This week at her piano lesson, my younger daughter tried to wiggle out of playing the piece she’s been struggling with.
“I’ll play Procession twice,” she tried to bargain with her teacher. “I’m no good at Lullaby.”
“Ahhh,” said her teacher. “I’ll bet you said that a lot this week. And each time you said it, it became bigger and more real. You’re adding to this great big pot of I’m no good at Lullaby.”
She held out a round wooden box as evidence.
My girl looked into it and sure enough, it was full.
Insurmountable.
“So let’s figure out a new way to talk about this piece,” said her teacher. “A more positive way.”
My daughter was skeptical. She didn’t want to lie, for one thing.
Lullaby was really and truly stumping her.
But they agreed, finally, on this:
“Lullaby is a work in progress.”
And then my nearly 7-year-old put her nose down and worked it, for twenty minutes.
Something that hadn’t happened all week.
By the time we left, Lullaby was a lovely work in progress.
And I’m not just saying that.
I nearly missed this moment.
Usually my husband does piano lesson while I do yoga.
But he was traveling for work so I was on duty. And a good thing, too.
Because I sat there on the sidelines, re-learning a lesson myself.
That I can use as a parent.
And a teacher.
And a writer:
So much of life is process.
And much of process takes practice.
We might as well embrace where we’re at. All the time.
And along with practice and process comes perspective.
How we look at life and talk about it defines how we feel about it and, ultimately, how we actively (or inactively) respond to our challenges and our gifts.
Today, my sonnet is a work in progress.
My house is a work in progress.
My marriage is a work in progress.
The presidential election is a work in a progress.
World peace is a work in progress.
And that’s a good thing.
Here’s a poem by Linda Pastan, in celebration of all that:
Practicing
My son is practicing the piano.
He is a man now, not the boy
whose lessons I once sat through,
whose reluctant practicing
I demanded-part of the obligation
I felt to the growth
and composition of a child.
(To read the rest of this poem, click here …)
I love love love this post and the poem! What a great teacher your daughter has, too. Think I’ll go play my piano today :). Thanks so much!!
I know. The woman is very, very gifted — and not just at the piano.
Damn, that was beautiful. Although the post (and particularly the poem in conjunction with the post) should come with a warning about the tears it brings with it.
Tears are good. Especially on a Friday, Kelly. All part of the process 🙂
Piano Practice
Elaine M. of Wild Rose Reader
Liz,
This post brings back memories of the one year in my young life when I took piano lessons. Unlike my older sister, I’m in the minus column when it comes to musical ability. One year–that’s how long it took my parents and teacher to realize that piano lessons were a waste of time for me.
I was thankful–and much happier playing with friends and daydreaming than trying to coax my reluctant fingers to make music. I guess I’m trying to make words sing with my poetry now.
Re: Piano Practice
Your words DO sing, Elaine. No doubt about it. I’m not musical either. The only non-musician in my little family here. I love it, though, so much, as a listener….
Oh, Liz, so well done today.
Thanks, Sara…
What a wonderful piano teacher; your daughter is lucky to have her (and you, obv). Thank you for this lovely post and poem. And, a prosaic note: My son is just a little older, taking violin, and Edmund Sprunger’s book Helping Parents Practice has been invaluable to me. I recommend to people even if their kids don’t study music!
Anamaria
http://www.bookstogether.squarespace.com
My older daughter’s a violinist, too, Anamaria. I don’t know that book but I’ll look for it!
Karen Edmisten said:
Lovely! What wonderful teachers your daughter has … in piano, and in life. 🙂
Re: Karen Edmisten said:
Aw, shucks…
Really lovely post. Thank you for it!
Thank you for reading!
I really like that poem. I harbor a secret desire (wait, it’s not so secret) to learn to play the piano. Like, it SLAYS me. I think it’s the most beautiful instrument. But we a) don’t have room for a piano and b) couldn’t afford a big ‘ol musical instrument (a good, worthy one) right now with one of us sacrificing an income to stay home with the girls and all that.
And I can’t tell you how many people tell me to just practice on an electronic keyboard. And I say, no, I love the sound and feel of a piano. And they say, no, really, you’ll get to that later. Just practice on a keyboard. And I keep saying, no, it’s just not the same. I can’t find anyone who says, yes, I know what you mean.
In fact, I once was taking piano lessons and had to practice on a keyboard and STOPPED, ’cause it wasn’t the same as a piano.
Anyway, blah blah. But even if I’m 99, blast it, I’m gonna learn one day. (Same for the Peace Corps. I’m gonna do that one day, too, even if I’m 100).
And I hope one of my girls wants to learn the piano. We’ll see.
Sorry for the novella, but I love that poem. So, thanks.
Jules, 7-Imp
Actually, I know what you mean, Jules. I think a piano is a totally sensual instrument and a keyboard can make beautiful music but the experience of making it isn’t sensual. You ARE going to learn it someday and I’m going to learn this bless-ed dulcimer that is sitting around mocking me and we are going to have ourselves a hootenanny, girl. A hootenanny.
Thank you for this post! I’m a literacy coach at an urban school in Denver. I’ve been doing this work for almost 25 years and mostly I love what I do. Right now, though, we are a month from the CSAP, (Colorado’s State Exams). Every time I listen to a child read or look a child’s writing , I have to fight the urge to think in terms of the label he/she will receive on the CSAP next month, and remember that these are eight, nine, and ten year olds IN PROCESS. I’m going to print your post and hang it by my desk this week! Thank you.
Carol Wilcox
Oh, I’m so glad. The context of the public school system can just take it outta all of us — kids, parents, teachers. And whenever I know there’s someone like you, fighting the labels & numbers, I want new stars hung in the sky. Thanks for doing what you do, Carol.
Liz,
I literally burst into tears Saturday morning when I read this. It was SO the message I needed to bring me back from a destructive cycle of negativity.
When I swam my mile yesterday, my counting meditation for the third set of 12 was, “It’s a process – 1, it’s about the kids – 2, it’s a process – 3, it’s about the kids – 4…”
I feel better today. I feel ready for today and this week and the rest of the year.
Thank you.
Mary Lee
Crying with you…
Now I’m bursting into tears, Mary Lee.
Over your tears and your swimming mantra and your uplift.
I think we all find ourselves in the downward spiral sometimes. There are forces and challenges that just seem too dark and daunting — in our work, our relationships, our world.
The irony is that it is then we most need the patience and positive perspective. Right when those things feel most out of reach.
Believe me, your posts about the imaginative thoughtfulness you bring into your classroom everyday have scraped me up off the sidewalk more than once — and I assure you, I’m not the only one regularly inspired at A Year of Reading. http://readingyear.blogspot.com/
But that’s the whole point of community, right?
Glad you’re part of mine…
Cool quote
Feel disillusioned? I’ve got some great new illusions, right here!
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http://ebloggy.com/brookeshermannm
Hello
I’m new here, just wanted to say hello and introduce myself.
Your daughter is lucky to have a piano teacher like that, and I guess the piano teacher is lucky too to have your daughter as her student. I really like the poem, I will save it. I too started to study piano just not a long ago, I’m a little old just to have a start, but I know any age have the right to learn to play piano right.
play the piano
http://www.learnpiano.co.nz/taking-the-fastest-way-to-learn-to-play-the-piano