MUSIC LESSON...

"My daughter is taking piano lessons, she hates it, but I know someday she'll thank me for forcing her to learn, I can't get her to practice, how can I get her to enjoy it?" she asked me as we were reaching 30,000 feet above the state of Colorado. I fly a lot, therefore I eat a lot of peanuts and drink a lot of tomato juice (my beverage of choice when flying... with ice) and I also have many conversations with many random strangers. It's almost funny how often these strangers happen to be parents with children, children that are in some kind of music lessons, children that are highly unmotivated to practice. And without fail, that's when they ask me "what did your parents do to get you to play?"...

That's a loaded question... My answer could very well take up the remainder of the flight... it might even require me telling my life story...

For starters, my parents didn't make me, or "force" me to play the piano, really they didn't force me to do anything, they're just not the forceful kind. Who likes to be "forced"? Not me. Now I am no expert, nor am I a parent, and perhaps it is likely that someday I will eat my words, but It's my personal opinion and observation that "Force" seems like a less effective tactic, sure it might produce some short term results, but generally it causes one to develop a negative association or "hate" whatever is being forced, such as practicing the piano, going to church or eating green vegetables. Force is saying "you will do this because I said so"... it is doing something for the wrong reasons. As a matter of fact, it seems that if you force someone to do a particular thing, it's a sure way of ultimately getting them to do the opposite. One word comes to mind... Rebellion. (side note: of course my parents did have expectations, we knew them, they taught us, often by example, they communicated and talked to us, then they allowed us to make choices, and then to experience either the reward or consequence of our actions.) All this being said, allow me to say parenting has got to be the toughest job, I'm not sure how my parents do it, that is a completely different blog that I am not qualified to write. I am just writing from my own experience... cause that is all I have. Moving on...

The day after I was born, my mom took me to my dads band practice... talk about starting young. She was a little concerned about my tiny newborn ears and the loud noise of the drums, the distortion of the electic guitar and the rumble of the bass, nonetheless I went, my ears were fine and I had my first introduction to music. They played songs like "Blinded by the Light" and "More then a feeling". Whenever those songs come on the radio he still reminisces "we used to play that in our band". My dads band didn't go very far, he wasn't trying to be a rockstar, it was just a few guys getting together to play... for fun, they loved the music.

I grew up in a small house. We weren't rich, we did not have lots of fancy things, we didn't have a big screen TV... we had a crappy 15 inch Toshiba and no cable for the majority of my childhood. I shared a room with my sister, until Quinn was born when I was 12, eventually he slept in there too. Tyler had his own room but he always made a bed in the middle of our floor with several layers of blankets where he slept every night. Though we had bunk beds, Katie and I would always end up on the top bunk together, surrounded with strategically placed pillows and stuffed animals to protect us from just about any kind of spooky character that could show up in the middle of the night. We were all scared, all the time, scared of the dark, scared of ghosts, scared of burglers, kidnappers, the boogie man and bad dreams. Shaq, our massive 150 pound dog was often found sleeping on the bottom bunk. Were close together all the time, sometimes too close...

What we did have, was music. We had my parents turn table and a collection of records from the 60's and 70's... The Beatles, Saturday Night Fever, Jerry Lewis and the Playboys. We'd set it up in the living room and perform dances for visitors to Michael Jackson's "off the wall". We also had a few small boom boxes for the bedrooms, I had one that I would take with me to my friends house. We even had an old beat up juke box player in the backyard that played old forty fives, we'd listen to it for hours while we jumped on the trampoline and run through the sprinklers during the brutally hot summers. We also had a Ford Aerostar van that generally lacked functioning AC, but it did have a working radio and tape player that we would play mixtapes that my Aunt Tam made for my mom. We'd go for drives just to get out of the house and listen to the radio. We'd listen to the Carpenters and Carole King on our vacations to Disneyland, the van struggled getting from Aneheim to Phoenix, always breaking down in Yuma. Then there was the karaoke machine that we got for Christmas, one night for "Family Home Evening" we had a karaoke night, I was shy and embarrassed to sing, however my mom got up and sang "make it happen" by Mariah Carey. Very ambitious choice. She also decided she wanted to learn how to play the drums. She bought a used kit and started to take lessons. One day we heard someone playing them, and playing them very well... when we went back to see who it was, it was my younger brother Tyler, first time he'd ever played. My mom let Tyler take over the drum set. He played, and played, and played and played. He was a natural, He still plays... incredibly. We would go to grandmas on Sundays, Uncle Pat could play anything on the piano by ear, we would sit around and play name that tune.

