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It’s that time of year again. I pack up my classroom at school, say good bye to the students I’ve had and will mostly continue to teach in September, and then clean, clean, clean. But as I clean. the creative juices flow as I mentally prepare for my institute teaching. As I go through the shelves in the classroom I stash away favorite games, look in books for fresh ideas and brainstorm just what I can do to bring a new twist to my teaching. Please oh please, I pray, let the right side of my brain go wild!

I took an art class a couple years ago about drawing on the right side of the brain. The premise was to unleash the right side of the brain thus changing the perspective of the way one looks at objects. Since I have no artistic ability the learning curve was impressive. But more over, I remember my brain actually hurting after each exercise. That’s what I try to emulate now.

As I am packing I am thinking these things:

1. What manipulatives can I add to my bag of tricks?

2. How can I incorporate them into games?

3. How can I teach the most information in the shortest amount of time?

4. How can I make the students laugh and have fun?

I know that the last of these is the most important. I always have to remind myself of this.
Think, “more than music”, I tell myself. I think of my colleagues preparing as well. Are they feeling the trepidation and exhilaration as I am at the moment? Are they plotting how they can be the best teacher possible too? Of that I am sure.

And what about the students? I remember getting my children ready for the week ahead. Packing their clothes, practicing much more the week prior to secure their performance pieces, getting their hair cut, wondering who their teachers would be and would they love my children. One of my children’s highlights in getting ready was shopping for snacks. Although the cafeteria provided enough calories to gain ten pounds in a week, we packed bags of snacks for the dorm. During the shop, all rules went out the window. We packed soda, chips, candy and the biggest of all treats, sweet cereal which was absolutely forbidden in our home. God bless the teachers who had my kids at the end of the week. They acceptingly and lovingly taught sleep deprived children on a sugar high. What great memories!

My goal is just that. To create great memories for my students next week. How will I attain that? The answer is yet to be discovered. I will pack my bag of tricks, begin to assemble new games and remember to look my students in the eyes with the biggest smile and the most love I can offer. I will remember to see them as small children who are looking to learn, trying to be their best and willing to share their love……..just like their teacher.

In previous posts I have written about the quality of the Suzuki Institute at Kingston Ontario Canada. It is an honor to work with the prestigious faculty in this picturesque setting. But of equally high quality are the families that attend.

A few years ago I found an adorable little girl wearing home made dresses, her hair in long, blond braids as one of my students for the week. She captured my heart as she smiled and giggled the entire week at the lessons. Her parents were right at her side loving her beyond imagination and cherishing every second with their little girl. The love they shared was quite evident in their every move.

I don’t remember how many years ago that was. But we were reunited at the piano last summer again. The braids are now replaced by shoulder length hair loosely pulled back. The dresses are still home made, but interspersed with shorts and tee shirts. The smile is that of a 13 year old young lady, poised and confident. She converses in a relaxed, easy flowing way using an enormous vocabulary with whomever she encounters. The parents are at her side with the love and pride unceasing.

I now get occasional calls from her. The calls are sporadic jumping from one topic to another endlessly. We are very comfortable with each other as if we see each other daily.

Today I received a gift that was very powerful. It was a DVD of a recital given by this 13 year old girl. So much practice had gone into the final product. For the age, it was a lengthy recital of high quality. Her passion rings out loud and clear. The DVD was done very thoughtfully including photos of her with the extended family, friends and those who attended.  She also had a section of photos of her with Carole Bigler, her piano teacher to whom she dedicated the recital.

Included in the package was the program that she helped to compose. My name was listed as one of her teachers.

All this left me speechless.

I guess one never knows the impact one has on others. It’s hard for me to believe she thought to send me this package and include me in the program. What an honor.

And what timing! I am now packing my supplies to teach at the Institute. I am thinking of my lesson plans, wondering who my students will be, and what I can do to make my lessons ones that will have the highest impact. I always get a little anxious about that. How can I be my best? How can I make these small children walk away motivated and energized?  How can I teach a great amount about music  and make the kids  laugh at the same time?  What a tall order!

That’s what teaching at the Suzuki Institute does for me.  It creates a need for me to produce my highest quality work.  It puts me in the company of highly skilled educators where I learn not only about education but about being a giving human being.  It engages me with parents who place education first.  It brings beautiful children who offer so much love and energy  fueling me to teach yet another year.

