The Recital Tragedy

The room was closing in on me as if I were suffocating under a heavy woolen cloak.  My shaky legs wobbled to the front of the room and I heard the applause as though it were from a distant mountain top.  I sank onto the bench, willing my choked lungs to work, willing my heart to stop overworking, and willing the worked-up trembling spasms in my legs to disappear. 

I wasn’t appearing in the Roman Colosseum facing a flesh-hungry wild beast.  But at that moment I was facing something that felt just as impossible: my piano recital. 

I was playing Debussy’s Reverie.  Trying not to think about how easy it would be to tangle myself in the web of left hand arpeggios, I lifted my clammy fingers to the keys.  The beginning notes slid into the air with ease, and I relaxed into the cushioned bench just a bit.  The measures began floating by, shaping whispering castles in the air that vanished into the clouds of melody like scenery passing into the distance 

Suddenly, a raucous note shattered everything: the castle in the air abruptly crumbled, my fingers were lost, and panic squeezed my heart.  The silence felt a mile long as one part of my brain grappled with that ridiculous next note that eluded me while the other part warded off the image of the audience suddenly on the edge of their seats, enjoying my suspense. 

Finally, my fingers fell woodenly into a passage a few lines before, and I grasped it like a drowning girl clutching driftwood.  But it was only temporary relief, for the earlier chasm approached.  I closed my eyes and ran with it.  When I opened my eyes again and breathed, I had leaped the chasm, skipping the problem section that I couldn’t remember as well as the whole page of music surrounding it, and I stumbled to the finish line.

I was devastated and mortified.  Several friends had been there to witness the debacle, and I could barely stand the agony of embarassment.  Whenever I thought about my performance I grew hot with shame, and all my teacher’s stories of his worst-nightmare performances did little to salve the burn.  The only way I felt any better was by tossing the memory into the recesses of my brain and burying it. 

I had all but forgotten about that recital, the ignominy fading with time.  Then, only a few months ago, I felt that same feeling all over again, and the memory was unburied.  This time, however, the shame didn't stem from a memory flub at a recital, but from a moment when I inadvertently let out someone else’s secret.  It was a big, life-changing secret, and it slipped out both because I hadn’t at first known it was a secret and because I had forgotten that someone else was in the room.  You can only imagine the silence following the premature revelation. I felt that same familiar shame and that same mortification.

Those whose secret I had slipped extended grace to me, but it wasn’t until I was lying in bed that night that I realized that what stung the most was that I had hurt them and needed their forgiveness and love to cover my mistake.  I had messed up royally, and, just like the piano recital of years ago, the only way to carry on was to accept that they loved me enough to carry on. 

It was then that I realized one of the most important lessons of my life.
I could extend grace to others.

I could stand tall and say, “I forgive you.”

But after making an unforgivable mistake, kneeling in humility, forgiven, and letting go of my shame and guilt could seem unthinkable.  On the other hand, chastising myself with my own mortification seemed perfect penance.  I had the Gospel all twisted up. 

In the words of my grandfather, spoken to me when I was fourteen and wrestling with the same burden of guilt: “Lauren, there was only ever one perfect Man, and they killed Him."

While I thought I was setting a high standard, I had subtly been seeking what Lucifer had sought.  I had inadvertently turned into Eve, faced with the tantalizing opportunity to be like God and falling prey to being like Satan.   

My pride shattered then, not under the weight of unforgivable guilt like Javert from Les Miserables, but under the weight of God’s grace and mercy.  I was stripped like Adam and Eve, holding out my arms to receive the fruit of sacrifice, the animal-skin covering of grace.  

Grace.  I never understood just how big a word it is until now, when I realize how tiny my mistakes are in comparison to its covering.

---

“Day 37-Playing piano,” © 2009 Vladimir Agafonkin, used under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/.

Soundwaves

As a music teacher, I’ve taught 4-year-olds, 76-year-olds, and everyone in between! But the vast majority of my students are little people whose legs dangle from the piano bench and beside whom I have to kneel in order to adjust their violin posture. They find universal satisfaction in placing their stickers in the oddest spots on the page; they don’t ask why the first sharp is F, they just take my word for it until they’ve advanced enough to understand the why; and they have energy in everything they’re doing, whether it’s 20 bow circles or “Pirates of the Caribbean.”

