Sometimes One Should Keep One's Mouth Shut...

Or at least be careful of what one says aloud (ok, that's becoming awkward, but I just gave Aimee important-sounding instruction today about the use of "you" in...um..one's writing). At any rate, this is because children rarely ever, IF ever, forget what they hear. In our house, this is especially true of Aimee, about whom I seldom write anymore, since she is old enough to care (very deeply) about what is said about her; but on this occasion, I think I will get a pass, since none of this is something I wouldn't discuss with her in hearing. I've discussed it with her in fact, it's an open subject in the house, and, finally, she's quite proud of any and all of the traits I will describe about her herein. I will, in fact, take this opportunity to say that Aimee is one lovely and intelligent girl, full of spark, spirit, and wit.

At any rate, according to my own sensibilities as well as the advice given in The Well-Trained Mind, I started the older children on musical instruments some time ago. I started with Aimee, and I started with the violin, since that's the instrument I play (correction: that I know how to play, but which in reality I don't have occasion to play very often). One short lesson clearly revealed to us that it wasn't such a good idea - we were definitely going to butt heads over it,and I had no desire to turn music into a time of misery. But I did insist that she choose something, and something that I could teach her, which left the piano. Not much of a choice, I guess, but it was one to which she wasn't vehemently opposed (which was an improvement). We bought a keyboard and some books, and away we went. Of course, since this is Aimee we're talking about (and I'm pretty sure she doesn't mind me saying this), we still weren't in smooth waters, and often she bucked pretty vigorously over music practice. In fact, it seemed to be a ritual that she had to go through in order to learn a new song or skill - become incensed that she had to take lessons at all, pretend not to remember anything she had previously learned, declare that it was impossible to learn whatever was before her, probably have some sort of privilege removed for some amount of time, then proceed to hammer away at it until she got it.



Repeat...let's see...lots of times. One day somewhere in the first stage of this process, she begged and pleaded to be told just HOW LONG she had to be subjected to this particular form of torture, and in a moment of weakness, I confessed that I only wanted her to take piano for two years, and then if she still hated it, she could quit. And Aimee stored this piece of information somewhere not just in her long-term memory, but in the "forever and eternal, oath-sealed-in-blood" memory section of her brain. Since then she has asked repeatedly when her two-year sentence will be up, and in recent months, has been reminding me of it's imminence. But she's also displayed a fair amount of talent at the piano and has frequently been found playing it in her free time. (So I hope she forgives me for being skeptical of her claims that she hates it.) Technically the two-year period ended at the end of last month, but I've bought a couple more months on the basis November and December couldn't have counted because of the move, and also because we just inherited my parents' piano and I want her to be able to get some good practice on it. Anyway, it's more or less here, and I'm very much regretting having said anything about a time limit, because I think it would be a shame for her to quit something she probably enjoys and in which she has developed some proficiency, with potential for much more - now I AM going to say something I might not say in so many words to her face - simply because she doesn't like being told what to do. Now I think if I provide her with books, she will continue to dabble at it at least, but I think without that charming ritual mentioned above, the one that includes insistent prodding and encouragement, there are some things she will skip over because they are "too hard." The kids ask me why I've insisted on music lessons, and the development of perseverance to accomplish a skill is one of the primary reasons. We don't have any musical prodigies here, I realize that - but music encourages a certain metal discipline that I value and I think they should also value.

This is devolving into a complaint, which is useless. It's also not a dilemma, for which I can solicit advice, because I have no choice but to stick to my word. Otherwise I will have lied, emphasis Aimee's, and obviously that's not acceptable. So perhaps it's just a cautionary tale, the lesson of which I have carefully remembered in regard to the other children. I passed the violin down to Drew, and gave him no promises about when he's allowed to quit, and fortunately, due to his relatively easy-going nature, he hasn't thought to ask. And of course, it could be that Aimee will apply her best traits to the situation and surprise me with an inner determination and discipline after all. It's been known to happen.