A Story on Music and Growing Up
When I was in the 3rd grade, a nice lady with short, salt and pepper hair came to our classroom. The purpose of her visit was to recruit kids interested in playing a string instrument for the school orchestra.
“Who would be interested in learning to play a musical instrument?” Our teacher asked.
Everyone shot their hands up.
The salt and pepper hair lady opened her eyes wide, took a deep breath and then took each student outside of the classroom for a small interview. She didn’t have room for all thirty or so kids. She only had room for three students.
When my turn came, she asked me why she should choose me. I told her that I used to pretend to play the piano on my parents’s glass table when my dad played his salsa music. “I love music!” I told her. She smiled, and her pink lipstick looked brighter. She shook my hand and told me I would hear from her next week.
My answer must have impressed her because I was one of the three chosen students. She gave me a violin and began to teach me the basics. In a couple of days, I went from playing pizzicato to correctly using the bow and playing scales. I learned to read music faster than I learned subtraction and soon I was rocking twinkle twinkle little star!
I looked forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays because I got to skip math to go to music class. I steadily progressed and practiced everyday even when my parents were on the phone, or napping. I went on to middle school, joined their orchestra, had concerts and eventually went on to a music academy for high school. This is where something started to happen….I started to lose interest in music.
The school was musically competitive. The atmosphere felt rigid and limited. Students were only interested in being the “best” and working towards first chair even if that meant taking first chair from a friend. Very few played music because they enjoyed it. How could this be when our music teachers were constantly reminding us of our abilities, or lack thereof. And the classical genre was the only genre available for a string player, no one even questioned this! I personally have no problem with classical music, I in fact enjoy it, but when all surrounding conversations and even humming at the time consisted of Beethoven and Bach, I got to a point I wanted to puke.
Predictably, I quit the violin.
I was taught that in order to be considered a violinist, you have to be good, real good, as good as Itzhak Perlman. You have to play in the LA philharmonic, you have to have graduated from Juilliard School of Music and you have to play classical. In fact, my last day of high school, our music teacher stated, “Well, most of you will leave music here because it is almost impossible to make it as a musician….” His speech consisted of other negative things that I blocked.
There are so many things wrong with this picture! Who is to define what makes an artist? If one plays music, paints, writes, knits, etc, etc, that alone makes one an artist. It is the simple act of practicing and loving it. Why encourage a student to quit their passion because the likelihood of being famous is slim? And what made this teacher believe that no student in the room had what it took to make it as a famous musician? I’ve written in previous posts about the importance of mentors and I say it again here. It is easy, too easy for youth to get discouraged. A love of the arts in youth has to be nurtured, open and non-threatening. The job of a teacher is to not only teach technique, but to expose students to possibilities within their medium, other ways, other forms so students can find their way, which ever way their hearts direct them.The job of a teacher is to guide, not impose. Their job is to encourage experimentation because art is not black or white. Most importantly, their job is to encourage students to do what they love.
We all already have it in us. I certainly did, as a third grader. Some competition isn’t bad, in fact it can encourage a student and get them out of their comfort zone. But there has to be balance. Too much toughness without the love is not only limiting but can also send a student in the wrong direction.
As for me, there are no more excuses. I am going to pick up my violin, dust it off and play. I might teach myself some salsa or maybe some jazz. I know better now.
Jennifer C. Fuentes
THE TRANSIT CENTER 