Today was my last day. The last time driving over the 520 floating bridge. The last time calling ahead to say I was stuck in traffic on said bridge and that I’d be there about ten minutes late. The last time shuffling lesson books and notebooks and asking “what would you like to play first?” The last time reviewing last week’s lesson, being impressed with progress or commiserating with the student over lack of practice time. The last time saying “Goodbye;” the first time not saying, “See you next time.”
I gave each of my students, or each family of students, a book of holiday songs as a parting present. We spent the last ten or fifteen minutes of our lessons today picking out a holiday song (or better yet, a duet!) to practice and play for family.
Every one of them said, as we slogged through this thinly-disguised sight-reading exercise: “This is fun!” You can imagine the pitter-pat sound my heart made every time I heard that! The inscription in each book was “From Ms. Bird, with love and best wishes for a lifetime of music-making.” And if they can say sight-reading is fun, then they are well on their way!
This fall, for the first time, teaching was a real strain on me. My schedule was never the same from week to week, and I was constantly having to play catch-up or rearrange twenty people’s schedules in order to keep up. It added a surprising amount of stress to my already stressful season. I know the students suffered, too; I don’t think they made as much progress this fall as I know they could have if I’d seen them every week. And that is why I have to stop! If I truly wish for them a “lifetime of music-making,” they need consistency at this stage of development. It would be selfish of me to ask them to stick with me through my irregular schedule and cancelled lessons. But I have thought about asking…
I can’t get the voice of one of my 5th-graders out of my head: “I’m going to miss you so much!” She must have said this half a dozen times, and each time I thought my heart would break. As happy and proud and joyful that I am to have made such an impression, to have given these children the gift of music, I am so sad to let them go.
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Friday, November 11, 2005
In Athens
(I wrote this last night, but couldn't post until I got back to my Starbucks internet connection. I'll write tomorrow about today's class and tonight's concert.)
I’m writing this sitting on the bed in “my room” at my grandparents’ house; it’s my room because I lived here for my last year at UGA. Being here, in this room, is just one of many bizarre experiences that I’ve had today! Being back here after five years away is so strange. I lived in Athens for four years, longer than I lived anywhere else (next to the five years we spent in Utah when I was in jr. high and high school). So there are lots of ghosts hiding here! Much has changed, but, more suprisingly, much is the same. I could find my way around (driving my cousin’s car) easily as if I’d left last week, and my favorite brunch place is still open! Unfortunately, they only serve brunch on the weekends, so I’ll have to miss out. My favorite coffee shop is closed, but the Athens landmark, The Grill, is still there, right across the street. Oh, and DePalma’s is still there! A favorite spot for a solo lunch (spinach fettucine with alfredo sauce) and dates with my future husband. So many memories here…
I spent a few hours with some UGA voice students this afternoon. They were all members of the Opera Ensemble, a group I think I actually helped form. (I know for sure that I was the “founding president,” whatever that means!) Now it’s a regular class, one that they register for, whereas in the beginning I think it was a club. They’re working on a small scenes program, and after about an hour of questions and answers and talking about life after college, I got to do a little coaching. Whenever I’m faced with that situation – coaching or teaching or directing – I’m always afraid that I’ll have nothing to say. I did my first “masterclass” with high school students about two years ago, and I was terrified! But as soon as they start to perform, I recognize what I have to offer that they need. Some need technical suggestions, others stagecraft tips, and I seem to know how to present a new idea in a way that is easily assimilated. There are a few quick fixes, but also fuel for future discoveries and new thoughts to take away and digest.
Today I heard two young singers perform the Papageno/Pamina duet from Die Zauberflöte. They told me that it was still in the early stages of staging and so they were still working on memorization. No problem. I was happy to work with them at that level, as I knew they’d be open for new ideas. I listened through the whole thing once, mentally making a list of areas and ideas that I wanted to come back to. The first thing was directly connected to memorization: I could tell that one of them was unclear as to the exact meaning of the German text. She admitted that she was still “memorizing the German,” and I told her that unless she knew the meaning of each word, all she was doing was memorizing sounds. And sounds don’t convey a story, words do. It’s tedious to sit down with a dictionary and translate something word for word, but unless you have a libretto tool like Nico’s books, it has to be done. She promised to spend some time in the library!
It was also fun to work with the two of them to create a relationship between their characters. The first time through, they were two students singing a duet with some cute choreography. Nice, but not telling a story. So we spent some time talking about the characters and how they would interact with each other. One of my favorite things about this duet is that is all about love and finding your true love, but it is sung by two characters who are not in love with each other. Two friends, in love with other people, dreaming of the day that they get to be “Mann und Weib!” It’s imperative to find a way to indicate to the audience that P&P are not lovers, and the easiest way is by demonstrating their class difference, for lack of a better term. Pamina is a princess, Papageno is a blue-collar man. How do they interact? How do they stand? What do they think of each other? If there is physical contact, i.e., standing arm in arm or holding hands, how do you show that it’s playful and not seriously romantic? Fun questions, and I think the two singers enjoyed thinking about the answers.
