Two Things

Why do kids always think that you have never been a kid? Why do they imagine that I can't figure out what they are thinking? (Okay, sometimes I really can't; but still!).

All of my kids play musical instruments. Addie plays the violin, Jake plays the trumpet, and Tom and Lizzie play the piano. The older two labor under unfair history. Let me back up.

Back in the days that we did home school, Addie and Jake took piano lessons. They were 7 and 6. Oops, I need to back up more.

Both Honey and I have musical backgrounds. My parents required their kids to learn a muscial instrument (two, actually; three all told). They had played, and they felt that we would benefit if we learned. We started with piano and something else, gradually dropped the piano and took the something else and, in junior high, changed it to still another instrument. We took lessons, we had to practice, we played in bands, we had family concerts.

Honey's family isn't musical at all. The only thing they play is the stereo. When Honey was in middle school, he started playing the sax. He'd practice in the afternoon and his older brother would complain that it was too loud while he was napping. Honey was told to be considerate and knock it off (that would never have flown in my house growing up. The whiner would have been told to suck it up. Actual practice happened so rarely that my parents would never have banned it). In defense, he changed to the electric guitar. If there is no amp, there is no volume.

Fast forward a bunch of years: I remember my instrument days with fondness. When I hear songs we played, I am magically transported to those years; I remember those friends, I remember those crushes, I remember weighing significantly less than I do now. It's magical. And. I never play. I have an oboe that is collecting dust, and a piano that I use to torture Tom and Liz. Honey plays almost daily. It is his default setting. When he isn't required to do something else, he is playing. He has a musical harem: guitars (electric and acoustic), bass, banjos, mandolin, and dobro. His heritage is playing for fun, mine is playing with discipline.

Now, back to younger Addie and Jake. They are doing piano. They hate it because I make them practice and take lessons and repeat bits that they don't play correctly. Every day is a trial, for them and for me, as we stride onto the battle field and choose our weapons. Everyday is a trial for Honey, as he has to listen to the battle. When it finally became clear that I was the only one who cared, we dropped it. Well, the music. I kept hold of a pretty good bundle of righteous resentment.

Forward some more: homeschool is over and Addie is in 5th Grade. She comes home and begs to be able to play the violin. Honey is all for it, and the seething pools of resentment that have been silent erupt in me. If there is going to be music, then there will be no whining about: practicing, lessons, band participation, etc etc. Terms accepted and agreed. Ditto when Jake entered fifth grade the next year and begged to play the trumpet.

At last, we arrive to now. Addie still loves her violin. She plays with joy and diligence, all is well.

Jake, on the other hand. He knows an easy A when he sees one (he thinks). So even though he doesn't want to practice, even though he doesn't want to listen to his teacher (who is teaching him so much more than just the trumpet, if Jake only had ears to hear), he refuses to quit because he doesn't want to yield that easy A.

I'm not dumb. I've been in band. I've been resentful about it. I'm not my parents. I won't compel it if it isn't wanted. But he has to tell me. I've asked: "aren't you tired? do you want to continue?" and his lips speak "yes" and then play "not so much."

And it all came to a head tonight. I got home from choir practice, and he should have practiced his trumpet, and hadn't. When I called him on it, I snapped.

"Jake, it's time to tell the truth. Tell me, to my face, that you want to stay in band because it's an easy A."

(Eyes shifting side to side) "Kind of."

"See? I've been thirteen! So: two choices: tell me, to my face, and I'll call the school and get your schedule changed. Or, suck it up one more year, follow my rules, and quit at the end of the school year. Cuz, son, I gotta tell ya, my job is to make sure that 'easy A' isn't worth the work!"

As of this moment (until the next time) we have come to an agreement that includes continuing until the end of the school year. I think I'd better get it in writing, though, with consequences for contract violation included.


Second thing: Tuesday September 8 is National Obama Day in the elementary schools. There will be a broadcast to the elementary schools from the white house; teachers have a packet prepared for them from the NEA, all about what teachers can do before and after the speech. These things include asking the kids what they can do to fulfill what Obama has asked of them. (Pretty vague language, addmittedly). Check it out: top of the page at www.ed.gov.

I'm keeping my kids home from school. It isn't anti-liberal (or not solely so); I'd have done the same if President Bush or President McCain had tried such a stunt. Thought you should know; the school claims that they are sending home a note about it, but that's all they are saying, and I haven't seen it yet.