However, they’re all different in what they like to play. Romantic music, hymn arrangements, pop, and—oh yes—classical. Whether they know it or not, my students are getting classical training and my goal is to condition them to love classical music as much as I do.

Whenever I go to a concert, whether an Oregon Symphony concert at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall in Portland, or a Seattle Symphony concert at Benaroya Hall, or a local concert in my own town, I am a 20-something swimming in a sea of white hair. I love the white hair—but the absence of youth saddens me. What will this concert hall look like in 20 years, I wonder? Will it be empty? Is a 500 year art form truly on its way out?

Then, my students started talking…about middle-aged dads who play classical music (with a healthy dose of popular music like the aforementioned “Pirates”). And my younger siblings started talking about them and playing them. And Disneyland was featuring them. And what choice did I have but to become enthralled by The Piano Guys, made famous by none other than YouTube?

It’s a fascinating time we live in. A time when the musical elite proclaims the intelligence of modern classical music and decries the taste of the masses. A time when the most popular form of instrumental music—soundtracks—is somehow “less than.” I believe the dissonant ugliness of modern classical music is already doomed, and furthermore that soundtracks are the opera music of our age: grand, glorious creativity, telling a story! Does it get better than that?

At the Arlene Schnitzer concert hall once again, I found myself surrounded by a crowd the likes of which I had never seen in a high-brow concert hall. Ever. Families with small children, 20-something couples, white haired gentlemen and ladies, and a generous showing of teenagers. I was at a Piano Guys concert, watching live performances of their own original compositions on acoustic instruments, watching videos (YouTube!) on giant screens of them performing on location, and watching live performances juxtaposed with video in the background.

Before they played Vivaldi melded with the Bourne soundtrack, Steven Sharp Nelson asked, “Who likes classical music?” The audience of several thousand cheered with contagious enthusiasm and energy, and I knew—John Williams isn’t going away, but neither are Handel, Bach, Beethoven, or Mozart. In the hands of creative, innovative performers, music teachers, and music students, a beautiful sunrise is dawning in classical music.

Photo Credit: fusion-of-horizons

When Music Imitates Life

People who would never say "I don't like snacks" or "all parks bore me" blurt out their distaste for classical music with sweeping generalizations. I can understand disliking a piece or two, or even professing an avid aversion to a composer (Schoenberg, anyone?), but this? This I cannot condone.

 

A journey: this is classical music. It requires commitment, intelligence, optimism, and patience. But from that first note, you find yourself flying along, as though a magic carpet has swept you off your feet. The music soars into the treetops--you peer over the edge of the carpet and see the entire piece mapped out in front of you, like a charming village. Violins sing legato notes--the flute trills harmoniously. All is beautiful, perfectly planned, and wonderfully predictable. You could stop here, and everything would be clean, organized, and respectable.

 

Continuing on, however, brings a tangled mess. When you least expect it, the carpet dives for the ground with alarming alacrity. The cellos are rumbling, the oboe is crying, and the flutes are nowhere to be found. Everything that looked so clear and marvellous from the sky is now confusing and ominous. You crash into the earth with the mighty sound of the cymbal, and suddenly conflict reigns supreme as you fight your inner demons and those around you. Dissonance is everywhere. The tympani is thundering, the violas are wondering, and the french horns are plundering.

 

At the height of the loudest fortissimo, minor explodes into major and dissonance blooms into consonance. You find yourself on a mountain peak much higher than the aforementioned treetops, and the violins are playing their hearts out in gorgeous melody. Every single instrument trembles with passion as they create a lush, glorious sound of unimaginable beauty. Then slowly, slowly, the music drops to a soft, peaceful, comforting close. Satisfaction abounds.

 

The magic carpet lets you off, and you wonder at the journey you just experienced. It was not at all what you expected or planned. It seemed easy before it got ugly and frightening. But the ugliness turned into something beautiful; you're not sure how it happened, but you are sure that you would never have noticed the beauty if it were not for the former ugliness.

