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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 8, 2008 11:01:34 GMT
I have taught 18 year old Ruth for about 6 years. It was natural to step in and help when she started having difficulties with her 'A' level music; we have spent quite a lot of time together. Ruth told me about a dream she had over the weekend. She told me: "I dreamed I was in C major. The B major demon was chasing me and trying to drag me into B major. I knew I couldn't go because it is not a related key. No matter how fast I ran, the B major demon kept chasing me. I woke up sweating and terrified, and buried my head under the pillow for several minutes until I realised it was just a dream." Poor thing. Definitely another case of a youngster spending way too much time with me. ;D
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 12, 2008 11:05:25 GMT
Those of you who have come across Andrew Padmore as either an examiner, adjudicator, teacher or conductor know what a brilliant musician he is, also that he is a warm human being. He likes to recount his most memorable moments. During a school concert last week, the brass teacher recounted this one: Andrew was examining in a primarily farming area in rural Cumbria many years ago. A young man clearly of farming stock and dressed for the fields, stomped in for his Horn exam. These were the days before it occurred to us to start writing the program our students are playing, to give to the judge and avoid the confusion that always attended the start of each exam. Andrew: "So, what are you going to play to me?" Young man, stares at Andrew in disbelief for several seconds: "I am going to play the Horn. What does it chuffing-well look like? A flute?" I first met Andrew when he did a special visit for me during the 1980's, when I lived in Lancashire. He still recounts the story of Stevie. I always tell the kids to enter the exam room with a big smile, say "ppppo" and go to sit at the piano. The reality is that they sneak inside and stand in terror, awaiting The Summons To The Piano. Once seated, they politely await instructions, using the break in between pieces to turn their mind to whatever is coming next. Not 9 year old Stevie. According to Andrew, "This little boy erupted into the music room, dashed to the piano, hurled his music on the stand and played all three pieces without even pausing for breath in between. Then he swung round on the stool to look at me and said, in a broad Lancs accent, 'Eh feller, it were a reet good job I practised, weren't it?'"
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Post by YetAnotherKlavierist on Apr 12, 2008 13:54:43 GMT
Those of you who have come across Andrew Padmore as either an examiner, adjudicator, teacher or conductor know what a brilliant musician he is, also that he is a warm human being. Dr Padmore was my specialist DipABRSM examiner; given I passed, I can only conclude that he has good taste in music making .
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 13, 2008 21:33:29 GMT
A lovely day today, full of entertainment. Paul is a guy I teach. He bought himself a new piano recently. As an extra birthday pressie (birthday today) his wife booked me to give a private recital at his home to Paul, Nicki, the kids, his parents and a small handful of friends. I turned up at the house with plenty of time to spare, to allow myself a warm-up and to get used to the instrument. It is axiomatic that every live performance is attended by at least one Local Bore. This Local Bore attending this event is interested in modern music and also knows the names of a few Great Composers. A couple of minutes into my warm up, LB wandered in and introduced himself. "Are you interested in Modern Music?" he asked. "No." I replied. It transpired that LB's version of Modern Music was popular music of the last 20 years. Was I familiar with x's version of y? No, of course I wasn't - I hadn't even heard of x. Was I familiar with a's version of b? And so on. I try to be polite to these people, but often find myself reflecting that my answer to the original question was, "No" and that this must be a terribly difficult concept to grasp. Luckily, Paul's 6 year old daughter was watching all this. Abi is learning the violin. I recall that the last piece she was playing was called, "Stomp." so I used this ruthlessly as my getout. "Ehup Abi. How is Stomp going?" "My teacher says I play it very well. She says I do the stomp very, very well." replied Abi. "Really. Would you like to show me?" Whereupon Abi mimed playing the violin and finished with a couple of violent stomps, accompanied by a huge grin. This led naturally on to a discussion about how to practise the timing of the stomps, by the end of which LB had magically disappeared. One of the real problems that LB's present is the need to let them down lightly. They cannot help themselves and do not attend events to be humiliated. Trouble is, they inevitably stray out of their natural area of knowledge and leave themselves open to being hung out to dry. My program consisted of some Mozart, a couple of Schubert Impromptus, a couple of Chopin Nocturnes and Grieg's Wedding Day. During my brief description of what a Nocturne is, LB asked, "Chopin