One of my favorite Christmas memories is going to see The Nutcracker. I remember getting dressed up and going to see the ballet every year when I was little. I also remember falling asleep a few times, but I was four or five years old... can you blame me?
My husband and I have continued the tradition of seeing The Nutcracker before Christmas. We don't go every year, but we try to see it as often as we can. Each ballet company and orchestra uses different choreography and arrangements, so every time we see it, it's like new!
Last night we went to see the North Carolina Dance Theatre's production, and it was wonderful. They were accompanied by the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra, and they were truly fantastic. Of course, I'm a sucker for a great orchestra. The performance included professional dancers, of course, but also used ballet students from the community, so there were lots of adorable children too.
This was my first experience with the arts in Charlotte and I was not disappointed. I am, however, disappointed in myself for not seeing any other shows before last night. Charlotte offers a range of options, from orchestra to dance, and community theatre to professional touring companies. I love the arts and I need to do a much better job of supporting them, especially in my new home!
Thanks to the NC Dance Theatre and the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra for their introduction to the Charlotte performing arts. I'll be back soon, I promise!
Showing posts with label violin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label violin. Show all posts
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Talk, listen, act
Bullying has received a lot of attention in the news lately, and October is National Bully Prevention Month. This issue sickens me, and the fact that it has been a factor in suicides and suicide attempts makes me angry.
Bullying is generally talked about as a child and adolescent issue, but I see it in adulthood as well. I've watched parents bully other parents, parents bully their own children and others' children, and parents bully coaches, and coaches bully parents and players at sporting events. I've experienced bullying by a work supervisor, and I've seen co-workers bully each other in a quest to establish dominance or favoritism in the workplace. It's an issue that never goes away because it's an issue that we as a society still don't recognize and don't know how to address properly.
I was teased mercilessly in junior high. I was smart, I was a tomboy, and I never really fit in among my classmates. Even within my group of friends, I always felt like an outsider because I had very different interests - sports (swimming in particular) and playing the violin - and I dedicated a lot of my free time to participating in these activities. I was interested in boys, but not in changing myself or my appearance so boys would like me. I'm naturally shy, but I became more quiet and withdrawn as the bullying continued.
Bullying affects each person differently, but I became acutely aware of its affects when a friend of mine attempted suicide and another developed an eating disorder. I watched as my friends believed and internalized the messages sent by bullies, but we rarely talked about it. Instead, we tried to be tough in the face of bullies, changed ourselves so that others wouldn't pick on us, and generally hid the pain we felt.
I also remember being told numerous times by teachers that if we were being bullied that we should "tell someone." I also remember being told "don't be a tattletale." Kids receive this mixed message all the time, and don't have sophisticated reasoning skills to know the difference between tattling and seeking help. And frankly, telling someone often resulted in more teasing, more bullying, and in my case, more feelings of isolation. The people who were supposed to help me couldn't or wouldn't, and I often felt helpless and hopeless.
I divide my teachers from 5th through 8th grade into the teachers who couldn't help and the teachers who wouldn't help. The teachers who couldn't were often being bullied themselves - by parents, by administrators, and by the student bullies themselves. I attended a Catholic school and one the worst bullies was the son of the church's business manager. The son got in trouble sometimes, but he should've been expelled many times - like when he told my friend he was going to rape her. She told on him and he got detention - one afternoon cleaning erasers and washing chalkboards - and she was threatened with rape daily by multiple boys in our class from that day on. I was aware that his dad's authority kept him in school and he also knew he was untouchable.
Worse were the teachers who wouldn't help. These teachers seemed more interested in being liked or showing they were "in control" than teaching and helping. Even at 12 or 13, I recognized them as enablers of bullying and therefore bullies themselves. These teachers were the ones who would tell us not to tattle, who would reward the bullies with candy and other treats when they acted as a 7th or 8th grader should act, who sat the good kids and bullying victims next to the bullies in hopes that the good behavior would rub off on the bad kids. Instead, the victims were bullied mercilessly in the classroom too, a place that should've been safe.
I distinctly remember the day that I had enough, and it wasn't on a day I was being teased. We were in science class, and my classmates were acting like children. They were throwing things at me, at each other, across the room, and at the teacher, and jiggling their feet so that the floor shook and the glass display cases rattled. My science teacher had enough and walked out, and then my homeroom teacher (one of the enablers) entered and yelled at us and brought us back to our homeroom class. I apologized to our science teacher on the way out, and I distinctly remember her saying, "You don't need to apologize." At that moment I realized that I didn't need to apologize for my class and their behavior, and I didn't deserve to be yelled at and be punished for their behavior either. It was time I started doing something about it.
