‘Tis the season: Latkes and applesauce, caroling, Christmas trees, winter boots, Poinsettias and… auditions.
As an instructor, it can be challenging to convince kids, who are looking forward to some time off from the pressures of school, that it is a good thing to work twice as hard at their instruments this time of year.
I try to space out the practicing of some of the basic festival audition requirements like scales and sight reading, over the course of the school year. There is method to this madness; if there is consistent repetition sprinkled in among lesson assignments, the rote work doesn’t feel quite so rote?
One of the basic challenges in all of this is the sign up. The sponsoring school has to sign the musician up to audition for, in our area, the New England Music Festival and/or the Vermont All State Music Festival. What this means is that both the school and I have to convince the student to take information home to their family and connect the person responsible for payment and transportation to the sponsor – their school. Anyone who has, like me, found ancient permission slips crumbled at the bottom of a well-worn backpack, covered with something unidentifiable and very sticky, knows that this is no easy feat.
Sign up requirements are normally several months in advance of the auditions which means that, alongside students choosing a winter recital work, I have to gently bring up auditions as well.
This year one of my students sat across from me in his lesson, took a deep breath, fixed his hair (of course) and told me that he didn’t think he wanted to audition for one of the festivals. He talked to me about wanting to include other activities in his life besides musical ones. He looked up at me, searching my face for my reaction.
How many times I have seen that look from my own children when they are trying to break something to me that they figure might not go over so well.
Fortunately, I have been teaching the cello for a long while and have four sons. I have had numerous opportunities for contemplation on these scenarios. I am studied in my response but, perhaps better still, I am good at masking reaction on my face.
We are dealing with a student who is early in his high school musical career but has had some good success in auditioning for festivals as well as orchestras. But, as he looked up at me there was a practiced voice inside me that reminded me that it wasn’t only what I knew he could do that mattered. What also mattered is what he wanted to do.
Maybe he wants to join the team because he loves the games, or maybe he wants to join the club because it is, as he might see it, a way to meet people and, ultimately, be more popular. Maybe it doesn’t matter – he wants to join the team and now is the time in his life for him to try new things and figure out who he is.
While I understand the dedication and devotion that it takes to be excellent at anything and I pass that idea onto all of my students, young and old, I think that, as adults, parents, teachers, well meaning mentors, we have to be very careful to be clear with ourselves about our own motivation. Too many times I sat in a bleacher watching a father, fully decked out in a sports t-shirt with the sleeves cut off to reveal the muscles in his arms, berate his obviously unhappy child because she didn’t catch the ball. Or sat at a concert and watched the conductor berate her obviously unhappy musician because he was not making the conductor sound good in a piece chosen by that conductor, way beyond the orchestra but resume-boosting nonetheless. Both seemingly oblivious to the needs of the child/student.
What we feel is important is not always what is important to the person we are sharing our wisdom with.
As my student looked up at me that day, telling me about what he wanted, I recognized his bravery and I knew that the most important thing I could teach him was that he was respected for who he was and what he wanted. There might be regrets for not auditioning for the orchestra, or playing AAU sports, but aren’t those lessons in themselves?
Strolling down Main Street in Montpelier, looking for that perfect gift – I try hard to remember who the person I am shopping for is and what they might like. Just my taking the time to think about them is part of my gift.
This holiday season, this audition season, I wish you all a big box full of “You do you.”
Melissa