Music institutes are a gift that keeps giving.  What will I bring to it this year?  I don’t completely know yet.  But I do know this.  I will aim to provide a gift that keeps giving.

I was setting up my music room at school for what I call “game day” with my 3rd grade students. I save game day for the end of the school year because the games are a conglomeration of what I have taught all year. They cover topics such as: note value, music symbols, names of lines and spaces, solfeggio, tempo, dynamics, etc. I have created between 10 and 12 games that I scatter about the room. The student are divided into groups with 2 or 3 children per group. They then rotate around the room about every 8-10 minutes to play different games. The kids love it and have worked cooperatively solving problems and reviewing vocabulary. It really is great to see it in action.

Sometimes when a group finishes a game earlier than others they come to ask what they should do next. I then make up a variation of the game so that they are occupied while they are waiting. What’s better though is when I see the kids making up a different game with the game parts. They have given me some good ideas! The other day one little girl was asking how I created the games and came up with the ideas. She asked because she thought of a game to teach note value. It really was a brilliant game she created. Together we brainstormed ideas and variations for her new game.

I’m not going to write about it now because I am preparing to teach at the Kingston’s Suzuki Institute in a couple of weeks and plan to use some of her ideas. I’ll report of the results in a later post.

But the moral of this post is- teachers can learn from their students. I have often heard this statement but don’t encounter it too much after having taught for eons. Need ideas for group lessons? Just ask your students!

Although I continue to be obsessed with Scrabble, it’s time to take a break and write a post about a very special event- my daughter’s college graduation. I realize that graduating from college is quite mainstream these days, but the weekend held some touching moments. As often with my family, music was the reason.

Festivities began on Friday for my family. The college held a recital for non-music majors of which my daughter accompanied many. It was fun to see her in the role of accompanist after watching her as a soloist for years. Accompanying is a different, interactive skill of which she was quite successful. Following the recitals was a champagne reception.

We  then went to a reception for music majors. My daughter graduated with a major in Spanish and a music minor, but because she only lacked one class in becoming a major (she wasn’t able to take the course because she did a year abroad) she was invited to the event. Being a small college, there were only 6 music majors so the event was intimate. Attending was the dean of music, private teachers, the graduates and their families. Since a student stays with their private teacher for 4 years, a close bond forms. Each teacher gave a little speech about their student and presented them each a gift. My daughter’s teacher made us laugh and cry. She began, “Often when a student goes abroad for a year she comes back opinionated and argumentative. This is the way my student came to me as a freshman.” It was apparent that professor and student truly loved each other!

The next day was the baccalaureate service. The graduating class was about 600 students. We did not have to look over the sea of students to find our daughter; she had a seat on the stage because she performed for the service. Once again, a tearful moment during the performance and a program with her name in it made us proud.

The following day was the graduation ceremony. Music brought my little girl once again to the stage. This time to sing the alma mater with others (about 15) in a small chorus. Of course, tears again.

I have written extensively that the non-musical goals associated with piano lessons are the driving force behind my teaching and the main factor in investing in lessons for my own children.  But this weekend proved to me that taking music lessons can bring pleasure and pride to others.  Music for music’s sake. I thank my little girl for bringing pride to her family and enjoyment to the world through her music.

Although this may be the end of a long journey of formal piano lessons, she will take her knowledge to new heights.  Most likely she will not pursue a career in music.  But employment options will be many:  she will be qualified to teach lessons, be a church organist, be an accompanist, and, maybe even more importantly, enjoy the fruits of her labor by making music in her own home for friends, relatives, and most importantly, for herself.

To my loyal readers and blog mates,

I apologize for not reading, responding, or spending much time blogging these days. Blame Scrabble!

I have always loved word games and begged my family to play Scrabble. When the kids were growing up I would do anything they wanted to do if they would just play one round of Scrabble with me.

Well, ya gotta love technology; I bought on line Scrabble and love it! I am working my way up the levels. I am getting better, learning strategies and maybe improving my vocabulary. My biggest hope is to ward off dementia.

I am sure the novelty will diminish soon, so don’t give up on me. …. I’ll try to be loyal to both.

