games are good
And another month has flown by! And with each day and week that passes, I find myself learning an unbelievable amount – about how to teach and what to teach, how to approach kids and how to read them, even about what things I do and don’t want in my future as a musician and an educator.
The classes at Paraclete are going well, although I need to find a way to reduce the planning time for each class. Currently it feels like I spend an inordinate amount of time planning each class, each of which happens in a flash and feels like a whirlwind. Then another week flies by and it’s Sunday night or Monday morning and I’m cramming in four or five hours to plan the upcoming lesson. But I’m learning: I don’t want to be a full-time middle school music teacher! Teaching well is ridiculously hard work! And I am learning so much about working with kids, and about these kids in particular – they are so full of inconsistencies! Many days I feel surprised by each and every thing – they remember things I told them the previous week, even though I thought they seemed bored at the time; they love watching clips from “The Sound of Music” and want to sing “Do is a Deer” a countless number of times. I read them a quote about rhythm and ask for comments and they come up with all these amazing parallels between heartbeats and speech patterns, the thunder of an elephant herd and the tides of the ocean. On the other hand, there is so much work to be done…we are learning the instruments of the orchestra, slowly, and it’s hard not to feel discouraged when I play an excerpt of a cello section and David declares that it is certainly the flutes. Oy vey. I am learning that games are good and that candy is better (but gets expensive). I am learning that if you give out candy at every class, they begin to expect it (bad news). I am learning that if you really want them to learn something, your best bet is to teach the same thing for four weeks, in four different ways. Repetition is a good friend. And the boys are becoming some sort of friends. They want to share with me what they can do, the songs they have figured out on Andrew’s guitar, their favorite jokes, what each of them plans to be for Halloween. But best of all, of course, is watching them slowly become more comfortable with the violin, witnessing their wide-eyed wonder at the first notes they play, feeling proud when they remember things week to week, believing in their genuine excitement when they come to class.
Am I making a difference in the lives of these boys? Am I setting an example that I am proud of? Is this class teaching them to believe in what they want, in what they love Are they becoming more confident, self-aware, emotive? I have no idea. Are they going to be able to play the violin without me standing there, or read music, or figure out rhythms all on their own? Most likely not. Are they going to be examples in their own schools of kids who are learning self-discipline and the art of practicing, kids who are more self-motivated, communicative, and well-adjusted than the others? Probably not. But I still believe that somewhere this is affecting them, that the music, the mentorship, the class we have together on Mondays is slowing seeping into their bloodstream, traveling to their hearts.