The Shape of Our Practice: Notes from a Suzuki Parent

By Deborah Johnson

I am not a musician, nor is my husband, and we had little musical training in our middle and high school years. We accidently tripped over the Suzuki Method as we began to explore homeschooling options for our children. After reading Dr. Suzuki’s Nurtured by Love, I was convinced that this method and philosophy would be a good fit for our family. Like the megalomaniac character of Dr. Frankenstein, played by Gene Wilder in the movie Young Frankenstein, I put down the book and declared, “It Could Work!”

As my brother and sister-in-law are beginning violin lessons with their three-year-old daughter, I’ve been reflecting on my own journey with Suzuki to see what was most valuable to me during the beginning years. While I don’t claim to have reached any grand conclusions, I would like to share my own experiences and how Suzuki has shaped our family’s story. My daughter, now fourteen years old, graduated from the program in 2020 when she was eleven years old and is currently playing advanced repertoire. My son is eleven years old and is playing Book Six.

One of the most vivid pictures that has carried me on this journey is that of the hemp plant. Dr. Suzuki describes how a person can easily jump over a seedling hemp plant, but as it grows quickly, the jump becomes more difficult. Thus, the easy jumps are just as important for development when one faces the growing leaps of a mature plant.

It took my son, who began the Suzuki method at age two, almost two full years to master Twinkle Variation A. Now, you may say, “Ah, two years! That is too long! You should wait till the child is five years—then it would not take so long!” However, I say that my son was learning how to learn during this time, that he was building his jumping muscles, so to speak, and was developing synapses in his brain that would never have happened were he not given this challenge. On the flip side, my firstborn daughter, who also began her lessons at two years old, mastered the same variation in a few short months.

So, every child can, and every child is different, and we should not deprive them of these lessons. If you are a Suzuki parent, you are in this for the long haul and whatever time it takes is the time it takes.

In reflecting on our early years as a Suzuki family, several things stand out. First, I felt it was very important that I did not “help” during lesson time. I let our teacher teach. During the lesson, I made it a point not to speak and not to repeat any of his instructions to my child. The only time I did talk was to clarify something that I didn’t understand so I was perfectly clear on what was expected during practice at home. I took notes on what happened during the lesson, including the exact verbiage of how the teacher spoke to my child when describing a specific action. That way, when I got home, I could repeat and reinforce what was learned.

Now you may say, “Why so serious? These are simple lessons for a two-year-old!” However, I viewed it as laying a foundation for the future. The purpose of all the effort and enthusiasm I put in during the early years was to provide structure and growth in the later years. It still warms my heart when I hear the music of my children practicing their instruments. They do this now on their own, without my prodding or help. They know intuitively what is expected of them and how to do it. Practicing well is putting together and executing a series of very complicated pieces and processes. Had we not spent many years together, taking our early lessons “seriously,” we would not be where we are today.

Second, I felt it was very important that I had little or no expectations. I never said, “Oh, by age such-and-such my child will be playing this-or-that.” It really was all about being in the moment. What did our teacher give us to do today? What do we need to work on right now? In that way, there was never any pressure to “succeed.” There was only “we need to learn this or practice this because we need to be prepared for our lessons next week.” It’s important to let our teacher be responsible for having the big picture in mind while we keep baby stepping, day by day, toward the goal.

Third, I gave up trying to prove myself through my kids. When you take on something as impressive as trying to teach a child to play the violin (or any instrument for that matter) people come at you with all sorts of pre-conceived notions . . . either that you are doing something impossible, irrational, or that your child must have natural talent. While none of this is true, there is an unspoken pressure to prove oneself, in instances such as: “Here, honey, show Aunt Sara ‘Up Like a Rocket,’ ” or “Go grab your violin and play ‘Go Tell Aunt Rhody’ for the mailman.” Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what other people think. What matters is my relationship with my child and the progress that we make together.