 

Do you understand now? Classical music is a journey of life. Don't scorn the dissonances, or you'll never hear the consonances. Don't cringe at the crashes and bangs, or you'll never understand the melody. Don't be content with your summit, or you'll never reach the true mountain peak. And don't faint when your anticipation proves false--the unexpected will bring beauty in the end.
 

My Kids

Time goes on, and seasons bring change.

 

My last recital with my precious students has come and gone.

I profoundly love and admire each one.

 

 

The boy, barely old enough to read, who unflinchingly pierces his finger during his piano lesson to test his blood sugar level but then cries at the prospect of playing in front of people.

 

 

The red-headed girl, not old enough to tell her left from her right, who honestly admits when she's crabby and finds something about me to compliment every time I see her.

 

 

The boy who plays in the hallways when it's not his lesson for the sheer delight of music.

 

 

 

 

The girl who refused to bow in her lesson for fifteen minutes, but finally realized that I am more stubborn than her. She obeys now, but that's not the point. I used to dread her, and now I love her, for I see her preciousness in the eyes of God.

 

 

 

The girl whom no one had taught how to deal with anger and grief and fear.

 

 

The girl who always exclaims, "lessons are over already?"

 

 

The girl who wouldn't talk.

 

 

The little boy who is taller than me now.

 

 

The boy who cried in lessons for fear of dying.

My students--my kids. I have taught you as if you were going to be a concert pianist or violinist. But I have only taught you that way because I wanted to teach you diligence, respect, attentivenes, perseverance, faithfulness, obedience, and responsibility. My ambition for each of you is not for you to become a renowned musician, but for you to submit your life to Jesus Christ and live for Him.

 

You've taught me how to live in the moment. You've taught me bravery. You've reminded me what it's like to be a kid, and why I must be like you in order to enter the Kingdom of God (see Mark 10:14-16). I will never, ever forget these lessons, or any of you for as long as I live. You're each taking a piece of my heart with you.

Concert in the Works

Although the planning and music selection began in December, with two weeks remaining before Lauren and my annual Spring Music Recital, preparations have definitely kicked into high gear. We are making a list and checking it twice, drawing on the experience of five years of past studio recitals, and incorporating the great methods and ideas of past instructors and fellow music teachers and friends. So here are the plans for this year's event--some new, some tradition, some borrowed, and some original.

Begin Teaching Recital Songs by February

We chose every student's piece during our winter break, and ordered all the necessary music. For many students, I tried to give at least two options so they could pick their favorite piece and be excited about investing four months into a piece. Many students learned their pieces by ear, and therefore will be performing songs well above their music-reading level (those kids have no idea what eighth notes are, but they are playing them in perfect rhythm).

This also gave plenty of time to emphasize good memorization--every piece must be memorized for the recital (though there have been those times when kids are allowed to play with music, memorization is still the required standard). I like to have my students memorize each hand separately and then together--it challenges them to memorize intellectually, rather than just by muscle memory. Next year, I hope to be even more organized at starting recital pieces early, because trio pieces (we have three trios performing this year) weren't handed out until April, and a few kids had to wait until mid-February for their piece because of back-ordered music.

Pick Date Early and With Everyone's Help

We weren't so good at picking the date early (it didn't get decided until the beginning of May), and consequently one family will not be able to make it. However--one family out of 37 students is not bad. Every year, we use a Google form to poll the families for dates that work best for them. It's a wonderful way to easily figure out if our favorite date will prove impossible for half of our students. This is one of the few years that one of our students won't be able to make it; we're usually able to find a day that works for everyone.

Host a Practice Recital

One year, we had a lot of new, young students. Worried about how they would react on recital day with quivering nerves, unfamiliar acoustics, a sea of strange faces, and a different instrument (for the piano students), we organized a practice recital. It was such a success, we've continued the tradition every year, choosing a date one or two weeks before the recital at the venue where the recital will occur. We review performance techniques, point out the tape on the stage for the violinists to stand on, and run through the entire program with the just the kids. But lest the evening get too boring, we break up the performances with fun, musical games to engage the kids and get them to meet each other.

