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A recent post by a Suzuki teacher sparked my interest in why we help our children learn to play musical instruments and whether it’s “fun” in the usual meaning of the word.


“What do you reply to a parent who says ‘It’s just for fun.’?”


It’s an interesting question because we work so hard to make practice fun, yet is it just for fun?

Goals vs process.

The “just for fun” proposition exposes a dilemma about goals vs. processes. We want practice and lessons (the process) to be fun. But at the same time, we usually have higher ideals in mind for the outcome (the goals.) It’s perfectly reasonable to hold these two ideas simultaneously in mind. The process is fun while the outcome is fulfilling in a deeper, more meaningful way.

What’s fun got to do with it anyway?

So it’s worthwhile drawing a distinction between fun and fulfillment. There’s a superficial and transient quality to activities that are fun. Engaging in an activity that’s fun is always impermanent. When the activity is over, the fun is over. It’s the difference between candy and a satisfying meal. You could contrast fun with a sense of fulfillment that comes from meeting challenges on the path to developing an worthwhile ability. It’s an enduring feeing.

Goals and tactics

Learning to play a musical instrument is one of those endeavours that requires long-term goals. Even the most dedicated and capable child cannot learn everything about playing without time. Long-range thinking helps carry you over the inevitable rough spots that crop up along the way. In strategic planning parlance, our goal would be to have kids play well, love music and be good citizens. How we go about organizing our efforts toward this overarching goal are our strategies. Think of these as the habits that Christine Goodner outlines in her excellent new book, “Beyond the Music Lesson: Habits of Successful Suzuki Families”. Daily practice, listening, musical community involvement, and so on, are the strategies that families employ to reach the larger goal. Finally, there are the nitty-gritty details - the tactics of making it work in the context of busy family life. What games can I employ in practice? When should we practice? How should we review effectively? I would argue that with younger children, the tactics are in large part organized around having fun! Yet, the goals and strategies all move toward the fulfillment that comes from developing high ability.

So let’s have fun and fulfillment!

How do you think about fun and practice? See the Suzuki Experience Facebook page to comment.

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Suzuki’s seminal 1969 work “Nurtured by Love” introduced his method of talent education to English-speaking audiences and ushered in an approach to learning music that would fundamentally change the face of music education. His concept was simple and profound. Based on an analogy between learning one’s native language and learning to play music, he drew children, parents and teachers into a relational triangle that focused love and attention on both the musical and character development of children.

Since its introduction outside of Japan, the Suzuki method has endured and flourished. Yet the social and economic changes since the 1960’s have been equally profound. Family life isn’t exactly as it was in the 1960’s. Families are busier and rushed. In many cases, both parents work outside the home. Solid practical advice is needed. This is where Christine Goodner’s new book “Beyond the Music Lesson: Habits of Successful Suzuki Families” arrives to help Suzuki parents work with their children in a way that is consistent with Suzuki’s original concept while recognizing the realities of today’s families. What Suzuki wrote in broad philosophical strokes, Goodner pens in fine detail.

She has a unique vantage point from which to see Suzuki’s triangle. A Suzuki student herself, she describes how her father worked effectively with her as a practice partner. Later, she tells about her own ups and downs as a Suzuki parent herself. Finally, as a teacher and keen observer of family life, she lays out a series of habits that effective Suzuki families employ. Beginning with an introduction to the mother-tongue analogy of music learning, she begins an exploration of seven practices that predict success. A comparison to Steven Covey’s “Seven Habits of Highly Effective People” is obvious. The habits may be different here, but the focus on deliberative, self-evaluative practice is not. In each chapter she focuses on the habits of being present, daily practice, setting a positive environment, being a part of the community, listening, focusing on mastery, and seeing the big picture. Here, she doesn’t skim the surface. Instead, Goodner offers very specific practical advice, gleaned from her broad experience, to help modern parents work with their children in a way consistent with Suzuki’s vision.

“Beyond the Music Lesson” is an important contribution to the Suzuki canon. For parents new to the method, beginning with “Nurtured by Love” and moving straight into “Beyond the Music Lesson” will serve them well. Think with me for a moment about how effective enterprises work. Any major initiative needs a strategic plan and a mission statement. Suzuki’s mission statement was clear. It would be something like: “World peace through raising children of good character and teaching them the universal language of music.” While Suzuki lays out goals and strategies, Goodner dives into the tactics of implementation. “How do I foster a listening habit?” “How do I set a positive environment?” This will be of enormous help to Suzuki families and reference to which they can turn repeatedly over the years.

