My son started asking for a violin when he was two. A member of the symphony came to his class and he pushed all the other two year olds out of the way to get to the man. He sat on the front row and kept going back to pluck the strings. When I picked him up he told me all about the "man with the big violin." I found out from the teacher it was a viola. He told me when he grew up he was going to play in the strings section.
I am not musical. I have said it before, no music taste rubbed off on me when the opportunity presented itself. I am not a good singer and I have never tried to play an instrument. Well, the flute once, but as good as my memory is I have totally blacked that out-forever. So when my son took a liking to musical instruments we kind of just patted him on the head and bought him some maracas. I thought he was two and would outgrow the violin and start asking me for a real dinosaur next.
No such luck.
This past Christmas, he told Santa he wanted a violin. That was all he wanted, one violin. I pleaded with him to tell me he wanted something else, anything else. At first he said no, but then he thought about it and said, "Fine. I want a violin and my own set of Harry Potter books. Mine. Not yours that we all look at together." Lovely. All my four year old wanted for Christmas was a musical instrument and some books. Nothing that whistled, flashed lights, or fell apart and was forgotten a week after the holiday. If Santa brought the violin, well, then what? Did he just run around with a bow and the fiddle? Nope-lessons would have to follow. He is four. Who wants to teach a four year old violin?
I have visions of these over achieving kids and their psycho moms telling them to be perfect. Had I become one of those moms? Did I want to be? I am happy if my kids are digging in dirt as long as they don't throw it at a stranger. All I ask is that they chew with their mouths closed and refrain from doing anything else rude at the dinner table. I wasn't about to create a little musician. But he kept asking and he never changed his mind: A violin, Harry Potter, A violin, Harry Potter. He didn't even change the instruments or books: A bassoon, The Chronicles of Narnia, a piano, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. He wanted that violin and that set of seven of his own. Fine then. I gave up.
Before I bought the instrument, I made sure I found a teacher. Now, here was the clencher. At this age, the mom is very involved in the process. You don't just drop your four year old off and pick them back up playing like Boyd Tinsley from Dave Matthews. The teacher warned me, and this is how it went:
"At this age and with this method, it is going to take a lot from the parent at first. A lot of families quit and try again in fifth grade." Did she want to write the letter from Santa saying, "Dear Kenneth, thanks for the request, but ask again when you are eleven?" Yeah right, so I had to ask her to keep going and tell me what she meant.
She said, "Well, I'll need you to read two books, come to three parent classes, and then interact with him during the lessons, so you can help him with his practices at home. AND his practice time should be twenty to thirty minutes at a time." She paused on the phone like I was going to hang up on her.
This women knew nothing of Kenneth's older sister. For Kenneth I have to read two books on The Suzuki Method. For Frances I have read, at the time of this blog post, (let me count them-pause) fifteen books by everybody and their husband since 2005. I even skimmed books I disagree with just to say I remained objective. I won't name the special ed books on this post, one person may adore something that didn't work for me. Anyway, after hours and hours of books, pamphlets, websites, and discussion boards for my daughter, my son needed his mommy to read two books. Done.
At the age of four, he has to practice his violin about twenty minutes a day. Mom has to be a part of the thirty minute lesson. His older sister spent her preschool years in and out of therapy offices. I took notes during each session and did anything and everything those specialists told me to do. Speech, PT, OT - we practiced it all day every day. We signed if they told us to sign, we colored when they told us to color. We climbed and we swang and we sang so many nursery rhymes and finger plays I was ready to fly off on Mother Goose's fine gander. And now Kenneth needs twenty minutes a day. That's it? At age four? All he needs is me, for twenty minutes? You got it buddy.
Santa brought the violin and his eyes lit up and he jumped up and down and said thank you over and over. We let him play with it Christmas morning, but then he had to put it away until class started. Since then, he has named it "Jacques." No object is more special to Kenneth than "Jacques." He has mastered how to take care of it and the bow and he is beginning to pluck. The teacher has not pulled her hair out over anything he has said or done-yet.
A lot? Most parents say "No thanks" because it is too much. The Suzuki method may very well seem like a lot to some, but for once, I get to meet the need of my middle child. It is taking a lot less out of me than round one did.