I guess to some degree I take my piano students for granted.  They come weekly, are prepared for the most part, and we have a good relationship.  Since I teach Suzuki piano, their parents attend the lessons and communication is free and open.  I am told that my students stand out among others, but even so, I am just a small town teacher doing my job as many others.

My last post was about my ‘end of the year’ piano recital .  I was rather surprised at some responses to that so I began to think through my teaching.  This is what I have come to realize:

1.  Meeting once a month to perform is part of my success.  Each month the kids are to perform a minimum of one piece from memory.  This provides incentive and a concrete goal for the child.  I know, even with many adults, until one is given a goal procrastination is easy.  Surprisingly, many of my students end up performing more than one piece at these events.  At the last group night, one girl had a series of 5 jazz pieces, a boy had 3 Bach minuets, another boy had 2 major pieces of contrasting styles.  And two girls got together on their own to prepare a duet to play in addition to their solo pieces.  Please don’t think I’m bragging!  This is just typical with my students.

2.  Informal takes the pressure off.  We hold  monthly group nights in my living room.  The rule is that adults sit in chairs and kids on the floor.  Because we meet often, the student’s reputation doesn’t depend on that one performance.  If they make a mistake it’s ok.  One of my jobs is to teach them how to rescue themselves if a problem occurs.  Because of this the kids handle making a mistake maturely.  They have been given strategies and can cope.  It’s a rare occasion where I have to step in or a student asks for his music.

3.  Relationships are formed.  Because we get together so often we have formed a family.  There is respect and ownership among the adults and kids.  I try to announce events that the kids are doing or have done for that month outside of piano in order to become more familiar with one another.  The announcements include ice skating or dance performances, school concerts, academic accomplishments, sports, etc.  It also puts into perspective the degree of accomplishment of these kids.  As I have said before, I am astonished that my students even have time to practice piano!  Because we are in a small town, we are able to support our children by attending school and sporting events, once again, giving the feeling a family.  “It takes a village” really applies here.

What I have found out in life is that when I go beyond what is necessary the rewards are steep.  Group nights are not always easy to fit into my life or the students’ families lives but the benefits are grand.  I often think, “Why am I doing this?  Other teachers don’t “.   But here’s the answer:

(Master card)   Tuning the piano-$70,00.  Treats for after the performance- $15.00.  Hours invest that night- 1-2.   Success rate- priceless!

(Nike)  JUST DO IT!

Last night I had my “end of the year” piano recital for my studio. These wonderful children and their families dropped their regularly scheduled events, post phoned homework, ate dinner in record time, and made time to add the piano recital. In fact, one family went a step farther; one daughter had a social studies review class at the same time her sister had a lacrosse game and as soon as they both finished, they ate a sandwich in the car and came to the recital, a little late, but came and performed. I couldn’t imagine doing this with a brain fried from social studies or being exhausted, sweaty, dirty and bloody from a lacrosse game! (the younger sister actually had blood running down her leg.)

This is my piano studio, whom I love and admire. They are devoted and enjoy being together. We decided to go a little less formal this year and had the recital in a member’s home rather than in a concert room or church. In a goal to conserve finances, I was very glad to have made the change. I have discovered that the performance is really only one aspect of these recitals. The other important part of the equation is the socializing that goes on before and after. Although the performance lasted about 40 minutes, the event lasted 2 hours.

The adults shared conversation, tasty appetizers, and wine. The students shared the same with a non-alcoholic variety. The flow of conversation was spirited including many topics. I heard one young boy ask an 8th grade boy if he planned to go on to college for music. A mother of a middle school boy told me the monthly recitals inspired her daughter, who plays flute, to play for grandparents. Kids and adults commented on certain students’ performances and certain pieces.

Because we meet every month there were also comments about the progress students had made. One parent shared with me how she looks forward to certain students’ performances each month. Another parent commented on how sad she was that one family couldn’t make it. Friendships have formed within our parents as well as students. After a bit of food and conversation, some kids made their way to the kitchen to play a game while others relaxed chatting together.

Are recitals necessary? As a kid I absolutely hated them. We only had one each year so it felt like a lot was riding on it. Also, it was the only time I was ever asked to play from memory. Gathering once a year, the group really didn’t know each other and the parents didn’t have allegiance to anyone expect their own child.