Available this summer, “Beyond the Music Lesson” will be a essential introduction and reference for parents and teachers of the Suzuki method who want to do it right. Stay tuned for news about publication.

I’d love to hear what you think. See the Suzuki Experience Facebook page to comment.

Update 2017-07-04: It’s up on Amazon now!

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Of what use is technique if not to be harnessed and used to express a musical thought or emotion?

After several years of being a Suzuki parent and many more as a musician, I’ve come to appreciate that technique is subservient to expression. Technique is indispensable but it is instrumental (no pun intended!). The goal is to express a musical idea that partly belongs to oneself and partly to the composer. A recent article by violin teacher and blogger Eloise Hellyer speaks brilliantly to the importance of nurturing expression from the earliest stages of musical development. Her [post(http://www.violinteachersblog.com/a-good-bow-arm-doesnt-exist-in-a-vacuum/) should be required reading for anyone in the Suzuki community.

You can show a student how to pull a bow until you are blue in the face, but it won’t do any good unless she knows why she has to do it that way. - Eloise Hellyer.


This is really the crux of the matter. Children want to understand why. Insofar as our work at home isn’t only to be technique police, but to extend the lesson in other ways, being involved in helping children play expressively is vital.

How to encourage expressive playing at home

  • Always link technique and expression. - As Hellyer writes, children are capable of understanding complex ideas and can convey emotions that they may not yet be able to verbalize. Home practice, an extension of the lesson, is the perfect environment to rehearse these connections. As questions about technique come up, we can constantly refer back to the importance of why it’s best to do things in a certain way. The technical bits aren’t arbitrary; they serve a goal. Something like: “I noticed that when you dropped your shoulder, you allowed more weight to go into the bow and your tone projected better. It makes the whole passage sound more lyrical, don’t you think?” In a couple sentences, you can provide not only good feedback but reinforce the relationship between technique and musical intention. Metaphors and roadmaps can help with this.
  • Involve yourself in understanding how technique and expression are linked. - For a parent who doesn’t play the child’s instrument, it may be difficult to understand what purpose a technical requirement serves. If it’s not clear, ask. Personally, I’m a collaborative pianist and a so-so (read “bad”) violinist. But despite my own deficient violin technique, I’ve enjoyed learning about how the mechanics of playing the violin influence the tone, phrasing and ultimately, expression.
  • Listen with musical expression in mind. - Thinking about Suzuki’s mother tongue idea, I think we can extend his analogy. As children acquire their native language, they’re not just implicitly learning vocabulary, grammar, and such. They are also learning how to convey thoughts and emotions. Is this not also true of learning the language of music? The purpose of listening isn’t only to learn the notes - that is, pitches coming one after another in sequence. The purpose isn’t even just to learn good tone production and articulation by good example. The purpose of listening is also to acquire a sensibility about the music. Much of this happens under the radar, but we can nudge the process along by asking and commenting on the music we’re listening to, encouraging a dialog about what the music is conveying. And by all means, listen outside the repertoire too! It helps children gain a sense of what they like and of the wonderful breadth and scope of serious music.
  • Practice. It’s not just technique. It’s easy to view practice the same way as a workout at the gym, exercising technique to become automatic and facile. To be sure, there’s a role for repetition and focused attention to developing technical skills in practice. But as parents/practice partners, it’s also an opportunity to test out ideas about musical expression. In turn, sometimes that process exposes incomplete development of technique. More to work on! For example, my daughter was working on a piece for a music festival not long ago. In one passage, her intent was to conclude a phrase with a bit of rubato. But it wasn’t coming out quite right. The last note of the phrase faltered. Trying to carry off the desired expression meant discovering the need for more bow control and better attention to bow distribution which she worked on with her teacher.

As I always mention here, I’m not a teacher. Work on what the teacher advises, but I’ve found it very helpful to pay attention to advice about expressive qualities. And above all, understand not only “what” to practice, and “how” to practice, but also “why” to practice a certain way from the perspective expressive presentation.

