A recent conversation caused me to remember a rare moment from a few years ago. I was driving my oldest child, then 6, to her first violin recital. She was all dolled up with her best hair and fancy dress.
Like every 6-year-old, she was unpredictable. This child was ADHD, showing glowing brilliance one moment and then hanging upside down on the furniture the next. I wanted desperately for everyone at the recital to see the former and scared that they may see the latter. To add to the parental pressure, the other performers were all from a music family.
About 1/2 mile away from the recital, I started to think about all of the last minute coaching advice to give her. "Stand up tall", "focus on what you are doing", "be sure you pay attention to when you are up", and "if you mess up, just pick up where you left off and keep going" all rushed into my head. Then my mouth opened.
For a brief moment, I was brilliant.
"Have fun" is all I offered.
What did I know about playing the violin, anyway?
On that day she had played as well as I had ever heard her. In some other recitals she didn't. But she always looked forward to the recital as something to enjoy. She did NOT see it as a job where Dad gets all over her or as something to just "get through" without embarrassment.
I won't take credit for all of that, or her love of competition. But I can proudly say that I didn't HURT the cause on that day.
Like every 6-year-old, she was unpredictable. This child was ADHD, showing glowing brilliance one moment and then hanging upside down on the furniture the next. I wanted desperately for everyone at the recital to see the former and scared that they may see the latter. To add to the parental pressure, the other performers were all from a music family.
About 1/2 mile away from the recital, I started to think about all of the last minute coaching advice to give her. "Stand up tall", "focus on what you are doing", "be sure you pay attention to when you are up", and "if you mess up, just pick up where you left off and keep going" all rushed into my head. Then my mouth opened.
For a brief moment, I was brilliant.
"Have fun" is all I offered.
What did I know about playing the violin, anyway?
On that day she had played as well as I had ever heard her. In some other recitals she didn't. But she always looked forward to the recital as something to enjoy. She did NOT see it as a job where Dad gets all over her or as something to just "get through" without embarrassment.
I won't take credit for all of that, or her love of competition. But I can proudly say that I didn't HURT the cause on that day.
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