By doing studio recitals monthly the adults take interest in all the children. The children become familiar with the setting and with performance expectations. And we all look forward to the socializing!  I am always living by the motto that piano lessons are “more than music”.  Of course, the other night at the performance the kids played beautifully sharing their talents.  And they learned discipline, concentration, memorization skills, accomplishing a long term goal, and many other non-musical goals.  But when the element of fun is added to the mix, isn’t it better?  Parents and kids had a great time sharing laughter, music, food, compliments, themselves.  Who could ask for anything more?  To answer the question, yes. Recitals are necessary.

cimg45361This week I have lost a friend, a mentor, the person who has influenced me professionally and personally. With great sadness, I write of the loss of Carole Bigler. I know I am not alone in feeling this deep emptiness; although petite in stature , her charismatic smile left everyone she met with the feeling of intimacy.

Carole’s musical talent coupled with her genuine warmth and sharp wit lead her to be one of the most sought after individuals. She was pure magic with children and adults. Carole had this unique way of making a person feel like he was smart, beautiful, talented, special. But the talent she possessed most of all was the ability to build one’s self esteem; she gave each person she met the gift of self confidence. Carole taught me to believe in myself.

I met Carole 19 years ago. I was a young teacher and mother, insecure in most aspects of my life. More than anything, I wanted to be the best teacher and mother I could be. The moment I met Carole she began working her magic and I knew I was in the presence of a very special person. She was warm, generous with her compliments and intimate in her approach. I longed to get to know her and follow in her shoes. Her magnetism was bigger than life, all 90 pounds of her!

As I hoped, our friendship blossomed. A few years later, she called to invite me to be on the faculty at the Kingston Suzuki music institute. I was shocked and speechless. I asked her a million questions but the one I asked over and over was why did she choose me? I saw myself as just a small town music teacher doing my j0b, nothing out of the ordinary. She saw potential, and agreed to provide support and love. In years that followed I found that this was the way Carole worked. She believed in me. It’s that pure and simple. Because she believed in me, I began to believe in myself. As I grew she gave me more teaching responsibility along with her constant support. I grew as a teacher and as a person.

Anyone who has had the privilege of being with Carole has their special story. I have had the privileges of watching her teach, being her student, listening to her lecture, and belly laughing at her silliness. I know her quirks and have shared heart to heart conversations with her.

My family and I have also been blessed in sharing the story of “the miracle of the snow” with Carole and her delightful husband Bill. Like I said, I am sure that everyone has their special Carole story.
But mine involves a miracle with a miraculous teacher. Here’s my story:

While teaching together one summer Carole and I discovered that we had both planned to be in Rome at the same time. We shared details and planned to meet for dinner one of the nights. The thought of having dinner with Carole Bigler was a thrill in itself, but to think that it would be in Italy was much more excitement than I could possibly contain.

The day was August 5th. In typical tourist style, our family had a full day scheduled. We decided to begin with Mass at the cathedral near our hotel. We arrived five minutes before it was supposed to begin, true Catholic protocol. It wasn’t very full, but we attributed that to the the enormity of the edifice. On schedule a Mass began, but not in the main altar. We could hear it going on in one of the side altars. However, as we sat there more and more people were entering the church. Not understanding Italian very much, we decided that we must have misunderstood the timing and that the Mass on the main altar was yet to come. So we waited. Within the half hour the church filled to the brim and Mass began. A major procession began with priests, bishops, and all sorts of clergy and altar boys. Music resounded from every part of the altar. We had a hunch we had stumbled onto something big.

Somewhere in the middle of the Mass a spot light pointed to the ceiling and an enormous gold panel opened. Millions of white rose pedals came drifting through the panel onto the altar where priests were sitting in all their pageantry. It was like a big feather pillow exploding! This lasted for 10 minutes! We had no idea what was going on. At the end of the very royal and celebratory Mass, the congregation made a dash to the altar and collected the pedals.

We left having no idea what had happened. When we arrived back to the hotel we told the desk clerk . He then shared the legend of the village: In 358 dc the people of Rome prayed where to build a church. They decided that they would build one where it snowed in August. The church we attended that morning was the church that was built all those years ago. To celebrate, every 5th of August there is a special Mass there; the rose pedals symbolized the snow. It was an awesome sight!