Music was the glue, that bonded us all together, especially during the toughest of times... and there were some. Life in the White House was not complete with out the sound of music, loud music, blaring from every bedroom, filling the kitchen, pulling up into the driveway. It is what we loved.

They often say that the best way to learn a language is to immerse yourself in the culture, in the country where the language is spoken, become familiar, listen to it, get lost in it, get confused with it, live it and eventually you will find yourself speaking it, understanding it... loving it. This is the case with music... it is a language... and our home was the place where were immersed. Like a sponge, I was soaking it all in... kids do that.

I was seven years old when we got our piano. It belonged to my moms grandma, my great grandma "Tootie" who also played the piano. I remember when they wheeled it into the living room. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I remember my dad sitting down and playing a handful of songs, "somewhere in time" "heart and soul" and "fir elise". I wanted to play it so badly I could hardly stand it, finally I sat down at the bench and lifted the cover, my fingers were like magnets to the keys... they knew exactly where to go. I started playing, plunking out the notes to "Right Here Waiting for you" by Richard Marx. It was a huge hit on the radio. How did I know how to play? It is hard to explain... it was like recalling information that I already knew. I wasn't great... but it was enough to get me started. From that moment on I never left the piano figuring out all the songs that I could... naturally my parents asked if I wanted to take piano lessons? I made is through two lessons when I became discouraged with reading the notes, bored with generic songs like "bouncing ball"... it was as if I had to forget everything I knew and start over. After telling my mom and dad that I did not want to play the piano anymore. Worried, they decided to take me out of lessons and encouraged me to continue to play on my own, developing my ear, figuring out songs that I wanted to play, creating my own melodies... playing because it was fun, because it was natural, because it was what I loved to do and now here we are... it worked!

So... Do you want your kids to practice? To want to play? Then teach them to LOVE music first, infuse passion. Surround them with it... Turn off the TV and turn up the music, dance in the living room. Listen to it while you are cooking dinner, while you wash the car or mow the lawn while doing Saturday chores. Sing along to the radio. Get them started when they are young, my producer set up a turn table next to his babies bassonet and played Beatles records. Ask them what their favorite songs are, get in touch with what they are listening to. Show them what you listened to when you were their age? Expose them to different genres and styles. Take them to concerts, my first show was Phil Collins, I was in fifth grade, I'll never forget it when he played an amazing drum solo on the trash cans. If you insist on them taking lessons, or they express interest, you must find the right teacher that embraces the way he or she learns. I still can't read music, or sing classical music, but thanks to a few patient people along the way I learned simple chords and was encouraged to trust my ear and my instincts and am still learning to accept my own voice.

Another thought, Instead of playing super lame and ultra boring generic songs like "bouncing ball" in the books take them to the music store and let them pick out a book of their favorite artist. When it becomes fun, they will become unstoppable, as they experience the satisfaction of playing music that they enjoy. They may run into challenges or get burnt out. There may be times when they want to take a break, it's okay. If music is their gift, they will find it and it will grow, it is inevitable...

One last thought, If you realize at some point that perhaps that taking piano lessons, flute lessons, oboe, viola, glockenspiel or whatever kind of lessons is causing you and them pure misery, nor is there any potential for joy, maybe it is just not their gift... let go. If you want them to learn just because you wish you would have learned, then maybe you should take lessons, it's never too late. Remember, we all come in different shapes and sizes... Maybe they are athletic, great at math, inventive, funny... whatever it is, embrace who they are, be in tune with their gifts and teach them to love them.

Instead of Force, think Love... Love is the great motivator:)