composed his music for Harpsichord rather than piano?" I covered that one by pretending I hadn't heard it and launching into the first of the Nocturnes. During my description of Grieg's Wedding Day, LB chimed in with, "Is it from the Hebrides Overture?" "Different piece, but I see where you are coming from" I replied, before hurrying on. From Paul's, I had to travel to one of the villages outside Gainsborough for my normal Sunday teaching. This has expanded from Friday nights - lots of kiddies wanting lessons and parents happy to pay for home visits, so the only way to accommodate them was to travel to the area to do the teaching. My first victim was Marissa. Marissa is wonderful. Aged 12, if I ask her a question, she will answer it. Thing is, she will give a truthful answer. Those of you with experience of teaching kids know that kids will normally give adults the answer to a question that they think the oldie will want, regardless of what is actually going through their heads. Basically, kids want to please anyone other than their parents. Not Marissa. She answers questions truthfully. This is really useful most of the time. When asking questions like, "You are enjoying doing this, aren't you?" I just have to be prepared for her to answer, "No. I am hating every second of it" and be prepared to move on. ;D I love this child. Try this as Classic Marissa. I was the accompanist for a kiddies' concert last November, at the Parish Church in Gainsborough. The concert took place just after the weather turned cold and the church authorities had not turned on the heating. It was freezing and I consider it a miracle that none of the older members of the audience died of hypothermia. For reasons best known to her deepest, darkest inner psyche, Marissa's mum had taken he to watch. Now, we all know that kiddies concerts are for kiddies to take part in, not to watch. M is not very big, and would die of cold quite quickly under the wrong set of circumstances. Come the interval, mum asked a blue-nosed-and-lipped Marissa, "Did you enjoy that, or do you want to go home?" Marissa looked at her mum levelly, and replied coolly, "I am frozen stiff and bored rigid. What do you think?" She will go far, this little one. Next house on from Marissa and my next lesson is with 10 year old Charlie, yet another frighteningly intelligent lass that I adore. Charlie's new piano had just been delivered, so I gave it a proper road test for a couple of minutes. Most kids would have been gobsmacked by what I played. Charlie? "Hmmmm. Been doing some practise, I see." Charlie and I are a Mutual Insult Society. Charlie always comes out on top, and not always because I let her. Sometimes her mind just works quicker than mine. Today, I was coming out on top so it was time to back off. "Ok Charlie. I am going to stop insulting you and will be nice to you for the whole of the rest of the lesson." Replied Charlie, "Yep. Quite right, but I am the child here and should still be allowed to insult you cos I am only little and you are big." Well, of course I agreed. What else is a guy supposed to do?
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 14, 2008 21:20:07 GMT
Gareth has an older brother (Lewis, aged 18) and younger sister (Cara, aged 13). I have taught them both, although they had the good sense to escape whilst they had a chance; we remain good friends. I have already mentioned Gareth's girlfriend, Sarah. They all feature in this story. Gareth's Trumpeter's Lip needs strengthening in anticipation of the performing demands of AS music from September. To this end, we are meeting daily during the Easter break to do some trumpet\piano practise, working on repertoire for his grade 8 trumpet. We plan many similar sessions once his GCSE exams finish in a few weeks time. Today's session took place at Gareth's (G) home. Younger sister, (YS) older brother (OB) and girlfriend (GF) all in attendance. We managed almost 30 minutes today before The Lip gave way - things are looking up; we could only manage half that time last week. Me: ok, so shall we do a session tomorrow? G: Yes please. Me: Ok. What are your plans? G: I am spending the day with Sarah. Me: Great. We can work around that. What time are you getting to Sarah's. G: Um. Don't know. Me: OK. Sarah, what time do you want Gareth to turn up. GF: Um. Don't know. YS: This could go on for some time. Me: Really? YS: Oh yes. These two are incapable of making a decision. OB: She is right. Hopeless, the pair of them. Me: Ok, how does this sound? I will turn up here at 11.00 in the morning and do a practise session with Gareth. Then I will run him to Sarah's home (she lives a couple of villages up the main road). G: Great. GF: Great. YS: Thank goodness someone has made a decision. OB: Eh Steve, this is good going. Not only do you teach Gareth, and accompany him when he plays the trumpet, but you organise his social life as well. Well, someone had to. ;D
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Post by kerioboe on Apr 15, 2008 20:40:54 GMT
It was daughter's 11th birthday party on Sunday. Rather than just mindlessly banging on the piano (none of her friends play an instrument and none of them hear classical music at home) they asked me (first time ever) to play them something.
