Costume Day

It's the best day of the ballet year!  I love my classes.  The longer I teach, the more I realize that it is about love.  What Shinichi Suzuki said is so true:  "When love is deep, much can be accomplished."  Conversely, nothing can be taught if there is no love.  Luckily for me, all I have to do with these precious dancers is reflect their love and enthusiasm back at them, and they grow like well-tended flowers, "blossoming even as we gaze."  I feel so much gratitude for their hard work and willingness to absorb everything I teach them.

Music

Ruby and I combined our studios with a joint Christmas recital.  Everyone did well, and it was short and fun.  I like to keep my recitals under 30 minutes, especially when Utah is playing BYU in the Vegas Bowl, as they were later that day.  I like my students to have the experience, but I don't want them to be nervous.  It's light and fluffy, I tell them.

Ruby played, much to everyone's delight.

Jake, one of my students.  He's a riot to teach.  I love his energy and willingness to get in there and work.  I love all my Suzuki families.  The thing with Suzuki is building the child, and I love the synergy between teacher and parent as we try to develop beautiful people through music.  Having said that, I'll admit that I'm beyond tired in my efforts with my own children and music.  It's hard.  So hard.  Fortunately, they all have great teachers who keep me going.  I wish I could find a way to bring my teaching energy to my own kids, but it's just different.  That's why they have teachers, I guess.  I wonder if every music teacher feels the guilt I feel about their own kids.  The shoemaker's barefoot offspring all over again.

Barefoot or not, we take it one step at a time.  

Car Talk

Remember Car Talk?  Oh, how I miss Tom and Ray.  My daughters don't even get it when I caution them, "Don't drive like your sister!"  The guys would always say at the end of the show, "Well, you've squandered another perfectly good hour listening to Car Talk."

Lately, I've been saying to my ballet students at the end of class, "Well, you've dedicated another hour of your lives to becoming beautiful dancers.  Because of your hard work, you're one hour closer to your dream."  I'm not being quite as flippant as Click and Clack, but I think it's funny to channel them, even if the 3rd graders don't pick up on it.

The message I'm trying to relate is to point out what the girls are accomplishing and what they're aiming for.  Most of them probably didn't seek out ballet on their own, and they certainly don't drive themselves there.  Whether they love it or hate it, the reason they're in my class most likely has something to do with their parents' vision.  As a teacher, I have to instill the desire to succeed as well as the awareness that their hard work is for a purpose.  Occasionally, I pull in some older dancers from the dressing room and have them demonstrate something.  Then I deliberately make a connection between my little Level Ones and the big girls.  "See?  That is what you'll be able to do when you're older, and it's because you are so dedicated.  You work so hard and you love to dance."  Give them the vision of what you want them to be.  

The second time I gave my Car Talk speech, someone pointed out, "You said that last time!"  Now, they look forward to it.  I can see their eyes brighten as we take a moment and celebrate our efforts.  Suddenly, it's not just another dance class.  It's a completed leg of our journey toward the ideal.  That is very satisfying.  I feel it, and I can see it on those little faces.  You can bet that I use this strategy with my own children, too, in everything they do.

In ballet as in life, if we don't have a clear idea of what the goal is, the work to get there can seem pointless and overwhelming.  It's nice to pause, as we wipe the sweat off our faces and gingerly stretch our tired muscles, to look back at what we were, and look forward too, knowing exactly what we want to become. 

Scott snapped this shot at the beginning of my Nutcracker rehearsal.  Sarah had just finished teaching modern and was watching.  We have fun.

Winter Recital

 Since Golda began driving, I've been able to take on twice the number of violin students with all my free time!  So now I have ten students, 11 counting Ptolemy, and I love teaching them.  Friday was our first recital of Winter/Spring semester, and everyone played very well.  Half of the little kids, being brand-new students, played parts of Twinkle Variation A, Tocca Tocca Stop Stop, otherwise known as the bane of every Suzuki parent's existence.  We hear it a lot!  I actually don't mind it when Tocca Tocca gets stuck in my head for days on end.  I'm used to ignoring it.

Ptolemy played "The Bread" of the Twinkle variation, and it was perfect.  I was too busy to to get a video of him, and I'm so sad!  But between running the show, managing Tziporah (she brought luggage to unpack in front of everyone) and being Ptolemy's mom/teacher, I didn't know where my camera was when he started playing.  He's coming right along, with the incentive of buying a voodoo doll every day out of a machine at Dylan's.  Ptolemy is obsessive about these things, just like Freestone.  Whatever it takes. I say!

I love the connection I am able to develop with these wonderful families.  As a teacher, I have learned that you go into the student/parent/teacher relationship with unconditional love toward the parent and the student.  From there, everything flows.  I feel lucky to have these children and their families in my life.  Thanks, everyone.

Bliss

 Prom can seem like a big deal.  But, as we found out yesterday, there are benefits that come with not going through the whole expensive, awkward, fraught and nervous experience.  (Not that it wouldn't have been awesome to have been asked, mind you!)  But, if you don't get asked, you don't get asked.  And then you come up with an alternate plan.  Golda's alternate plan was a short trip to Park City with Ruby and her favorite mother.  Our first Saturday afternoon stop was Temple Square, to admire the perfectly poised spring flowers.

