In three weeks I'll be hosting my Spring Student Recital in Lansing. Approximately twenty students will come on stage and play a solo. For many of them it is a frightening experience. As they arrive I tune each guitar and nearly every face has a grim look. The very young ones are excited, the older ones a little more relaxed because they've been through this many times before. The middle school kids hate everything about it and they aren't very fond of me either.
In the weeks leading up to the recital I will help them polish their songs. We will find ways to smooth over the bumpy spots and help them perform at their personal best. They will learn that there is no such thing as "perfect". "Perfect" can be a destructive goal. And the realization will set in that the harder they work, the better they will be.
I host two recitals every year for these students and their families. One in Spring and the other in the Fall. They make me anxious, they are inconvenient, and they disrupt my schedule. (My schedule is sacred and should never be disrupted.) As soon as I mention the recital some of my students plot to be excused. ("If I can get one of my friends to cough or sneeze on me at the right time, maybe I'll be too sick to go.")
After it's over they are all smiles as they head to the back of the room to get a snack. Cookies to reward the students for playing and to reward their siblings for suffering through the event. There are pictures to be taken and hugs galore. The young ones will eventually ask me about the music the older ones played. Curious and hopeful about being that good some day. I will assure them that everyone is on the same path. Some are just farther along.
In the meantime we will go about the task of preparing. Hard work. Frustrating to the point of tears at times, making success that much sweeter. Sometimes I think I ask too much of my students and perhaps I do at times. But I'm impressed by how most of them rise to the occasion.
Last night a little five year old girl played the chromatic scale for me. It's one of the first things I teach and is initially very difficult. When I taught it to her a couple weeks ago she could barely make half of the notes sound and she would periodically stop to rest. Last night she proudly zipped right through it and grinned at me like a Cheshire cat at the end. This will be her first recital.
Earlier I was working with a high school senior. A young man who's been with me for ten years and will soon be off to college. This will be his last recital. I listened as he finessed his way through a 19th century waltz. It's not as technically demanding as many other pieces, but he played it elegantly. I glanced at the plaque on my wall that reads, "Our goal is to play beautiful music beautifully" and smiled. Mission accomplished.