Only in Canada do you play at a recital and recite at a play. I was at the former (that would be the recital, Maurice) the other day. Three of my kids have been involved with Music for Young Children for the past couple of years, with Foremost's own Lydia Collin as their mentor,.
They were there, along with dozens of other kids, parents and grandparents, performing, playing, bowing, and generally inspiring those of us who were there.
Music for Young Children is not just any programme, and it's not just for anyone. As little as I know about it, the intensity level is high, with kids and their families as active participants. Also, because it involves the parents (usually mom) sitting in the lessons with the teacher, plus the daily practice at home, it takes a lot of commitment. And that heavy commitment also includes the piano teacher herself. It strikes me that this is not for the fainthearted. Or the faint-fingered, for that matter
You might say that it's a little more than scales and singing The Sound of Music theme songs.
That's probably why my wife is the key component to the parent side of things. If Lydia and her ilk depended upon me, with my (limited) musical ability, she's be in trouble: While I do sing (and have sung in many quartets over the years) and my pitch is actually not too bad, it's all the technical stuff that leaves my head spinning, stomach churning, and dogs howling.
And one of my paralyzing fears, if you really care, is that if I didn't C sharp I might B flat.
The two things impressed me the most with the recent recital are the following: One, the kids were keen for it. They were expected to dress up, get up, speak up, then play up. And play up they did. I mean, I was ready to do a little dancing in the aisles with some of the numbers they performed. Fortunately for all concerned, the presentations were short enough to keep me swinging in my seat.
Just as an aside—and I'm just thinking out loud here—we under-challenge (read: we have low expectations for) our kids too much. In other words, we don't think they can master this or achieve that, so, well, they meet our expectations.
Two, the families were up for it, too. I was amazed and delighted to see how many immediate and extended family members showed up. There must have been a couple hundred people there. I tried to count them, but I ran out of toes. I had an urge to take up a collection for the poor of Milk River, but I ran out of pocket space.
In both cases—that is, kids and family--I was much encouraged. With the implosion of the family unit, and with the erosion of family values, it was so reassuring to see—how do you say it?--such an old-fashioned event so strongly supported. Families together with other families, supporting their kids and other families' kids, with the appropriate applause at the end of each contribution.
It's not after-school soccer, you know. Not only does it not have the same value, it actually has the opposite value. Fierce competition, selective talent, and only a smattering of parents present, suggest the opposite.
A caveat is due here: I think some competitive sports has its place, but for me, the arts is where it's at. In the arts, there is discipline, development, and destination; there is also creativity and variety. It sounds like a template for sports, business, and education, doesn't it? This is true, but it goes beyond all those (important) segments of society.
When I speak of the arts, I am thinking in particular of what I recently attended, but it does encompass the creative and graphic and visual and even language arts. How we handle the arts is often a bellwether for how we are doing as a society.
I have my many issues how we are doing as a society, as you know, but, to be honest with you, when I attend a recital like the recent one, I feel a lot better.
I'd probably feel even better if I personally knew the difference between a “do” and a “re.” Oh, well, at least I can spell them correctly. I think.
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