Summer Update

Summer seems to be racing by faster than usual this year.  We're making the most of it, though!  Compared to the trauma of last summer almost anything would be a welcome break this time around, but even with the vacation bar set low I feel we're helping make some great memories for our kids.

To me the essence of summer vacation is being unscheduled, getting outside, having time to do projects purely for fun, a cookout, reading for hours on end, bare feet, watching movies/TV way too late into the night, and a road trip.  By those measures it's been a quintessential summer break, and there's still some left, so life is good.

After our trip to Washington D.C. we had a few days at home together, and then Ian took the kids off to the cottage.  I had to stay behind in Milwaukee to work, but I loved that my kids got to meet up with their cousin in Michigan and just be at the lake.  My mom and my brother were there, too, and Ian emailed me reports of much swimming and fishing and cookie baking.

It's weird living in our house with just the dog.  I kept Chipper with me because I needed the company, but he was so sad.  He kept wandering into the kids' rooms to look forlornly at their empty beds.  After a couple of days he begged to go out the back door (which is odd--he's the only dog I know who hides when you offer to walk him), then begged to go into the garage, then begged to get into the car (another thing he doesn't like), and then he climbed into the backseat and wouldn't leave.  I think he wanted me to drive him to wherever the kids were.  I left the doors open to everything for over an hour in the hopes he'd come back in the house, but eventually I drove him around the neighborhood a bit and when we returned home he bounded inside.  I think he believed some kind of magic would have happened and everyone would be back again on our return, but when he got in the house everything about him just drooped in disappointment.


The opposite of the depressed dog was when I got him out of the kennel on the ferry.  I managed to get away to join everyone at the cottage for a weekend, and the only convenient way to do that is to take the high speed ferry across Lake Michigan.  I've never taken the dog on the ferry before, but they have a kennel down with the cars and attendants make sure the dogs get water and treats.  I thought the dog was going to wag us both to death when I got him out of there, and his joy at being reunited with the kids again was something to behold.






The cottage remains wonderful.  Mona caught many frogs this year.  Quinn caught many fish.  We played badminton on the beach.  The kids swam at The Point, and crossed the island on the other side to use the rope swing there at the other sandy spot they have dubbed The Pointless.  We ate literally pounds of blueberries from a local farm.  There was Monopoly and Boggle and we stayed up very late to watch both Spirited Away and Howl's Moving Castle.  I got to help everyone do tie dying, and Aden was finally successful in making a real spiral pattern on a shirt the way she always wanted.

Learning to Fail

People often assume since I'm a violin teacher that I instruct my own kids, and are then surprised when I tell them I'm smart enough not to.  I already tell my kids how to do everything else, and violin is hard, and sometimes having mom criticize one more thing is too much.  There are meta-messages to overcome.  When I point out a mistake, that has a weight and a history that anyone else trying to say the same thing wouldn't be burdened with.  Criticism from mom can hurt no matter how well-meaning it is or how gently it's offered.  Because no one wants to let down mom.

But for various reasons my kids' violin instruction has fallen to me this summer.  It has been trying.  At first I was kind of excited, because I love to teach violin and have lots of ideas and materials I want to share, and I've kept my distance for many years so as to not step on another teacher's toes.  This would be a chance to be involved in a way I haven't been.  I even found pieces the three of them could learn to play together.  I couldn't wait.  Unfortunately, however, most of the lessons end in tears.

I'm a fairly patient teacher, and have often been told I'm a good one, but my kids are terrified of disappointing me, so it gets complicated quickly.  I can instruct them in other things, like cooking or archery, or almost anything else, frankly.  But violin is different.  It's at the center of most of what I do, and playing in front of me makes them nervous.  It doesn't matter how often I reassure them, or praise their efforts, or tell them hearing them play always brings me joy.  When I attempt to correct an error or push them to try something harder, they fall to pieces.  It breaks my heart.

This week's lesson with Quinn, though, we had a talk about it, and it was interesting.

