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Post by petite joueuse on Mar 23, 2007 12:34:35 GMT
Let's get back onto the happy bits!
Sophie yesterday whispered to me in class "Miss, I've heard you're leaving - is it true?". I told her it was - she asked me why, and I told her about wanting to teach A level French. Her face lit up...."Right then, I'm going to do GCSE French, get an A, and then transfer to do A Level French with YOU!"
Awww! I hope she does!!
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Mar 23, 2007 22:12:25 GMT
Let's get back onto the happy bits! Sophie yesterday whispered to me in class "Miss, I've heard you're leaving - is it true?". I told her it was - she asked me why, and I told her about wanting to teach A level French. Her face lit up...."Right then, I'm going to do GCSE French, get an A, and then transfer to do A Level French with YOU!" Awww! I hope she does!! So do I. On my Gainsborough round tonight: Izzy, aged 8: Plays piece to me - the pulse is all over the place. After the usual well-done-hugs-and-cuddles-have-a-choc: Me: Tell you how you can improve this. I: How? M: Your piece's pulse was all over the place. In fact, it did not have a pulse. In fact, it was dead. I: We did about pulse today. I couldn't find mine. Does that mean I am dead? M: Nope, but you can pretend if you want. I: Promise? M: Yep. * Calls through to the kitchen where mum is making tea * I: Mum, Steve says I am dead so I don't have to do my homework this weekend, do I? That got an extra choc. What else can a guy do? ________________________________________________ 17 year old Imo has been playing for 8 years. Ant, of Aww fame is her youngest sister. I give the little ones a 'notes test'. 10 notes on flash-cards; get 7 right and they get an extra choc. Guess what? No child has ever failed this test. ;D After her test, Ant asked: A: Does Imo take a notes test? M: No. A: Why not? M: Because she knows her notes. A: How do you know? * starting to struggle * M: Because she gets her pieces right. A: I get my pieces right too, so why do I have to do a notes test? M: So I can give you an extra choc and a cuddle. * starts to object, then stops to think * A: Can we do another one, please? She will go far, this little one.
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Mar 24, 2007 18:28:03 GMT
Those of you who have experienced a transfer to a top professional teacher understand that the effect is electrifying. It can take a while for the improvements to become embedded, so there is always the possibility of regression to previous techniques, under pressure. This happened to Heidi at the Lincoln festival last week. She had not memorised the words of her Italian ('Alma del core') and French ('Le papillon et la fleur') and so was depending on the score. She buried her nose in the copy and all of mega-tutor Gaynor's teaching was completely forgotten. The 'little girl' voice emerged again. Duo parter Kate sang her off the stage. ;D She competed in Rothwell today; what a difference a week makes. The syllabus stipulated singing from memory and in the original language, so Heidi was forced to memorise the words. She had a fabulous lesson yesterday and carried on the good work this morning. Heidi sang in three open classes, singing the two songs from last week and adding Fruhlingslaube in the Lieder class. She was the baby of all three classes - the next youngest must be in her mid-20's and there were some very experienced adults. She sang her socks off and won all three classes. 'Alma del core' was the last of the three today. The power, control and musicality Heidi demonstrated was awesome, coming from a 15 year old. Early on in the piece, she went completely astray and missed out a whole section. We kept things going; at the end, she gave her usual bow and a gesture of acknowledgement to me. Nobody in the audience would have noticed the slip. She was livid with herself. Sat back in her seat, she 'went off on one', as the kids love to say. She chuntered and chunnered; the occasional word or phrase came across. "C**p..........Rubbish.......Never doing a festival again.........idiot........" ;D She was still muttering when the adjudicator announced her first prize with 89 marks. She had not heard him say, "It is not the mistake you make that counts, it is what you do about it." A very chuffed Steve dropped an ecstatic Heidi and bursting-with-pride mum off at home. I always love this job. Some days, I love it even more. ;D
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Post by jod on Mar 25, 2007 7:04:57 GMT
I've just bought Easter eggs for all my primary-school aged pupils. It brought a smile to their little faces last year, and I'm sure it will do the same this year.
Oh and I care a lot for my pupils. (I't would be wonderful to use that word love, but unfortuantely in today's parlance it has lost its meaning. Love is a lot more than romantic love)
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Mar 28, 2007 22:32:56 GMT
16 year old Harriet, yet another child I love very much, is a mad-keen musician. Her main instrument is the violin; second comes the sax; third comes the piano. Harriet had been unhappy with her sax teacher for some time. Finally, she became so unhappy with him that she parted company with him. For reasons too complicated to describe, she did this after taking the decision to attempt grade 6 this time. She asked me to help with the basics - accurate notation, rhythm and musicality etc. I was happy to oblige. I sent Harriet to Heidi's sax teacher for a couple of lessons to make sure the technique was ok. The result came today. Harriet got a distinction. Definitely a happy moment. __________________________________________________ Matt is 8. His parents are wealthy and own substantial land. He loves animals and owns a pony, some chickens, ducks...................... I have been promising to give him a lesson at home for some time, followed by a visit to the fields to view Matt's various wildlife. He wants to show me these creatures. I want to see them; the timing has simply never been right. Ok, so I should have made time, but you know how it is. After his lesson, Matt fixed me with a gimlet glare: Matt: I am on holiday next week. Me: Excellent. Matt: We will be having chicks any time now (I knew what he meant) Me: Really? Matt: The weather is warming up. Me: Yes. Matt: We are on holiday next week (well, he is only 8 and cannot be expected to understand the subtleties of self-employment.) Me: yes. Matt: So you will be able to give me my piano lesson at home, then stay for long enough to see my pony.....chicks.........ducks......... Me: Yup. 10.00 Weds morning OK? Matt: * consults mum * That is fine. Well, what else is a guy supposed to do?
