Last Saturday, Kiddo#2 opened up her crystal ball and gave me a glimpse into the future when she pitched (pun intended) a fit about going to her violin lesson.
Due to uncontrollable circumstances, Kiddo#3’s lesson was moved to be back-to-back with Kiddo#2’s lesson. This she disliked: he is distracting. He would stop her from learning. She didn’t want to share.
My point: we can’t help it. This week, you’re going together. First you, then him. If he distracts you, he doesn’t get started until you’ve had your full 30 minutes. If that means he only gets five minutes, that’s what he gets. He’s only hurting himself if he distracts you.
She screamed, pouted, cried, stomped, snarled (literally, like an animal: just like Kiddo#1 taught her–I’m so proud) and finally when I got them in the car and was driving to the lesson, she said to me, “SHUT UP!”
Kiddo#2 then learned Mom is capable of doing a U-turn and dropping her back off at home. And then Mom picked up her own violin and sheet music and went to have a lesson with Kiddo#3. Because I paid for the instructor’s half-hour, so what does it matter which bad violinist gets the lesson? And the instructor agreed.
I haven’t had a violin lesson (in the strictest sense of the word) since I was 12, so this was nerve-wracking. The instructor is the only non-family-member to have heard me play, and somehow she didn’t pass out from terror. She did adjust my bow hold (now I can’t play at all, thanks) and said, “Okay, give me a G-major scale.”
Would you believe that in all these years of violin lessons and guitar lessons and choir, I’ve never done scales?
They frighten me. Even as she started explaining, she put the sheet music in front of me and I started to panic and my brain closed off. I can’t read music. I mean, I can decipher a note given enough time, but I can’t PLAY sheet music. (Patient Husband says I have a mental block; I think I’m musically dyslexic because it just turns into dots and lines for me.)
She played with me, saying the notes out loud, then showed me what I needed to be doing, and said, “That’s probably enough to work on until next week.”
Would you believe that, having figured out how to do a scale, I was terribly excited to do it? That I’ve been keeping the violin out and just playing scales ever since? Because…they’re cool! They’re all the same except they start in different places. But now I’m not thinking, “Oh dear heaven, that has seven sharps!” any longer. Now I’m thinking, “Oh, just start it here and then do that set of intervals and it’ll sound right.”
That’s me: 37 years old and I discovered the G-major scale. Lame.
Now to go back and work on that bow hold again. And maybe try to improve my intonation enough that small animals no longer fall stunned from the trees outside my home.