Suzuki Mom No More

I had been considering changing Charlie to a different Suzuki School for violin. Our present school was not convenient and I really did not like the director (see my previous post Cranky Suzuki Mom).

So I called another Suzuki School I had heard good things about. I emailed the director, she seemed really nice. They expected me to buy an electronic tuner, but that was fine. They were a little more expensive, but that was ok, too. I emailed the individual instructor the director suggested and found out she had a "keyboard requirement." This means the kids have to learn keyboard as they learn violin. Ok, to me, that's a bit much. It's hard enough to get Charlie to practice violin twice a week let alone throwing in keyboard. Not to mention I'd have to buy a keyboard. I emailed the director back and asked for a recommendation for another individual instructor who did not have a keyboard requirement (which she had offered up front to do anyway). At that point I got an email scolding about how the teacher she had recommended was the founder of the school, and students are lucky to be able to train with her.

Not long after this transpired a woman from our present school called asking for my email address. I told her "Well, we are changing Suzuki schools."

"Really, why?"

"Um, er, well, um, to be perfectly honest..."

"Yes?"

"I don't like the was Ginny interacts with my kid."

"Well, my son is in Book 4, and I have found Ginny to be very patient with him."

"Huh."

"I commiserate with other Suzuki Moms all the time. It's hard. It's not just music training, it's a parenting style."

Something clicked in my head. Something that had been bubbling just under the surface for a while. I don't know why it takes me so long to come to terms with things. I had been forcing myself, and more importantly, Charlie into a situation that was no fun. I mean, if it stressed me out, it had to be why he hated it.

"Well," I said. "I believe it may conflict with my parenting style."

I emailed the director of our school that day to tell her we were quitting. I emailed the woman from the other school and told her we were no longer interested. Nobody emailed me back. Nobody asked why.

The last chapter of this tale is I found Charlie a fiddle instructor. She didn't really mind how he held the bow. She let him sit down when he played. He's already learned the first two lines of "Bile Them Cabbage Down." The second line, I might add by ear.

I don't know if he's going to stick with it. He still complains about it, but we actually got through one thirty minute practice session Tuesday. He says he wants to quit, yet in the same breath says "When I get good, I will be able to play real fast."

For more information, read the Wiki on Suzuki Method.

Cranky Suzuki Mom

Ok, so I went off on the violin teacher today. Well, not really, but I wasn't polite. She's exactly what you would imagine a violin teacher to be like. Quirky, cranky. When we first decided Charlie was going to take Suzuki Violin Silly Me assumed our instructor would be Japanese. Nope, she's this upper middle class white American woman who is about 60 years old, and have I mentioned she's cranky? The mom of Charlie's friend said to me "I think Elyse is a little scared of Miss Ginny" to which I replied "Well, Miss Ginny is scary."

First let me describe the room. It's about 10 feet by 20 feet and it's filled with little tables and chairs. It's really a classroom in a church, that only seconds as The Central Ohio School for Suzuki Instruction. So we all cram in this room, ten or so kids with violins, their moms, quite a few siblings and Miss Ginny. I take Max and Atticus along because I refuse to double the cost of Suzuki Violin by hiring a sitter every week. Usually they do well. They play with the other siblings, the kids all share Goldfish Crackers, read books, color, whatever. Usually it's pretty mild. The last few weeks, though, all the kids have been kind of whack. It's probably a summer thing. Last week the room was particularly crowded because of the table/chair configuration and the siblings also were kind of raucus. We moms were doing our best to keep the siblings quiet and be the proper Suzuki Mom. To be honest, the kids weren't being particularly loud or anything but twice Miss Ginny yelled "Kids, be quiet." Yeah, right. You might as well tell a bunch of two and three-year-olds to be loud, it doesn't make a difference.

I gave it a lot of thought throughout the following week. I figured I would bring some toys and let the boys play in the hallway just outside the door. That way I could keep and eye on them and their noise wouldn't be disruptive. So wrong was I. When Miss Ginny busted into the room like the Witch Hazel on Sylvester and Tweetie (you know, the one whose hairpins are always a step behind her) the first thing she croaks is "Whose trucks are in the hallway?"

"Mine," I replied. "I was hoping to lure my kids out there since you yelled at them last week."

Without even looking at me she said "Well, we can't have kids in the hallway."

Next week I'm just going to have to just take a Xanax.