I work to make several “tools” available to help each student succeed.  One of the most important ones is motivation.  I want to help students develop Intrinsic Motivation for violin learning, and I believe that discovering the rewards of hard work can extend motivation into other areas of life.

To help get students started on this Magic Circle, I use various types of Extrinsic Motivation, such as stickers for young students and month-long challenges for all ages. Another reward is receiving positive feedback after a performance, whether that is in a private lesson, a group class, or a recital.  I adapt my specific methods as I get to know each student, and I encourage students and their parents to develop routines that encourage this Circle at home, too.  Feel free to research this on your own or to ask me for advice.

On the Suzuki Triangle

Adapted from post by Valerie Malvinni, published Aug 28, 2013 at 09:25 AM in Santa Barbara Violin Tips

The Suzuki Triangle is made up of three people: the student, the parent, and the teacher. All three are crucial for the student to be successful. The Triangle does not privilege any one member, and avoids hierarchy, instead, it fosters openness in communication between every person in the triangle. In other words, all three are equally important in deciding what is right for the student’s learning process at home. For example, if the student only had a working relationship with the teacher at lessons, the home practice might suffer if the student does not fully grasp what the teacher wants him or her to do. In this situation, the parent is needed to fill in any gaps in the student’s understanding of the teacher’s assignments.

At different stages of the student’s learning stages, the person at the top of the triangle changes. In the lessons, the teacher is at the top of the triangle. The teacher is introducing new ideas, demonstrating new preview spots, correcting and improving the student’s playing overall.

At home, the parent, especially at the beginning stage, is the most important. The parent is reviewing with the child what the teacher assigned. Together, the parent and child work through the practice points that were assigned. The parent will stop the child if there are mistakes and will help the child with understanding and completing the assignment. Having the parent’s encouragement and support is necessary for the student’s progress.

As the child grows and becomes accustomed to reading the assignments and reaches a level of independence, the student will be at the top of the triangle. Even though the student, especially in the teenage years, becomes more responsible for practicing, the parent is still important for providing input and encouragement at home. By checking in and listening to the student’s playing, the student will most likely stay on track with the assignment and therefore, make more progress. Thus, at different stages and depending on the child, all three members of the triangle can decide exactly the role of the practice partner and how hands-on they will need to be at home.

In my own family, I am my children’s teacher. This was not always an easy role for me or for my children. Not only was I the teacher, I was also the practice partner. In a sense, my children had lessons every day. This is a lot to ask of young children. Practicing became a chore and no one was enjoying it. My husband is now the practice partner, and with the Suzuki Triangle in place we are all happier. I still teach my children, but my husband does the reviewing. Having these separate roles also makes our time with our children more special.

By teaching, practicing and implementing the Suzuki triangle into my family’s lives, we feel that we have a deeper bond with our children and we know that in the process we are becoming better parents. We believe it has facilitated communication and openness as a family. This has made me a better teacher for my own pupils. I teach them the way I teach my own children, with love, nurture and passion. I believe in what I do and love passing on my experience and musical gift to others. We can honestly say that Suzuki violin has changed our lives by making us a closer family.

On the other hand, the experience was very stressful for her, and she didn’t feel terribly confident in her audition.  Thus, I was not at all surprised when, at her lesson the following week, she was ready to move on to the next piece for an upcoming recital.  She said that playing the audition movement again would be like “beating a dead horse.”  She was ready to forget about the stress of the past two weeks, check the piece off her repertoire list, and play something new.   I know this feeling well!

My response, though, was, “not so fast!”

At that lesson, I asked her how she imagined pop singers kept singing the same songs, over and over again, in each new city they visited.

“I’m sure they get sick of it!” she said.

That wasn’t quite the direction I wanted to go, so I moved into our classical frame of reference.

“The best way I’ve found to learn and play a piece of music well is to find a story in the piece, something with a deep, personal meaning to me.  Then, when I play, it’s not the technical aspects I focus on, because I know those.  Instead, I can draw out the music.  To this day, as soon as I begin playing the first movement of Bach’s first solo sonata, I’m immersed in the story and emotions that I attached to it 10 years ago when I was preparing it for auditions and a recital.  And I love re-telling that ‘story,’ because it’s alive to me, changing and developing, you see?”

“Uh…”

I think she started to understand when I played her “dead horse” concerto movement alongside her, showing her how much more excitement she could add to the piece with some time spent considering it as more than three pages of technique to be mastered.

As I browsed the internet later that week, I came across a lovely statement that perfectly conveys what I was trying to tell my student.

“The Brentano String Quartet is returning to ‘Death and the Maiden’ having not performed it in quite a while. ‘We do play it differently now, and I think there are discoveries in every performance, in every rehearsal…'”

For those discoveries, I believe it is definitely worth “beating a dead horse!”

“Lonely?  That sounds sad!”

But it isn’t, really.

Originally, it was just the file name of an image.  I traced it from a picture of a Strad for the flyer advertising my senior recital.  I meant to trace the whole thing, but I liked the minimalist look so much that I just stopped.  A few months later, the image made an appearance (in white out!) on the top of my black graduation cap, and soon after that, on flyers advertising lessons when I first moved to Boise for grad school.  Lo’ and behold, I had a logo!

“But it’s not sad, because… why?”

I like to imagine that the violin is a living creature that has grown as much of an attachment to me as I have to it.  It follows, then, that if I am not playing my fiddle, it gets lonely.  An instrument that is not played is simply a silent, though beautiful, mechanical wonder.  It needs love to come to life.  And that is what I intend to do; and I hope I can help others do the same.

Is that a little silly?  Perhaps.  Sappy?  Probably.  But sad?  Definitely not!