If she's tired, or hungry, or had a rough day at school, or I pour her milk into the yellow glass instead of the red one I might meet a resistance stronger than the Women's March.
My mistake today was asking her to wash her hands with soap after getting off the bus. There was no way I was going to let her touch my piano with those hands that have been at school all day. I volunteer once a week and see what those kids put in their mouths. Everything. And then they touch everything. I've been on the front lines. Or rather, helping at the center with sensory boxes; sight words are buried beneath grains of rice so the kids have to dig around to find the cards. Also known as the Germ Center. But I digress.
I finally get her to wash her hands, after she's locked herself in the bathroom, but comes running out because of the dead bug on the floor. It's that small distraction that snaps her out of resisting the hand washing and she even uses soap.
Once we get to the piano it begins immediately. But it's so hard! she whines. I take a deep breath and settle in. I tell her that it will be easier today because we've been working on this material for 3 days. I tell her I can help her in ways that will make it easier. I say, come on, we can do this, let's see if I can trick you with these note flashcards.
That bumps up her competitive spirit and she nails all 15 or so of the flashcards. I can't trick you! I exclaim.
We move on to her music and she's lounging on the bench, with her knees pushing at the keyboard, on the verge of rocking the bench onto its 2 back legs. I can address her posture, which might set off an explosion or ignore it and continue. I decide to ignore it. She's probably just trying to provoke me anyway. On this first piece, we've broken apart several phrases for the last three days and so we can now begin to play through the section in its entirety. Ok! So let's remember legato and dynamics! I enthusiastically encourage. I have to be careful. She can read through any saccharine tone, so I work to sound authentically positive.
She makes it through the first two lines, but the transition from 2 to 3 always confuses her. I ask her to try something that will help with the transition. She is now slumped over the keyboard, hair in her eyes, and feet resting on the pedals, so that the keys are slightly ringing when depressed. She does what I ask half heartedly, but she does it correctly! Awesome! I exclaim, now let's do that 3 more times!
The second time isn't quite right and the third time she intentionally uses a wrong finger. I'm not going to give in to the increasing tension in my brain (I swear this kid is going to give me a stroke). That's ok Ruby! I'm still upbeat, yet firm. Let's try it again, I know you can do it because you just did it! She tries one more time, it's not amazing, but it was generally correct and I let it slide.
We make it through the end of the piece, the part we've been working on a lot, and she nails it. I say, that was so good! See how it gets easier because we've been practicing?! I'm so proud of you!
We have two more songs to get through. Mercifully the second one is easier and she can play it pretty well right off the bat. The third one is long and hard and she knows it. I dig deep into my well of patience, which miraculously seems to get deeper the longer I parent. We somehow make it through; I lower my expectations and ignore a lot of eye rolls and sighs coming from her end.
When we're finally done I say something about how it seems like she's having a hard time looking ahead and is pausing a lot. Her arms are folded and she's kicking the pedals again while she whines, but it's hard!
As a private music instructor, I work with a lot of high school kids. I see a lot of personalities. There are some days that I am very aware of the important role of solid parenting. I'll be damned if I'm going to raise an entitled, lazy child. I just don't know if I'm doing it right. What's the parenting difference between the student who knows how to listen, be empathetic, and work at something even if it doesn't come easily the first time and the student who is vapid and apathetic?
It just feels like right now is a critical time. Maybe it's got to suck now, so it won't when the consequences are larger and more permanent? It just feels like I'm failing all the time. Like I'm shouting into the cold, brittle Kansas wind.
I respond to her whining with a lecture about how if we always say something is hard, then we will not enjoy it or get better. If I say, I hate tap dancing! I'm not good at it! Then I'll hate going to tap class and hate putting on my tap shoes and it won't be any fun. (I'm using hate, which is a bad word in our house with the hopes she'll know this is serious stuff) Guess what? I'm not good at tap, but I still go with an attitude of having fun and trying something new and I am getting better!
Her sister pipes up from the stairway, yeah! have a growth mindset!
I'm trying to positive and have a learning moment and I finish and look up and she's got the meanest look on her face and is rolling her eyes and I'm done. You know what, I say, I try really hard to be patient and helpful and even make this fun for you. This kind of attitude is not ok.
I say, no sticker on your practice chart today. I take a pencil and write in the box "practiced, but had a bad attitude." She stomps over to me, looks at the chart, and demands, I need an eraser. No ma'am I say and she storms up to her room.
But you know what, the practicing got done and I am done giving a shit.
I do other things for the next 15 minutes. I help her sister practice. I tidy up the kitchen.
Then I head upstairs. Her room is locked. I knock and wait a minute before using the little unlocking metal thingy that sits on top of her doorsill. The light is on and she is nowhere to be seen. I look around the bed and she is lying on the floor with a huge stuffed dog pulled over her face.
I sit down and place my hand on her leg. Can you tell me what you're feeling? I ask. Angry, comes the muffled reply. Why? Because I didn't get a sticker on my chart. Do you remember the rules about the chart? No. You get a sticker on your chart if you practice with a good attitude. Did you have a good attitude? I don't know. Do you think you could have been more polite? Yes. Well, you can't be mad at me, I was only following the rules. I stand and leave.
We have to be at a basketball game in 45 minutes. Getting her into the car could take that long. Or she might come willingly when asked. It's impossible to know which it will be today. I decide to take a risk and wait 15 minutes before starting to herd everyone outside.
Not even 10 minutes later I look up from my phone and she's standing next to me.
I'm sorry I threw a tantrum.
Oh Ruby I exclaim, I forgive you. I'm sorry I was impatient with you.
And just like that we have time for a snack and a book before we get in the car for Maia's game.
Probably 80% of the time I feel like I'm swimming in the ocean, not totally sure I'm headed in the correct direction. I don't suppose I'll ever know if I did it right. Check back in with me in 10 years and we'll see if anything has changed. Hopefully we'll see two empathetic, thoughtful, motivated young ladies. And maybe one mom who feels like she did something right.