How do think about the interplay between technique and expression as children are learning to play? Is there a role to use practice to develop expression? I’d love to hear what you think. See the Suzuki Experience Facebook page to comment.

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I first began to appreciate the power of metaphors to help musical practice when my daughter was learning the the Martini Gavotte in Book 3 of the violin repertoire. Martini Gavotte is what I like to call a “death trap.” It’s in a rondeau form with lots of material between appearances of the theme. And there are lots of ways to go off-the-tracks. In desperation, I had her assign animals to each section and weave a story about how the central character - a little dachshund named Stanley - visited with different animals in an imaginary journey. Not only did it work, but it piqued my interest in how metaphors and similar imaginary constructs can help kids learn music with more fun and more artistry.

Metaphors as an aid to memory

As the Stanley/Martini Gavotte example illustrates, metaphors can be a means of helping the memory. Since Suzuki students memorize their music, there are plenty of opportunities to challenge and exercise this ability. But even with a good listening program, there are still some pieces, like the Martini Gavotte that are stumpers.

Stanley, the mascot of Martini Gavotte

The way that metaphors assist with recall was well-known even to the ancient Greeks and Romans. Memorization was a key component of classical rhetoric and ancient texts devoted considerable attention to what is known as the method of loci[1], the use of imaginary places to locate memories. Today, the majority of champion memorizers use the method of loci technique. The reason that it works seems to be its capacity to forge new connections between otherwise disparate areas of the brain.[2] (Sounds a bit like the effects of music education itself!)

Metaphors and the development of artistry

Some aspects of musical technique are easy to put into words. “Curve your pinky like so.” “Hold your bow like this.” “Relax your thumb.” But others are more subtle and define much of the artistry of beautiful playing. Here, metaphors have the ability to convey meaning and expression that cannot be described concretely through words alone. Phrasing, dynamics, and tonal shading are elements of musicality that delve into the emotions. Metaphors are sometimes the only way of tapping into those expressive features.

May I, may I, may I pretty please?

We recently encountered a passage in the Bach Gavotte in Book 5 where a metaphor helped with expressive phrasing. In the second Gavotte, there’s a really lovely bit that where the phrasing is key (where isn’t it in solo Bach!?). During practice we decided that it sounded like a child pleading for something, candy perhaps. With that image in mind, we came up with words “May I, may I, may I pretty please?” to go with the notes. Together, the mental image of a pleading child, the words and the notes help shape a very expressive passage.

Metaphors as fun

Suzuki encouraged parents to make practice more fun and less like work. To be sure, there’s a lot to work on, but that doesn’t mean practice should feel like work. Being a teacher or Suzuki parent is in part an acting job. Actors are able to inspire an authentically imaginary world through words, actions and expression. In a similar way, the tools of acting can help us create more enjoyment in practice. Metaphors can be silly and fun. Most days, we laugh a lot during practice because of the ridiculous things we come up with in the process. Imagination, metaphors, creative expression infuse practice with a levity that makes children want to keep doing it. Not every day is like that; but it’s a great goal.

How to put metaphors and imagination into practice

  1. For longer pieces especially, think in terms of roadmaps that you can visualize. By employing the ancient method of loci, you can help children develop a stronger memory. It also opens the door to discussions about the structure of the music. The more vivid and unusual the roadmap, the better. One of the Book 4 concerto movements inspired a roadmap that involved a round-trip to her violin lesson, stopping at landmarks on the way. It sounds a little silly, but the best memories are those that interconnect disparate senses, often in very quirky ways.
  2. Always ask about mental pictures. What does that sound like? Involving children in the creative process exercises their own metaphor-generating mental muscles in ways that will help them in the future as they learn new pieces.
  3. Can you come up with words that fit with the notes? Words that tell a tiny story and fit rhythmically with the notes can be another aid to memorization and expression. Most teachers have accumulated quite a few of these themselves. But there are always more to be discovered.
  4. Draw visual images in the music. Feel free to annotate the score with little images that help recall the mental picture that your child has about the music.
  5. Use mental imagery to have more fun in practice. Making up silly stories about the music and coming up with unusual ways of describing the music can help make practice more enjoyable and memorable. Champion memorizers often say that their best memories are those that are linked to extremely vivid and unusual images. Sounds like fun!

