the mid-15th Century to the present. It was astonishing to see how much remains the same from those ancient days.
The piano performance of Paul Lewis at Wigmore Hall in London was a revelation of the last three Beethoven piano sonatas. During the last one, Op. 111, the already exalted performance went into that special place called “the zone”. I became aware of the sensation that every note seemed alive and took my mind along with it as if the music and I were having the most interesting and compelling communication. It was as though I was looking upon the most exquisite sight and could not possibly take my attention away from it. After the piece ended, there was the longest silence, before the applause began, that I have ever experienced. It was as though none of the audience could bear to break the spell and return to our everyday lives.
I guess my mind has been broadened if that means I am more aware, more humble and more grateful than I was before I experienced the sights and sounds and joys of that amazing journey.
Even sitting on the vaporetto (the boat that takes you from the airport to the city of Venice or the bus in London was marvelous, observing the different energy of the people of these incredible cities. The skyline of Venice, seen from the water, is one of the beautiful sights of the world. At the study day for Death in Venice, the historian showed paintings of Venice from the mid-15th Century to the present. It was astonishing to see how much remains the same from those ancient days.
The piano performance of Paul Lewis at Wigmore Hall in London was a revelation of the last three Beethoven piano sonatas. During the last one, Op. 111, the already exalted performance went into that special place called “the zone”. I became aware of the sensation that every note seemed alive and took my mind along with it as if the music and I were having the most interesting and compelling communication. It was as though I was looking upon the most exquisite sight and could not possibly take my attention away from it. After the piece ended, there was the longest silence, before the applause began, that I have ever experienced. It was as though none of the audience could bear to break the spell and return to our everyday lives.
I guess my mind has been broadened if that means I am more aware, more humble and more grateful than I was before I experienced the sights and sounds and joys of that amazing journey.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
I'm Off to See the Operas
Hi all, I’m pretty excited. I’m going to Europe, more specifically London and Venice to see ten operas in two weeks. Really, the entire trip has been planned around Benjamin Britten's Death in Venice. It is based on Thomas Mann’s novel of the same name, set in the Hotel des Bains on the Lido. I’ll be staying at the Hotel for one night. A few days later, I’ll attend a study day at the National Gallery in London for the opera, followed by a performance at the English National Opera. Some fun!
I’ll tell you all about it on my return. Cheers for now. Valery
I’ll tell you all about it on my return. Cheers for now. Valery
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
My Heroes: Parents of Music Students
When I began teaching music (OK, OK, it was the middle of the last century, if you want to pin it down), parents dropped off the kid at the lesson and went shopping. Then, I became a Suzuki teacher and the parents were expected to stay in the room, silently take notes and practice at home with the child, trying to do things exactly as the teacher did at the lesson. This was totally traumatizing to me as a young teacher, completely insecure about how to handle being watched as I taught. We have evolved far beyond that point now and the presence and role of the parent is desired, recognized and celebrated.
Just as the understanding of how children learn has developed in the past thirty years, so has our understanding of the role parents play in their child’s development as a musician. That silent witness thing certainly worked better than not having the parents at the lesson at all. Yet the weakness of this model showed up most clearly to me at lessons where the parent seemed to be disrupting the lesson constantly, either with too many questions or with inappropriate comments.
The opening phase of the lesson was for the teacher to bow with the child, indicating that now no irrelevant conversation was to take place between teacher and parent. The lesson has begun and the entire focus is on the child’s learning. But it began to dawn on me that parents were feeling left out of the process and they needed inclusion and recognition as being there and alive and contributing. So I began to include the parent in the bow and to say to the child that the bow was to acknowledge respect and thanks for everyone involved in helping the student learn (including the child’s efforts). The more I acknowledged the contribution of the parent during the lesson, the less disruptive anyone became.
I began to see that celebrating a child’s victory over some task was enhanced when we included the parent’s contribution in helping the child achieve it. I look on it as engendering the child’s awareness of how much the teamwork is part of the process. Not only is it good for mom’s (or whoever the practicing person is) self-esteem, it allows the child to see that others respect and value mom as well.
Parents do so much for their children all the time and in every dimension. Apart from the obvious duties to provide food, shelter and clothing, the loving, generous nature of parents prompts them to make every effort to provide additional experiences such as music lessons and sport. They provide money, time, energy and, most of all commitment.
We weren’t too far along in the phase of lessons for my children when I realized that if we had not had a good practicing week, it was never because my kids were reluctant to practice. It was because I had not made the effort to create the practice time (at that stage, the kids were too small to be expected to go and practice without my presence). Over time, it dawned on me that in order for a child to develop the habit of perseverance (another name for self-discipline), that habit had to be modeled for them. If i wanted them to learn to do something every single day, I had to make it happen every single day for them. Heavy, man (as they say).
Every time I witness the results of this dedication on the part of the parents, I become slightly weak in the knees with admiration and gratitude. Learning how to play the piano is a multi-year (one could even say, life-long) process. It takes time, focus, repetition and training to develop the mental and physical skills that permit the rapid responses to execute the navigation of the keyboard and then to go beyond that to create the magic of an emotional experience that music so readily elicits. Parents create the environment for the children, practice with them, take them to lessons, pay lots of money, nurture, love and support through thick and thin so that the children can say, ultimately, “I did it all myself”. Funny thing is, the parents are totally thrilled!
That is why parents of music students are my heroes.
Just as the understanding of how children learn has developed in the past thirty years, so has our understanding of the role parents play in their child’s development as a musician. That silent witness thing certainly worked better than not having the parents at the lesson at all. Yet the weakness of this model showed up most clearly to me at lessons where the parent seemed to be disrupting the lesson constantly, either with too many questions or with inappropriate comments.
The opening phase of the lesson was for the teacher to bow with the child, indicating that now no irrelevant conversation was to take place between teacher and parent. The lesson has begun and the entire focus is on the child’s learning. But it began to dawn on me that parents were feeling left out of the process and they needed inclusion and recognition as being there and alive and contributing. So I began to include the parent in the bow and to say to the child that the bow was to acknowledge respect and thanks for everyone involved in helping the student learn (including the child’s efforts). The more I acknowledged the contribution of the parent during the lesson, the less disruptive anyone became.
