I discovered my Methodist gift long before I started working at the school. Fascinated by archery, I didn't immediately rush to enroll in the archery program, but instead became a regular at the shooting range. There were two of them there, already candidates for master archery. I asked how long they had been training—eleven years! Wow... Back then, they weren't called "already candidates," but "still candidates." After a month of watching them, I understood why they were still candidates: I saw all the flaws in their technique, all the shortcomings in the coach's work with them, but most importantly: in my mind, down to the smallest detail, the image of the perfect shot began to take shape. I enrolled in the archery section and, in less than three months, I became the best archer in Ashgabat (the capital of Turkmenistan).
***
Then I had another experience, also unrelated to music—my children. All three of them had incredibly early speech development. Especially the eldest...
At eight months old, he already had impeccable Russian pronunciation, even the almost impossible "r" sound for his age. Someone had the bright idea to show it to a baby! And he fell in love with it... So his first word wasn't a surprise to us. One day, watching the older children play, he suddenly shouted in their direction: "Tractor!" Like a little crow! Then came the words "daddy," "Cuba," "mommy"... Exactly in that order... Well, with "tractor" it's understandable—he'd heard it before. But where did "Cuba" come from? From the age of five months, he and I studied the political map of the world that hung on our wall every day, and by the second month of our studies, he would point out any country on this map, even tiny ones like Qatar, Kuwait, and Andorra. And when we found Cuba, I would sing to him. Before, instead of lullabies, my father would sing me harsh sailors' songs; now, in our "geography lessons," he would sing Cuban revolutionary songs to my son: "The people united will never be defeated," "Commander Che Guevara..."
At nine months, his vocabulary, just in part, consisted of plant and animal names alone, exceeding two hundred words. He recognized them in photos and named them... How did his vocabulary grow? From birth, we talked to him a lot. We spoke to him like an adult, without the slightest hint of a slighting at his age. And not in the cloying way typical of teachers who begin their speeches by calling the children "children," affectionately pushing the students back into their "childhood." Diligence is necessary, but without adult despotism, even gentle despotism. The focus shouldn't be on obedience, but on the child's participation in collaborative creation, where he will play a leading role and, therefore, won't need any instruction on the importance of diligence...
Besides fostering trust, there were educational games. When he was eight months old and we decided to buy him his first toy, the games for three- or four-year-olds seemed offensively primitive to us. So we immediately started with games for five- or six-year-olds... The neighborhood children of that age, whom we invited to play with him, were offended by our constant losses to a baby, and soon it was just us, his parents, playing with him. And we lost, too...
At twelve months, our son began to express complex sentences, using conjunctions like "if," "for," and "because." We took him for a walk. He saw a worker walking along the edge of a four-story roof and shouted, "Hey, man! Get down from there! If you fall, you'll break your lip!" This, it seems, was the first time we noticed a complex sentence in his speech.
At thirteen to fourteen months old, he could read from memory a dozen entire books for five- to seven-year-old children...
In the second year, he learned to put letters into words. He still wasn't interested in reading, but at four, unexpectedly, he began reading thick books without pictures. By the age of seven, I had read almost all seven volumes of Gogol's complete works. By ten—"Crime and Punishment," "The Brothers Karamazov," and "The Idiot" by Dostoevsky... Early? I wasn't reading those books myself at that age, but I watched the film adaptations of them and, I remember, was deeply impressed... Perhaps it's not exclusively adult literature?
Besides the specific principles for each task, there are principles common to all activities. And, apparently, I understand them, if I manage to achieve such rapid and impressive results in completely different matters?
***
They brought me a little girl. I listened to her sing—she had no chance of passing the entrance exams… Her name is “The Bear Stepped on Her Ear”… But I decided to try to help her. For two months, five days a week, the girl and I sang two-part solfège exercises. On the day of the exams, I came to the school: our excited solfège teacher jumped out of the headmistress's office: “They brought in a girl! A real prodigy!” I asked, “Julia?” “Do you know her?” “My student…” “Really?! And the headmistress has already enrolled her in your class…” “And of course, they asked the girl herself if she wanted to play the piano?” Julia was enrolled in my class, but from then on, she wasn't just my pride and joy; throughout her years of study, she defended the honor of our school in the city and republic solfège competitions.