Strung Out

Ah, string camp.  The Wisconsin Conservatory of Music has run a week long summer string camp for twelve years now.  I have been there since its inception, and in some ways it's changed, but the stress, challenges, and sweetness remain the same.  There are special classes each day (I usually do a talk about violin making where I lay out a bunch of wood and tools and answer lots of questions), small ensembles that get coached individually, orchestra, and an extra session (for those who are interested) to learn fiddle music.  It's a lot to cram into just a few days.  This weekend we had our concert, so for one more year it is officially done.

The stress is interesting, because it's not so much the actual work involved in teaching at string camp, it's having to put all of your trust and faith into the kids to do what they need to do.  I want them to perform well for their own sakes, but it's my name on the program too, and it's hard to put your own reputation on the line in a situation where, when the big moment arrives, you give up control.  I am far more nervous watching my students perform than I have ever been on stage myself.

"B1 Steak Sauce"--my string camp quartet on stage

But the miracle every year of string camp is that somehow, inexplicably, the kids manage to pull everything together over the course of just a few days and create a lovely concert.  I'm amazed every time.  I start out with a group of kids who are always charming and earnest, but who have obstacles to overcome that always seem to me to be insurmountable in the time allotted, and yet....

And yet, they never worry.  I have to round them up to practice, and they saunter to their seats.  I freak out because they don't seem to have practiced, and they remain unconcerned.  I clap along desperately, explaining the importance of counting for playing in an ensemble, and they smile politely and can't believe I want them to run the piece again.  I do all the worrying for everyone, while they have a nice time.  It wears me out.

I almost didn't do it this year.  I had to leave the rest of my family vacationing in Michigan to come back to Milwaukee to teach, and it was hard doing string camp in the mornings and then rushing off to the violin store to work into the evenings, and finding any spare moments left in there to walk the dog.  I told Ian that I teach so little anymore that maybe this was the year I just resign.  Maybe my connection with the Conservatory had run its course and I should let it go.

But Ian reminded me that I always get stressed about string camp, but I always get something from it and am glad to have participated.  He didn't think I should give up the teaching part of my identity yet.

He was right.  I enjoy teaching and wish there were room in my schedule to do it regularly, but there just isn't.  So instead I do a whirlwind week of teaching at string camp and remind myself how exciting it is to help kids play music.  I have a chance to mingle with the other teachers and get inspired by what they do.  We get to have a concert in a room with plaster roses on the walls and ceiling so it looks like you're performing in a wedding cake.

When I was in high school I belonged to a chamber music organization for kids that was really wonderful, and some of my best musical memories are from its summer string camp.  I understand fully the kinds of memories and associations we are building for these young musicians as we guide them through an intense week of learning more about music. 

But one of the things I remember best from back then was my father suffering through many of the small ensembles at the concert, and then being floored by how good the whole orchestra sounded.  He didn't understand how such flawed individual players could coalesce into something quite beautiful.  He would say to me, "How does such perfection come from such imperfection?"

Now, the whole process of learning to make music interests me and I am much more forgiving of all that supposed imperfection than my dad was, but I understand asking him to sit through other people's kids botching great music that he loves is one of those crosses parents have to bear if you want to hear your own kid play on stage.  However, he's right, that there is a magic in the sound of a group that improves everyone.  The rough edges are less noticeable and the better parts somehow rise to the surface.  That's my favorite part of string camp, hearing the kids come together as a large group and create something bigger than themselves.  It's beautiful.

So my group, despite my usual fears, pulled themselves together and did not fall apart on stage.  Which amazes me since the first day I assessed how they played, the second day I had to painstakingly teach them the beginnings of several pieces so that we could pick one, the third day one player was absent, and the last day was the first time I got to hear them play the piece from the top of the page to the bottom.  Then they had their concert.  (I had to put polish on my nails every night to keep myself from biting them down to nothing.)  I can only imagine how much we would accomplish if I could work with them for two weeks in stead of one, but even one extra day would be nice. 

I will try to remember this for next year, when again I will wonder if it's worth the extra work and time to teach at string camp.  Because it is.  And actually, Aden is old enough that she might be ready to join in, if I can convince her to try it.  Just the thought of having her be part of that kind of experience makes me smile.