Golda and Ruby gamely endured a recitation of a poem my dad always used to quote:  "If of thy mortal goods, thou art bereft/And of thy store two loaves are left/Sell one and with the dough/Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul."  Ruby figured that poem was the root cause of my sappiness regarding the arts and beautiful things.  On this day, the beautiful things were the flowers, and also my daughters.  As I was leaving home, a friend of mine stopped by.  She has a new baby and a barely-two-year-old.  She admitted it was overwhelming and then said she was embarrassed to complain to someone like me, who had so many kids.  It's funny, because this was a big discussion at book club this past Thursday, how hard the baby phase is.  I pointed out to my friend that what I'm doing is much easier than what she's doing, up all night with a newborn, up all day with a toddler.  Case in point:  Me whisking off on an overnighter with two fun teenagers while my friend endures another 12 hours of sleeplessness, and another 12 after that, and another 12 after that.  

When these two were babies, 19 months apart, we didn't live near any family.  The few friends I had were as clueless and overwhelmed as I was.  We didn't know any babysitters. The babies were precious, but the days were long.  There was nothing for me to do, but everything for me to do!  Gobs of time, and never enough!  Oddly enough, I look back and remember that time in my life as fun, new and thrilling.  But definitely not easy, not like it's easy now.  Yes, easy.  In my current stage of life, every minute of my day is full of action, and for me, that is easy.  I told my sleep-deprived friend to hang in there, and I did not envy her as I drove away with my girls, bound for an evening of relaxation.  Don't get me wrong; I love babies, and I would have another one if I could, in a heartbeat.  But babies don't care about poetry and flowers and nice dinners, so they tend to only demand of you a certain, narrow set of skills, while the rest of your skill sets and all the other facets of your personality languish behind piles of diapers and plates of cold food.  Definitely not the case when you have all kinds of baby helpers to do everything for you!

So, while my fleet of baby helpers was home raising Tziporah, Ruby, Golda and I were enjoying some traditional Mormon cooking in the gardens at the Beehive House.  We were right in the same spot we were for Xanthe's birthday party a few days ago.  Nobody can accuse me of not having an obsessive personality.  If something is fun once, well then, it will be fun every day until I'm sick of it!  And it would take a lot to get sick of eating delicious food surrounded by lush gardens and the peaceful spirit of Temple Square.

We left Temple Square, though, because we had some flute music to drop off at a house up by the zoo, and a guitar recital to get to in Sugarhouse.  Ruby's phrasing and technique were spot-on in this recital.  Her "Maria Luisa" was a joy to listen to.  CLICK HERE She has performed it a number of times, and wanted to do a newer piece at the last minute, but she was glad she chose not to.  It is nice to perform a piece that is super polished.  The lack of nerves allows a different level of concentration and a more satisfying result.

This is Roy Johnson.  Ruby sees him either once or twice a week, depending on if she has group class.  She goes to his house and presents what she has practiced, and then he enthusiastically helps her get to the next level.  He is an inspirational teacher.  He has taught Ruby how to practice, and also how to teach.  He has also taught her how to think, how to appreciate life, and how to be a good person.  This quote encapsulates how I feel about good teachers, and we have many:  "The single most important thing in a child's performance is the quality of the teacher.  Making sure a child spends the maximum amount of time with inspirational teachers is the most important thing."  That is what music lessons are all about, for me.  As Shinichi Suzuki famously said, "Teaching music is not my main purpose.  I want to make good citizens.  If children hear fine music from the day of their birth and learn to play it, they develop sensitivity, discipline and endurance.  They get a beautiful heart."

I can't argue with that.  My beautiful-hearted girls and I mingled around the post-recital dinner party until it became apparent, as it always does, that we are the only ones not imbibing a ruby-colored glass of wine and relaxing into the hush and banter of the evening. We had our own relaxation planned, the three of us eating Lion House cookie dough and watching Catching Fire at the Ranch.  Need I say how grateful I am for these children of mine, or for the dad at home who makes these special times possible?

But Wait! There's More!

Here is a video of Ari and Ellison's Indian Lands staging.  They sure had fun together in modern this year!  They were very expressive onstage.

Esmae, in the Three Little Kittens dance.  In some backstage irony, the mittens for the three little kittens dance were lost for the matinee.  None of the kittens got any pie that day.

Ruby's staging for Leo, ballet
Golda and Ruby's Jazz - Night Sky

I was looking for a heartwarming quote about cousins and I came across this one, which seemed perfect:  "God made us cousins because he knew our moms couldn't handle us as sisters."  Hee hee!  Wait.  Do you think that's true?  I love these girls!  But strange things happen when they get together!

Italian ice and custard.  It's not recital week if you don't get treats.

Ari and Ellison imitating their moms' recital pose from circa 1988.

And here is the original picture.  It was Alice in Wonderland.  I was the March Hare and Sarah was the Mad Hatter.  We had a little pas de deux in the recital.  How I wish I had it on video!

Even if I don't have a recording of the original dance, we can still do the pose!  Sorta?  All we need are the ears and a pocket watch.  Recitals always leave us with good memories, funny quotes and pivotal moments.  Our best quote this year was from Xanthe when she found out one of her friends had quit ballet.  She said, "QUIT ballet?  How would you DO that?"  Xanthe is already pestering me about when she gets to go to Pat's and get her new ballet shoes for next year.  It will be her first year in shoes! She has tried on every pair in the house and they're all too big.  Patience, little one.