During the practice recital, kids also get to vote on their favorite music-themed artwork that has been submitted by students in the preceding weeks. The winning artwork will be printed on the front cover of the recital program!

The Big Day

A CD plays the prelude music while we hustle and bustle here and there, setting up flowers picked from our yard, making punch, tuning violins, organizing our accompaniment music, setting up a table to hold everyone's violins, decorating the food tables, and setting out music programs. Ahead of time, we asked for a loose RSVP to insure enough programs and tableware. Students arrive fifteen to twenty minutes early and hand us their music and their instruments to be tuned. Much to our delight (and some students' chagrin), everyone comes in formal, dressy attire to communicate their respect for the audience and themselves; we make it very clear ahead of time that this is not a jeans, tennis shoes, or flip flop event.

This year, we had a semester-long practice contest, so our recital will not only include 36 solo and ensemble pieces on violin or piano, but also an awards ceremony for the winners of the practice contest. Every student will additionally receive a small token of our appreciation for them. Finger food refreshment afterwards is a wonderful time for the students to mingle and revel in the joys of a job well done. We supply musical cutout cookies, punch, and table service, and everyone else contributes a finger food for a fun completion to a wonderful evening!

Are you hosting or attending a music recital this year? What are some of your favorite ideas for pulling these events off? I'd love to hear in the comments!

For a wealth of information on recitals and all things piano pedagogy, visit Music Matters, one of my favorite music blogs.

Our 2009 Recital

Our 2011 Recital

Picture Credits:
#1: darkmatter
#2: Colton Witt Photography
#3: christing-O-

How It Came to Be

"Sorry, we're sold out," the lady in the glass hexagon told us. Lauren and I both stared at her, hoping that the longer we stood there, the greater our chances that the answer would change. Finally, we turned away and stood under the marquee, murmuring about our options.

"I'll go inside," Lauren decided, "and see if they have any tickets there."

"Okay?" I answered, highly skeptical that the inside ticket sellers would be hoarding tickets when the outside ones were empty handed and apparently oblivious. "I'll stand out here and look pathetic."

Joshua Bell is one of the great violinists of our time--do not be deceived by his disarmingly youthful good looks. He is forty-four and has been a serious violinist since the age of twelve, having now recorded over two dozen albums, in addition to movie soundtracks, received the prestigious Avery Fisher prize, and been appointed Music Director at my favorite orchestra, the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields. So one might imagine the ecstasy of Lauren and I on our sweltering August birthday last year when our parents and siblings gave us each a ticket to experience Joshua Bell playing the Shostakovitch Violin Concerto (changed in the last month to the Brahms Violin Concerto) with the Oregon Symphony.

Snow was the last thing on our minds.

Nevertheless, as the monthly countdown melted into a weekly countdown and then into days, the weather report obstinately insisted that snow was predicted for the Northwest. We were all nerves, anxiously hoping our special day would not be snowed out. Sure enough, Sunday dawned cold and white, and though we made it to church safely, Mama was decidedly uncomfortable with the thought of Lauren and I driving to Portland on our own. At this point, our dear Papa volunteered to take us, reluctantly deciding that he could spring for a $45 ticket (the cheapest available at this late date).

Through relatively excellent road conditions we drove, making it to the beautiful Arlene Schnitzer concert hall in downtown Portland, where Papa dropped us off to investigate tickets while he began the arduous task of locating a parking spot. And yet, we were immediately informed of this terrible news that there were no more tickets available. I felt glum and melancholy as I stood outside the Hall, knowing that Papa would cheerfully brush off the fact that he had taken the long trip to bring his daughters to Portland, only to sit in the car or a coffee shop for 2 1/2 hours waiting to drive them home.

I turned to look at the entrance, watching people flood the doors with white and orange tickets clutched in their gloved hands. I didn't have to worry about looking pathetic--it came quite naturally. A coupled moved in front of me, blocking my view.