You Never Know (Babble)

You never know the impact you have in the world.  Occasionally people come to us later and we find out how something we said stuck and I’m always surprised at what did.  I think we accidentally hurt others more often than we realize.  But sometimes we help or inspire and can be just as oblivious of that, too.

I’ve been teaching violin for many years.  At my peak I had a studio of about 40 students which wore me out.  Currently I only have one, but with three kids and a store and more things to juggle than I can handle most days, she sometimes wears me out too.  I like getting to know other people and I like music and I like passing on things I’ve learned.

For many students I think I was a pretty good teacher.  For some I know I wasn’t right but hope I did okay.  And then there are a few I still wonder about with no sense of how I did at all.  When one of those pops up again it kind of rocks my world.

(window at the conservatory I teach for)


Being a music teacher often feels like being a counselor.  Part of that is simply having one on one time with a student apart from parents and friends.  Students confide because they want to and they can.  Sometimes it’s merely practical to listen and talk because lesson time is valuable and if a student is preoccupied with an emotional issue it’s hard to get any real work done until they get it out.  I know when I was in college I couldn’t play two notes on my viola without my teacher being able to diagnose my emotional state.  Music is expressive, and I was unable to separate my feelings from my playing.  I would start to dive into Bach or Telemann and the next thing I knew my teacher was saying, “Oh no, why are you so sad today?”  Then I would talk, and he would listen and nod, and eventually we’d get some real work accomplished.

I’ve been a sounding board for kids who are upset about dating troubles or their parents fighting or problems with siblings or school or who are freaked out about the future.  I listen, I nod, I try not to overstep my bounds, and I get them to clear their heads enough to concentrate on music before our time is up.

Most people in a position to take violin lessons come from fairly stable situations and their troubles when they crop up are things I can relate to.  But I’ve had some students with hard lives and problems I don’t always know how to address.  I tell them what I can, hope it has any bearing, and worry that in my efforts to help I’m not inadvertently being insensitive or making things worse.  You never know.

Recently a student I hadn’t seen in more than a decade resurfaced.  This was a student I have thought on and off about for years.  I’d never had a student who had been bounced around to more foster homes, and I was worried that this person when released from the system would lack direction and end up with a bad crowd.  I was honestly concerned that this student could be taken advantage of and wind up dead.  So when this person appeared in my violin store I was relieved, to say the least.

I never knew if anything I did in violin lessons had an impact on this student.  This person’s life was complicated, and I was never sure where violin fit in.  I played it by ear (so to speak) and did what I could and hoped for the best.  But now I know my presence in this person’s life did matter, even if at the time I wasn’t sure.  When you make assignments and they are ignored week after week, and someone doesn’t follow your instructions or is distracted when you try to explain something, it can feel like talking to a wall.

However, I think being there, being consistent, not letting down my expectations or giving in to ways this student pushed me, made an impact.  I was there at a time as other people came and went.  And not only did this student remember me, but retained a love for violin.

This person came by just to say hello, but I had learned a few days before from a fellow teacher who taught this person with me that our former student, due to difficult circumstances, no longer had an instrument.  So I fixed that.

Every once in a while I’ll get a donated instrument that should go to someone special.  I’ve had a particular violin hanging behind my bench for some time waiting for the right person.  I decided my former student would be a good match.  It’s not a valuable instrument from a market point of view, but it was dearly loved, and will now be treasured again.

My former student is still on a hard road, but doesn’t act like it.  This person is trying to address life and the world with a sensitivity that I find humbling.  Now this person can do it armed with a violin.  I watched my former student leave, smiling, cradling that violin as if it were the key to something grand and hopeful.  Which is exactly what music is.
With a little luck some of those lessons I taught all those years ago will go to good use.  That makes me happy, and it makes me proud.

Report From String Camp (Babble)

I’ve been teaching at the Wisconsin Conservatory of Music for about fifteen years now.  When my husband and I first moved to Milwaukee so I could commute to violin making school, the Conservatory was a convenient place to start a new studio because it was within walking distance of our apartment.  The Conservatory is housed in a beautiful old mansion overlooking Lake Michigan and there are some truly fine musicians working there.  The recital hall is decorated with plaster roses on the walls and ceiling so it feels like having a concert in a wedding cake.  It’s a pretty place to work.

