Praktising With Yung Kids

            There are a lot of issues that come up when trying to practice with a kid. It can be difficult to keep the parent and the student allied together in this business. Young children need the parent to not only supervise, but to participate, if the practicing is to be truly regular and effective.

            One of the hardest things to do is to figure out how much and how little to let the student be a kid. This is primarily up to the parent's instincts as the person who knows the student better than anyone else. Some kids learn better when they're allowed to be free and comfortable; others need structure or they end up rolling around on the floor. Fortunately, all practicing parents get a sense for this as time goes on.

            Your time spent practicing with your child will become a powerful chemistry that will last the rest of your lives together. In this, you have an activity the two of you can share that is special, one that will grow before your eyes as the student's ability progresses. During the hard times, remember that Rome was not built in a day, and a human being is far more complicated.

Principle #1: The kid has to know the deal.

            Whatever the issue is, be it practicing a certain piece, practicing regularly, or practicing at all, the student has to understand what's expected before any compliance can occur. Something that frequently pops up is that the adult shies away from insisting on things directly, from a fear of being too harsh on the child. The adult never explicitly states what the expectations are, but still insists on them. This creates confusion and frustration in the child. Part of the adult's responsibility is to tell the kid what's expected. This is not being cruel. To not tell a kid what's expected and then insist on it later is cruel, because it's confusing.

            Any time you make a request of the student, make sure the kid knows from step one what the deal is. Example: "We have to practice." This should be stated the first day of violin lessons, and it should be understood from the very beginning by both parent and student. If it is not, frustration will occur. Another example is behavior during practice. If your kid needs structure in order to focus, don't impose the structure suddenly in the middle of a lesson, but instead start out with some basic rules that will always be there.

            Kids play best in yards where the fences do not move; keep the boundaries consistent. Part of being a kid, of being thrown into this world without a guidebook, is trying to get some sort of a grip on reality. They're trying to figure out how things work. If we change the rules on them, how can they learn?

Principle #2: "We" have to practice.

            Until the student is old enough, the phrase "You have to practice" should never be spoken aloud. It is a fundamental cornerstone of the Mother Tongue method that the parent and student practice together. It is also simple common sense. If we don't trust kids to cross the street by themselves, why should we expect them to be able to practice the violin for half an hour with no supervision?

            The parent demonstrates the seriousness of daily practice through participation or lack thereof---if the parent demonstrates that he or she has more important things to do than practice, the student will see those priorities and adopt them. The parent's presence also makes the daily practice comfortable, and makes it feel like a part of normal life, a part of the home. One reason for parental involvement that I've come to appreciate more and more is the emotional authority that the parent commands. I observed a famous teacher named Ed Sprunger speak to a group of parents once, saying to them that though it may not seem like it, they carried far more authority over their children than he ever would, and that the parents' behavior during a group lesson influenced the students far more than anything he could do. No matter what lecture I give to students during the private lesson, the parent's behavior, the parent's attitude toward violin as something that is or is not important, is a power that I cannot compete with.

Principle #3: Keep the instructions simple.

            Adults have learned in their long lives the skill of thinking on different levels, and of keeping more than one idea on the table at once. This is a lot to ask of a kid. Keeping the instructions simple can take a lot of mental agility on the part of the parent/teacher because you have to think a couple of steps in advance and decide what not to say.

            Never ask a student to correct more than one thing at a time, be it intonation, posture, tone, etc. In general, stick to one point for as long as possible, that way the two of you can explore it and spend some time getting used to it. This might mean that other points have to slide for that day, so you've got to pick the most important one. Unless something suddenly goes out of whack, the priority should be the point I stressed the most during the lesson. The "Technique" box on the assignment sheet is usually all you need, and can be a guiding point for the home practice.

Principle #4: One thing at a time.

            This is basically a corollary to #3, but it's more than worth mentioning on its own. I personally have a huge problem with this during lessons sometimes, because there are so many things that I see at once, and I want to fix them all. If you ever notice me stuffing my hands in my pockets while a student is playing, or clasping them behind my back, that's to keep myself from interrupting the student with a million suggestions.

