Definitely the low point

And so the term ends, not with a bang, or even a whimper, but a ... chunder.

You read that right. My last lesson, A. responds to my maniacally chirpy "So how are YOU today?!" (remember, plentiful sugary stockpile in my fridge) with a "Not good."

Further questioning reveals that A. vomited earlier today but now feels pretty fine (hence his presence at class). "It's okay!" he reassures me as only a six-year-old can. "If I feel like I need to vomit I'll just go outside." Faced with this unassailable logic, we have a great lesson...

Until A. gently puts down his violin and states, "I'm going outside. I feel like I'm going to vomit." He lets himself out and has a brief discussion with Dad, who runs to their car to fetch the emergency bucket while I stay with A. .

Who vomits. Who's all done by the time Dad returns (well, his back's only big enough for one person to rub, so really best Dad timed his return to coincide with the mopping-up and glass of water operation we slide into like old pros.

I'm ready to put violin away and usher gently to the car, but when you're six, emptying your stomach on your violin teacher's back lawn is really no barrier to having a good lesson. A. marched back in, picked up his violin, and launched into "Song of the Wind" with gusto. And a joke about the previously forgotten melody having been buried beneath the half-digested noodles now gracing my garden.

I'm sure there's a joke in here somewhere about teaching and teachers and chucking, but I'm on the comedown from macaroons-with-dark-chocolate heaven, so make it yourself. And to all the parents out there, I do so too get to experience the highs and lows of parenting.

Complete with vomit.

Nearly there.

Just one more day.
Given the amount of refined sugar happily sitting in my refrigerator (honey delight, Maltesers, Lindt, Cadbury, homemade macaroons, butter shortbread, etc, etc, so forth and so on) that really shouldn't be too hard. It's been a long term.

I don't actually remember my last whole day off. You know, the kind where you can sleep in, eat toast, eat more toast, realise it's lunchtime and expend HUGE effort upon taking a shower, eat more toast and think about a short nap before dinner.... Huh. No wonder I feel like a beached whale.

And before the interminable chorus begins, let me say it for you: Oh, enjoy it now, because when you have kids...!

You know what? You're a bunch of mongers. Jealous mongers. Because I am actively non-engaged in procreation. I'm practising, thank you very much. Only when I feel that I could pass some kind of theoretical examination (not just the practical) will I attempt to bring another living thing into this world. Then and only then will I actively relinquish my sleeping-in privileges and consign them to the days PB (pre-baby). Until then, all you jealous people shut up.

Moreover, if I was really making the most of it (or, indeed, if you REALLY wanted me to make the most of it), I'd be doing this EVERY DAY. Yep. EVERY day. But I'm not. Once a week, usually more like once a fortnight.
Or, in this particular instance, once a term. So stuff your jealousy back into your skull and relax in the knowledge that I am run ragged, on empty, sleep-deprived and a little crazy right now. Just like all you parents.

It's possible that my iphone will replace the need for offspring entirely. After all, I now have something to do with every waking minute of every day (clearly I don't already have enough to keep me busy).

In other news, played Pachelbel's Canon with three of my students for the staffroom today (yes, it was full of staff at the time). Two Gr 6, one Gr 5, me. Response: Gushing. Me: You ain't seen NOTHING yet. The best part: they really haven't. There's something immensely kick-ass about being a Suzuki teacher.

There is something much less kick-ass about your husband calling out a correction to your blog post.

Yeah, well, it's my blog and I'll type "than" instead of "thank" if I want to, than you so very damn much.

See? Running on EMPTY. No sparkles left in the magic wand, try me in January.
Or February.
Perhaps.
Maybe the sugar's making me cranky....
I should totally refuel.

Once I get started...

On the weekend I was told "To set the record straight, this is not a 'teaching method'. You cannot buy ten volumes of Suzuki books and become a 'Suzuki Teacher'."
While I couldn't agree more with this statement and have had to explain this to many parents in the past (usually parents criticising Suzuki because they'd not had a 'true' Suzuki teacher), the reason for making this statement bothers me a little.

In the last few years, the violin repertoire has undergone major revisions. There are many more photographic illustrations, exercises, technical preparations and instructions contained in the new books. So many more that it is difficult to understand the necessity of the apprenticeship model and hours of observation required in teacher training. I feel that the new books (which come packaged with a cd) make it easier for teachers to access the repertoire and teach suzuki method.

