Tonight is "Recital Night" for my students. I do two of these each year in Lansing. One in November right before Thanksgiving and one in April just after Easter. The kids are always nervous and their parents are too. And I usually hold my breath for about an hour until they all finish.
I am reminded that the "Spring Recital" is traditionally the important one. It's the one the kids prepare for starting in September. The one where they go all out. Fancy clothes, perfect manners, and beautiful, difficult music played from memory. Except at mine. About two or three weeks before my recital I ask the kids what they would like to play and we choose something from the songs they have already learned.
They don't play from memory and generally don't play the hardest song they know. Although many of the kids dress up, many others don't. It's a relaxed atmosphere. And I don't want the kids to show off or perform in a grand style. They walk up on stage with their music. I'm always there to help and to reassure. And then they "share" a song that they've chosen with the audience. It's supposed to be fun. I do insist that they bow after, however, because it would be impolite not to. After everyone has played we take a minute for treats and pictures. Then we go home. Simple.
While I could make a pretty good case for doing it the first way, I still like my way better. Some teachers (not all) use their Spring Recital as a marketing tool. It's a way to show their skills and talents as teachers. You can always see the results of the effort made by a good teacher. But I've come to believe that the efforts of the students are more important and if I'm better than "good" my efforts will fade into the background. And I don't think I could sleep at night knowing that my business was built on the backs of children. I'm supposed to be there for their benefit, not the other way around.
So if you're in the area and in the mood for some joyfully played music please stop by. You are always welcome. And I'm serving donut holes and juice after (yum). And if you see me there turning blue, stop by and remind me to resume breathing.