While helping put myself (and later Ian) through school, I had a lot of students.  When my husband got deployed the first time I had to cut back my studio quite a bit and teach the lessons at my home because getting out to the building was difficult.  When Ian returned I was able to take a job with the Milwaukee Youth Symphony for a couple of years teaching in a program for underprivileged kids and it was exhausting but I loved it.  With the second deployment I had to resign from that position and cut my teaching back to only a couple of students in music therapy whom I team teach with a colleague.  Currently I’m down to one student, and the annual Summer String Camp.  I miss doing more regular teaching, but since we opened the violin store there just isn’t time.  Maybe one day when my children are grown I will be able to fit it in again, but in the meantime opportunities for me to teach are rare.

String Camp is sort of like the crash course music event that keeps my teaching chops up.  It’s one week every summer where string players from small children through high school aged students gather and do chamber music.  Each teacher gets to coach a small ensemble, and there are two small orchestras, a group for beginners, and a fiddle camp.  One of the downsides to teaching private lessons is I don’t get to see the other string faculty that often, so it’s nice to work with other teachers at String Camp and see them in action.

I also do a demonstration about violin making for the kids to teach them facts about violins and get them to appreciate their instruments in new ways.  Every year at least one student sees all the wood and the tools and assumes they are going to get to build their very own violin in an hour, and I have to explain that no, it takes way longer than that to build a violin.  WAY longer (and please don’t touch those tools they are freakishly sharp).
Every year the kids are sweet, at least one instrument meets with catastrophe (this session I replaced someone’s endbutton on her violin after it blew apart, and adjusted a cello soundpost that had fallen over), some kid cries (I personally didn’t make anyone cry this year but I’m sure there have been tears somewhere), and I get extremely stressed before the concert.

Different teachers have different strengths, and I tend to be good at getting less experienced kids to focus long enough to put a piece together in time to perform in just a few days.  Once the head of the string department gave me an advanced group and I almost didn’t know what to do with them by the end of the week because they had actually practiced and they listened and I didn’t have to repeat myself all the time.  They were great and it was easy.  (The department head told me she thought I deserved a break for once, instead of freaking out about whether my group was going to be able to get through their tune on stage without falling to pieces.)

This year most of my kids were fine, but a couple were struggling, and I ended up having to rewrite parts of the Air to Don Giovanni to remove pesky things like rests and interesting notes or bowings.  (Mozart is dead, so I don’t think he’ll mind.  Besides, I think he’d prefer the edit to the whole thing getting botched on stage.)

I’m always amazed that it works out as well as it does.  The first day is spent simply figuring out seating and which piece to play.  Many young children aren’t good sight readers, so I end up having to teach them the music so we can even hear it, before deciding if it’s something we should keep working on or simply scrap.  The second day we try to get something to sound cohesive, even if it’s just the first line.  By the third day I am in a total panic when they can’t get to the end of the piece on their own without my standing over them clapping the beat and shouting out cues.  The fourth day miraculously things start to hold together.  The fifth day is the concert.  By the time my kids hit the stage I’ve usually bitten my nails down to nothing.  But they always do fine.

Today’s concert was great!  I was so pleased with my group.  They sounded a little better in rehearsal than they did during the performance, but several people told me how impressed they were at how well they played together and their overall sound.  I was very proud.

My own kids came to hear the concert, primarily because they know there are always cupcakes at the reception afterward.  Aden and Mona are old enough they could participate in String Camp if they wanted to.  Currently they just do private lessons and don’t have any group experience.  I was hoping that seeing other kids their age play such fun music in such a pretty environment they might be inspired to try it themselves next year.  I asked them if they’d be interested next summer.  Aden looked nervous about the idea, but Mona seemed game.  She mostly liked the idea of going to the Conservatory with me every day for a week.  I hope she decides to try it.  Some of my best memories as a kid are playing in a group like this one.

But for this year, String Camp is done.  (And now I need a nap.)