I began to see that celebrating a child’s victory over some task was enhanced when we included the parent’s contribution in helping the child achieve it. I look on it as engendering the child’s awareness of how much the teamwork is part of the process. Not only is it good for mom’s (or whoever the practicing person is) self-esteem, it allows the child to see that others respect and value mom as well.
Parents do so much for their children all the time and in every dimension. Apart from the obvious duties to provide food, shelter and clothing, the loving, generous nature of parents prompts them to make every effort to provide additional experiences such as music lessons and sport. They provide money, time, energy and, most of all commitment.
We weren’t too far along in the phase of lessons for my children when I realized that if we had not had a good practicing week, it was never because my kids were reluctant to practice. It was because I had not made the effort to create the practice time (at that stage, the kids were too small to be expected to go and practice without my presence). Over time, it dawned on me that in order for a child to develop the habit of perseverance (another name for self-discipline), that habit had to be modeled for them. If i wanted them to learn to do something every single day, I had to make it happen every single day for them. Heavy, man (as they say).
Every time I witness the results of this dedication on the part of the parents, I become slightly weak in the knees with admiration and gratitude. Learning how to play the piano is a multi-year (one could even say, life-long) process. It takes time, focus, repetition and training to develop the mental and physical skills that permit the rapid responses to execute the navigation of the keyboard and then to go beyond that to create the magic of an emotional experience that music so readily elicits. Parents create the environment for the children, practice with them, take them to lessons, pay lots of money, nurture, love and support through thick and thin so that the children can say, ultimately, “I did it all myself”. Funny thing is, the parents are totally thrilled!
That is why parents of music students are my heroes.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
My Heroes: Private Music Teachers
When I do workshops for my colleagues, the response is usually terrific. The kids are inspired, they are pleased with their performances and my response to them, and the teachers tell me it is a wonderful experience for everyone.
Hearing the students of my colleagues perform the music they have learned and being in a position to comment about their accomplishment is a great privilege and carries with it a tremendous responsibility to do no harm.
As a teacher, I know how vulnerable my own ego is if anyone else is going to evaluate my students. Only I can know how much each one is trying his or her best, how much I care for them and how proud I am of their efforts. No one else can possibly know the background, family and/or musical, of that student, and what challenges that child faces on a daily basis. Every step of progress is a victory for them and me, regardless of how it seems to the outside world. Therefore, to let some outsider have the possibility of seeing only the snapshot of that moment and to judge it from their own point of view, is a risk that a teacher needs to be confident of taking.
We all know that a careless comment can not only wound but scar for years, if not life. Further, those comments can destroy the relationship between the teacher, student and parent. It is not unknown for students to quit the teacher and even music altogether after a negative, relatively public humiliation.
Explicitly stated to the teachers ahead of the event, my only goal is to enhance the relationship between the home teacher, the student and the parents. My ego has no place at a workshop: the experience is definitely not about me. My job is to help the group celebrate their accomplishment and what a joy that is!
We teachers of Mastering the Piano believe in teamwork and that each part of the team is necessary and valuable. It takes the contribution of all to cause any progress in learning for the student.
It is the home teacher, though, who sets the tone and provides the impetus for learning and my admiration for my teacher colleagues is limitless. They are the ones on the ground forty or so weeks a year, often for up to fifteen years with some students. They are the ones planning a long-term trajectory for each student, a year-long goal and each weekly lesson. They are the ones listening to the no-practicing excuses, being exposed to whatever virus is raging through the schools, lending a sympathetic ear to the loss of a pet, and being a cheering section for the victories, musical and personal. They are the ones constantly learning and growing, paying to go to workshops and conferences, spending huge amounts of money to buy new and exciting materials for the kids. They are the ones who can compartmentalize their own challenges in order to be fully present for each lesson of the many students they teach each week.
They are my heroes.
Hearing the students of my colleagues perform the music they have learned and being in a position to comment about their accomplishment is a great privilege and carries with it a tremendous responsibility to do no harm.
As a teacher, I know how vulnerable my own ego is if anyone else is going to evaluate my students. Only I can know how much each one is trying his or her best, how much I care for them and how proud I am of their efforts. No one else can possibly know the background, family and/or musical, of that student, and what challenges that child faces on a daily basis. Every step of progress is a victory for them and me, regardless of how it seems to the outside world. Therefore, to let some outsider have the possibility of seeing only the snapshot of that moment and to judge it from their own point of view, is a risk that a teacher needs to be confident of taking.
We all know that a careless comment can not only wound but scar for years, if not life. Further, those comments can destroy the relationship between the teacher, student and parent. It is not unknown for students to quit the teacher and even music altogether after a negative, relatively public humiliation.
Explicitly stated to the teachers ahead of the event, my only goal is to enhance the relationship between the home teacher, the student and the parents. My ego has no place at a workshop: the experience is definitely not about me. My job is to help the group celebrate their accomplishment and what a joy that is!
We teachers of Mastering the Piano believe in teamwork and that each part of the team is necessary and valuable. It takes the contribution of all to cause any progress in learning for the student.
It is the home teacher, though, who sets the tone and provides the impetus for learning and my admiration for my teacher colleagues is limitless. They are the ones on the ground forty or so weeks a year, often for up to fifteen years with some students. They are the ones planning a long-term trajectory for each student, a year-long goal and each weekly lesson. They are the ones listening to the no-practicing excuses, being exposed to whatever virus is raging through the schools, lending a sympathetic ear to the loss of a pet, and being a cheering section for the victories, musical and personal. They are the ones constantly learning and growing, paying to go to workshops and conferences, spending huge amounts of money to buy new and exciting materials for the kids. They are the ones who can compartmentalize their own challenges in order to be fully present for each lesson of the many students they teach each week.