One stagecraft issue that we discussed is eye contact. I believe that a true connection, on- or offstage, is impossible without real eye contact. But eye contact on stage can feel very unnatural! So you often see a bunch of shifty-eyed performers on stage together, with no real connections anywhere to be found. Once I encouraged the two to really look at each other, their relationship became honest and inviting. All the students noticed, and hopefully took note! It was really wonderful to watch.
Any anxiety I felt about “teaching” in front of my teachers was nowhere to be found. I can honestly say that just as I feel a call to perform, and therefore am very comfortable in that role, so do I feel a call to teach. I feel very happy after this experience, knowing that when the day comes that I stop performing for a living (hopefully a long time from now), I will find a rewarding second career as a teacher. Or maybe even as a director on some level. Who knows?
Tomorrow, more students and more discoveries. Both theirs and mine.
I’m writing this sitting on the bed in “my room” at my grandparents’ house; it’s my room because I lived here for my last year at UGA. Being here, in this room, is just one of many bizarre experiences that I’ve had today! Being back here after five years away is so strange. I lived in Athens for four years, longer than I lived anywhere else (next to the five years we spent in Utah when I was in jr. high and high school). So there are lots of ghosts hiding here! Much has changed, but, more suprisingly, much is the same. I could find my way around (driving my cousin’s car) easily as if I’d left last week, and my favorite brunch place is still open! Unfortunately, they only serve brunch on the weekends, so I’ll have to miss out. My favorite coffee shop is closed, but the Athens landmark, The Grill, is still there, right across the street. Oh, and DePalma’s is still there! A favorite spot for a solo lunch (spinach fettucine with alfredo sauce) and dates with my future husband. So many memories here…
I spent a few hours with some UGA voice students this afternoon. They were all members of the Opera Ensemble, a group I think I actually helped form. (I know for sure that I was the “founding president,” whatever that means!) Now it’s a regular class, one that they register for, whereas in the beginning I think it was a club. They’re working on a small scenes program, and after about an hour of questions and answers and talking about life after college, I got to do a little coaching. Whenever I’m faced with that situation – coaching or teaching or directing – I’m always afraid that I’ll have nothing to say. I did my first “masterclass” with high school students about two years ago, and I was terrified! But as soon as they start to perform, I recognize what I have to offer that they need. Some need technical suggestions, others stagecraft tips, and I seem to know how to present a new idea in a way that is easily assimilated. There are a few quick fixes, but also fuel for future discoveries and new thoughts to take away and digest.
Today I heard two young singers perform the Papageno/Pamina duet from Die Zauberflöte. They told me that it was still in the early stages of staging and so they were still working on memorization. No problem. I was happy to work with them at that level, as I knew they’d be open for new ideas. I listened through the whole thing once, mentally making a list of areas and ideas that I wanted to come back to. The first thing was directly connected to memorization: I could tell that one of them was unclear as to the exact meaning of the German text. She admitted that she was still “memorizing the German,” and I told her that unless she knew the meaning of each word, all she was doing was memorizing sounds. And sounds don’t convey a story, words do. It’s tedious to sit down with a dictionary and translate something word for word, but unless you have a libretto tool like Nico’s books, it has to be done. She promised to spend some time in the library!
It was also fun to work with the two of them to create a relationship between their characters. The first time through, they were two students singing a duet with some cute choreography. Nice, but not telling a story. So we spent some time talking about the characters and how they would interact with each other. One of my favorite things about this duet is that is all about love and finding your true love, but it is sung by two characters who are not in love with each other. Two friends, in love with other people, dreaming of the day that they get to be “Mann und Weib!” It’s imperative to find a way to indicate to the audience that P&P are not lovers, and the easiest way is by demonstrating their class difference, for lack of a better term. Pamina is a princess, Papageno is a blue-collar man. How do they interact? How do they stand? What do they think of each other? If there is physical contact, i.e., standing arm in arm or holding hands, how do you show that it’s playful and not seriously romantic? Fun questions, and I think the two singers enjoyed thinking about the answers.
One stagecraft issue that we discussed is eye contact. I believe that a true connection, on- or offstage, is impossible without real eye contact. But eye contact on stage can feel very unnatural! So you often see a bunch of shifty-eyed performers on stage together, with no real connections anywhere to be found. Once I encouraged the two to really look at each other, their relationship became honest and inviting. All the students noticed, and hopefully took note! It was really wonderful to watch.
