aha moment

Thursday, April 29, 2010

It was my 5 year old son, Tate’s, music class this afternoon.  First after warm-up was a fairly new piece, the Cuckoo song. Tate started playing happily showing off his proficiency.  He’d already finished playing once through before the other kids even got their fingers on the right keys.  So once his teacher started the song again, he started ripping through the notes a second time.  Miss Helen, the amazing child-patient person she is, started in her exaggerated ‘you silly’ voice, “Taate!  We haaave to all go at the same pace or we’re going to turn into a biiig noiseee….”  My son then finished the piece a second time.  Only then was Miss Helen able to finish her plea for Tate to listen to her cues so they could all play together.  Tate protested and screwed up his face into a big pout but prepared to start playing with the class.  I watched the agony in every fiber of his being as his fingers waited for Miss Helen to sing out the notes at a tenth of the pace that he’s able to play at,  “Soooooooo – Miiii, Sooooooooo –Miiii……Raaaaaaay – Do, Raaaaay---..  Snap! Tate couldn’t bear it anymore and plunked out the rest of the notes double-time in defiance.  Miss Helen, the child-teacher saint, was saddened but held her cool and went into a thorough explanation of how we all need to listen to each other and stay at each others pace so we’re a team, a band and make lovely music together.  As I watched Tate’s frustration close in on him, I could almost hear the gates slam shut in his head and the gears grind in the unfairness of the world forcing him to go at snails pace when he’s already flown circles around everyone. 

I got sucked into the sadness and frustration worrying about how my son’s giftedness and ego is going to set him apart, good and bad. How others aren’t going to want to play with him and how his righteousness will be his undoing.  Then--- SMACK!  Right in my face!  This was ME last weekend.  I was at an acting workshop in Vancouver.  I complained about how many people were there for the first free audit evening. I cringed at how elementary the acting was. I shifted impatiently in my seat when the acting coach gave gentle notes and adjustments.  I just wanted everything to move faster!

I wanted so badly to help my son be gracious, to just listen to Miss Helen and find beauty in the slowness and be happy just to be part of an ensemble.  I wanted to hug him and tell him that we just have to have faith that we’re talented and special.  We don’t need to prove it by waving it in others faces.  What we need to do is slow down, be in tune with what’s happening around us and know the prize comes from getting there as a team.

Note to Joe and Dena (those responsible for last weekend’s acting workshop):  I’m working on it.  And a couple of gummy worms goes a long way to bring out smiles.