They are my heroes.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
94 and 4
94 and 4! A few weeks ago, I witnessed the most powerful and wonderful interaction between my 94-year-old mother and 4-year-old grandson. Giggles and laughter filled the room, and the pleasure and delight were obviously mutual. It was truly a demonstration of communication at its best – when each listens attentively to the other, responds appropriately and enthusiastically and does not interrupt or try to change the other’s perception.
Yes, they enjoyed being silly together, but in case you are thinking that a 94-year-old often becomes like a child, in this instance, you are wrong. My mother is mentally as keen as you and I. Unlike most of us busy and preoccupied adults, it was my mother’s ability to focus completely on her great-grandson that made the connection genuine and special. When he was being silly, with a smile on her face, she told him without implied judgment, “You are silly.” He laughed even more and was thrilled to discover that it was okay, even fun, to have someone else enjoy his silliness. What a change from the usual adult admonition: “Stop acting so silly!” And so the play went on with unabashed enthusiasm and unbounded glee.
Although ten years shy of a century separates them in age, there was no difference in how they felt as human beings. They were two individuals who clearly enjoyed being together, respected each other and generated reciprocal positive energy. People are people regardless of age. The need for human connection does not diminish over the years. We all need to be validated, and we all thrive when someone else gives us undivided attention and unconditional acceptance.
Yes, they enjoyed being silly together, but in case you are thinking that a 94-year-old often becomes like a child, in this instance, you are wrong. My mother is mentally as keen as you and I. Unlike most of us busy and preoccupied adults, it was my mother’s ability to focus completely on her great-grandson that made the connection genuine and special. When he was being silly, with a smile on her face, she told him without implied judgment, “You are silly.” He laughed even more and was thrilled to discover that it was okay, even fun, to have someone else enjoy his silliness. What a change from the usual adult admonition: “Stop acting so silly!” And so the play went on with unabashed enthusiasm and unbounded glee.
Although ten years shy of a century separates them in age, there was no difference in how they felt as human beings. They were two individuals who clearly enjoyed being together, respected each other and generated reciprocal positive energy. People are people regardless of age. The need for human connection does not diminish over the years. We all need to be validated, and we all thrive when someone else gives us undivided attention and unconditional acceptance.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Witnessing a Miracle of Love and Dedication
This past weekend in Toronto, I heard Rosemarie Blanc’s piano students perform. There were nearly 70 of them. Normally, one would expect some to play excellently, some very well and maybe a few to be not-so-well prepared for any number of reasons. What an incredible experience to hear each child play with joy, confidence, musicality and competence, covering the full range of beginner to advanced repertoire. Every piece flowed rhythmically and accurately, with a clarity of purpose and total engagement from the performer. It was only after the last student finished that I fully realized the miracle of what I had witnessed.
Over the past twenty-five years, Rosie has been my friend, Suzuki trainee, Mastering the Piano and Bigler~Lloyd-Watts Music Camp teacher. For approximately fifteen of those years, I have journeyed annually to her studio for a workshop. It has been such a privilege to observe her ever-upward trajectory as a pedagogue. This year, there seemed to be a gigantic leap forward in the pleasure and accomplishment of her students.
Rosemarie embodies what I wish every student of every subject could have: a loving teacher who cares first about the well-being of her pupils, who has the goal of giving the best lesson she can every time to every child, who learns from each lesson and who spends her spare time exploring, learning and growing so that the next lessons will be even better.
Hats off to my beloved friend and esteemed colleague!
Over the past twenty-five years, Rosie has been my friend, Suzuki trainee, Mastering the Piano and Bigler~Lloyd-Watts Music Camp teacher. For approximately fifteen of those years, I have journeyed annually to her studio for a workshop. It has been such a privilege to observe her ever-upward trajectory as a pedagogue. This year, there seemed to be a gigantic leap forward in the pleasure and accomplishment of her students.
Rosemarie embodies what I wish every student of every subject could have: a loving teacher who cares first about the well-being of her pupils, who has the goal of giving the best lesson she can every time to every child, who learns from each lesson and who spends her spare time exploring, learning and growing so that the next lessons will be even better.
Hats off to my beloved friend and esteemed colleague!
Friday, April 20, 2007
A Debate Swirls
The question: Teaching popular music as well as classical music to piano students is good.
Since this is my blog, you are going to read my opinion on this topic. We would, of course, like very much to hear your opinions.
When I was 12, I heard, over the radio, Jack Fina playing Bumble Boogie, loved it, and managed some time later to acquire a copy of the score. It is a challenging piece, both to read and to play well and is based on the fabulous Flight of the Bumble Bee by Rimsky-Korsakov.
I was a good student but, as you know from previous blogs, a poor sight-reader. One of my biggest lacks was the ability to work out the rhythms with any kind of consistent underlying beat. So anyway, I bashed my way through it, sort of. There were many places where I was too inexperienced and sloppy to be able to manage the complex rhythms. No adult I knew was willing to help me with the difficulties I encountered. The attitude at the time was, “That stuff is junk and if you want to play it on your own time, OK, but we’re not going to help you with it.”
The result was that I played about half of the piece, always to great acclaim from the listeners, but only at private gatherings. I wish I could say that I learned all of it by the time I was an adult but the truth is that I didn’t learn it properly, totally, until I taught it to one of my students. I told Jamie, who had heard me play it in the cut version, that I wanted him to be able to play it better than I did, so I would help him if he would agree to work carefully. Deal. By this time, I did know how to count and work out the rhythms so both Jamie and I learned it completely and well. I play it as my encore now at all concerts because everyone loves it so much.
My attitude is that students learn a tremendous amount about resolving rhythmical challenges from playing popular or jazzy music. You have to count to be able to do it! Besides, teens need to have something to wow their peers with. First you have to get their attention, then it is possible, and I have heard about it over and over again from the kids, that they can then play their Bach and Clementi Sonatinas and their friends love hearing what they can do.
I would opine that the Royal Conservatory of Music agrees with me, since they now permit wonderful arrangements of popular music to be used as studies as well as eight levels of jazz pieces by Christopher Norton.
Since this is my blog, you are going to read my opinion on this topic. We would, of course, like very much to hear your opinions.