Our enabling teacher decided to hold an airing of the grievances instead of directly addressing the immature and inappropriate behavior. Classmate after classmate complained about our science teacher, claiming she was a bad teacher, that she wasn't as cool or understanding as our homeroom teacher, and that she had no control over our class.
And that was when I raised my hand, voice shaking and tears in my eyes and said, "I know I don't talk much, and that's usually because I get shouted over, but you need to hear me. It is not [our science teacher]'s fault that you can't control yourself. She didn't make you shake the floor. She didn't make you throw the paper. She shouldn't have to bribe us to behave. I have two little sisters at home, and if I want to hear whining, I can go home and listen to them, but even they know how to behave in a classroom. You owe [science teacher] an apology and you owe me an apology for having to deal with you. I can't wait to graduate and get out of this hell hole."
The class went silent.
A few minutes later, the whole school gathered in the gym for some assembly. I sat away from everyone because I was still shaking a little, but mostly because I didn't want to be bullied and teased for having the courage to stand up to them. My enabling teacher came up to me and said, "I think they heard you that time." And I don't where the sass or the courage came from, but I replied, "I hope you heard me too. I'm tired of all of this, and I'm not going to take it anymore."
My friends in the other class told me that my classmates were saying I snapped or I'd gone crazy, but nobody dared mess with me again. I ended my 8th grade year with a lot of bad memories, painful psychological scars, and very few friends, but I regained my voice and my strength. I wasn't scared somebody was going to throw things at me, tell me I was ugly or fat or a nerd, or grab my breasts and claim it was an accident. I wasn't going to let the teachers pretend they didn't see or hear these things either. I was going to hold everyone accountable for their actions. I would not be a victim.
Bullies thrive on a victim's silence. Just as a bully's words are powerful to the victim, the victim's words are also powerful. If you are a victim of bullying, tell someone. If that person dismisses you, tell someone else, and keep telling someone until somebody does something about it. Find someone who will be your voice until you can find your own, and be the voice for someone who needs it.
And adults and friends, talk about your own experiences with bullying. Talk with other parents and teachers about what is happening in the classroom. Talk to your kids about how to handle difficult situations. Tell them that you love them. And listen. Listen to what you are being told. Listen for what is NOT being said. Listen for the sadness. Listen to the pleas for help. Listen for the silence.
But most importantly, ACT. Stop the bullying.
Bullying is generally talked about as a child and adolescent issue, but I see it in adulthood as well. I've watched parents bully other parents, parents bully their own children and others' children, and parents bully coaches, and coaches bully parents and players at sporting events. I've experienced bullying by a work supervisor, and I've seen co-workers bully each other in a quest to establish dominance or favoritism in the workplace. It's an issue that never goes away because it's an issue that we as a society still don't recognize and don't know how to address properly.
I was teased mercilessly in junior high. I was smart, I was a tomboy, and I never really fit in among my classmates. Even within my group of friends, I always felt like an outsider because I had very different interests - sports (swimming in particular) and playing the violin - and I dedicated a lot of my free time to participating in these activities. I was interested in boys, but not in changing myself or my appearance so boys would like me. I'm naturally shy, but I became more quiet and withdrawn as the bullying continued.
Bullying affects each person differently, but I became acutely aware of its affects when a friend of mine attempted suicide and another developed an eating disorder. I watched as my friends believed and internalized the messages sent by bullies, but we rarely talked about it. Instead, we tried to be tough in the face of bullies, changed ourselves so that others wouldn't pick on us, and generally hid the pain we felt.
I also remember being told numerous times by teachers that if we were being bullied that we should "tell someone." I also remember being told "don't be a tattletale." Kids receive this mixed message all the time, and don't have sophisticated reasoning skills to know the difference between tattling and seeking help. And frankly, telling someone often resulted in more teasing, more bullying, and in my case, more feelings of isolation. The people who were supposed to help me couldn't or wouldn't, and I often felt helpless and hopeless.
I divide my teachers from 5th through 8th grade into the teachers who couldn't help and the teachers who wouldn't help. The teachers who couldn't were often being bullied themselves - by parents, by administrators, and by the student bullies themselves. I attended a Catholic school and one the worst bullies was the son of the church's business manager. The son got in trouble sometimes, but he should've been expelled many times - like when he told my friend he was going to rape her. She told on him and he got detention - one afternoon cleaning erasers and washing chalkboards - and she was threatened with rape daily by multiple boys in our class from that day on. I was aware that his dad's authority kept him in school and he also knew he was untouchable.
