There's a Love and Logic training session in effect over here, and, like I've told every one of the parents I work with, doing the right thing as a parent is not always easy.
Anna wasn't practicing violin. When I'd tell her it would be a good time to practice she'd tell me she didn't want to. I figured maybe she was no longer interested in violin, but when I asked her if she wanted to keep taking lessons, she said she did.
So, we had a problem. She wanted to take violin, but I didn't want to rent a violin and pay for lessons if she wasn't going to get anything from it. Without practicing, she was getting very little benefit.
So, in the spirit of Love and Logic, I reminded myself not to let this become my problem. But, I still wasn't sure right away what to do about it.
I don't believe in arguing with kids to practice. From the time Kate began taking piano lessons at four years old, I decided she could take lessons as long as she enjoyed it and it wasn't causing problems. In my opinion, forcing kids to practice defeats the purpose. I mainly want my kids to learn to play instruments for the enjoyment of it. The other benefits of learning an instrument are going to come naturally if they enjoy playing. If we force them to practice, it becomes a chore and they'll never enjoy it. And if that becomes the case, once we stop making them practice, they'll stop.
But what should I do? Don't let it become my problem. Make her own the problem. But how? And then I remembered the other thing I'm always teaching, "Don't tell kids what to do, tell them what you're willing to do."
That's when I knew what I had to do. I called her over and told her, "Anna, I'm happy to continue to pay to rent your violin, as long as you practice. It costs $21 a month. I figure if you practice 21 times for 15 minutes a time, that should be worth my money. If you don't want to practice, that's okay, too, but we'll have to return your violin or you'll have to pay for it yourself." Then I made her a chart for September and told her she could color in each day she practiced.
If I'd had to do this with Kate, I bet she'd have practiced 21 of the first 22 or 23 days. But, that's not how Anna rolls. Anna practiced one day, then she let a good week go by. Love and Logic teaches us not to remind, but oh, gosh that's hard. So, I found a loophole in the rules by not reminding, but questioning. After about ten days, I asked Anna, feigning complete ignorance, "How many days have you colored in on your chart?" She told me one, and I said, "Oh, that's no problem. There's still 20 days left in September."
About a week later, she'd still only practiced that one day. I'd been keeping my mouth shut for 16 of the 17 days, and I couldn't resist. "Anna," I asked, "Have you been practicing when I'm not around?" She heaved a big exasperated sigh and told me, "No, I don't
want to practice."
I physically bit down on my lip.
Then, just like her mother would have done at her age, when Anna realized there were only two days left in September, she suddenly felt the urgency. She quickly got her violin and practiced for 7 minutes. "Was that 15 minutes?" she asked. I told her it was seven and that she could color in 1/2 of September 29th. And, she managed to practice for a full fifteen minutes on the 30th.
I waited until today, because it was the weekend, to collect the $21. As I cleaned the kitchen, I calmly explained with empathy, "Oh, Anna, it's time to pay for the next month of violin rental. Do you have that $21." She said, "I'm
not paying for the violin."
I was ready for that. I told her, "Oh, no problem. Can you pack it up for me? I'll bring it back to Brass Bell later."
"No!" she screamed and started crying. I kept on cleaning the table and she left to her room.
She came back a few minutes later and begrudgingly handed me $15.
"I'll give you $15," she said, "and you can pay $6, because parents are
supposed to pay for this stuff."
"I admire your bartering skills," I said, "but I'm not paying anything this month. Let me help you look up Brass Bell's number, and you can try to barter with them."
She was furious. She stormed out screaming and crying. My five-year-old reported that she told him I was the worst mommy ever.
She came back in to yell at me. I ignored her for a while and then when she was calm I broke protocol and sincerely asked her, "What do you think would have been a better plan when you weren't practicing? Should I have just taken the violin back? Or do you think I should yell at you every day to practice? I love you too much to yell at you every day."
She sulked a little more but didn't say anything.
I walked around thinking about how this whole Love and Logic thing is hard. Parenting is hard. Now I had a kid screaming mad. I could hear myself talking to the MOPS group I'd spoken to about Love and Logic on Thursday, telling them that it's okay for a kid to throw a tantrum sometimes. They have to learn at some point that life doesn't cater to them, and it's better when they're younger than when they're an adult. But, when you're in the midst of those tantrums, it's, quite simply, really hard.
And, then, as I was loading the dishwasher, Anna came back in the kitchen. I took a deep breath and prepared to calmly ignore whatever she was going to say to me next.
But I looked down and saw she was holding money. She said, "Here's all the money you asked for." And she fanned out two fives, a ten, and a one. "I'm sorry that I screamed at you."
It's one of those moments you see on TV and think "bullsh*t," but I swear it happened. Like a ray of light from the heavens.
I thanked her, but was too stunned to say anything else.
Then she sat down on the window seat and began playing her violin.
Now, if these Love and Logic skills could only make beginning violin students sound less terrible, things over here would be perfect.