When I was 12, I heard, over the radio, Jack Fina playing Bumble Boogie, loved it, and managed some time later to acquire a copy of the score. It is a challenging piece, both to read and to play well and is based on the fabulous Flight of the Bumble Bee by Rimsky-Korsakov.
I was a good student but, as you know from previous blogs, a poor sight-reader. One of my biggest lacks was the ability to work out the rhythms with any kind of consistent underlying beat. So anyway, I bashed my way through it, sort of. There were many places where I was too inexperienced and sloppy to be able to manage the complex rhythms. No adult I knew was willing to help me with the difficulties I encountered. The attitude at the time was, “That stuff is junk and if you want to play it on your own time, OK, but we’re not going to help you with it.”
The result was that I played about half of the piece, always to great acclaim from the listeners, but only at private gatherings. I wish I could say that I learned all of it by the time I was an adult but the truth is that I didn’t learn it properly, totally, until I taught it to one of my students. I told Jamie, who had heard me play it in the cut version, that I wanted him to be able to play it better than I did, so I would help him if he would agree to work carefully. Deal. By this time, I did know how to count and work out the rhythms so both Jamie and I learned it completely and well. I play it as my encore now at all concerts because everyone loves it so much.
My attitude is that students learn a tremendous amount about resolving rhythmical challenges from playing popular or jazzy music. You have to count to be able to do it! Besides, teens need to have something to wow their peers with. First you have to get their attention, then it is possible, and I have heard about it over and over again from the kids, that they can then play their Bach and Clementi Sonatinas and their friends love hearing what they can do.
I would opine that the Royal Conservatory of Music agrees with me, since they now permit wonderful arrangements of popular music to be used as studies as well as eight levels of jazz pieces by Christopher Norton.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Another Lesson Learned from Tennis Players
Some years ago, a fabulous tennis player named Bjorn Borg was winning everything in sight. Naturally, everyone wanted to know how he came to be so good. In an interview, he said that he practiced tennis five hours each day, in itself an excellent display of discipline. So far, so good.
There is a quote, attributed to Artur Rubinstein, the late, great, much-loved pianist, “Don’t tell me how talented you are, tell me how hard you work”.
Yeah, well, lots of people work hard, or at least put in the hours, and they are not necessarily the best at anything.
Here’s the kicker. Borg went on to say that every second of that five hours was at the intensity of tournament play and that every shot counted as though it was a match point. Now we’re talking a whole other thing. We are including, along with physical stamina, incredible mental focus, motivation and sustained commitment. Anyone can play at an intense level for a game, or a set, once in a while. To play at that level of engagement for five hours, every single day, year in and year out, is awe-inspiring.
How that translates for me is that I aspire to be engaged all the time when practicing. I believe that practicing and performing are, ideally, the same. If I can be totally present, in the moment, and focused on the task at hand in the privacy of my practice room, I stand a vastly greater chance of staying with that kind of focus out on stage.
It sure makes practice time fly!
There is a quote, attributed to Artur Rubinstein, the late, great, much-loved pianist, “Don’t tell me how talented you are, tell me how hard you work”.
Yeah, well, lots of people work hard, or at least put in the hours, and they are not necessarily the best at anything.
Here’s the kicker. Borg went on to say that every second of that five hours was at the intensity of tournament play and that every shot counted as though it was a match point. Now we’re talking a whole other thing. We are including, along with physical stamina, incredible mental focus, motivation and sustained commitment. Anyone can play at an intense level for a game, or a set, once in a while. To play at that level of engagement for five hours, every single day, year in and year out, is awe-inspiring.
How that translates for me is that I aspire to be engaged all the time when practicing. I believe that practicing and performing are, ideally, the same. If I can be totally present, in the moment, and focused on the task at hand in the privacy of my practice room, I stand a vastly greater chance of staying with that kind of focus out on stage.
It sure makes practice time fly!
Thursday, April 05, 2007
A Miracle Called Carole Bigler
Last year, two weeks before our 30th Summer Music Festival~Suzuki Kingston program in July, Carole’s illness took a nasty turn and put her in hospital, on dialysis. The outlook was grim, to say the least.
Over the course of the previous year, various unexplained symptoms, such as swollen, red hands and intermittently swelling feet, had been incorrectly diagnosed as rheumatoid arthritis. Finally, the term scleroderma reared its nasty head. It is related to arthritis in that they are both auto-immune diseases. The prognosis was not pleasant yet it was thought that Carole could manage for many years. Then suddenly her kidneys faltered in a big way.
So, on to dialysis, about which we all learned more than we ever wanted to know. Even though the process keeps people alive, it is truly a wrenching procedure that takes place three time a week for several hours at a time. It was terribly hard on Carole, to the point where she had to take a tranquilizer in order to endure the treatment.
Carole is one determined and strong person, as I have learned to love and admire over the course of our 30 year working relationship. She concluded that as long as her kidneys were having their work done for them by a machine, they had no incentive to get up off their hind legs and start taking care of business themselves.
So she went off dialysis, with the approval of her physician. She has 15% kidney function which is the minimum required for independent living. She holds the thought that her body knows how to heal itself and she is giving it a chance to do just that. Every night, as she is falling asleep, she pictures her blood flowing easily and perfectly through her kidneys, cleansing and renewing itself.
Last week, the dialysis ports were removed from her body. For the first time in nine months, Carole could take a shower! For a person who loathes baths, this was bliss! She stayed in the shower until the water ran cold.
Carole is feeling so feisty, her natural state of being, that she is planning on being with us in July. We will have a glorious celebration to welcome her back.
I want to invite the world to come celebrate our living, breathing miracle, called Carole Bigler, with us.
Over the course of the previous year, various unexplained symptoms, such as swollen, red hands and intermittently swelling feet, had been incorrectly diagnosed as rheumatoid arthritis. Finally, the term scleroderma reared its nasty head. It is related to arthritis in that they are both auto-immune diseases. The prognosis was not pleasant yet it was thought that Carole could manage for many years. Then suddenly her kidneys faltered in a big way.