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Mar 30, 2007 22:03:33 GMT
Friday night's 8 year old Izzy again. All this took place from within the safety of very little girl snuggled up in her usual position of being cuddled up in my left arm. Izzy finds music reading very difficult. She learns by ear much more easily. This leads to her stabbing hopefully for notes when an intelligent attempt to read them would make her life easily. The fact is, that what is a simple pattern to you or I appears much more complicated to Izzy. The note pattern was F-G-A. Izzy got the F, then stabbed hopefully all over the piano. An unforgivably slightly irritated me asked her if she really could not see such a simple rising pattern. Sorry, but I was tired, ok? Poor Izzy could see I was irritated and started to panic. Feeling instantly like a child murderer, I said sorry straight away and followed up this with, "Don't worry sweetheart. Some people see the patterns, some don't. You don't........." ............. represents what I was going to go on to say. Too late. An absolutely devastated little face looked up at me from the crook of my arm and asked, "Does that mean I am a naughty girl?" "No, of course it doesn't sweetheart. You are a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, perfectly behaved little girl." This brought a huge beam, followed by, "Well, that's ok then." Hmmmmmmmmmm. Was I played, or what?
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Post by jod on Mar 31, 2007 9:43:38 GMT
Yesterday, my three afternoon pupils came and I had the bag of Easter-eggs ready. I gave them the eggs at the start of their lesson and all three did some of their best work, including one girl who is 6 and has completed me and my piano book1 since last September. When I came to fill in her certificate of course she insisted on her full name (including double barrelled surname) but the smile on her face was delightful.
Now I know why I do this job!
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 3, 2007 22:00:05 GMT
The Folder continues to thrive. I make occasional attempts to make Gareth play slow pieces, to no avail. Tonight came time to choose a new piece, so I played him the quick one I knew he would pick, then the slow one I knew would do him some good. I got two bars into the slow one before he stopped me. Hey ho. He is a 14 year old boy still playing, so I am not complaining. A few minutes later, Gareth teased me, so I threatened to force him to play the slow piece he had already rejected. Gareth: You can't do that. Me: I know, but I could try. G: No, you really cannot. M: Why? G: 'Cos I've got a folder. M: Damn. Forgot that. G: I reckon that Life had a folder. M: * thinks for a few seconds * You have to be right. G: Yes. Life would have gone extinct countless years before, without A Folder. M: Yes. All those attempts that natural phenomenon has had at wiping it out over the years. Yet, it survived every attempt. G: It must be a huge folder.
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Post by jod on Apr 4, 2007 15:50:58 GMT
Ironically this occured at the funeral I was singing at today, the second hymn was sung to "Coe Fen" as I was singing it I remembered that Coe Fen was only just down the road. The anthem "How lovely was they dwellings" - Brahms. Thee was a moment befrore the end where the sops have a high Ab given my voice was working well, I decided to just let it ring out. Sheer joy, and exactly what the deceased would have liked to hear.
You can have moments of joy at sombre occasions, this funeral contained many of them.
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 4, 2007 22:16:24 GMT
I went to meet Matt's wildlife today (go back a few postings if you do not understand). We put his lesson back to 4.00 pm so that the sun would have time to warm the world up. How worthwhile that was. After his lesson, Matt took me into the garden, saying, "I want to show you my den at the bottom of the garden." It transpired that "the garden" was four fields away. "The den" is indeed at the bottom of the final one - quite a long way away. En route, I met the horses and ponies - soppy bunch the lot of them - and threw sticks\rubber balls for the dogs. A couple of games of hide and seek later, we slowly made our way back to the house. En route, I watched the dogs chase the rabbits, then play tug-of-war with a length of string. Then the doggies played same game with me; doggies won. At the gate to the final field, I was met by the rest of the family, so we stopped for a chat. And stayed. And stayed. We were joined by the the horses and doggies, so we stayed. And stayed. There is something particularly restful about communing with horses in the warm early summer sun. Wonderful. To quote Matt's dad, "It is quite easy to spend hours doing this." I can see why. Finally, aware that I had students arriving for abuse soon, I tried to take my leave. Not so easy. 'Taking my leave' involved passing the chickens and ducks. Attention-seeking chickens and ducks. We sat and chatted\clucked \squawked until I realised that the only chance I had of getting home in time to torture my first victim was if the level crossing was shut and they would be late. My luck was in. The level crossing had indeed been closed, so Kate (a different Kate this time) and I arrived home at the same time. Phew. A happy afternoon.