I wanted to enroll my eldest son in music school for cello, but unable to find a good teacher, I decided to teach him myself, given that I had never even tried the instrument. In four years, we won several local and regional competitions, including the "New Names" competition. And at the end of our fourth year of study, we met a renowned professor who evaluated my work... with a solid "zero." How else could I understand his "well, we all have to start from scratch here"? I was discouraged, but the professor expressed his desire to hear my son play again without me present. Then there was a third audition... and another... After the fourth audition, my son came home with a huge stack of sheet music under his arm: "I've been accepted into the third year of the professional conservatory!" "Great! And what's this?" I asked, taking the sheet music from him. "Summer homework..." Reviewing notebook after notebook... Studies, pieces, concertos, everything—everything—in the repertoire collections for the first year of the conservatory! "Is that what some people call 'starting all over again?!'"
"Little Bear with Doll stomps, stomps—look at you..." Where does this come from? From a violin method for the first year, that is, for children aged five to seven. For developmentally delayed children? No. For average children, as if... But average children at four years old play Bach concertos, at five Vivaldi's "Seasons" concertos, at six Paganini concertos, at seven Tchaikovsky concertos... Of course, not all of them. But where in our methods is anything that would call a child to look beyond the horizon of their current abilities? I respect the principle of gradual development, but not prolonged gradual development. "Can you fix the cart?" "I'll do it in a day." "And in two?" "I can do it in two..." "And in five?" "It's difficult, sir... But if you try, I can do it in five..." "And in ten!" "Well... You're really putting me on the spot, sir... I won't be able to do this alone in ten days... I need a helper, Homo sapiens!" I couldn't contain my youngest son. On the contrary, I encouraged his zeal in every way. As a result, at the very end of his second year of school, he won the regional competition as part of the "New Names" program, playing Bruch's concerto in the final. At eight years old! It might not seem surprising if we consider at what age others play this concerto. Some play it as early as six... But in their fourth year of school! Or at least, in their third...
In Spain, I met a mother of twin daughters who was obsessed with their development. She was eager to share their experiences with me, but they were already "spread out" by teachers and classes. The Spanish general secondary education system mandates a full extension program for everyone from first to eighth grade. The girls return from school at five o'clock, leaving them with five hours before bedtime. And in those five hours, the girls had to fit in rhythmic gymnastics, synchronized swimming, math, chess, English, Kumon, Kickbrains... The only thing missing was violin!
I must say that there was already a failed attempt to teach the girls to play the violin. Their first "teacher," if you can call him that, was the violinist from the Valencian Symphony Orchestra. He never let them hold the violin during their first year of school and the first term of their second: "The violin is too difficult for a six-year-old. Let's learn to play violin camouflage first?" Right there in the classroom, the teacher takes a biscuit tin, tapes a round stick to the side of the crib, and on this "Straddivali" he offers to teach them to play the violin. And what's the difference between "playing the violin without a violin" and "playing football without a ball"? It would seem the stupidity here is obvious, wouldn't it? But no... Neither the teacher nor the girls' parents see this stupidity, and it continues for thirteen months! During this "lesson," the parents manage to pay the charlatan as much as 3,640 euros! One hundred and forty euros a month for each girl...
The girls played the violin five times a week, and only in my class. Because they were overloaded beyond measure, my lessons with them were constantly reduced. We never had more than 15-20 minutes a day. However, in their third year of study, they played Fritz Kreisler's "Three Old Viennese Waltzes": "Torments of Love," "Joy of Love," and "Beautiful Rosemary." Listen to the second one, and you'll realize what an achievement this is! At the end of their fifth year, the girls prepared for the entrance exams to the professional Conservatory: Telemann's "First Fantasy," Mozart's "Third Concerto," "Spanish Dance" from Falla's ballet "Life Is Short," and Sarasate's "Malagueña," and they were immediately accepted into the fifth year. Furthermore, they were immediately elected as soloists in the student orchestra.
It's true that during the last two years, with the goal of entering the professional conservatory, the girls had already found two hours a day to study, and even three sometimes... But fifteen minutes a day in the first three years was woefully inadequate. And how did we manage to stretch fifteen minutes to at least forty-five, in terms of efficiency? Through motivation! I found motivating videos for the girls, especially recordings of gifted children... I made playing a violin duet a mandatory part of the daily lessons, which disciplined them rhythmically and trained their ear for harmony... I implemented the rule of stealing time from lessons for solfège... As we can see, even with very limited time, a lot can be achieved if the lesson content is organized correctly.
***
The importance of teacher monitoring student progress cannot be overstated. Students shouldn't have to wait three or four days until the next class with their questions and difficulties. Progress is monitored almost daily. I don't insist on daily checks, but if my students want them, I'm happy to help!