The man held up his ticket in the air. "I have an extra ticket," he began loudly. I was right there, and I jumped and exclaimed, "Yes!" I had been lost in my own world, not thinking about him, not preparing to pounce. But in the split second after I had reacted, two men behind the ticket benefactor also jumped forward to claim the ticket. Truly, the Spirit had prepared and prompted me, for I was now the rightful possessor of one $62 ticket, gratefully pouring out my thanks to the couple and explaining the situation.

I pulled Lauren out of line, and we jumped around gleefully, waiting for Papa to walk up so we could pretend we had spent $62 of his money on a ticket. The concert, which included not only Joshua Bell and his own genius cadenza, but also Handel's Music for the Royal Fireworks, and two Oregon Symphony premieres, one a Baroque piece--The Battle--by Adriano Banchieri, and the other a gorgeous Sinfonietta by Leos Janacek, was breathtaking. Joshua Bell was astounding. Meeting Joshua Bell was exhilarating. And going out to coffee afterwards with Papa was delightful.

Yesterday, as Lauren and I rested in the snow from our sledding endeavors with the kids, she asked, "Did you think why God sent snow?"

I paused, blank faced, thinking about the allegories of snow and purity and the wonderful application snow can have on our spiritual lives. But as Lauren explained, I realized what she meant. We bemoaned the snow and worried about its coming all week, hoping and praying the God would keep it at bay so we could attend our much-anticipated concert. God, however, had a much more magnificent plan in store for us. Even as Papa agreed to come, wondering where $45 would fit in the budget, God had it all worked out. And then, when the ticket lady told us they were all sold out--that was God's providence too.

Lauren showed me this passage that had come to her mind about Sunday:

"By the breath of God ice is given,
      And the broad waters are frozen.

 Also with moisture He saturates the thick clouds;
      He scatters His bright clouds.

 And they swirl about, being turned by His guidance,
      That they may do whatever He commands them
      On the face of the whole earth.

 He causes it to come,
      Whether for correction,
      Or for His land,
      Or for mercy.

 'Listen to this, O Job;
      Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God.'"

~Job 37:10-14

Such a small thing really, but oh so precious to me. I rest confidently in my God, knowing that each turn of events in my life are for my good and God's glory.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson,
   Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

September

September...the month to acclimate into a new schedule and the routine of homeschooling. To have your autumn and enjoy it too. While there has been much acclimating and newness this month, there has been very little schedule and predictability. We have had a fantastic month, but it has been anything but routine and extremely busy.

It began with Lauren and I getting our studios (the fancy music-teacher term for "all of our students and their families") scheduled for the fall. Although we teach some through the summer, there are always those who want to take a break, and we had many new students joining us this year. With the additional hours, though, we knew we needed to find a new place to teach. (Not only does our house not have an out-of-the-way room in which to teach, but for Lauren and I to each teach 8 to 10 hours of lessons would require people coming to our house four days a week!) Thankfully, God used a friend of ours to help us get into a church. So now we are happily teaching all day Tuesday and the afternoons of Thursday (which explains the sometimes-late Tuesday posts. If I can't get something up before nine, then I have to wait until the evening). Everyone is pretty well organized and new music books have been ordered, so now we just have to start thinking about the Christmas program!

Next, Mama got together the school plan for Susanna, Micah, and Jonah, with our input. We are overseeing and teaching all the subjects for all three of them, though being occupied two days a week with music means that Mama is also busy working with them. I am excited to read through the American Adventure series with them (sadly no longer in print), which I read through as a child for fun. These kids are somewhat more reluctant readers, though they're all good at it, so the books have been incorporated into the school schedule for reading and history. 

Written from a Christian perspective, the series follows a fictional family and their descendants from Holland in 1620 to Seattle in 1945, and along the way a lot of valuable American history is learned. If you do decide to check them out, just proceed with discernment, though, because there are a few books we skip or censor, though the vast majority of them are meritable.

Hospitality is something we've been working on this month, and I have thoroughly enjoyed it. What a ministry it is not only to the guests, but also to ourselves! We love getting the house clean, cooking delicious food, getting to know people better, and playing games until the sun goes down. What better way is there to brighten your corner?

We enjoyed getting to know this family!