Children have an easy and natural imagination. By tapping into this built-in ability we can help them develop their musical talent in more enjoyable and artistic ways.


  1. The method of loci, or "memory palace" technique of memorization is powerful mental tool for remembering voluminous quantities of information. It takes advantage of the connection between spatial processing and memory formation in the brain. It turns out that humans have evolved very sophisticated spatial memory capabilities. By leveraging that capacity, it's possible to store memories at imaginary locations in the mind. For an entertaining read on the power of memory and this method in particular, I recommend Joshua Foer's excellent book, "Moonwalking with Einstein".

  2. Maguire, E. A., Valentine, E. R., Wilding, J. M., & Kapur, N. (2002). Routes to remembering: the brains behind superior memory. Nature Neuroscience, 6(1), 90-95. doi:10.1038/nn988 - Functional MRI studies of expert memorizers show activation of areas of the brain associated with spatial processing and new memory formation. This suggests that they have formed efficient connections between areas of the brain by repeatedly exercising the ability to store memories in imaginary locations.

Is being a Suzuki parent more like being a gardener or a carpenter?

I’ve been reading Alison Gopnik’s recent book “The Gardener and the Carpenter” and wondering how it all fits with our role as Suzuki parents.

Gardening and carpentry

Dr. Gopnik is professor of psychology at U.C. Berkley and studies child development. “The Gardener and the Carpenter” looks at the role parents play in their children’s lives using two contrasting metaphors. The “carpenter parent” views child development from the parent’s perspective - planning, arranging and “parenting.” Like a carpenter who plans, measures, and fits everything precisely, this parent takes a utilitarian view of his or her role. She fills her children’s schedules with multiple activities and ensures achievement by carefully orchestrating the “work” of child-rearing. The author contrasts this role with that of the “gardener parent” who sets up a loving supportive environment in which kids have independence to explore the world and learn experientially. Like a master gardener who is concerned about the tilth of the soil, the right amount of shade and light but then allows the plants to do what they do, this type of parent views their role less as work and more as modeling, supporting, and caring. She keeps no secrets about her preference that parents adopt the gardener model and presents considerable evidence from studies in her lab and others that show children do better.

Explaining vs exploring

In one study, children were randomized to two groups. The goal was for children to learn how to use a new device they had never seen before. Unbeknownst to the children in the study, the device was capable of doing several things - playing sounds, flashing lights, etc. In one group, an adult tole the children a how to activate one of the features of the device. In another group, the adult gave a demonstration of some of the features and invited them to play with the device. Children in the latter group found all of the features to a greater extent than those in the former group. This study, and those like it, show that children learn and develop best when adults interact with them in less explanatory and more playful, exploratory ways.

It’s a intriguing contrast in styles of interacting with children. Naturally, I wondered whether being a Suzuki parent is more like being a gardener or a carpenter. Or are we straddling a line between the two? After all, while planning ahead for recitals, making practice charts, and dutifully arranging calendars, we’re much more like carpenters than gardeners. But Suzuki himself was very concerned with love and caring as a necessary precondition of talent development. He was clearly a master gardener!

So how to reconcile all of this?

It comes down to attitudes, our orientation toward what it means to help kids learn music. Since children develop best when our approach to them is less like that of the carpenter than of the gardener, here are some ways that we can be better parents:

  1. Focus less on the outcome than the process. Paradoxically I’ve found that when I don’t have a schedule in my head about how my child should be progressing on a piece or through the books, she learns better. Building things is a study in planning and outcomes. Tending a garden is an exercise in allowing something to develop in the right environment.
  2. Think of learning more as exploration than explanation. By finding ways to treat learning as an adventure into the unknown we can allow children’s natural curiosity to take over.
  3. Look for larger goals and balance. Just as Suzuki was clear about his bigger existential goals for children, we can do the same. His goal was to help children develop musicianship and humanity.
  4. Think about the “why?” questions. Why learn music at all? By taking a mental step out of the daily planning mode, it’s possible to contemplate the bigger questions about how children are developing as people not just what piece they’re playing.
  5. Allow children freedom to explore by fostering their independence and choice in practice as their abilities develop and allow some time to explore alternative musical styles if they’re interested. There’s a world of music outside the Suzuki repertoire!

