By Joan Passarelli
Blue Jeans & Jelly Beans
Every morning from 7:30 to 8, the neighbors must be shutting their windows. Our house is overflowing with loud tootles and burbles, scales and wails.
Our 10-year-old is standing in front of the music stand in her room, earnestly playing the flute.
Our 8-year-old is picking her way through some simple Bach and Mozart on the living room piano. I still sit down with her to read through her new music, just as my mom did with me at that age.
Our 12-year-old son is perched on his bed or sprawled over a chair with his saxophone, seeking for a cooler groove on a jazz piece. I have to go pick up some charts from the floor and wave them in his face to get him to actually read some music.
Years ago, when they used to whine about practicing, I’d just say firmly, “Music is part of your education.” I’m quoting my mom, who brought me up the same way. After hearing this for so long, the kids don’t complain any more. They even enjoy it sometimes.
We believe it’s our family’s responsibility to provide lessons, since we’re lucky enough to be able to afford them. We insist on daily practice, too. Heck, even if the music didn’t do them any good, the discipline would.
I had all three start piano first, at about age 8, because it uses both hands, encourages development of both sides of the brain and teaches them the basics of music.
My deal with my kids is that after 2 years of piano, they can switch to a different instrument or sing in a good choir. Whatever they choose, music is still required until they get into high school. Then we’ll negotiate.
Our son chose clarinet when he could. He then took up alto and soprano sax in dizzying succession. His biggest delight this year was being able to play the school’s baritone sax, a huge-bellied thing, for the sixth-grade jazz band concert.
Our daughter chose flute for its beautiful tone. Her grandpa approves heartily, although he played French horn. He knows how hard it is to carry a heavy instrument to school, so he thinks the small, light flute is a great idea.
After school, the kids often play on their own. My son likes to sit in front of the computer with his music files on the screen. He brings up his favorite songs and plays with the recordings.
He also likes to tease his sisters by reading over their shoulder and playing along with them. I can’t deplore this as much as I should, because it involves transposing to a different key on sight, a very valuable skill in music.
Our flutist daughter has started learning melodies out of a duet book, so now I can accompany her on piano. When we’re both free, we play together. Often her big brother comes out, carrying whatever wind instrument he’s holding at the moment, and reads along too.
Making music with my kids is like entering a different world. Suddenly, I’m not the parent, and they’re not the children. Instead, we’re all musicians, working together. We forget ourselves in watching the notes, the rhythm and the fingering. Suddenly, oh, my, some very nice music is happening.
I guess music isn’t just part of their education. It’s part of the beauty I wish for their lives. It’s part of who they are, and who we are as a family.
Now if we just had some soundproof practice rooms …
Passarelli lives in Mountain View and needs to practice the piano more often. Her column runs the fourth week of the month.