Last weekend, we took a quick trip to Spokane area to help host a Christian Heritage Homeschool Kick-Off Picnic. We enjoyed meeting many lovely families and had a superb day of fellowship with them. Thus, the picture at the beginning of this post of everyone competing in a relay. Our time spent with the friends hosting the picnic was also a blessing, and we were refreshed by their church and the fun afternoon at their house. Of course, we had to jaunt over to Grandma and Grandpa's house on Lake Coeur d'Alene, and even got some jet skiing in before we headed home on Monday.

l-r: Micah, Jonah, Mikaela, and Papa, with Melanie and Lauren in the background. We were putting our brains together for a trivia quiz!

More quiz takers!

We are back in our symphony again after taking two concerts off. After five years of getting to know all the symphony members, it has been fun to have Sarah and several friends from church join our ranks! We are relishing playing in a group setting again.

So now, one garage sale, two symphony practices, a date (with Jonah), and a funeral later (that is, the summation of the past seven days), I have caught you up on September! We are looking forward to going to a superior science museum on Wednesday, helping a friend move on Saturday, a Polish Festival, a work party, the opening weekend of Courageous, having another family over, a symphony children's concert and community concert, and the Foundations of Life conference over the next few weeks.

Fall is anything but routine, that's for sure!

Strike a Standard

An "A" is a simple thing really. You may be completely ignorant of music, or entirely cognizant of it, but an "A"--vibrating at exactly 440 cycles (or waves) per second--is the standard by which musicians tune. It is the pitch sounded at the beginning of a concert by the oboe, and again when a soloist comes out, and again after intermission. It is the pitch a violinist must strike on the piano, or blow on a pitch pipe, or hear on a tuning fork, or press on an electronic tuner. If I am tuned to a 440 A, and you are tuned to a 400 A, and we play a duet together, then we end up with an unpleasant mixture. If, however, we both agree to a 440 A, and we play together, we will have a delightful time producing harmonious music.

Photo Credit

Although the A has vacillated between the extremes of 309Hz (Trinity College Cambridge Organ in 1759), 422.5 (George Frederic Handel's tuning fork), and 454 (Steinway's pianos in 1879), in 1939, an international standard of 440 was agreed upon--all other notes would be tuned and aligned based upon a 440Hz A. That must be that, right? Now we can all make music in pleasant harmony and forget about the worrisome scientific details of debating between a 420 A and a 450 A. Not at all.

You see, many orchestras have decided to creep their A up. Just a tinge--just a tad. Hardly noticeable, you see. They just want the extra "brilliance" of a 442 A or a 445 A. It sounds so much brighter--cuts through an auditorium so much more crisply. 444 A is quite standard in many concert halls, and especially those in Europe.

I was discussing this topic with Sarah and Lauren last week. "Now," I began, "correct me if I'm wrong, but if everybody decides to tune to a 444 A, then won't it lose its perceived 'brightness'? Won't the enterprising orchestras now have to move to a 450 A in order to achieve the desired brilliance?" They agreed with me, and Lauren pointed out that the A has historically grown sharper and sharper. Despite the fact that a standard was agreed upon, that there is no truly musical necessity for raising the pitch of an A, and that it can be quite harmful to instruments--especially pianos and the like--to be constantly changed from one version of the A to another, many, many orchestras and performers insist on tuning to something other than the standard.

C'est la vie. Or, at least, such are humans. Whether dealing with a musical standard or a moral standard, we are consistent in one aspect: pushing the standard. Just as a 441 A has a barely perceptible difference compared to a 440 A, so a frumpy, frilly, Victorian bathing suit revealed only slightly more skin. But 441 As usually lead to 444 As, and the Victorian bathing suits of a century ago have led to bikinis that expose shameful nakedness.

Darwin's On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life may not have seemed much at the time, but the compromises it presented have led to generations of people who have taken the book to it's logical end and rejected the Scriptural account of creation--and with it the sanctity of human life, from conception, for all people groups, for all levels of intelligence, whether functional or not, whether old or young. From a book to a worldwide policy in favor of the murder of babies and the elderly, so goes the sagging of a standard.

