Saturday C&D attended a Suzuki workshop. None of us really knew what to expect, except that there would be a lot of children and we needed to show up at noon. Oh, and at the end there would be a concert of the students demonstrating what they had learned.

In the first session, C&D danced and played with about twenty children and a Dalcroze instructor. In the second, they received a semi-private lesson from a violin instructor. For the last, they prepared for their role in the concert. The instructor explained that the children–a few young students and a group of children from a school outside the city–were going to practice a rhyme with their bow, set their violins on their shoulders, play a short E-string concerto and then play all five Twinkle rhythms on the E string. Matt and I stood up from our seats at the back of the room. C&D had never set their violins on their own shoulders and hadn’t practiced all five rhythms. This was going to be interesting.

As concert time approached we watched C&D struggle to place their violins on their shoulders. The instructor moved quickly and they couldn’t figure out how she moved the violin from the crook of her right elbow to her left hand and then, what? She put the violin on her head, slid the button of the violin to her ear, and then slid the violin to her shoulder. C&D turned their violins over and around, placed them on their shoulders and then scrunched over their instruments, trying not to drop them. After a few go-rounds they could manage well enough.

With a few minutes left to the class, the students began practicing playing their Twinkle rhythms as a group. An accompanist played the piano part, the instructor played the melody to one of the five variations of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and the students were supposed to follow along on the E string only, E-E-E-E E-E. I watched C&D follow along and after the second variation, I noticed David using the other strings, and then using the fingerboard, too,
on the violin we just got on Wednesday,
that doesn’t even have tape on it to tell him where to press,
and despite the fact he doesn’t even know how to play Twinkle, Twinkle, anyway.
The violins hadn’t all been tuned and with noise plus the squeaky chaos of the day I grew nauseous. But I couldn’t help smiling, big. After the practice David handed me the violin and said full of pride, “I played all the notes! And it sounded really GOOD!”

We packed up our instruments and rushed to the concert. When after several performances it was their turn Carmen slid off my lap and smiled; she had been waiting for this moment all afternoon. She and David walked up onto the stage with about forty other children and began to play.

First, the E Concerto (this video is about a minute). Love Carmen’s shoes?

A higher resolution (and slower to download!) version of the same thing:

And then the five Twinkle variations on the E string. This video is about five minutes. Notice David going all Andre Rieu on us not even halfway through.

A higher resolution (and slower to download!) version of the same thing:

Is this how it is, being four, almost five? Carmen and David aren’t limiting themselves to growing up to become the audience. They see themselves on a stage of no bound, bringing music and movement of their own to the world. I’ve loved their being four; some mornings, when we’re all in bed and giggling, I wish they could stay four forever. But then I wonder–what are they going to teach me when they’re five?