Any anxiety I felt about “teaching” in front of my teachers was nowhere to be found. I can honestly say that just as I feel a call to perform, and therefore am very comfortable in that role, so do I feel a call to teach. I feel very happy after this experience, knowing that when the day comes that I stop performing for a living (hopefully a long time from now), I will find a rewarding second career as a teacher. Or maybe even as a director on some level. Who knows?
Tomorrow, more students and more discoveries. Both theirs and mine.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Bittersweet
I’m home, sitting on the couch in our living room, which still doesn’t quite feel like our living room, after a lovely dinner prepared by Erik after my first day back at teaching. A good glass of red wine (from a bottle that was a gift from the Port Angeles Symphony last season) and “evening” jazz on KPLU have eased the rough edges of the day.
I started teaching about four years ago. I had submitted my resume to a local “school of music” - a.k.a. a lesson factory in a strip mall - for a spot as a voice teacher, when they contacted me about teaching piano lessons. What?! Are they crazy?! I am NOT a pianist, never was, never will be. But after talking with the man (who was desperate for another piano teacher!), I decided to give it a shot. When you’re talking about teaching 8-year-olds, it’s really just music lessons using the piano as a tool. You’re not trying to create the next Jay Greenberg or Lang Lang; at least I’m not. I figure the goal with piano lessons at this age is to teach music theory and basic piano skills while (hopefully) instilling a love of music-making that will stay with them into adulthood. I was surprised to discover that I loved doing just that. That I love music so much, and love my childhood music memories, that I really was able to help these children love it, too.
I taught lessons at the “school” for about two years. I had come to love teaching enough that I wanted to have a bit more control over my schedule, more importantly, over who I taught. So I started teaching out of my home last fall, many of my students having “defected” from the school to continue studying with me privately. There are a handful of students - well, no, I guess I’m down to one – who have been with me since my first day at the school, and it has been such a joy to watch them grow, as musicians, students, and people. The one student who is still with me won my heart one day in my first month of teaching. She kept asking questions about why music was dictated this way, and “why don’t they do it this way” and “what happens if…” After trying to placate her and give her answers that she could comprehend at that stage, I finally had to say “You know, you’re getting a little ahead of yourself! You’ll have to trust me on this one. Take my word for it for now, and in a few months we’ll get to the details.” She looked sheepish and said, “Yeah, I do that [get ahead of herself] sometimes. This one time, I was playing with my chemistry set, and I did some things way before I was supposed to, and the experiment didn’t work.” She was eight! I just wanted to hug her, she was so cute.
Then there was the little girl who came in for voice lessons, after struggling through piano for a few years. Her mother wanted her to have music lessons, but didn’t want to force it in such a way as to make her hate music (a good mom, in my book), so they had decided to give voice lessons a try. She, the little girl, loved to sing, but had recently started getting teased at school about her voice. A gorgeous child, and very smart, I imagine she is often a target of teasing, well-mannered or otherwise, from her peers. When I asked her to tell me why she wanted to take voice lessons (my first question to every new student), tears streamed down her cheeks and she stared at the ceiling as she talked of her love of music and singing. She didn’t say anything negative, no mention of teasing, but I could sense that she had been wounded. I had intended to take a trial lesson with her and then tell her mother that I didn’t teach voice to children, but I was won over. We’ve been working together for about a year and a half now, and she is really finding her voice, pardon the pun, including singing two songs at her brothers’ music recital. If there was teasing, I didn’t hear anything of it; I only heard how excited she was to share her music with her family. This year we’re adding some piano back into the mix; she’s also learning solfege sight-reading skills. Oh, and in the spring, she saw the Phantom of the Opera movie, and decided that “opera is pretty cool.” We talked a little bit about Phantom being a musical, not an opera, but I didn’t want to get all snobby on her when she was so excited about classical singing! Then this summer, she went to “opera camp,” sponsored by Seattle Opera. She went on a tour of the hall, saw the Rhinemaidens rehearse in their harnesses, and participated in a play version of The Ring. Now she’s a regular opera buff! How cool is that?!
Anyway… All this remiscing is due to the fact that today was the start of my last “semester” of teaching. After December, I won’t be teaching anymore. I’ll be traveling too much for work, and when I’m home I’ll have other projects that I need to be preparing. In fact, I don’t really have time to teach this fall, but I couldn’t leave my students in the lurch. Two weeks ago I gave everyone the option of continuing until December or calling it quits now, and all of them – including six brand-new students – have chosen to continue. I have such relationships with these families; two of my “piano moms” were also my students, which I thought set a wonderful example for their children. They grew to be friends, and their children came to be so dear to me. I will treasure every week I have left with them. I’m happy that my singing career is taking off, but I am sad to be starting an extended “sabatical” from teaching.