We were to meet Carole and Bill the same evening and could not wait to share our story with them. We had a lovely dinner on this warm evening at a side walk cafe. As with all Italian dinners, the food was tasty, the wine flowing and the ambiance warm and sweet. Conversation with the Biglers was everything I thought it would be. Both Carole and Bill were great with our kids. They had the kids engaged with their stories, prompted them to talk about their lives, and of course, made them laugh.

At the end of the meal we heard music coming from the cathedral. We decided that we girls would go to the church to see what was going on and the guys would stay, pay the bill and meet us there. As we climbed the cathedral steps police stepped in front of us and assembled official yellow tape so that people would not get closer. There were a few others who bellied up to the tape along with us. For the second time that day we had no idea what was going on and this time we were in the front row. The music continued as the area began swarming with people. News reporters were there, one giving out posters. My son, being small and lively, was given a poster. It was in celebration of the snow miracle (the photo above is of our poster). Now crowds of people lined the side streets spewing in angles from the church. The sun was setting, the music playing, people a buzz; it was going to snow! Somehow we realized this along the way, but we didn’t quite know how or where. After all, it was about 90 degrees.

Suddenly spot lights aimed at the topmost windows of the cathedral. And the snow began! This time in the form of soap bubbles. The crowd cheered wildly. How long it lasted I cannot say. Within few minutes, the yellow tape carefully laid out by the police was broken and my children, among others, were dancing under the shimmering bubbles. For the second time on that hot glorious day it snowed in Rome and we were soaking up the festivity.

This is my story. This I was able to share with Carole Bigler. It’s our special story, ours and ours alone. Together we have had the delight of retelling our miracle to others. Each time we told it the pride bubbled inside of me. How glorious to share this memory with her!

When I remember Carole Bigler I will remember her dry sense of humor, her inviting smile, her way of putting all people before herself. I will try to follow in her foot steps by bringing joy and self esteem to my students. “What would Carole do?” often comes to my mind when I have a challenging teaching moment. Her memories will live with me forever for I have experienced a miracle with a miraculous teacher.

When it rains it pours!  Lately I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed with teaching:  my daily school job, my  piano teaching, my high school jazz choir, concerts, group piano nights, report cards.  Luckily, April break was the light at the end of the tunnel.

So on this one day, I decided to leave earlier than usual for school (since I’d been awake since 3:00 A.M. anyway) to get some serious work done.  I was in the groove and the phone rings.  It was from a mom who’s child I had taught last summer at the Kingston Suzuki Institute.  After helping to jog my memory as to who she was, she explained that she and her children would be in the area and could they come visit.  Without missing a beat, I invited them to come and participate during my fourth grade class.  As I hung up, I thought, “I have to be crazy!  I am so swamped right now and I just added to the list!”.

My lesson ended up being great.  Right on time the mom entered with her 3 children.  I invited the middle child to play piano for the class.  No one in this particular class took piano lessons and they were in awe.  They asked him questions afterward to find out how he could play so well.  I then invited his older sister to play who was into improvisation.  She was mostly improvising on a pentatonic scale, so I popped in my students to join her.  Everyone thought it was very cool.  My students learned the meaning of improvisation and had these real musicians to look up to.  After that, I did a recorder lesson and we invited our visitors to join us.  It was all great fun!

My spontaneity proved to be a great lesson much beyond music.  The lesson it taught me was to always make time for others.  In real life it is easy to get caught up with the daily stuff and avoid going out of the way for others.  It would have been very easy to just explain that I was teaching and unable to meet with this lovely family.  But being a teacher at the Kingston institute has taught me to go out of my way for others.  The faculty at the institute is not only talented  but so absolutely giving of themselves that it’s easy to step into that mode.  I always think of it like being in Brigadoon.  We work together, respect each other, love each other and that’s it.  So when this mom called me, I automatically stepped into my Kingston personality.  (I try hard to have the “Kingston personality” all year, but in the real world it’s not always easy.)

This week I received a wonderful thank you note from the family; they had had as much fun as I during their visit.  I placed that card on the refrigerator to remind me of the lesson.  Not the piano performance, or the recorder lesson, or the improvisation.  I put the card there to remind me of a more important lesson: that of be a giving human being, the greatest lesson of all.