Worse were the teachers who wouldn't help. These teachers seemed more interested in being liked or showing they were "in control" than teaching and helping. Even at 12 or 13, I recognized them as enablers of bullying and therefore bullies themselves. These teachers were the ones who would tell us not to tattle, who would reward the bullies with candy and other treats when they acted as a 7th or 8th grader should act, who sat the good kids and bullying victims next to the bullies in hopes that the good behavior would rub off on the bad kids. Instead, the victims were bullied mercilessly in the classroom too, a place that should've been safe.
I distinctly remember the day that I had enough, and it wasn't on a day I was being teased. We were in science class, and my classmates were acting like children. They were throwing things at me, at each other, across the room, and at the teacher, and jiggling their feet so that the floor shook and the glass display cases rattled. My science teacher had enough and walked out, and then my homeroom teacher (one of the enablers) entered and yelled at us and brought us back to our homeroom class. I apologized to our science teacher on the way out, and I distinctly remember her saying, "You don't need to apologize." At that moment I realized that I didn't need to apologize for my class and their behavior, and I didn't deserve to be yelled at and be punished for their behavior either. It was time I started doing something about it.
Our enabling teacher decided to hold an airing of the grievances instead of directly addressing the immature and inappropriate behavior. Classmate after classmate complained about our science teacher, claiming she was a bad teacher, that she wasn't as cool or understanding as our homeroom teacher, and that she had no control over our class.
And that was when I raised my hand, voice shaking and tears in my eyes and said, "I know I don't talk much, and that's usually because I get shouted over, but you need to hear me. It is not [our science teacher]'s fault that you can't control yourself. She didn't make you shake the floor. She didn't make you throw the paper. She shouldn't have to bribe us to behave. I have two little sisters at home, and if I want to hear whining, I can go home and listen to them, but even they know how to behave in a classroom. You owe [science teacher] an apology and you owe me an apology for having to deal with you. I can't wait to graduate and get out of this hell hole."
The class went silent.
A few minutes later, the whole school gathered in the gym for some assembly. I sat away from everyone because I was still shaking a little, but mostly because I didn't want to be bullied and teased for having the courage to stand up to them. My enabling teacher came up to me and said, "I think they heard you that time." And I don't where the sass or the courage came from, but I replied, "I hope you heard me too. I'm tired of all of this, and I'm not going to take it anymore."
My friends in the other class told me that my classmates were saying I snapped or I'd gone crazy, but nobody dared mess with me again. I ended my 8th grade year with a lot of bad memories, painful psychological scars, and very few friends, but I regained my voice and my strength. I wasn't scared somebody was going to throw things at me, tell me I was ugly or fat or a nerd, or grab my breasts and claim it was an accident. I wasn't going to let the teachers pretend they didn't see or hear these things either. I was going to hold everyone accountable for their actions. I would not be a victim.
Bullies thrive on a victim's silence. Just as a bully's words are powerful to the victim, the victim's words are also powerful. If you are a victim of bullying, tell someone. If that person dismisses you, tell someone else, and keep telling someone until somebody does something about it. Find someone who will be your voice until you can find your own, and be the voice for someone who needs it.
And adults and friends, talk about your own experiences with bullying. Talk with other parents and teachers about what is happening in the classroom. Talk to your kids about how to handle difficult situations. Tell them that you love them. And listen. Listen to what you are being told. Listen for what is NOT being said. Listen for the sadness. Listen to the pleas for help. Listen for the silence.
But most importantly, ACT. Stop the bullying.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Minuet, Govotte, and Concerto
I've been playing the violin since I was five, but I haven't really played since college. However, every now and then I get the urge to play and so I take my violin out of its case and play.
I learned to play via the Suzuki method for the first five years which means I learned to play by ear before I learned to sight-read music. To this day, I'm an average sight-reader and can fumble through music with a little practice, but I can actually play the music the first time I read it if I've heard it first. When I was asked to play last-minute in the pit orchestra for Hello, Dolly! in high school, instead of asking for the sheet music to review I asked for soundtrack on CD. The conductor looked at me strangely, shook his head, and said, "Suzuki, right?"