You see, it's a dangerous thing to reject the moral code of God in favor of what "feels" right, or what is "edgy" or popular. Once we decide that morality is a personal choice that should not be forced on others, we have created a free-for-all. We do not just have orchestras tuning to a 444 A--we have musicians tuning to all sorts of incredible As, from 300 to 500. And when the members begin to play together, all that comes out is a hideous cacophony.

Tolerance and permissiveness do not create unity--they destroy it. Isaiah 5:20-21 addresses this serious matter:

"Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil;
Who put darkness for light, and light for darkness;
Who put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!
Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes,
And prudent in their own sight!"

Do not live by a personally derived morality. It will ever be changing, slipping, and sliding. Instead, tune your instrument to the true standard--God's--and live by that standard in every area of your life.

Photograph courtesy of Shaylor.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson,
Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

History of Pitch

A Day in My Life: Musical Utah Version

Photo Credit

Check out Mikaela's post here if you haven't already!

6:00 The alarm sounds and Mikaela, Sarah, and I lie in bed soaking up a few more moments of sleep.

6:03 But our day must commence, so we blearily get up and begin getting ready. Today is “T-shirt Day”, so Sarah and I don our new Stradivarius Suzuki Institute t-shirts , dressing them up as much as possible with skirts, necklaces,and cardigans.

7:00 We head downstairs and over to the next wing of the hotel for our breakfast. Eggs, potatoes, sausage, waffles, cereal, bagels, yogurt, fruit, and donuts means that none of us will starve, and we certainly aren’t bored by the breakfast options! We have a traditional breakfast table, the one we sat at every morning two years ago in Utah, and the one we’ve sat at for nearly every meal this time. No—we are not creatures of habit!

7:30 We are back in our hotel room and already thinking about our next meal—lunch must be packed and necessary bags gathered! A friend we saw at Suzuki Institute aptly described how I feel about lugging all my paraphernalia each day when she said of her load, “I feel like I’m going out of the country!”

7:45 We continue our Bible study on the Holy Spirit. This morning, we are finishing up going through all of the people in the Old Testament upon whom the Holy Spirit came. The Lord has really blessed our time in His Word this week, and I am learning so much!

8:17 It was so difficult to tear ourselves from our study that we find ourselves dashing downstairs to catch our 8:20 shuttle to the high school where our Suzuki classes are being held. As we run outside, we catch sight of one shuttle pulling away from the curb, and when we finally sprinted up to the other shuttle, we are told that it is full. We were later told that we at this point looked somewhat forlorn, but we quickly recovered when we realized we had plenty of time. Finishing some writing from the day before, we sit and wait.

8:30 …and wait.

8:40 …and finally load up onto the shuttle! Adults with cellos, violas, and violins, not to mention briefcases and coffees climbing into the back seat of a 15 passenger van make for very entertaining mornings normally!

9:00 Pencils poised, paper ready, we are prepared for our first observation of the day, a group class led by one of our favorite teachers, Fernando Pinero, from Argentina. Last night he informed us that we looked tired, but this morning he reassured us that we look better. (-:

10:00-12:00 We troop upstairs for our class time with our fabulous teacher trainer. We made it through half a song today (yay!), going measure by measure, bowing by bowing, note by note, and then learned more about vibrato technique. Today we had a fabulous mentorship session in which we went around the room, each of us playing an intimidating two notes. Impeccable tone was never so desirable and never so achievable, yet somehow the standard for tone has never been higher nor more demanding.

12:00 We head outside for lunch on the grass, and over sandwiches and grapes discussed with our classmates whether or not vibrating backwards or forwards was the most pedagogically sound. What do you think?

1:00-5:00 A lecture on music reading and three hours of observation round out our afternoon. We’ve filled out pages of notes, watched numerous students, and ran up and down flights of stairs: we are quite ready for the next item on our schedule.

5:00 We are geeks. I might as well just admit it before you discover for yourselves what our free half hour was spent doing, and what in fact all our free moments have been spent doing: trying out shoulder rests. We test out feel and fit, sound and durability. And, lest you concern yourself unnecessarily, we are not conspicuous in the least as we swarm the table and monopolize all the shoulder rests, our open cases strewn everywhere, our round notes filling the big hall, analyzing every detail.  And I for one have found a new love for a shoulder rest!