So, on to dialysis, about which we all learned more than we ever wanted to know. Even though the process keeps people alive, it is truly a wrenching procedure that takes place three time a week for several hours at a time. It was terribly hard on Carole, to the point where she had to take a tranquilizer in order to endure the treatment.
Carole is one determined and strong person, as I have learned to love and admire over the course of our 30 year working relationship. She concluded that as long as her kidneys were having their work done for them by a machine, they had no incentive to get up off their hind legs and start taking care of business themselves.
So she went off dialysis, with the approval of her physician. She has 15% kidney function which is the minimum required for independent living. She holds the thought that her body knows how to heal itself and she is giving it a chance to do just that. Every night, as she is falling asleep, she pictures her blood flowing easily and perfectly through her kidneys, cleansing and renewing itself.
Last week, the dialysis ports were removed from her body. For the first time in nine months, Carole could take a shower! For a person who loathes baths, this was bliss! She stayed in the shower until the water ran cold.
Carole is feeling so feisty, her natural state of being, that she is planning on being with us in July. We will have a glorious celebration to welcome her back.
I want to invite the world to come celebrate our living, breathing miracle, called Carole Bigler, with us.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
A Sight-reading Triumph for Me
At a gathering in Vancouver recently, the host, who loves piano music but doesn’t play well himself, asked if I would play his favorite piece, Schubert’s Serenade. That meant, sight-read his score. Hmm. In public, so to speak, in front of my childhood piano teacher and other musically well-educated people. This was a daunting prospect for someone who has always considered herself to be a limited (what a lovely euphemism for “rotten”) sight-reader.
OK, let’s do it! Looking at the score, I saw that the melody was played by the hight hand in the middle of the keyboard and the left hand played single notes below and chords above – in other words, crossing hands in every measure! I noticed that the key was D minor and began to count inside myself, “1 and 2 and 3 and."
I played it perfectly!
So what, you might ask? It wasn’t the world’s most complex piece, was it? No, but no one can really know how awful I have always felt about my sight-reading! Reading the Serenade well was an incredible payoff for me, of my months of effort of practicing sight-reading every day for 15 minutes, using fresh-to-my-eyes music, employing the Sight-reading Checklist (the list of steps great sightreaders go through before they start to play, to be blogged next), counting out loud and reading with the metronome at a very slow tempo.
It was one of those “I felt 10-feet tall” moments.
OK, let’s do it! Looking at the score, I saw that the melody was played by the hight hand in the middle of the keyboard and the left hand played single notes below and chords above – in other words, crossing hands in every measure! I noticed that the key was D minor and began to count inside myself, “1 and 2 and 3 and."
I played it perfectly!
So what, you might ask? It wasn’t the world’s most complex piece, was it? No, but no one can really know how awful I have always felt about my sight-reading! Reading the Serenade well was an incredible payoff for me, of my months of effort of practicing sight-reading every day for 15 minutes, using fresh-to-my-eyes music, employing the Sight-reading Checklist (the list of steps great sightreaders go through before they start to play, to be blogged next), counting out loud and reading with the metronome at a very slow tempo.
It was one of those “I felt 10-feet tall” moments.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Megan and the Gossec Gavotte
As a young mother in 1967, newly introduced to and excited about the Suzuki method for violin, I wondered how much effect being exposed to the same recording day after day would have on my then-five year old daughter Megan.
I was certainly a keener so I bought the only recording available at that time, John Kendall’s LP Listen and Play. On the recording, for reasons best known to Summy-Birchard, there was a stop after each approximately 30 second piece. This might have been of benefit to a teacher but for one who wanted to let it play all the way through, it was irritating to have to lift the record arm and place it on the next piece. So I made a tape-recording of the platter. In the middle of the Gossec Gavotte, the machine had a kind of hiccup and instead of “da de da da de de dah” it went” da de glup de de dah”. “Oh, well”, I thought to myself, “Megan will know what is intended”.
I put the recording on every day, as I was supposed to do. Some weeks later, Megan was lying on the living room carpet, coloring and singing to herself. I heard the Gossec Gavotte, “da de glup de de dah”.
I made a new recording that day.
I was certainly a keener so I bought the only recording available at that time, John Kendall’s LP Listen and Play. On the recording, for reasons best known to Summy-Birchard, there was a stop after each approximately 30 second piece. This might have been of benefit to a teacher but for one who wanted to let it play all the way through, it was irritating to have to lift the record arm and place it on the next piece. So I made a tape-recording of the platter. In the middle of the Gossec Gavotte, the machine had a kind of hiccup and instead of “da de da da de de dah” it went” da de glup de de dah”. “Oh, well”, I thought to myself, “Megan will know what is intended”.
I put the recording on every day, as I was supposed to do. Some weeks later, Megan was lying on the living room carpet, coloring and singing to herself. I heard the Gossec Gavotte, “da de glup de de dah”.
I made a new recording that day.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Classical Calm
This past week I got an entirely different slant on the broader benefits of listening to classical music. And this one is for the dogs!
As I was finishing up a lesson with an exceptionally talented 18-year-old young man, I commented on his remarkable ability to connect with the music and communicate through his playing. I asked him how he gets himself into this seemingly altered state when he plays the piano, particularly Mozart. He really could not answer my question, but he told me that ever since he was a little boy, classical music has had a powerful effect on him. Giving an example, he shared his experience as a little boy. Whenever the family went on a long car trip and he got rambunctious or irritable, his mother turned on the Pachelbel Cannon. Soon thereafter, he “zoned out,” as he described the feeling, settled down and usually fell asleep.
Two sisters waiting for the next lesson heard this conversation and added their special story. The interesting difference was that their story was about their dogs! Each of them had gotten her own fluffy white puppy for Christmas. One day when the dogs were with them in the car, the teenage sister turned on the radio and tuned in some rock music. The dogs suddenly became agitated and began to bark incessantly. So the girls turned the rock off. A bit later their mother tuned in the classical music station. The dogs appeared to calm down even more. The girls and their mother talked about how the dogs reacted to the music. They tested the little Bichon Frise/Poodle pups by playing both rock and classical music. Sure enough, the dogs barked frantically during the rock music and quieted down immediately when the classical music was played. Ever since discovering that classical music has such a soothing effect on the dogs, they tune in the classical music station whenever they leave the dogs home alone. The dogs consequently stay calm and out of trouble. Perhaps this is a potential new market for music therapists.