Shouldn't I be jumping up and down and yelping for joy? Hooray, give me the book, I'll work through it diligently with each student, they'll be ever-so-well prepared and my life will be easy. I won't need to innovate, to identify potential technical hurdles, or even demonstrate good posture - it's all RIGHT HERE IN THIS BOOK!

Wrong. I feel that these new books make it easier for teachers to access the repertoire and teach suzuki method while having little or no understanding of the philosophy.

I feel that including so many photographs will make teachers lazy about demonstration and perhaps make parents a little lazy too - I don't need to watch other children, learn how to hold the bow, integrate this information into my own nervous system -Here! It's right here in the book! Look at that! Do it like that! (I know, I'm so cynical. You try teaching for ten years and let me know how your idealism fares.)

And the exercises. Hm. The problem here is that not every child needs every point prepared. Some children need one skill presented fifty different ways. Some don't. Overteaching is the quickest and easiest way to kill a child's interest. They will have different standards of perfection and it's not our job to impose OUR standards upon them. Rather, we need to keep modelling what we feel to be desirable and accept that their opinion may be different - they may not yet be capable of reproducing information at that level.

What's my real beef? I guess I feel that many teachers are not passionate about what they do. Or that they have become limited to a box of ideas and won't venture beyond it. I find reading the work of other educationalists fascinating. The way that Steiner and Montessori link to kinesiology and BrainGym; Glenn Doman and John Holt; Reggio Emilia  (and here ) and Suzuki's preschool and elementary school and the obvious resemblance to Kumon....

Ask why teachers teach what they do, why they do, how they do. And if they don't know, finding out may re-inspire them.

Hmmm.

So I'm a Suzuki teacher. Not a "Oh, I teach Suzuki method violin" teacher, but a Suzuki philosophy teacher. Well, I try to be. It doesn't always go to plan, especially when I'm brought (or pushed) into proximity with other Suzuki teachers. The code goes like this: "Methhhhhoddddd" (with eye-rolling or tweaking fingers) or "Philosophy" (hushed, slightly reverent tones).


An incident is relayed in Suzuki Changed My Life by Masaaki Honda.in which one of Suzuki's nieces returned to the modest family home and said "Oh, on my way home I saw this poor man... and thought how nice it would be to invite him home where we have hot tea and good food." (I am paraphrasing because I can't currently find my copy of this book, but you get the point.) Instead of praising her for her kind thoughts, Suzuki pushed her back out the door and told her to find the man and bring him home. She did, and they fed him and kept him overnight before he resumed his journey the next day.  


While the action points to the value of karma and reciprocity, Suzuki said he was trying to teach the value of action. (Hello, Satyananda philosophy!) When we think Hey, wouldn't it be nice if... yep, ok, you're a great person for THINKING that, but it's meaningless and futile unless you get off your backside and DO it. So, the message? Thoughts are essentially without value unless they are acted upon and made real.  (The perfect illustration: Well, I was going to do x (where x = wash the dishes), and I was thinking about it, but then y (a phone call inviting me out to lunch) happened. Yes, so you lost your intent and x never actually happened.)


What's brought this to my mind was a funny incident on Sunday involving several Suzuki teachers. Meeting was meant to take place at location A but changed to location B (another teacher's studio) because of our warm weather and the availability of air-conditioning. 


At my house my studio is downstairs and semi-detached from the 'main' house; students need to come upstairs to use the bathroom, for a drink, etc. Same deal @ location B. The homeowner and her husband were at home and spent their Sunday in the garden and other activities around the house. 


I think that in a similar situation (i.e. location B being my home) I would leave the necessary items for lunch (we were in situ from 10am-4pm) such as plates, glasses, cups and cutlery on the kitchen bench or dining table so that the (four) working teachers could assemble their meals (from the food they had brought) and have a cup of tea before getting back to it. Well, I thought that would be a sensible approach. 


Clearly I'm afflicted by a very strange and perverted type of common-sense. It does, after all, make far more sense for the visiting teacher to bring cutlery, cups, glasses, plates, TEABAGS, sugar and coffee. And then pack them all away to wash up at home. 
MUCH more sense. What was I thinking? 


You will all be pleased to know that I have offered my studio space on multiple occasions. I even have five different types of herbal tea. However, living forty/fifty minutes from the city, it's clearly too far for other teachers to travel. Clearly. There are some days I just don't get it. Any of it.