Teaching Piano Lessons

The following article appeared in a newspaper but I don’t know WHICH newspaper.  Apparently, I clipped off the date info.

Parents, it’s okay to push your little piano student, but not off the bench

By Taprina K. Millburn

The whining and excuses begin as soon as I call my son into the living room.

He sits, begins to wiggle and explains that he has a rash on his arm.  No wonder, it’s time for piano practice.

He pecks on middle C and turns to me and tells me about a kid at school who stuffed toilet paper up his nose.

“Let’s talk about that after we practice,” I say.

Curl your fingers like spiders, I tell him and demonstrate to him how his teacher wants his fingers placed on the keys.

“I don’t like spiders,” he tells me.

Then he begins to scratch his invisible rash.

“I need to go to the bathroom; I’ll be right back,” he says as he hurries off.

His teacher tells me that my son, as a kindergartner, should only practice for five minutes a day.

It’s the longest five minutes of my life.

When he returns, I help place his fingers on the keys and listen to him ping out “Cowboy Joe.”  Wonderful, I tell him.

Four more minutes.

“Am I finished, yet?” he asks. “Because I really have to pee again.”

He stomps on the damper pedals and forgets where to begin, although I’ve pointed to middle C at least a hundred times.

My patience is slipping away.  How I wish it weren’t true, but as my son squirms and slides his bottom from side to side on the wooden piano bench, pretending to ride a wild horse, I feel my good humor being siphoned out.

He continues to look for other things to say or do – anything but playing his assignment.

That’s when I use my foghorn voice and his whining turns into real tears.

“It’s more fun playing for my piano teacher.  You’re grumpy,” he says to me and sits on his hands in protest.

If you rode her piano bench she’d be irritated, too, I want to say but I hold my words.

Three more minutes.

I turn the page of his book to the next piece and he reluctantly plays the notes.

Then I wonder if I’ve turned into one of THOSE parents.  The kind who pushes their kids too much – to be the best ball players, musicians, cheerleaders, or beauty queens.

The kind of parent whose children grow up to write tell-all books about them.

“I like this song,” he says and continues to play it three more times.  He’s forgotten about his rash or that he needs another bathroom break.

One more minute.

We flip the page and the wiggling and scratching begin again, but he plays the song and smiles.

“I’m finished, right?”

Practice is over, and he packs up his books.

“How long did I practice?”

“Five minutes”

“It felt like hours,” he said with a sigh.

DAYS.

You can get in touch with Taprina by mail at King Features Weekly Service, 628 Virginia Drive, Orlando, FL  32803 or by email to letters.kfs@hearstc.com.