I played them part of a Bach partita which they listened to with wrapt attention. When I'd finished it one said "That was brilliant. who wrote it?" She hadn't heard of Bach but was undeterred "Do you think he'll write another one, I really like it."
A bit later on they played pass the parcel to the fast movements of some Bach violin concertos. Then after birthday tea my daughter said her friends wanted some music to dance to. I apologised for having nothing suitable but they said the "pass the parcel" music would be fine - according to one of them: "there aren't any words but it's like disco music really." They were even more impressed when they discovered that there were "slows" in the middle.
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 16, 2008 22:18:21 GMT
23 year old Lauren is a primary school teacher (UK year 1) daft enough to take piano lessons lessons from me. She is one of those people who light up a room just by entering it. Merely by existing, she makes the lives of the rest of us happier by many, many magnitudes. It is a small world around here and nearly everyone I teach has been taught by, has a child taught by, or knows Lauren. The standard reaction when I mention her name is to adopt a dreamy expression and sigh contentedly. I know how they feel. Locally, everyone is into their second week of the so-called Easter break. Lauren told me tonight that she bumped into the head of her school over the weekend. This lady yelled, "Lauren. I have missed you", threw herself at Lauren and gave her a huge hug. That rather reflects my attitude whenever I see the girl. Me and everyone else who knows her, it seems. ;D In response to my question about how the kids in her class greet her and whether they demand hugs and cuddles, Lauren came out with this memorable response, "Oh heck. I am always wearing a kid around my neck. Plays havoc with my back." ;D We need more teachers like this. Mind you, it is good for her health that she teaches babies, not teens. ;D
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 17, 2008 21:58:15 GMT
Gareth and I have this thing that we do, concerning the note B. When mention is made of it, we chorus: Beeeeeeeeeeeee. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Splat. Honeeeeeeeeeey. Childish, but that sums us up. ;D 9-year-old Callum has not yet spent way too much time with me, but he is coming along well in the insanity stakes. My stomach rumbles a lot, especially in the evening. Cal was entertained by Gareth's idea that there is an alien living in my stomach. Whenever Cal's tummy rumbles, he says, "Our aliens are talking to each other." The note B came up in our lesson tonight and I thought to tell Cal what Gareth and I chant. He was so tickled by this that he spent the rest of the lesson chortling - we didn't get a lot more done. A despairing mum sat watching all this going on. From the front door to the car was about 10 yards. Cal voiced the chant four times in this brief period. I think his mum was in for a long night. ;D
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Apr 24, 2008 19:31:21 GMT
Kate, of can-now-legally-sell-scrap-metal-at-age-16 and the condom-in-a-bag-in-a-bag-in-a-bag-in-a-bag-at-the-bottom-of-the-wardrobe fame just passed her driving test. After her usual post-lesson hug, I glared at her fiercely and demanded, "Drive safely, young lady. I don't want to attend your funeral." This lead naturally to a description of the exploits of some of her friends. Try this one: "Ellie drove like a maniac after she passed her test - I refused to go in the car with her after the first time. It wasn't long before she took a country-road bend far too fast and turned the car over, dumping it in a field." "Luckily, she wasn't hurt but she knew she was in for a roasting from her mum unless she acted quickly. Several of her friends are mechanics or know how to fix cars, so they all rallied round." "They carried the car out of the field and used their knowledge to fix the dints and scrapes so the damage didn't show. Some mechanical things were affected, so they fixed those. The car was as good as before the accident. Ellie's mum never found out." How is that for quick thinking? I was impressed. My next question was, "Did the accident modify Ellie's driving?" Kate's reply was, "She is safer than my mum now. I will even let her drive me around." There are some accidents that have a happy ending.