As I wrote in a previous entry, my daughter has been preparing for her senior recital at college. Although she is a Spanish major and a music minor, she opted to give a recital, mostly because she approaches everything in life with gusto.

We visited her over a month ago and she gave us a preview. I was astounded by the quality and quantity of music: a Bach partita (on harpsichord), Chopin etudes, Rachmaninoff preludes, Ginastera dances, Ravel, and a suite by George Crumb. Most pieces were memorized and totaled about an hour and 15 minutes of music. I was in awe of not only her ability, but even more by her motivation.

Needless to say, anxiety was high during the last month of preparation. A weakness in her hand that had been present in high school reoccurred, adding to the stress. She spent a lot of time with her very loyal and nurturing piano teacher and also with her upbeat, encouraging harpsichord teacher. As the mom, I saw her tension and effort. However, I know my daughter, recognized that she was in good hands professionally, and had no reservations that the event would be a success.

Along with her studies and looking for a job, she was also creating her program for the recital. The program had her senior picture on the front and it included program notes, personal biography, and dedication. It was a keepsake for her family and friends.

Needless to say, we were very excited traveling (through a snowstorm in April!) to her college for the recital. Upon our arrival, her piano teacher welcomed us into her home for an elegant, savory dinner. Conversation was easy and relaxed- no signs of anxiousness. The next day was also breezy including shopping and lunch. Still no signs of jitters. I was amazed at my daughter’s composure. I think the best analogy I could make was that of a pregnancy and delivery. During pregnancy questions, doubts, stress and anxiety are high. But when contractions begin, it’s just time to focus and get the show on the road. That’s how I saw my daughter in preparation and delivery of her recital.

Twenty minutes before the concert we went in the practice room to wish her well. She appeared calm and collected. How could this be? I was always a complete mess before a recital and my performances were never as extensive as hers!

The stage was set with a harpsichord and and two grand pianos; one on which she played most of her repertoire, the other prepared for the Crumb pieces along with a screen awaiting projection during the piece. Five minutes before the performance I take my seat. I glance around the concert hall taking in a sizable audience. I wonder who each individual is: friends, teachers, small children who are probably my daughter’s private students. I’m pleased to see so many supporting her endeavor, another sign of who she has become.

And then my girl enters. Dressed in a simple, elegant dress she carried herself with an air of confidence and sophistication. As she took her bow my palms were damp, my body was tense, I could hardly breathe. Who’s recital was this anyway? My mom always said that she was much more nervous sitting in the audience for my recitals than I was. I always had a hard time believing this, but now I was the mom in the audience sitting at the edge of my seat.

As she begins, I can see her left hand shaking. It’s good playing, maybe not her best, but impressive, I’m sure, to all except the mom who has heard her play for 18 years. I find myself getting more nervous as I watch her jittery hands. Are her hands really shaking or is it my failing eye sight? I pray she gets through this first piece successfully enough to have fun with the rest of the program. When finished I hear myself exhale an enormous breath. I make eye contact with my son; he saw the shaking too.

The jitters are still visible during the second piece, however the execution more musical. I can see my girl getting more “into the zone”. She then moves to the harpsichord and that’s when I hear her become herself. I can still tell she is working hard, but there is a familiarity to the tone quality and body language. And thus, the mom’s body language relaxes simultaneously.

Now my thoughts are in a million directions. I am still taking in each note, each phrase, each nuance, but non-musical thoughts are racing at the same time. Who is this gorgeous, talented young lady? And how could she possibly be MY daughter! And yet…. I look at her petite profile and see a three year old on the bench, her fingers the same length as her pigtails bouncy on the top of her head. Although more angular now, her face is the same, her expression intense. I hear her personality come through her music. I hear her whimsical youth, her sassy teen years, her arrogant college years, and fresh and new, her maturity of adulthood. This is my daughter. Yes, she is part of me; I can see that. Part of me and yet different.

There are no givens in parenthood. So many times when I was growing up, I remember thinking, “When I have a kid…..” Raising a child is the most unpredictable journey I’ve taken, the joy, the fear, the pride, the sleepless night. There is no way to explain or describe someone who is a part of who you are but, at the same time, someone who is completely different. That’s who my daughter was on her recital day- part me but someone completely different. Through the grace of God, I have been blessed with a daughter.

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