As I was finishing up a lesson with an exceptionally talented 18-year-old young man, I commented on his remarkable ability to connect with the music and communicate through his playing. I asked him how he gets himself into this seemingly altered state when he plays the piano, particularly Mozart. He really could not answer my question, but he told me that ever since he was a little boy, classical music has had a powerful effect on him. Giving an example, he shared his experience as a little boy. Whenever the family went on a long car trip and he got rambunctious or irritable, his mother turned on the Pachelbel Cannon. Soon thereafter, he “zoned out,” as he described the feeling, settled down and usually fell asleep.
Two sisters waiting for the next lesson heard this conversation and added their special story. The interesting difference was that their story was about their dogs! Each of them had gotten her own fluffy white puppy for Christmas. One day when the dogs were with them in the car, the teenage sister turned on the radio and tuned in some rock music. The dogs suddenly became agitated and began to bark incessantly. So the girls turned the rock off. A bit later their mother tuned in the classical music station. The dogs appeared to calm down even more. The girls and their mother talked about how the dogs reacted to the music. They tested the little Bichon Frise/Poodle pups by playing both rock and classical music. Sure enough, the dogs barked frantically during the rock music and quieted down immediately when the classical music was played. Ever since discovering that classical music has such a soothing effect on the dogs, they tune in the classical music station whenever they leave the dogs home alone. The dogs consequently stay calm and out of trouble. Perhaps this is a potential new market for music therapists.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Batman and the Boy Who Couldn’t Play the Piano
In the mid-1960s, the TV show Batman was a wonder to a 5-year old boy. Not only did my son, Lloyd, love drawing the cartoon character, he was passionate about the music. I bought the printed score and played it for him. Written by Neal Hefti, the music is clever, punchy and rhythmically complex. It took some practicing on my part to play the syncopated middle section.
Lloyd loved it. He announced that he wanted to learn to play it. Holy cow, Batman! He couldn’t play the piano at all. So I showed him one little bit at a time, hands separately. He was listening to it constantly, either played live by me – we didn’t have even a reel-to-reel tape recorder then – or on the TV.
Lloyd played the bits he knew for hours. As he was learning them, he would get frustrated and furious. When it all got to be too much, he would climb down from the piano bench and hop with rage. This was fascinating to watch because I had only read about people hopping with rage in the fairy tale, The King of the Golden River. I would think to myself, 'Well, I guess that’s the last of his wanting to play "Batman."' Yet a few minutes later, he would be at the piano again.
Eventually, he got the first and last parts down pat. I explained to him that the middle section was way more complicated rhythmically, but he was determined to get it all and, by golly, he did.
It occurs to me now that the principles behind Lloyd’s learning of "Batman" are the same ones that it’s taken me decades of piano teaching to define. The student listens to a piece and gets excited about it; he learns it bit by bit, with lots of help from a teacher who can break the process into small chunks.
When students come to lessons excited about wanting to play pieces that are miles beyond their current ability, those of us using Mastering The Piano say, “Great! You can learn it, taking as much time as you need, nibbling a few measures each week.” We know that children who are self-motivated can climb mountains and accomplish miracles.
Lloyd loved it. He announced that he wanted to learn to play it. Holy cow, Batman! He couldn’t play the piano at all. So I showed him one little bit at a time, hands separately. He was listening to it constantly, either played live by me – we didn’t have even a reel-to-reel tape recorder then – or on the TV.
Lloyd played the bits he knew for hours. As he was learning them, he would get frustrated and furious. When it all got to be too much, he would climb down from the piano bench and hop with rage. This was fascinating to watch because I had only read about people hopping with rage in the fairy tale, The King of the Golden River. I would think to myself, 'Well, I guess that’s the last of his wanting to play "Batman."' Yet a few minutes later, he would be at the piano again.
Eventually, he got the first and last parts down pat. I explained to him that the middle section was way more complicated rhythmically, but he was determined to get it all and, by golly, he did.
It occurs to me now that the principles behind Lloyd’s learning of "Batman" are the same ones that it’s taken me decades of piano teaching to define. The student listens to a piece and gets excited about it; he learns it bit by bit, with lots of help from a teacher who can break the process into small chunks.
When students come to lessons excited about wanting to play pieces that are miles beyond their current ability, those of us using Mastering The Piano say, “Great! You can learn it, taking as much time as you need, nibbling a few measures each week.” We know that children who are self-motivated can climb mountains and accomplish miracles.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
The Lesson and the Gift
Dealing with a major illness has a way of consuming your life – physically and emotionally. With the relentless schedule of doctor’s appointments, medical tests and treatments, plus the tremendous frustration of physical limitations and overall discomfort, it’s easy to feel sorry for yourself, to spend too many hours in bed or just to give up. I found myself heading that way. Then one day while I was hooked up to a dialysis machine, one of my young students came to visit me. With wide eyes and obvious concern, she said, “You always know how to make me feel better, and I know you can do it for yourself.”
Her comment triggered one of those “Ah-ha!” moments, forcing me to look for something positive about my situation. It was a tough assignment. But that 9-year-old kid made me realize that from these otherwise unpleasant experiences, I learned a life-enhancing lesson and received a priceless gift. It’s been a long time coming, but fortunately, life’s a persistent teacher.
The lesson is to accept help from others gratefully and graciously and even to ask for it when needed. This isn’t easy for an independent person. I’ve prided myself on my ability to do things by myself and make it on my own – to be tough. So much for pride and self-sufficiency! They rapidly dissipated when suddenly I had to rely on family and friends for the simple requirements of daily living. As it turns out, allowing others to help me made them feel better, too. I know how satisfying it is to do something for someone else. Now, I know that to refuse help is to deny others that satisfaction.