Learning via the Suzuki method also means that I memorized every song I learned. This serves me well when I get the urge to play. I don't need my books or sheet music - my brain tells my fingers what to do and I'm barely conscious of them as the press the strings against the fingerboard. In fact, when I do try to slow down and think about what I'm doing, I tend to fumble a bit so I've learned to just trust the muscle memory of my hands and enjoy how easy it is to play the songs I learned when I was five or eight or ten.
The Suzuki method also encourages immersion in music and the musical community. We had regular group lessons and concerts from the beginning. One of my teachers took me to see an opera, Amahl and the Night Visitors, when I was eight or nine years old. Because of these early experiences, I've always felt a sense of community around my own violin playing and felt the most enthusiastic about playing when I was performing with others - the school orchestra, the pit for musicals, the church choirs, etc.
The problem with this type of learning is that I struggled to learn or play individually. I thrived in the group setting, but I never engaged with unfamiliar music that I had to learn on my own. When I stopped playing Suzuki, I felt uncomfortable because I was expected to sight-read and I wasn't very good at it. I wasn't required to memorize the music either, which meant that my fingers never developed muscle memory and my brain would interfere and cause me to fumble around as I processed how the note on the page translated to fingering on the strings. The music itself didn't get more difficult, but playing the music seemed more challenging, and I simply didn't enjoy it as much.
My struggles with playing didn't diminish my love of music or the music community - Quite the opposite, actually. I have a deep love and appreciation of musicals that I am lucky enough to be able to share with my husband. (How many couples are equally happy at both a Broadway show and the Big East basketball tournament on vacation?) I also love classical music and find myself fingering along whenever I hear my favorites - Pachelbel's Canon in D, Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, and Bach's Air on the G String. Music is meant to be shared and experienced with others.
I picked up my violin a few weeks ago to play for fun. Even after all these years, my fingers knew just what to do. There's something very comforting in knowing that no matter how many years pass, or how many other things I learn and forget, I'll always know how to play Bach's Govotte in G Minor.
I wonder if there are any adult Suzuki group lessons out there.
I learned to play via the Suzuki method for the first five years which means I learned to play by ear before I learned to sight-read music. To this day, I'm an average sight-reader and can fumble through music with a little practice, but I can actually play the music the first time I read it if I've heard it first. When I was asked to play last-minute in the pit orchestra for Hello, Dolly! in high school, instead of asking for the sheet music to review I asked for soundtrack on CD. The conductor looked at me strangely, shook his head, and said, "Suzuki, right?"
Learning via the Suzuki method also means that I memorized every song I learned. This serves me well when I get the urge to play. I don't need my books or sheet music - my brain tells my fingers what to do and I'm barely conscious of them as the press the strings against the fingerboard. In fact, when I do try to slow down and think about what I'm doing, I tend to fumble a bit so I've learned to just trust the muscle memory of my hands and enjoy how easy it is to play the songs I learned when I was five or eight or ten.
The Suzuki method also encourages immersion in music and the musical community. We had regular group lessons and concerts from the beginning. One of my teachers took me to see an opera, Amahl and the Night Visitors, when I was eight or nine years old. Because of these early experiences, I've always felt a sense of community around my own violin playing and felt the most enthusiastic about playing when I was performing with others - the school orchestra, the pit for musicals, the church choirs, etc.
The problem with this type of learning is that I struggled to learn or play individually. I thrived in the group setting, but I never engaged with unfamiliar music that I had to learn on my own. When I stopped playing Suzuki, I felt uncomfortable because I was expected to sight-read and I wasn't very good at it. I wasn't required to memorize the music either, which meant that my fingers never developed muscle memory and my brain would interfere and cause me to fumble around as I processed how the note on the page translated to fingering on the strings. The music itself didn't get more difficult, but playing the music seemed more challenging, and I simply didn't enjoy it as much.
My struggles with playing didn't diminish my love of music or the music community - Quite the opposite, actually. I have a deep love and appreciation of musicals that I am lucky enough to be able to share with my husband. (How many couples are equally happy at both a Broadway show and the Big East basketball tournament on vacation?) I also love classical music and find myself fingering along whenever I hear my favorites - Pachelbel's Canon in D, Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, and Bach's Air on the G String. Music is meant to be shared and experienced with others.
I picked up my violin a few weeks ago to play for fun. Even after all these years, my fingers knew just what to do. There's something very comforting in knowing that no matter how many years pass, or how many other things I learn and forget, I'll always know how to play Bach's Govotte in G Minor.
I wonder if there are any adult Suzuki group lessons out there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)