I must admit that I’m a “carpenter” (in a figurative, not actual, sense!) Planning and focusing on results comes naturally. So it’s a struggle for me to interact differently when I’m working with my daughter. But I’m working on it!

Today I want to share a new discovery about putting repetitions on autopilot. No, not the mindless wash-rinse-spin-repeat sort of repetition, but a way of polishing a bracketed section of a piece to build evenness and velocity. The example I’ll give is relevant to the violin repertoire but the practice technique is broadly applicable.

Pro Metronome setup for accelerating tempo

In the two Vivaldi movements in Book 4, there are some bits with tricky bowings, string crossings and some fast shifts. One of the challenges that we’ve worked on in practice is developing more metrical accuracy in these passages. The solution, of course, starts with being able to play these passages slowly with metrical evenness. But I’m frequently reminded that slow practice is apparently boring… So we discovered a feature on our metronome (Pro Metronome on iOS) that lets you loop a practice spot with accelerating tempo. This little change - having the metronome itself drive the practice bracket - makes a huge difference in my daughter’s interest level in doing them.

To use this feature, you setup the length of the practice spot to repeat. I usually add an extra measure to give some time to get back to the beginning without feeling rushed. Say the phrase to practice is 6 measures long; I’ll set the metronome to increase tempo every 7 measures. Next you decide how much faster each repetition should be in beats per minute (BPM.) Small increases mean more repetitions are required to get to the target tempo but large increases of over 5-10 BPM can be somewhat jarring. Increases of 4 BPM for each repetition are noticeable without being unmanageable so that’s what we shoot for. Finally, decide on the starting and ending tempo. We start much slower than she can actually play the passage so that she can devote most of her focus to making the passage even with clear articulation. The target tempo should also be manageable or just at the cusp of where she can currently play the passage well.

What I’ve found over the course of a few weeks using this feature of the metronome is that it makes repetitions of practice spots less rote, while actually accomplishing something productive. And using the metronome at a slower tempo to start makes the whole process much less intimidating than beginning to use it only when trying to get the piece up to performance tempo.

Other app-based metronomes also have this “autopilot” feature but Pro Metronome has the most intuitive interface a more pleasing sound than many of the others I’ve evaluated. Whatever technique you use, may you have happy, productive practice sessions!

(N.B. Although I’m an active musician, I don’t teach. If anything I say conflicts with what your teacher wants you to do, by all means, do what the teacher says.)

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I’m on a personal odyssey to find better ways to take practice notes.[1] For about a year, I took notes solely on an iPad, as I wrote about previously. Although I enjoyed the process of annotating the scores directly on the iPad, preparing the scores each week for use on the tablet took a lot of time. As my daughter became busier, it was impossible to keep up. So I’ve returned to pen and paper note-taking.

As I’ve begun handwriting notes again, I’ve noticed a glaring deficiency in how we take notes for use in practice. It goes like this. Each week, we go to lessons and dutifully take notes about the working pieces, exercises and other assignments. We go home and practice those. The next week, we do the same thing. So the notebook becomes a chronological record of lessons week-to-week. But what happens when your goal is help your child polish a piece for a recital, festival performance, or audition? Then, to make sure all of the points are covered in your home preparations, you have to reconstruct the record of practice points by going backward through your notes. If your note-taking is as cryptic as mine, this can be a daunting task. You could use the score as a record of all of the practice recommendations, but after weeks of working on a piece the score ends up with a dense patina of marks that are more cryptic than the original notes.

Each piece gets a separate index page with measure-by-measure practice points

Now I use a new method. During lessons I still take notes as usual, but I set aside separate pages in my notebook for each piece that my daughter is polishing for performance. On each page, I make a table with measure numbers in the left hand column and a description of the practice point in the middle column. The right-most column gives each point a letter that I use for shorthand notation during the week. Then I bookmark these index pages with a self-adhesive flag so I can refer to them readily.

Righthand column is shorthand notation for daily notes

As we find new trouble spots or the teacher points out new areas to work on, I add them to the list. Finally, after practice each day, I jot down the points that we worked on during that session. This is of enormous help the next day when we practice because I can quickly plan what to work on next or whether we need to continue working on some of the same points from the previous day.

Daily practice notes refer to index page for that piece

Having per-piece index pages in my notebook has become an enormous time saver and source of confidence that our preparations are on-track and comprehensive.