5:30-6:30 We enjoy a concert performed by the phenomenal fiddler Aaron Ashton. With bow flashing, fingers flying, and keys changing every measure, he got wild applause and shouts after each unbelievable sequence. A few pieces were less than enjoyable, but the majority were mind-bogglingly amazing!

6:30 And we find ourselves waiting for the shuttle once more, since it somehow seems impossible for it to be on time. Our fellow passengers on the ride back to the hotel, however, were a mother and her children originally from New Zealand and Australia, which meant she had a delightful accent, and we simply listened to her talking!

6:53 We enjoy a delicious barbecue downstairs in the hotel, and, as always, manage our fair share of laughs.

7:17 We begin our evening rituals. Sarah, Mikaela, and I call home to talk to our families. I miss them, so it is so good to hear their voices each evening! Showers, cookies and milk, foot massages, and an episode of Charles Dickens’ Bleak House round out a very good evening.

10:45 The morning will come all too early, so lights out! Good night, Utah!

Purple Mountain Majesties

God, friends, and music...a beautiful thing! Lauren and I have been enjoying a lot of these things since last Wednesday, when Lauren, Sarah, and I traveled to Salt Lake City to reprise our adventures of two years ago and continue our Suzuki teacher training for violin. We traveled by car, plane, bus, and train to arrive at our hotel just outside of the city with a sigh of relief and an excitement to be back. Back to the city guarded by mountains, warmed by the bright sun, and refreshed by an occasional rain. Back to the school where 800 people from Singapore, Argentina, Costa Rica, China, Canada, and all over the USA converge for 11 days to learn, teach, play, perform, and meet new people.

We got in so late, we ended up ordering from Five Guy's Burgers and Fries online and then picking up our greasy (but delicious) meal in the nick of time before closing.

Of course, we are in the heart of Mormon country, and two years ago, God gave us several opportunities to witness to our unsaved classmates. This year, however, we have already met many, many Christians (though none from around here), and God has given us opportunities to have serious discussions on Mormonism, standards of Godly music, and homeschooling.

We have been studying on the Holy Spirit in the morning before heading to class, and the Holy Spirit has guided our time together to reveal some amazing new concepts. We'll definitely be planning a blog post on that in the future!

Two years ago, we realized what a challenge it was cooking for only three people with none of the customary staples like salt and pepper, flour, milk, or sugar. This year, however, we organized a meal plan and went shopping, and we have been eating quite well!

One evening, we took an excursion to this fabulous theme restaurant we had heard good things about. We invited Marissa, a homeschooled Christian Texan who plays the cello, to come along with us, and we had a fabulous time watching a diving show, taking in the Indiana-Jones-type atmosphere, and enjoying delicious Mexican desserts.

Sunday afternoon, we took the opportunity to explore SLC more, and we had the privilege of going to a Bible exhibit at the University of Utah. It was exciting to see a Geneva Bible from the 16th century, a King James Bible from the 17th century, a page from the Gutenberg Bible, and a variety of other ancient manuscripts and translations. This was an incredible chance to learn more about God's preservation and protection of His Word!

A tea shop sounded perfect to us, and the minute we walked in and were greeted by a waiter with an authentic British accent, we knew we had come to the right place. Our pasties and loose cherry blossom tea were perfection--every bit as lovely as the ones you can get in London!

This week, we have long hours of classes and observations, intermixed with some incredible concerts. Monday night, we watched Jenny Oaks Baker perform Legende by Wienawski, selections from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty, and Rimsy-Korsakov's Scheherezade, as well as stunning arrangements of Disney's most beautiful pieces, such as Beauty and the Beast, and A Whole New World.

The faculty and teachers at Intermountain Suzuki Institute

We're all looking forward to learning more, meeting new people and continuing old relationships, and coming home better teachers, musicians, and friends with a renewed desire to serve God through our music.

Many pictures taken by Sarah, who blogs at The Lord's Lass.