My mom never took piano lessons growing up. Neither did my dad. Well, unless you count the two lessons he had before he convinced his parents that this wasn’t a good idea. He must have been a persuasive kid.
So, when I started lessons at the age of nine, I was on my own. There was no expert in the house. In a way, this was a great thing. There was no one to tell me whether that ink on the page was a quarter note or an eighth note, or whether my rhythm was right. I had to figure it out for myself.
I also had the advantage of growing up in a household where the teacher was considered an authority. At my first lesson with Mrs. Evelyn Kettlehut, when my mom asked how long I should practice, she said that I was required to practice one hour a day. So, that’s exactly what I did. It didn’t occur to me to do anything else. My progress through the John Thompson primer book was speedy as a result—I completed it in two lessons. I became a voracious reader to fill up that hour, and by the age of eleven, I was accompanying the singing for Junior Sunday School at church and could read anything in the orange “Sing with Me” book.
During my practice sessions, my mom was usually nearby, in the kitchen, or an adjoining room, listening. Every so often, I would hear her call from the kitchen, “that was so beautiful. Would you play it again?”
The power of listening. It is a superpower. Children feel valued and motivated when they have their parents’ full attention. Add some honest praise, and you have a heady mixture.
Try it sometime. Unlock your superpower. Try sitting nearby for at least a portion of your child’s practice time, without your phone. Just listening, companionably. No criticism, no correction. Just listening, with some genuine praise sprinkled in.