I also had to resist the urge to ask the question “How’s my kid doing?” I think the best picture of a Suzuki child is that of a growing plant. A Suzuki “plant” gets deep roots before it begins to grow and sprout. In the early years, it’s easy to get discouraged because it doesn’t seem like much is happening. It would be foolish, however, to dig up the plant just to examine the roots. We must trust that they are growing. I was listening to my daughter play something from Book Five, and I remember thinking, “Wow, she actually sounds pretty good!” It took many years for that sweet sound to develop. I had to trust the process.

Finally, and the most difficult part to internalize, is that this is a very long and difficult journey. There is nothing easy about practicing ten minutes a day with a three-year-old. It will be the longest ten minutes you’ve ever experienced. Sometimes, a thirty-minute lesson will feel like three hours.

You will take three steps forward and come to a practice the following week and feel like you’ve lost not two, but ten steps. Your patience will be tried to its limit. It will take great effort to control your emotions and your reactions. And there will be days when you must fight to keep going.

Some days are what I like to call “Cool Hand Luke Days,” referring to the movie Cool Hand Luke starring Paul Newman. Luke boasts he can eat fifty eggs and is soon taken up into the challenge. The scene is grueling as he proceeds to eat fifty eggs in one hour. You think he couldn’t possibly eat one more, but he does. I have had days like this: I can’t possibly listen to the Twinkle Variations one more time, but we do. I can’t possibly get our violins out today, it’s just not worth the effort, but we do. I can’t possibly do this bow hold exercise one more time, but, somehow, it gets done.

We begin this journey with a great amount of courage and bravado and are sometimes reduced to tears. This is just the nature of things when we take on a difficult task.

Our teacher explains that children learn in waves. A wave coming in and crashing down is like an advance forward: several pieces are passed to the review list, or you have great practices leading up to a wonderful recital. But then the wave recedes . . . it takes several weeks to learn what should be a simple scale or we play the same song for months and months . . . and months. But as with waves, I’ve learned to trust the natural progression of learning with its peaks and valleys, rather to only expect a directly linear progression.

Over the years I have used every resource and game available to keep our practice time thriving. Some important influences have been reading Dr. Suzuki’s books at least once a year, attending Suzuki Summer Camps, developing friendships with other Suzuki parents, performing regularly for senior citizens, watching the Parents as Partners Online videos produced by the Suzuki Association, joining our Civic Youth Orchestra, and finally, creating a YouTube show called “MyFriendIzzy” designed for Pre-Twinkle through Book Four students. This show was my brainchild to help my kids continue to review the early books. We are glad to know it has helped other students learn and grow.

There is a persistent monster that nags, “What about the future? Will my children become professional musicians? All that time, effort, money, blood, sweat and tears . . . what do you have to show for yourself?” The answer is very simply, I don’t know. Maybe, or maybe not. But that’s not the point, is it?

Dr. Suzuki talks about developing a beautiful mind and a beautiful heart. A child that can look at a shaft of sunshine on morning dew and call it beautiful: this is a mindful child, a child who has the patience to notice and wonder. A child that can tackle hard subjects in school like Latin or Biology and, dare I say, enjoy it? Love the challenge of it? This is a child who has embraced a life of learning.

In the end, there’s nothing sophisticated or magical about being a Suzuki Parent. It’s about believing in something bigger than yourself and working alongside others to see it through to completion. We learn the practical steps along the correct path and pace ourselves each day. Had I known what this journey was going to be like when I began, I probably wouldn’t have taken it. But now that I am here, I wouldn’t change a thing. The lessons we have learned have translated and permeated into every area of our lives and, I believe, we are better people for it.

Deborah Johnson is a stay-at-home wife and mother. She home schools her children and is always looking for good slow cooker recipes. Favorite things include Friday afternoon field trips to the movie theater, Lutheran theology podcasts and writing screenplays. On Sunday’s, you’ll find her “playing” the organ at her church with the help of some pre-recorded, old school floppy disks.