The day the music died
A long, long time ago (5 years to be exact), my kindergarten-aged daughter picked up her Dora guitar and tried to play it like a violin. She said she wants to learn it. Till this day, I’m still unsure where she got this idea. I said let’s wait until Grade One and we’ll sign up for proper lessons. Sure as night followed day, she asked for lessons when she reached Grade One and I found a strings school that worked with our alternating custody arrangement. At first observation, students are not given instruments; they are evaluated by the instructors for genuine interest levels and maturity. We sat in on a 30-minute violin lesson and she thoroughly felt that she can do it. The instructor then told us to sit in on the 30-minute cello lesson. We went. I watched the young students, but mostly watched my daughter watching the cellists. I don’t think she blinked during that whole time! At the end, she announced to me and the instructor, she wants to learn the cello! Earlier that day, she was holding a toy guitar to her neck and playing it like a violin. Now it’s cello? “Why?” I inquired. Her reply was near prodigious, “Because I like the base of the cello compared to the pitch of the violin.” The instructors and I both looked at each other speechless.
In the almost five years since that day, my daughter has had her share of Twinkle recitals, group recitals, spring concerts, winter concerts and other workshops. But getting her to practice has always been a challenge. I’ve tried many techniques to get her to practice and I even bought her an hour glass so she can track her time. In addition to the other extracurricular activities, aftercare programs, bouncing between her mom’s and my house and lugging the instrument around, practice hasn’t been consistent or fun. Her mom doesn’t support her musical pursuit in the same way I do and our daughter will often go an entire week without unpacking the instrument. Over the years, my daughter doesn’t even practice at her mom’s anymore as she thinks she doesn’t like it and don’t want to risk upsetting her.
Even though musical instrument is not a competitive sport and every child progresses at their own pace, my daughter’s was moving too slowly. There are commitments for orchestra and to the group. Even some members of her original class have moved onto different classes and books while my daughter still faces the dreaded Book One Recital! The months and weeks leading up to this recital, she was getting more and more nervous. I too was coming down on her more and more. “You have to practice twice as long here because you don’t do it at your moms.” “You can’t practice your orchestra music, because that’s not on your recital.” “You need to be deliberate with your bowing and don’t rush through the piece.” “You need to pretend every attempt is performed on stage.” And if you don’t, “You’re cheating yourself.” Needless to say, I made a lot of ‘you’ statements and the day before the recital, she cried and said, “I want to quit the cello.”
Needless to say, I made a lot of ‘you’ statements and the day before the recital, she cried and between tears rolling down, she said, “Daddy, you sucked the fun out of my cello. I’ll perform at the recital tomorrow because you wanted it and then I’m going to quit.” She left for her room wanting to be by herself. I realized that I have pushed her too hard and she clearly red-lined. I felt like an asshole.
This felt different from the other time when she said she wanted to quit swimming. In swimming, she was constantly pushed by her coach because of her abilities to perform better than her peers and she felt singled out and exhausted. This time, she told me that she feels she’s only playing for me and that she feels I blame her for not practicing at her mom’s. The musical interest became a battleground and the cello no longer felt like hers. So in her mind, the easier way to end this war is to abandon the instrument. From her perspective, she was absolutely correct. She felt trapped between an unsupportive parent and another who wanted to bridge that gap. We talked about it and between tears rolling down, she said, “Daddy, you sucked the fun out of my cello. I’ll perform at the recital tomorrow because you wanted it and then I’m going to quit.” She left for her room wanting to be by herself. I realized that I have pushed her too hard and she clearly red-lined. I felt like an asshole.
The next day, we showed up at recital and she told her instructor that she doesn’t want to do this anymore. I had emailed the instructor about our talk beforehand. The instructor has probably seen this before and was so gracious, she set time aside to guide my daughter to relax and focus. On stage, my daughter’s anxiety was visible and she slipped on a few bars of Minuet in C. The piano accompanist slowed and repeated the same bar to allow for my daughter’s resumption. The audience was silent but patient. The instructor air bowed in support. The remaining pieces were played well without intervention. When she finished her last piece, she stood up, bowed to warm, loving applauses. After all the recitals, she socialized with her cello friends at the celebration and felt much better. Regardless of whether she’d quit or not, I was proud of her. At this precipice, my daughter had the grace to persevere and play through; I was proud of her sense of ownership to finish what she started. Didn’t matter how she played, the fact of the matter was that she showed up, did her thing and finished to applause. That’s what people will remember. I will forever be proud of her as she clearly did something she felt she couldn’t in front of a hundred people. In those minutes, she restored her self-esteem and confidence which I had eroded through weeks of nagging.
When we got home, she reorganized her music bag by removing Book One and sorted her orchestra music with Book Two in the front. She packed her metronome and rosin and said under her breath, “Okay, ready for group class tomorrow.” I guess that’s her way of saying she’s not quitting. I didn’t broach the topic as I felt it might be too fresh. But I realize now that as a parent, now is probably time for me to back away from her activity. I’ve supported her through the basics of Book One, the rest will be on her and her instructor to decide their futures.