I started teaching about four years ago. I had submitted my resume to a local “school of music” - a.k.a. a lesson factory in a strip mall - for a spot as a voice teacher, when they contacted me about teaching piano lessons. What?! Are they crazy?! I am NOT a pianist, never was, never will be. But after talking with the man (who was desperate for another piano teacher!), I decided to give it a shot. When you’re talking about teaching 8-year-olds, it’s really just music lessons using the piano as a tool. You’re not trying to create the next Jay Greenberg or Lang Lang; at least I’m not. I figure the goal with piano lessons at this age is to teach music theory and basic piano skills while (hopefully) instilling a love of music-making that will stay with them into adulthood. I was surprised to discover that I loved doing just that. That I love music so much, and love my childhood music memories, that I really was able to help these children love it, too.
I taught lessons at the “school” for about two years. I had come to love teaching enough that I wanted to have a bit more control over my schedule, more importantly, over who I taught. So I started teaching out of my home last fall, many of my students having “defected” from the school to continue studying with me privately. There are a handful of students - well, no, I guess I’m down to one – who have been with me since my first day at the school, and it has been such a joy to watch them grow, as musicians, students, and people. The one student who is still with me won my heart one day in my first month of teaching. She kept asking questions about why music was dictated this way, and “why don’t they do it this way” and “what happens if…” After trying to placate her and give her answers that she could comprehend at that stage, I finally had to say “You know, you’re getting a little ahead of yourself! You’ll have to trust me on this one. Take my word for it for now, and in a few months we’ll get to the details.” She looked sheepish and said, “Yeah, I do that [get ahead of herself] sometimes. This one time, I was playing with my chemistry set, and I did some things way before I was supposed to, and the experiment didn’t work.” She was eight! I just wanted to hug her, she was so cute.
Then there was the little girl who came in for voice lessons, after struggling through piano for a few years. Her mother wanted her to have music lessons, but didn’t want to force it in such a way as to make her hate music (a good mom, in my book), so they had decided to give voice lessons a try. She, the little girl, loved to sing, but had recently started getting teased at school about her voice. A gorgeous child, and very smart, I imagine she is often a target of teasing, well-mannered or otherwise, from her peers. When I asked her to tell me why she wanted to take voice lessons (my first question to every new student), tears streamed down her cheeks and she stared at the ceiling as she talked of her love of music and singing. She didn’t say anything negative, no mention of teasing, but I could sense that she had been wounded. I had intended to take a trial lesson with her and then tell her mother that I didn’t teach voice to children, but I was won over. We’ve been working together for about a year and a half now, and she is really finding her voice, pardon the pun, including singing two songs at her brothers’ music recital. If there was teasing, I didn’t hear anything of it; I only heard how excited she was to share her music with her family. This year we’re adding some piano back into the mix; she’s also learning solfege sight-reading skills. Oh, and in the spring, she saw the Phantom of the Opera movie, and decided that “opera is pretty cool.” We talked a little bit about Phantom being a musical, not an opera, but I didn’t want to get all snobby on her when she was so excited about classical singing! Then this summer, she went to “opera camp,” sponsored by Seattle Opera. She went on a tour of the hall, saw the Rhinemaidens rehearse in their harnesses, and participated in a play version of The Ring. Now she’s a regular opera buff! How cool is that?!
Anyway… All this remiscing is due to the fact that today was the start of my last “semester” of teaching. After December, I won’t be teaching anymore. I’ll be traveling too much for work, and when I’m home I’ll have other projects that I need to be preparing. In fact, I don’t really have time to teach this fall, but I couldn’t leave my students in the lurch. Two weeks ago I gave everyone the option of continuing until December or calling it quits now, and all of them – including six brand-new students – have chosen to continue. I have such relationships with these families; two of my “piano moms” were also my students, which I thought set a wonderful example for their children. They grew to be friends, and their children came to be so dear to me. I will treasure every week I have left with them. I’m happy that my singing career is taking off, but I am sad to be starting an extended “sabatical” from teaching.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Happy Thanksgiving
This has been my favorite holiday for a while now. What a great idea: get together with friends and family, have a wonderful feast – to which, ideally, everyone contributes – and take a day to notice how lucky you are. Not mention watching football and having permission to drink wine at noon!
This year, I am thankful for (in no particular order):
My loving and supportive husband
A marriage that is growing in strength and beauty
Good health (and the fact that I’m still the size I was in high school!)
An incredibly anchoring network of friends here in Seattle
My family, who, even though we’re spread across the country, love each other fiercely
My adorable dog!
Mamma Pabor’s Squash Casserole
A home that we own and can fix up (or tear down) at will
The fact that I sing for a livng! And am singing well.
That I am surrounded by beautiful music, and learning of more every day.
My piano students, who keep me excited about learning.
That Christmas is coming!!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I hope you, too, will be surrounded with love. And good food!
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