My four year old daughter had recently started taking piano lessons and was happily practicing one day when I noticed that she was pointing at the notes with the finger of one hand as she played with the other hand. This was obviously her way of helping herself along and avoiding confusion as she moved through the notes. Full of good intentions I hurried over to the piano to explain to her that it was not a good idea to get into that habit- she ought to put both hands on the piano keys in preparation for when she will need the other hand. This was mistake number one. To add insult to injury, I then said that since she was getting finger number 2 mixed up with finger number 4, would she like it if I were to write the numbers directly on her fingers to make it easier for her to remember. Mistake number two.
She instantly sprang off the bench in a state of fury and upset, shouting that she would never take another piano lesson in her life and it was “too late now” no matter how I apologized for my stupid blundering and insensitivity. You see, I know how much she loves the piano-she figured out Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” and Vivaldi’s “Spring” at age three by listening to her older sister play, but in my haste to ‘teach’, I realized too late that I should not have interfered uncalled for, with one so deeply involved in the instrument as she, and one so deeply aware of her own inexperience and so vulnerable to criticism. Because that is what it was no matter how gently I tried to soften it -and she knew it. It was unasked for help so that it came across as criticism. In the days that followed, Bronwyn repeatedly announced to us that she was done with the piano watching carefully how I was reacting to this proclamation. I was casual and told her that she was free to stop lessons if she so chose, but I wanted to be certain that she was quitting for the right reasons and not because of what I had said. She was adamant- there was no changing her mind. I felt even worse because I knew that with my comments I had undermined her self-confidence.
Then the brain wave. I know how much she admires her sister and I asked Evelyna if she would please speak to her and maybe something positive would come of it. She obliged willingly, as she too values piano enormously and doesn’t want to see anybody give up that instrument, not least her sister. She asked Bronwyn not to stop, telling her how terrible she, herself, was when she first started-”far worse then you. I got everything mixed up all the time much more often then you.” Bronwyn’s eyes lit up. A big smile spread across her excited face as she answered, “really? I’m better than you were? “ And then, decidedly, “I’m going to play right now,” marched off to the piano. “If you need any help I can show you,” Evelyna , much wiser than her eager mother, called after her, to which Bronwyn gladly consented.
Although all turned out fine in the end, this incident is a reminder to me how easily a well meaning parent or teacher can - and more often than not, does - turn a child off their interests simply by not allowing the child exploration, to figure things out on her own if she so chooses, seek help when she wants it, own her own progress, or non-progress. We act as if the world is going to stop if we don’t give them this all important information right now, forcing our selves onto them. The result is a withdrawal of interest: “Because this grown up is telling me I’m doing it wrong, I must not be good at it.” We know how much making mistakes is frowned open in this culture, so why bother?
And then, as they grow, we despair that our children aren’t interested in anything and are always complaining of boredom!
If we could refrain from “helping” and instead allow time for exploration, perhaps we will have children who will grow up to be passionate adults, open to difference and change, not afraid of learning and living something new, and doing their own thing instead of meddling in other peoples affairs.