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Post by Steve Hopwood on May 2, 2008 22:47:05 GMT
Friday night, so out and about in the villages surrounding Gainsborough. I fetched up at 9 year old Lucy's house - the big house with huge gardens, in the middle of nowhere where I had the recent brush with the reluctant-to-move field mouse. Lucy was playing in the garden with the new Labrador puppy. Said puppy launched herself at me and we romped on the lawn. Mum appeared and said, "Behave yourself, you two." "Lucy isn't doing anything," I pointed out, ever ready to defend the child against the mum. Came the reply, "I am not talking to Lucy." The lesson was a mad one. Trying a passage in a new piece, I lead Lucy through it, then let her try it on her own. "Now see if you can get through it whilst I gently tickle you." Ok, ok, it was that sort of a lesson. After a couple of bars, I stopped tickling. A triumphant Lucy turned to me and proclaimed, "Ha. No trouble. I can stand worse than that." I held out my hand to receive a slap in punishment - I am not ticklish and so cannot offer the kids revenge that way. "Nope," she said, "I do not go in for violence." Then, grinning hugely, "I should get a choc for it instead." Well, of course she got the choc. The episode also made sure I don't tickle her again - too expensive. _____________________________________________ A downside of my utter devotion to my pupils is that I am sometimes called upon to prove I my claim that there is nothing legal that I would not do for them. This time of year can be particularly busy, when the kids yell for help with all the outstanding music coursework with looming deadlines. My experience allows me to offer just the right kind of help - pointing them in the right direction without this help resulting in them indulging in cheating. Contrary to much that we read in the media, this is important to most kids. 18 year old Imogen needed help with performing her 'AS' compostion - a piece for piano duet plus violin and percussion. The need to record a performance was something she forgot in her enthusiastic composing of the piece using Sibelius software. The piano parts are ridiculously difficult - not a problem for me but a major headache for Imo. We have been flogging at this wretched piece for weeks. Each week, I have asked, "When do we have to record this?" Each week, the answer has been an airy, "Not for weeks and weeks yet." Tonight, a clearly stressed Imo met me with the news that we have to record the piece on Tuesday, after an all-too-brief rehearsal with violinist and percussionist. Happily, I teach the former and know how good is the latter, so that bit is no problem. The duet finally came together tonight. We have another practise on Sunday and can have another on Monday if need be, so it looks as though things have come together just in time. Phew.
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Post by Steve Hopwood on May 11, 2008 22:23:42 GMT
There is a hamlet just outside Gainsborough that has spawned 6 wonderfully intelligent and charming kids that I am priviledged to teach. There are barely that many houses in the hamlet, so the water or the air must hold some special qualities when it comes to producing fantastic children. The above is just pleasant background. The point is this; I thought I had hurt 9 year old Charley earlier today. Zero stone Charley was in bare feet. 12.5 stone me was wearing shoes, so you can imagine how I felt when I thouight I had stood on her foot during her piano lesson. Horrified and panicking, I scooped her into my arms and said, along the lines of, "Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry." A quite comfy and rather enjoying the fuss Charley looked up at me and asked, "What for?" "Stomping on your foot, " I replied, "I thought I had hurt you." Charley started to say, "No, it's ok........." After a few seconds, she spotted the Main Chance. "Ouch, ouch, arrrggggggghhhhh eeeeeeek owwwwwwwwwwwwwww" she intoned. A brief pause. then, "Of course, a choc will take care of the agony." Those of you who know me, or are reading this thread through from the beginning are expecting me to write, "Well, of course she got the choc. What else is a man supposed to do?" Well, ha. It didn't work out like that. I made Charley wait until the end of the lesson before giving her the extra choc, "For being so entertaining." What else is a man supposed to do?