The incredible gift that has come out of this is human connection. As word spread about my illness, the number of letters, emails, phone calls and visits I received was overwhelming. It’s been years since I’ve seen or heard from many who contacted me. All of them told me how I’d touched their lives in special ways. To hear and read such tributes is one of the most precious gifts a person can receive. It’s like being at your own memorial service while you’re alive to enjoy it! My father always said, “Send the flowers to people when they can smell them.” I am going to try to send “flowers of appreciation” much more often than I do.
Her comment triggered one of those “Ah-ha!” moments, forcing me to look for something positive about my situation. It was a tough assignment. But that 9-year-old kid made me realize that from these otherwise unpleasant experiences, I learned a life-enhancing lesson and received a priceless gift. It’s been a long time coming, but fortunately, life’s a persistent teacher.
The lesson is to accept help from others gratefully and graciously and even to ask for it when needed. This isn’t easy for an independent person. I’ve prided myself on my ability to do things by myself and make it on my own – to be tough. So much for pride and self-sufficiency! They rapidly dissipated when suddenly I had to rely on family and friends for the simple requirements of daily living. As it turns out, allowing others to help me made them feel better, too. I know how satisfying it is to do something for someone else. Now, I know that to refuse help is to deny others that satisfaction.
The incredible gift that has come out of this is human connection. As word spread about my illness, the number of letters, emails, phone calls and visits I received was overwhelming. It’s been years since I’ve seen or heard from many who contacted me. All of them told me how I’d touched their lives in special ways. To hear and read such tributes is one of the most precious gifts a person can receive. It’s like being at your own memorial service while you’re alive to enjoy it! My father always said, “Send the flowers to people when they can smell them.” I am going to try to send “flowers of appreciation” much more often than I do.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Cracked Notes and Aussies
In crude terms, playing a piece of music on the piano requires the fingers to play the right notes in the right rhythm with the right dynamics. Sometimes the music goes very fast, so getting the fingers into position is tricky. Hitting two keys at once, called “cracked notes,” is a perpetual challenge for pianists. The fear of having cracked notes can make a performer so careful that all spontaneity and joy evaporate.
As a young student in England, I moaned to my teacher about the challenging leaps in a Bach Partita. His response was a scornful snort. Much as I would have liked a useful strategy from him, it wasn't forthcoming. Years later, I developed my own strategy as the result of meeting an Australian tennis champion.
On a trip to Australia in 1978, I took tennis lessons with a Davis Cup champion, Geoff Pollard. He said ten words that improved my tennis game and my piano performance: "Wait until you can read the writing on the ball."
Most people, explained the pro, have poor judgement about the distance of the tennis ball as it speeds towards them. They swing too early and miss. Instructed not to swing my racket until I could read the writing on the ball, I was confident. The writing is pretty big. The pro then lobbed a ball at me. Suddenly I realized that it was spinning around very fast and would be almost on my nose before being legible. In the last instant, I read the words and swung. To my complete astonishment, I hit the ball squarely with my racket and lobbed it back to the pro.
I've adapted this successful strategy for hitting a tennis ball accurately into one for hitting a key accurately: "Wait until you are over the centre of the key." The pianist is now really looking at, and focusing on, the position of the fingers.
How do you learn to find the centre of the key quickly enough to produce excellent accuracy, rhythm and dynamics in a dizzyingly fast piece? The practice solution is to separate the speed of getting the hand into position from the speed of depressing the key. I call this technique "practicing fast very slow." There are five steps.
Step 1. Play the key that occurs before you need to change hand position, using the appropriate amount of strength required for the dynamic you want, then STOP.
Step 2. Look for the key (or chord) that will be played next.
Step 3. Move the entire hand AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE to the new key but DO NOT PLAY IT.
Step 4. Look to see that the correct finger is over the center of the key to be played.
Step 5. Play the key with the appropriate dynamic level.
When you're comfortable and can play the notes correctly because you've practiced moving your hand quickly, speed up the tempo of the piece until it's at performance level. This strategy is very effective for reducing cracked notes to a minimum in any performance.
It also improves your tennis game.
As a young student in England, I moaned to my teacher about the challenging leaps in a Bach Partita. His response was a scornful snort. Much as I would have liked a useful strategy from him, it wasn't forthcoming. Years later, I developed my own strategy as the result of meeting an Australian tennis champion.
On a trip to Australia in 1978, I took tennis lessons with a Davis Cup champion, Geoff Pollard. He said ten words that improved my tennis game and my piano performance: "Wait until you can read the writing on the ball."
Most people, explained the pro, have poor judgement about the distance of the tennis ball as it speeds towards them. They swing too early and miss. Instructed not to swing my racket until I could read the writing on the ball, I was confident. The writing is pretty big. The pro then lobbed a ball at me. Suddenly I realized that it was spinning around very fast and would be almost on my nose before being legible. In the last instant, I read the words and swung. To my complete astonishment, I hit the ball squarely with my racket and lobbed it back to the pro.
I've adapted this successful strategy for hitting a tennis ball accurately into one for hitting a key accurately: "Wait until you are over the centre of the key." The pianist is now really looking at, and focusing on, the position of the fingers.
How do you learn to find the centre of the key quickly enough to produce excellent accuracy, rhythm and dynamics in a dizzyingly fast piece? The practice solution is to separate the speed of getting the hand into position from the speed of depressing the key. I call this technique "practicing fast very slow." There are five steps.
Step 1. Play the key that occurs before you need to change hand position, using the appropriate amount of strength required for the dynamic you want, then STOP.
Step 2. Look for the key (or chord) that will be played next.
Step 3. Move the entire hand AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE to the new key but DO NOT PLAY IT.
Step 4. Look to see that the correct finger is over the center of the key to be played.
Step 5. Play the key with the appropriate dynamic level.
When you're comfortable and can play the notes correctly because you've practiced moving your hand quickly, speed up the tempo of the piece until it's at performance level. This strategy is very effective for reducing cracked notes to a minimum in any performance.
It also improves your tennis game.