            There are a lot of reasons why we should only work on one thing at a time. First, it just guarantees success. The point of working on something is to get it right, and if the student only has one thing to focus on, the chances are highest that it will be done correctly. Also, it takes an extended amount of time working on something to really get it into a student's head, and even longer to make it physically easier. So, we need to work on one thing at a time during the lesson, and also keep the focus on one point at a time through many lessons, over many weeks. While working on a passage, or on a song, the student should be told fairly and clearly what the focus is. Suddenly changing the focus, or adopting a scattershot approach, doesn't help, because something needs to be developed and mastered, and it takes a lot of concentration to do that.

            This means that while you're working on one thing, something else might slide. There are two responses to this. The first, which is more rare, is that you really do have to backtrack, if the thing that slid was more fundamentally important and it becomes clear that it was never really learned. For instance, if you're working on a fourth finger being in tune, and the student's holding the bow three inches above the frog, then the bow hold has got to be fixed, because it's much more fundamental, and the fourth finger has got to be forgotten about. This is really still working on one thing at a time, because the bow hold is now the focus and should stay that way until it's really actually learned. The fourth finger may not come back for a long time.

            The second response, and the far more common one, is to just let the things that slide go for a while. We'll come back to them--we come back to everything again and again.

Principle #5: Kids respond to activity.

            There is another way to say this: having fun is not only essential, it is a rule. If you ever wonder why children seem thrilled to do some activities but violently resist doing others, the common denominator is the Fun Factor. There's very little exception to this. If you're not careful, practicing can become the first thing your child has ever experienced that actually isn't fun. If you can keep it fun, though, it can become a special bonding time with the parent and a guaranteed, scheduled enjoyment.

            Fun must always be purposeful, however. I don't do any games or activities that do not instruct in some way. The best times are those when the kids are having so much fun that they don't even realize how much they're learning.

            The best teaching tool ever invented was the game. Nothing else has ever even come close. If you watch kids on the playground or at play in the home, they are always most fascinated when they're learning something. This may sound ridiculous at first, but when they're digging holes in the backyard with garden tools, they're learning what's under the grass, and when they jump on a trampoline, they're experimenting with physics. They actually LOVE to learn--but only rarely the things we want them to. Kids learn by experiencing, and experience means activity.

            You know your kid and what kinds of activities he or she is most fascinated by. For those with a pure competitive streak, and boys in general, the simple who-gets-more-points game is the best: make a scoreboard on a piece of paper and give the student or yourself a point depending on whether the student did well or poorly. This is great because it shows the student the difference between a "good one" and a "bad one" without having to get into negative language. Very often the student knows exactly who gets the point and who doesn't, and will eventually translate this into self-correction. (Eventually.) For kids who are in a sad mood, sometimes I replace the points with smiley faces or hand-drawn stars or something a little goofy.

            Other games include making a stick-figure man climb up stairs, doing one repetition for each letter in the student's name (they pay SO much attention to their own names), or rolling dice to see how many times to do the exercise. Those who are particularly attuned to interpersonal relationships, especially girls, might like a little story that involves two people (ex. a knight and a princess). A famous one for review songs is to pick the names of songs out of a hat--every kid loves that. Flash cards are also interesting, as long as they don't remind the kid of school. My mother used to get my Star Wars action figures and have them practice with me, and I still remember doing one section of a song for Luke Skywalker, one for Princess Leia, one for Han Solo, and one for Boba Fett. Not only does this get the student's attention, but it brings the practice into the comfortable zone of everyday life. (There are more games in other sections of the "Practicing Page." Hit the Back button to check them out.)

How to make a game:

    1. Establish a (very simple) item to repeat.

    2. Frame it in a way that distinguishes good repetitions from bad ones (points, etc.)

    3. Involve something that will spark the student's interest (smiley faces, stuffed animals).

            Basically, there are two kinds of games: ones that teach a kid to correct something and ones that help a kid repeat something. Games for correction are the ones that benefit from having points, or having some indication of a "good one" or a "bad one." (As long as "bad" is not taken too seriously). The other kind is for things that the student can do perfectly well and just needs to spend time doing, such as holding the violin up for 100 seconds, doing 20 windshield wipers, etc. The games that teach correction obviously should also include many repetitions to build the "good ones" into a skill. (Knowing is only half the battle!)

Principle #6: Don't run out of gas.