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Post by Steve Hopwood on May 16, 2008 9:51:07 GMT
I have a clutch of 16-18 year olds sitting GCSE and 'A' level exams right now. The work load they are suffering is effecting their piano playing, but they all know I understand the difficulties. Kate played brilliantly last night. This came as something of a surprise as she has no less revision to do than any of the others. I remarked that she must have been practising to have produced such good results. Ok, so she is taking grade 6 in July, but she had done plenty of preparation in anticipation of a lean period now. The explanation? "My mum has banned me from the TV until after my exams. During revision breaks I need to do something different, so I play the piano and the flute. My flute teacher was amazed at how well I played yesterday." What a shame the ban has only another fortnight to run. ;D
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Post by Steve Hopwood on May 22, 2008 22:19:36 GMT
I was in one of my can't-get-my-words-out-properly phases tonight - not a good characteristic for a teacher. ;D 14 and 12 year old sisters Dani and Carla were not taking any prisoners, so I endured a terrible teasing. Deciding to show my hard side, I fixed the girls with what was supposed to be a gimlet glare and told them that I was going to be a stern teacher and give Carla no more encouragement or praise for the whole of the rest of her lesson. Ok, so that was only five minutes, but there is no need to be cruel. ;D "How long do you think you can keep on being stern?" asked Dani. "For a long time." I replied, ludicrously. Dani rummaged in her bag, pulled out her phone, tapped a few buttons and sat waiting expectantly. "What are you doing?" I asked. "TIming how long it is before you say something nice." she replied. "Ok, watch me be horrible for the rest of Carla's lesson." said I, with a gathering sense of hopelessness. Dani just smiled at me. "Play from there" I snarled at Carla, pointing randomly at a bit of her piece - half-way through a bar. Carla took a couple of goes to get going, but eventually managed it. "Well d....." Damn. Dani clicked her phone and announced triumphantly, "38.58 seconds. Longer than I thought you would last." Hey ho
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Jun 1, 2008 22:22:32 GMT
15-year-old Emily is yet another child I adore and for whom I will do anything legally allowable. Em is a mad-keen clarinettist with whom I do a lot of work. Usual stuff - piano lessons; accompany exams, concerts and festivals; grade 5 theory. Especially that blasted grade 5 theory. My own pupils don't have to worry about that stupid hurdle - we do TG exams. Time and again, I have to teach this idiotic syllabus to pupils whose 'main' instrumental\vocal teachers are too lazy or stupid to do the job themselves. Em's grade 5 theory exam is looming large, so I stopped by her house this evening for an extra theory session on my way back from teaching in Gainsborough. Her mum let me in; there were wonderful cooking smells coming from the kitchen. "Yum" said I, "Something smells lovely." It turned out to be cheesecake. I love cheescake, but do not buy it because of its effect on my waistline. "Can I come and live here, please, because I love cheesecake?" I asked. Come the end of the lesson, there was a package of two slices of cheesecake waiting for me, "For you and your wife." Brilliant. Even better is that Chris hates cheesecake, so I get both slices. One tonight and one tomorrow, if I can leave it alone that long. Throughout my career, I have found that if I love kids first, they will love me right back. That is nice, but sometimes my unreserved support brings even more tangible rewards. Yum.
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Post by Steve Hopwood on Jun 6, 2008 22:46:52 GMT
After teasing Isy for a while tonight, about her small had-span and diminutive stature, I told her my wife's dictum at size - "The best things come in the littlest packages." "Take a diamond," said I, "tiny but you would love wearing one around your neck. By contrast, a pile of elephant poo is huge, but you definitely would not want to wear one around your neck." With a malicious grin, Isy replied, "I read a story about elephant poo. A vet was testing the rear end of a sick elephant when it suffered an attack of the runs. The vet drowned it it." Yurrkkkk. I haven't been able to get that image out of my mind. ___________________________________________ I arrived at the Snells' house as they were replying to an advert for free guinea pigs. Explained mum, "The guinea pigs and the rabbit lived together, but the pigs died suddenly and within a few hours of each other. The rabbit is lonely, so we are hunting down some more pigs. This is a never-ending circle. The rabbit is lonely, so we get more pigs. The rabbit will die, so the pigs will be lonely.........." When will guinea pigs and rabbits learn to stand on their own four paws? Soft, or what? ;D
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