What note-taking ideas have you found work for you? Comment at the Suzuki Experience Facebook page.


  1. Although I've usually called them lesson notes, perhaps a better term is practice notes. Why? Because they're not really backward-looking to the lesson, they're forward-looking to the week's practice. So, practice notes.

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I learned something about identity and habits.

A few years ago while giving a talk at a local Suzuki parents meeting, I introduced myself as the parent of a young Suzuki violinist. Nothing special, just an introduction. One of the parents came up to me afterwards and told me how interesting it was that I referred to my daughter as a “violinist”. She was accustomed to saying that her daughter takes violin lessons.

Recently I ran across a piece of advice that made me think back to that encounter.


Lasting habit changes always involve some kind of identity shift. Running every day stops being a grind only once you begin to feel like a runner.
- David Cain, raptitude.com 88 More Truths I’ve Learned About Life

Now I’m beginning to understand the difference between being a violinist and taking violin lessons. To be a violinist (or any musician) means taking on the identity of a musician. What do musicians do? They practice. On the other hand taking violin lessons is just something you do. Like brushing one’s teeth. No one really identifies as a tooth brusher!

It’s certainly possible to practice by sheer force of will but it’s always going to be an uphill battle. By beginning to reframe the task of practice as something that musician do and that “I am a musician.” then it’s an easier task.

How can we as parents build a sense of identity?

  • Participate actively in the Suzuki and wider musical community - Sociologists would tell us that identity is created in a social context. We know this intuitively. “Hang out with bad kids, and chances are you’ll be the same,” warned my parents. Being part of the community - in group classes, master classes, institutes helps provide the social feedback to build the child’s budding identity as a musician.
  • Introduce children to role models - Take them to live performances so they can see real grownups making serious music. Watch YouTube videos of famous performers and talk about them. “Who is your favourite violinist?” “Don’t you love her phrasing?”
  • Use the language of identity - The words we use have an enormous impact on how children see themselves. By referring to practice as a responsibility that comes from one’s identity as a musician rather than just one more chore or “work”, there’s less friction.
  • Make music the centerpiece of family life - A child’s first and closest community is her family. By never compromising when it comes to the schedule of musical events and practicing, the child takes important cues about how adults in her family view music.
  • Use symbols and celebrations - All of us represent our identity by little outward symbols that signal to others who we are and what we’re about. For example, political bumper stickers are an unmistakable clue as to the driver’s affiliations. In a similar fashion we can bolster children’s identity by celebrating and taking note of milestones like practice challenges, recitals, and graduations. Symbols like stickers, posters, plaques and trophies come to be tokens of identification with a group of children who see themselves as musicians-in-training.

The relationship between identity and practice is a virtuous cycle. Identity builds confidence and consistency into practice and performance. And the better the child feels about herself from being consistent and playing well, the stronger her identification with the art and practice of musicianship. Over time, our identities become more complex and nuanced, but early identification with music will have a lasting influence throughout the lives of our children. And given that Suzuki’s real goal was building the identities of children as peacemakers and good citizens, we could all use more of that.

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What I learned as a Suzuki parent in 2016

Approaching the end of 2016, it’s the season of annual reviews, reflections, and retrospectives. It’s also the season for hopes and plans for 2017. Since for me personally it has been an interesting and challenging year, I decided to reflect on what I’ve learned over this past year.

Suzuki talent education is truly universal.

One of our adventures during 2016 involved moving to another country. Although our move was only from the U.S. to Canada, we were struck by how universal the Suzuki experience is. At the first Saturday morning group class, my daughter walked right into the first group and started playing. Same pieces, same bowings. Everything was exactly the same. Even if she had been unable to speak the language there would have been no barrier to making music with her peers. What if we all could communicate that way!

Music can be a great source of resilience.

Over the course of a year, we moved three times. One of the few constants in our lives was music. Even if everything else changes, there’s always music.

Switching teachers can be very tough.

My daughter is very fond of her first teacher whom we had to leave behind. We found a wonderful teacher in our new community but the transition involved lots of emotion. Technical progress can always wait; deal with the emotions first.

What piece your child is playing isn’t a good measure of progress.

