October 14, 2005 at 11:29 AM

Jonathan's fingers can barely span a sixth on the piano, and his orange method books are still crispy bright, with covers intact; that’s how long he’s been a musician. Everything is still fresh at this stage, which is why it is one of my favorite parts about teaching.

My first instrument was also the piano. I began at age four, and I still remember my first song I learned, called “Middle C.” (You could probably sing along–middle c, middle c, here we are at middle c.) The drawings of stick people above each song created amazing stories to go with each new concept, stories about stepping up stairs and skipping down the sidewalk. Middle C was home base, and D became an exciting new friend to meet. I greeted each note with my little fingers, enthralled with the sounds that could be made when they followed each other in different patterns.

Sometimes now, if I sit quietly and play a simple interval or two, I can re-enter the microcosmic world of kinder-music. It's only a fleeting glimpse, but I get the feeling that even when I'm not consciously participating, the notes can still connect me to that world as I practice each day. If for some reason I should forget how to get there though, I have these little gems that visit me in my studio to remind me how it's done.

Notes are amazing! Little girls think it’s fun to talk conversations with their fiddles. Open strings are voices that say, “My name is Bethany, how do you do?” They exclaim, "Listen, do you hear that note? It says its name!" They show off a discovery: "Watch me make a rainbow when I play the notes in a row all the way up."

Lines of notes take you places, not just up and down in a phrase. During a lesson, we travel over the bridge of Avignon, or play a game of hopscotch, or peck like chickens, or leap like grasshoppers. Legato, staccato, I asked for peanut butter, they gave me popcorn, but we'll get down that road one way or another.

Notes give instant access to transcendent notions. Seconds, thirds, fourths and fifths are all unique personalities, each resembling hope, good will, steadfastness, and truth. Don't be fooled; even a small child can embrace these intrinsic qualities of intervals and chords in wonder.

I must admit, I covet the rampant imagination of children. I asked a five-year-old girl once to find middle C for me, and she began to recite softly under her breath as she traced her finger along a path, something like this: “In the middle, there’s a sign, follow it down, beneath the shadow of the dark key, down on the other side, you’ll find it there, it’s always there.” I held my breath and sat very still, so as not to break the spell. I had just witnessed someone’s secret doorway into their own little music world!

Another distracted boy once had trouble keeping track of the notes as he played and would often end up in a different song altogether. I wanted to find out which cognitive road he was traveling, whether he navigated by note names or finger numbers or by watching the patterns go up and down, so I asked him what he looked at when he played. He pondered, “Oh, I like to look at the drawing of the clouds. I wonder what the boy in the picture is thinking about when he watches those clouds.” I wonder, too. Perhaps he is thinking of a different song altogether.

Today, Jonathan plays his lessons with accuracy and enthusiasm and asks the deeper questions, just like both of his siblings I’ve also taught. He wonders about the multiple characteristics of seconds and the temperament of high and low notes. I’m not difficult to persuade into a chase down a rabbit trail, and often times we both have to rein in our flights of imagination in order to complete the lesson agenda.

“I am going to play this song up on the high keys.”

“No, you’re not. You always play the melody high, and I play the accompaniment low, so today we will switch. You get to go all the way to the bottom. You’ll like the low notes; they sound like burps.” We switched places for fun. I had no clue how fun this was going to be. He began the Mexican hat dance, and sure enough, his seconds and thirds rumbled out of the lower register of my piano like garbled belches. Eyes screwed shut, mouth agape, his entire body seized with laughter. I can only guess at the images he had in his mind; his face was priceless!

“We gotta do this again!”

No problem. I wouldn’t mind doing this forever.

From Jessica Smith
Posted on October 14, 2005 at 3:00 PM

It really is amazing to watch little kids entering a musical world.

My cousin (whose 5) just started piano lessons, and at his first lesson, he tried to tell his teacher that the keys were supposed to go "A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, ..."

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on October 15, 2005 at 12:06 AM

Kids are fascinated with anything. Hopefully he won't grow up like me, being able to do just about anything he wants technically, but with little fascination, thinking it's a pointless exercise. Very much like running a marathon ;)

From Karin Lin
Posted on October 15, 2005 at 12:43 AM

Emily, that is so beautiful. Are you a mother? If not, you'd be an excellent one, with your ability to see through a child's eyes.

From Emily Grossman
Posted on October 15, 2005 at 7:54 AM

Jessica, I was surprised by my German student when I first assessed her note recognition skills and came across "H." Fun!

Jim, fascination does inspire inventiveness, doesn't it? Do you have any advice for motivating my bored students who won't get into the exercises? Sometimes I'm at a loss.

Karin, I love kids, and I don't want any. I relate to them really well because in many ways I'm pretty childish myself, and if I had kids I'd have to "grow up", in a sense. I suppose that wouldn't be bad, huh? Maybe...

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on October 15, 2005 at 3:53 PM

Ok, I'll go :P
But I still hope he won't.

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October 14, 2005 at 11:29 AM

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