Monday, January 22, 2007
The Pay-off of Being "In the Moment"
A couple of weeks ago, I sat down at the piano for my last practice sessions before heading to tropical St. Maarten. Even the lure of a week on sun-warmed beaches wasn't enough to quell nagging thoughts that I'd lose momentum in my practicing. Any skill that requires eye-hand coordination plus mental sharpness needs daily reinforcement to be at its best. There's that old saw about Rachmaninoff (or pick any pianist of note) who said, “If I miss one day’s practice, I notice; if I miss two days' practice, my wife notices; if I miss three days' practice, everyone notices.”
In practicing, the challenge is to pay attention to each note and not day-dream about, say, an upcoming sunny holiday. I've been very influenced by Jon Kabat-Zinn’s statement that if you aren't present here, when you get there, you won't be present either. The same challenge faces everyone who meditates: when trying to focus on one thing, the mind breaks off and introduces other thoughts. We can be two people – one who does the task, and one who watches the doing. In practicing and performing, keeping these parts together is the goal. So-called memory lapses occur when the split happens. In my experience, it isn't that notes are forgotten but that concentration falters.
I'm happy to report that I didn’t think an edifying thought the entire week in St. Maarten. I enjoyed watching the water, sun and sand, I enjoyed the pleasure of my friends, and I recklessly enjoyed the wonderful French food. It was pretty easy to stay focused in those moments! By week's end, my walk had changed from an energetic, get-from-here-to-there-as-quickly-as-possible gait, to a relaxed, loose-limbed saunter.
Now, I'm back in the saddle again, and I love it. After loosening up my fingers, I'm noticing that the practice I did before leaving has taken me to new, deeper levels. I'm feeling so refreshed and happy that my love of playing the piano is even more intense and rewarding, moment by moment.
In practicing, the challenge is to pay attention to each note and not day-dream about, say, an upcoming sunny holiday. I've been very influenced by Jon Kabat-Zinn’s statement that if you aren't present here, when you get there, you won't be present either. The same challenge faces everyone who meditates: when trying to focus on one thing, the mind breaks off and introduces other thoughts. We can be two people – one who does the task, and one who watches the doing. In practicing and performing, keeping these parts together is the goal. So-called memory lapses occur when the split happens. In my experience, it isn't that notes are forgotten but that concentration falters.
I'm happy to report that I didn’t think an edifying thought the entire week in St. Maarten. I enjoyed watching the water, sun and sand, I enjoyed the pleasure of my friends, and I recklessly enjoyed the wonderful French food. It was pretty easy to stay focused in those moments! By week's end, my walk had changed from an energetic, get-from-here-to-there-as-quickly-as-possible gait, to a relaxed, loose-limbed saunter.
Now, I'm back in the saddle again, and I love it. After loosening up my fingers, I'm noticing that the practice I did before leaving has taken me to new, deeper levels. I'm feeling so refreshed and happy that my love of playing the piano is even more intense and rewarding, moment by moment.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Collaboration's time has come!
Jugglers were among the first to openly embrace sharing and growing. The spoken rule for jugglers is, "You teach me a trick, and I'll teach you one, and then we'll both know two!"
The idea of collaboration began for me with Dr. Suzuki, who encouraged all teachers to share teaching tips and stragegies through regular meetings of two or more teachers. Until then, the piano teachers I had known were secretive about their methods. The entire system was so competitive that the feeling seemed to be, "If I tell you my secrets, then you will know mine plus your own, and then your students will be better than mine," with the implied subtext, "and I wouldn't be able to stand that!"
It has been a joy to see how greater openness has filtered down to the students. Instead of having rival studios in which one dare not speak to another teacher's student, fellow students become best friends and root for each other to do well in competitions, even when they are going head-to-head in the same one.
We all win.
The idea of collaboration began for me with Dr. Suzuki, who encouraged all teachers to share teaching tips and stragegies through regular meetings of two or more teachers. Until then, the piano teachers I had known were secretive about their methods. The entire system was so competitive that the feeling seemed to be, "If I tell you my secrets, then you will know mine plus your own, and then your students will be better than mine," with the implied subtext, "and I wouldn't be able to stand that!"
It has been a joy to see how greater openness has filtered down to the students. Instead of having rival studios in which one dare not speak to another teacher's student, fellow students become best friends and root for each other to do well in competitions, even when they are going head-to-head in the same one.
We all win.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Re-framing: one of my most valuable tools as a teacher
It happens in piano teaching more often than one would expect: a child tries an activity for the first time, cannot do it perfectly and becomes frustrated and angry faster than the speed of light. One can tell almost immediately that this has happened by the sounds of the hands slamming down on the keyboard. Separating the child’s brain from the fingers (figuratively, of course) seems to be a powerful aid to relieving the frustration.
I talk to the child about his or her wonderful brain that has a clear picture of what needs to happen. At this time, though, the fingers have never attempted this action before. The brain is sending messages to the fingers but, since they are inexperienced at the activity, the fingers don’t always understand what they are being asked to do. This is why we need to ask them over and over until they really know what is required. It means, then, that the child’s brain needs to be kind to the fingers because the fingers are doing the best they can and the brain needs to help until, again figuratively speaking, the fingers turn around and say to the brain, OK, we know how to do that now.
The children respond wonderfully to this strategy, feel great about themselves and display real patience and compassion for their fingers. That is why re-framing is one of my most valuable tools as a teacher.
I talk to the child about his or her wonderful brain that has a clear picture of what needs to happen. At this time, though, the fingers have never attempted this action before. The brain is sending messages to the fingers but, since they are inexperienced at the activity, the fingers don’t always understand what they are being asked to do. This is why we need to ask them over and over until they really know what is required. It means, then, that the child’s brain needs to be kind to the fingers because the fingers are doing the best they can and the brain needs to help until, again figuratively speaking, the fingers turn around and say to the brain, OK, we know how to do that now.
The children respond wonderfully to this strategy, feel great about themselves and display real patience and compassion for their fingers. That is why re-framing is one of my most valuable tools as a teacher.
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