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Post by jod on Apr 5, 2007 19:34:47 GMT
When my hubby came in Matti proudly showed daddy his note-book complete with stickers. Daddy was really happy. Isn't that one of the nicest things that can happen to a teacher/mum. No danger of admitting my love for him - he is my son after all!
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Post by petite joueuse on Apr 20, 2007 8:07:29 GMT
Excuse me if I have a "proud-mother" moment.... Son came home from school and announced that he has been chosen for a main part in the end-of-year (Year 6) school production. I was pleased, of course, but a bit worried about all the lines he would have to learn..."Aw but Mum, it'll be easy, cos its nearly all singing". He had to sing solo in front of the whole year group and the teachers, and the teacher organising the production said his singing was excellent!
(You might remember a previous thread where I was bemoaning the lack of "cool" singing opportunites for boys. I'm so glad he is finding ways to sing!)
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 20, 2007 21:19:30 GMT
Vicky was 16 last week. She has a similar outlook on life to that shared by myself and The Folder, aka Gareth. I am a regular conduit for stories passed from one to another, to the great glee form us all. When Vicky asked me tonight in response to a question about how she had enjoyed her birthday, "Guess what I can legally do now I am 16?" I knew it would not be the usual litany of smoking\sex\leaving home. I was not disappointed. "What?" I asked. "I can buy and sell scrap metal." "Actually, I could always buy it, but now I am 16 I can also sell it. Aren't I just the lucky one?" __________________________________________________ Earlier in the evening and 8 year old Izzy. She and mum let me in; as usual, I went down to her level and gave her a hug. "Ehup sweetheart. I missed you last week." (hols). Said mum, "You know what she is thinking now? 'Well, of course you did'" * sorry, but I can't sort out the quotes - make the best sense of this you can * Izzy grinned at me and said, "Heck. My mum knows me so well."
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 25, 2007 23:45:37 GMT
Kate arrived back from America last week happy, if jet-lagged. It is her birthday today. I was the accompanist for a fund-raising concert tonight, and had got Kate and Heidi to sing their Purcell duet. As usual, the audience loved it. After the girls sang, I kept Kate with me and told the audience about her birthday. They all joined in with a chorus of 'Happy birthday to you'. Awwwwwwwwwwwwww
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Post by Steve Hopwood on May 2, 2007 0:00:13 GMT
Some reflections from the last week: 17 year old Ruth is yet another of the gorgeous teenagers I am privileged to teach. We are not a cuddly pair; Ruth is not a touchy-feely person, so I make my affection obvious in other ways. So does Ruth - a smile can say so much. A year 12 music student, she told me a few weeks ago that she was having trouble with the 'Listening paper'. Ruth's family are great supporters of me and have sent many pupils my way, so I repaid the favours by getting hold of the requisite practice material and spending extra, unpaid time time taking her through it. Her performance has improved dramatically. We have a regular Friday morning 'listening' schedule. I go to her house and we do a 'paper', then I drive her to college. Last week, I turned up to find Ruth in a 'state' about her composition, due to be recorded later that day. It did not take much sorting out. Usual stuff - "Did you mean....?", "Are you sure......?", "Have you missed some accidentals.....?" etc. Those of us who are, or have been, involved with the age group will understand. Easy is may have been, but time-consuming it was, for sure. At the end of it all, Ruth turned her full 90,000,000 candlewat beam on me and said, "Thank you so much. Steve, for all your help." Awwwwwwwwwwwww. Or, would have been 'Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww' had not her dad wandered in at this point. "You know, Ruth, you would have been in real strife without a pet Steve to help." He meant it kindly, but a teenager is a teenager, and Ruth is not one to miss out on a tease. Wonder where she learned that? Quick as a flash, she patted me on the head and said, "Nice pet Steve." "Woof" said I. "Hang on" said Ruth and disappeared into the kitchen. She emerged a few seconds later grinning from ear to ear and saying, "Here, have a biscuit." _____________________________________________ I got The Folder the Big Six theory book. Said Gareth, "A Folder, Some Pencils and A Ruler and I was unstoppable. Now I have A Folder, Some Pencils, A Ruler and A Book and I am invincible." Definitely spending too long with me, this fabulous young man. ________________________________________________ Friday night is Gainsborough night - Ant and Izzy of previous postings fame. Izzy and Sophie have featured here before. Their mum (Helen) is also a piano teacher. Last week, she told me this story. Helen was dealing with a youngster who only responds to over-the-top enthusiasm. In the full throes of said enthusiasm, Helen had meant to say, "Tuck your fingers under........." in a Joyce Grenfell on speed sort of way. What actually came out involved mixing up the first letters of 'tuck' and 'fingers'. Oops. Give it the few seconds it usually takes when not experienced live. There was a stunned silence whilst child gawped at Helen, whilst Helen's career flashed before her eyes (ok, so she has not been teaching all that long). Happily, a down-to-earth mum was sitting watching all this and chimed in with, "Come on, dear. Tuck your fingers under, just like Helen said." Phew. ____________________________________________
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