I’ve begun to notice much more divergence in progress as measured by where my daughter is in the Suzuki repertoire and her development as a musician. There are so many little details of expression and stylistic interpretation that can be emphasized. You can spend a very long time working out every last detail. It’s all time well-spent. Since my daughter has been playing in orchestra and now a string quartet, there are many other experiences that bear on her development as a musician. It’s pointless to look at chronological progression through the pieces as a measure of progress. The answer to the question “What are you working on now?” isn’t the Vivaldi A-minor. It’s “Being a better violinist.” or “Being more patient with myself in practice.”

Sometimes letting go is the best course of action

Because our lives have been a little disordered this year, I’ve had to let go of a rigid schedule for review. But in the process, I’ve learned that letting go of the invariable need to get every little thing done every single day can be the best course of action. Sometimes you have to “zoom out” and look at the big picture. Sometimes progress doesn’t come in day-sized pieces.

The world needs Suzuki more than ever

Suzuki’s hope was to unite the world in peace by teaching kids to be patient, gentle, kind and hopeful citizens. This past year has seen far too much crudeness, hate, and division. We desperately need more of what unites us.


What I wish I had done better

Even the most effective Suzuki family has the occasional tense or nonproductive practice. Our experience this year was not exception.

There are times that I let my own personal frustrations get the better of me.

My own personal hot button is inefficiency. Like most families, we have a busy life. Time-wasting (what my own mother used to call plain-old dawdling) is a sure way to raise my blood pressure. I’m working on turning the problem upside down. Instead of seeing it as a surplus of inefficiency, I’m trying to see the problem as a deficiency of interestingness. By making practice more interesting, then everything else becomes less distracting, relatively speaking. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m working on it.

Sometimes I struggle to stay positive and creative with practice.

When the workload looks insurmountable or I’m low on sleep and exercise, I get too “transactional” with practice. It’s best to see our work in practice with young children as a balance between organizing the material to be practiced vs. setting it up as a fun positive experience. When time and patience are short, it’s easy to push the balance toward the “work” side.


Looking toward 2017

I’ve become more and more interested in the idea of the practice of life as a series of experiments. We’re all feeling our way through the experience of life, making it up as we go. Similarly when practicing with our children at home, we are making it up as we go. I have always noticed that my daughter, now 8 years old, was more cooperative with trying new ways of playing something if I framed it as an experiment. “What would happen if you slowed your bow speed here so you stayed closer to the lower half? I wonder…”

But what would happen if we tried that sort of hypothetical stance on a larger scale? What if we decided to try month-long experiments? For example, you might decide to play a particular game every day for a month and see if our outlook during practice improves. Or we could decide to devote the entire month to trying little mini-experiments to improve certain techniques. There’s something very honest and appealing about admitting that we don’t have all the answers, but that we are willing to play around with ideas and test them out.

I’m looking forward to trying all of this out in 2017, seeing where it takes us.

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A few years ago, my wife, a surgeon, told a story about a medical student who rotated on her service. When she asked him what he had hoped to learn on the rotation, he said that he was hoping to “learn some tricks.” I’m not exactly sure what surgical “tricks” are but I assume he was referring to little shortcuts or efficiencies that you gradually learn through practice. The story bothered me slightly for reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

But now I think I understand why. And it relates to what we do in Suzuki talent education.

It bothered me because, however innocently, it implies an expectation of unearned knowledge - a desire to advance one’s practical knowledge without going through the practical part.

Learning to play an instrument at a high level is arguably one of the most skillful tasks that humans undertake. Naturally, when we see an expert player we might wonder what the trick is. What’s the key that when found unlocks that level of playing?

So in music, what is the trick?

Well, the trick is to realize there isn’t a trick at all. There are still endeavours that are simply impervious to tricks. You can’t tweak your bow hold slightly and suddenly play the Paganini Caprices. You can’t stare at the score long enough and suddenly play the Rachmaninoff piano concerti. Learning to play well isn’t like that at all. It is more like building a 747. I’m not an engineer and I know nothing about how a 747 is actually built. But I’m pretty sure it starts with one piece of metal and a rivet. The result is not the application of a trick. It’s the sum of millions of small tasks. The same as learning to play.

The trick of learning to play beautifully is not a trick at all. It’s just accepting that some things can’t be rushed. It’s coming back to practice every day. And for the thing done well, its price is time itself.