When John was two years old he was
already a veteran at music class.
He’d been attending since he was an infant when he would sit in my lap
and we would bounce to the rhythm, or I would tap his knees or clap his
hands. As he grew, we listened to
music almost every night at bedtime.
We sang during the day and played CD’s that he eventually knew by heart.
As he got older, and continued in
his weekly music class, the children of course, became more engaged in the
activities, dancing, playing instruments, waving scarves and taking part in
organized wiggling. But John was
so very bashful he would never join in.
Each week he would sit quietly in my lap and observe the silly antics of
the others. No amount of
encouragement or coaxing could entice him to join in. Each week his wonderful and wise instructor would lightly
and gently say to us, “That’s ok, he’s getting it right where he is.” I would be consumed with worry on the
inside and she would instinctively say, “Don’t worry, he is just fine, he is
taking it all in and he will join in his own time you’ll see.”
Week after week my toddler would
timidly observe from a safe distance as his teacher routinely passed beautiful
wooden tone bars and a mallet to each child, and we would all sing while each
played a special rhythm, and then each child pass the bars to the next
child. Each week when it came to
his turn, John would stare down at his hands folded in his lap, chubby knuckle
to chubby knuckle, and refuse to look up.
His
wise and wonderful teacher would flash that carefree, no worries in the world
smile at him anyway and say brightly, “That’s OK John, “ and move on without
skipping a beat.
I can remember my heart sinking
each time, as I rested my chin on the top of his quiet little head, each of us
staring straight ahead, lost in our own mommy and son thoughts.
Finally the last class of the
summer session, I watched as the little girl next to John gently sat the tone
bars on the floor in front of him and reached out to hand him the mallets. His turn had come again, and finally,
he gingerly reached out and took the mallets from her and ever so softly began
tapping out his little two-tone melody, but it sounded like a symphony to my
ears. His wise and wonderful
teacher caught my eye and even though we didn’t share words, we shared every
bit of that triumphant moment as we witnessed John step out of his private
world of protection into a brave new place for him. I will never forget it.
It is just one of dozens of life’s
most precious moments shared with our wonderful and wise music teacher, Jan
Vidruk, or “Miss Jan” as she reluctantly allows my boys to refer to her. She has been a part of both of my son’s
lives for almost 13 years. The
brilliant and magical program my sons have had the privlidge to take part in
includes music, drumming, stories, pretending, acting, and songs as well as
hundreds of things they have no idea they’ve even learned. Things I have been humming to them
since they were infants, they didn’t know why, later, when they were learning
to play those same songs on the piano that they sounded so familiar. They have learned that waving a scarf
up as the notes go up and down as the notes go down is a fun game. They didn’t know they were learning
about musical scales. They have
learned that tapping certain rhythms goes with certain songs. They didn’t know they were learning,
quarter notes, 8th notes and 16th notes or ¾ time. Never mind the research that shows
correlation between music and learning, I can show the correlation between music
and joy. I have seen it, felt it,
sung it, celebrated it.
The only thing more amazing than
what these little musicians learn, is the dedication and devotion to the world
of music demonstrated day in and day out by our wise and wonderful teacher,
who, in her spare time, dedicates hours to promoting the combination of music
and movement taught simultaneously, as my children have had the opportunity to
learn. If it is a new concept to
you and you are interested in music or teaching, I urge you to check out her
passion, the Early Childhood Music and Movement Association, ECMMA, which is
holding it’s International Convention in Green Lake Wisconsin in August. Find them at www.ecmma.org
My hope is that more wise and wonderful
teachers will be born from this international convention in our own backyard,
and that more children will have the amazing opportunity that mine have had, to
experience music and movement melded into a seamless program from tapping their
knees to tapping the keyboard and carrying them into middle school band or
orchestra or choir, and beyond, to a lifetime that includes music.