            While practicing, keep an eye on your kid's attention span. There will be some days when it seems like the student has a bottomless well of energy and just can't stop playing; there will be some other days when there's been a soccer game, or a long day at school, or something else that saps the kid's energy and turns a normally happy kid into a pile of mush. There is little point in pushing the issue past the student's mental endurance.

            On the other hand, it's also important to know when the student is faking being "tired" and just wants to watch a TV show. This goes back to Principle #1: the kid has to understand that skipping out of practice is not part of the deal. This is where everyone's personal parenting philosophies come into the mix, when you decide how much of this behavior to let slide. It's not a good idea to turn the practicing experience into a negative one--if you decide to keep the practice session going, do so in as gentle and caring a way as possible. (Fun is the best method.)

            The biggest reason that kids put up resistance during practice is because they feel that they're not getting respect. It can be hard to see the kid's point of view in this, but it's actually very rare that kids get honest, true, real respect. They get affection, they get flattery and adulation, but rarely true respect. Often, a rebellious student will soften when they see that this is being given to them.

PRINCIPLE #7: FAITH IN THE VALUE OF CONSISTENCY.

            The daily practice has to have a certain amount of sanctity to it in order to be effective. One method that works is to designate a time for practicing that is the same every day. This makes it easier for the student to accept.

            There are a million reasons for the consistency of daily practice, and you've probably heard most of them. The two that are most important for younger students are 1) that the skills involved in playing the violin are complicated enough that skipping even one day can wreck the process, and 2) it shows the child that practice is something that can't be pre-empted by other activities. This is the one people seem to forget about more. It may seem at first that to practice every day is "asking too much," but it actually seems like more of a chore for a student to practice on some days and not other days. What matters is not how much work it is, but whether the student is used to it or not. If practice happens every day, after a while it goes without question. Over time, it just becomes a part of life. If practice can be pushed aside, the student may fight for it to be pushed aside again. It becomes a decision that has to be justified every time.

            Ritual is very essential in practicing. I would rather use the word "ritual" than "routine," because it's not as important to have each practice be a copy of the previous one as it is to have each practice be part of a larger experience that continues from day to day. It is important to start and end every home practice with a bow, because it gives the session a definite beginning and end, and it implies the respect that we must have not only for each other but for the practice session itself. It's important to never let the sanctity of the practice or the lesson be damaged by an outside influence. Don't answer the phone. Don't leave to go shopping. When the practice feels truly special and sacred, it takes on an importance that guarantees the student's attention and emotional involvement. "Sacred" does not mean "serious," necessarily, but it does definitely mean "important." It has to become a special time. Begin and end the same way, and cultivate a sense that practicing has always been there and always will be.

            Something is better than nothing. Even if you pick up the violin, play two notes, and put it down again, that is miles better than leaving it in the case. The student can feel the weight of the violin, remember its size and the distances between the notes, feel a good bowhold, remember the sound of the strings and how the bow behaves. Two notes. Better than nothing. And you may find that after two notes, the student might want to play something else.

            If you dedicate yourself to making practice a part of daily life, the rewards will come as a surprise one day when you and the student realize how far things have come. It sneaks up on you. Dr. Suzuki equated skill development to walking up a mountain one step at a time, and I believe that the mountain is not smooth; it bumps up and bumps down, and sometimes it's hard to see whether you're really going up or not, until after a mile or so you look back and realize that the bumps were very small compared to the great height you've climbed. It doesn't feel like it gets easier every day. There will be bad days, rough days, and those are the tests. When you can keep the faith through a rough day, the next day feels really great.

Principle #8: You're the adult.

            There are two meanings to this. The first is that the parent is the boss. By no means does this advocate being harsh, insensitive, or negative toward the child, but it does mean keeping in mind where the rules come from. The understanding should be implicit that the parent is in charge, and in a way this is Principle #1 all over again. But the second meaning is that the parent, as an adult, is responsible for bringing an approach to conflict that does not include bickering. The practicing parent should never stoop to the level of arguing with the child; if it comes to that point, stop the lesson and put the violin away rather than make an emotional conflict out of it. As harsh as it might sound to suddenly stop the lesson, it is a way to avoid shouting matches that would hang over the next practice session like a cloud. As adults, we all have a responsibility to show children what good behavior looks like. The practicing parent should always be an example of peaceful conflict resolution and purity of character.

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