First Violin Recital

Oh, I am such a proud mommy. You see, on Sunday, my shy Charlotte conquered her fears and performed in her first violin recital---solo.

This was a huge accomplishment for her, not to mention a defining moment as far as (1) playing violin and (2) her social anxiety.

First, playing the violin. As I've said before, school comes easily to Charlotte. She's going gangbusters in reading and thinks math is fun. As she would say, easy peasy, lemon squeezy. The violin, however, is an extremely, EXTREMELY difficult instrument to learn. Charlotte found her challenge.

I've always kind of worried that Charlotte is, well . . . um . . . lazy. She takes the path of least resistance whenever possible, opting for the easier choice. Her teacher at preschool was great at making her do the more difficult options (toddler puzzles? no ma'am!) and her kindergarten teacher knows exactly how to handle Charlotte, pushing her past where she's comfy.

In short, she doesn't want to make mistakes. She doesn't want to be wrong. (No Hofmann does, believe me.) So, much of our parenting has centered on praising her EFFORT, not results. The main tenets of Parenting Charlotte have been:

• Making mistakes is how you learn.
• Just do your best. 
• Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do. 
• Practice makes hard things easier. 

Charlotte playing the violin has been very stressful for me, and at times, Charlotte. She's not being forced to play---she WANTS to play. She just wants it to be instantly easy. And it's not.

When she balks, I get extremely frustrated. I drive her 35 minutes away for her lesson each week! I spent so much effort cajoling her! I sit through each lesson with her! Sometimes I deal with a cranky Lorelei at the same time! And violin is not a cheap hobby! I have taken her to more than one lesson in which, tired or shy or both, the child has simply refused to play. For the entire lesson.

I was ready to quit. And we would have. Except that Charlotte didn't want to. 

Which was interesting. And enough to keep us going.

I taught piano for several years under a master teacher, so it was kind of embarrassing that I was failing with Charlotte and her violin. I was a good teacher! My students--even the ones with zero musical talent--always performed well, got high marks in their national auditions, and seemed to like and respect me.

Only in the last week did I crack the problem: I'm not Charlotte's teacher; I'm her MOM. Oh, that is a very, very different role.

We've had high points and low points, slogging through and then hitting a good stride. Then the pattern repeats. All the while, this recital was getting nearer.

A few weeks ago, I ordered a book, written by a Suzuki violin teacher (Charlotte does the Suzuki method, as most children do) who is also a psychotherapist. It sat on my nightstand for a bit, as I couldn't quite come to terms with the fact that I wasn't figuring this out on my own yet. Finally, when Charlotte's violin teacher worried aloud what I had been secretly concerned about--that Charlotte might not manage to get up in front of an audience and perform, seeing as how clingy-shy she was in her past two lessons, I cracked open the dang book.

Oh.

I had been doing some things wrong. I had some of the main things down--praising effort, allowing mistakes, etc.  And I had yet to break the bow over Charlotte's head (heh--as far as Suzuki parents go, I'm about as laid back and even-tempered as you can get--which is TERRIFYING. You wouldn't believe the stories the teacher has told me about crazy parents who are way too focused on results.) But it was like being hit by a train when I realized I was handling Charlotte's stage fright ALL WRONG.

And I should've known better, because to this day, I have terrible stage fright.

When she'd tell me she was scared to perform at her recital, I had told her (gently, but still) that there was nothing to be scared of. It would be fun. Everybody was rooting for her and wanted her to do a good job.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. According to this dude, denying her fear makes her think that it's not normal, and that not even Mommy can deal with Charlotte's anxieties. So, she doesn't know how to process them.

I didn't have to be told twice. The next time she told me she was scared about performing, I told her that performing in front of lots of people was indeed scary. That got her attention--it was like she was finally being HEARD. I told her about my first piano recital and how I was scared. I told her what song I played. She asked me how I felt after I played, and I told her I felt proud of myself for performing, even though I'd felt scared, and I also felt happy (well, relieved, but I used the term "happy").

Later when it came up with Chris (fear not, I briefed him on our newfound method of parenting), he told Charlotte it was okay to feel kind of scared and told of when he was little and had to do something scary. We still had a couple days to go, but I could sense Charlotte loosening up. And it seemed to make the space for her to practice.

We worked on her piece dozens of times---actually, SHE did. Her choice. She knew her Jingle Bells and was prepared. Now she said she was excited mixed with scared. That seemed like a pretty healthy combination, so I said that's how lots of people feel before they perform.

She was musically as ready as she was gonna get, and I felt confident we had parented her the best we could to be ready.

It was out of my control.

LORD HAVE MERCY, it was OUT OF MY CONTROL.

The recital took place at an assisted living facility. I took comfort in that there would be no stage, picturing a bunch of elderly folks in their wheelchairs clustered about, casually. Well, shoot, it was an actual hall with an actual formal audience set up. And I had forgotten that the audience would also include the families of the kids performing. Way more people than I expected.

Charlotte was introduced as the studio's youngest violin student. After the group (older kids) played the national anthem and another piece, Charlotte was the first soloist. When she was called up, she turned around to us and reached her arm out.

No! I thought. No, go up! Play! 

But I had misinterpreted her. "I need my music!" she whispered, and Chris and I practically threw it to her (even though she had the piece memorized), terrified that if she leaned on us for even a second, she'd be too petrified to go up.

But up she went. And when she put that violin under her chin and I realized that she was going to really play, this mama lost it. I barely remember how she sounded (though I've since watched the video 4,000 times, so now I know), but I bawled with pride as she bravely played her piece.

When she got to the end, she beamed proudly and ran to our row, instead of her seat in front, and jumped into my arms. I was so proud, I could hardly contain myself.

Obviously, as my gushing shows, this was a defining moment for Charlotte, boosting her confidence tremendously---something girls NEED as they grow up. 

I think Jingle Bells might be my new favorite Christmas song.

Here's a video to her playing:
https://youtu.be/HzHZ0BNn6OM