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SUZUKI BOOKS AVAILABLE HERE

 

SUZUKI PIANO SCHOOL, Vol. I and SUZUKI VIOLIN SCHOOL, Vol. I ($4.65 each + post). A number of our readers have children who are taking some kind of Suzuki music instruction, and many others are interested in music and ways to open the world of music to their children, so we have decided to add to our list the first volumes of the Suzuki Violin and Piano Methods. If readers seem interested, we will add other volumes of these series, and also branch out into the cello, flute, and viola series. (Suzuki tuba is not yet available.)

 

Before I say why I like these books, let me say a few words about how I came to know about Suzuki and what I now feel is good, or not so good, about Suzuki instruction programs as I understand them.

 

I first read about Dr. Suzuki's work in Japan from an article in the New York Times years ago. It said that one day it occurred to him that since all Japanese children accomplish the difficult task of learning to speak Japanese, if they had the intelligence and skill to do this, they could, if they wanted to, learn to play the violin (Suzuki's own instrument) in the same way. Since he believed that children's lives would be much enriched by music, as his own had been, he set out to devise a way of learning the violin as close as possible to the method children use to learn their own language. He realized that children had to hear a lot of other people's speech before they could make their own, and that they did a lot of speaking before they did any reading and writing. He also realized that children want very much to do what they see the adults around them do. From these sound insights he developed his method. If a Japanese family wanted their child to study violin by this method, when the child was still a baby they would begin to play at home, every day if possible, and many times each day, recordings played by expert players of some of the simple violin tunes that the child would later learn to play. Soon the chiid would come to know the tunes and think of them as his or hers. (Later experiments have shown that babies six-months-old or younger can learn tunes well enough to respond happily when they hear them played.)

 

When the child was about three or four one of the parents, usually the mother, would begin taking violin lessons with a Suzuki teacher, bringing her child with her. At the teacher's house, the teacher would give the parent a violin, show her how to hold it, etc. and then would play one of the tunes that the child already knew. Then the teacher would show the mother how to play the tune - since it was the first, it would be simple enough so that she could learn to play it quickly. After the lesson the teacher would tell Mother to practice that little tune at home until the next lesson. This would go on for a few lessons, the child always going with the mother to the lesson. Then in perhaps the third or fourth lesson, if the child was still really interested - for Suzuki insisted that he would not force children to play - the teacher would mysteriously produce from somewhere a tiny child-sized violin, asking the child, "Would you like to try it?" Yes, indeed! So the mother and child would go home together with their violins, and would practice at home together the little tune they both knew. After a while the mother, though she was still expected to listen to the child play and required to come with him to the lessons, could if she wished stop playing herself - by this time, the child could go on alone. As time went on, he would learn other tunes, and along with his individual lessons would play in groups with other children, discovering with delight that they, too, knew the same tunes.

 

In the original method, only after a child gained considerable fluency on the violin, and could play fairly complicated tunes, was he introduced to the written notes for the tunes that he already could play. Not for still some time, I'm not sure how long, would he start learning new tunes from written notes instead of by ear.

 

So much for the basic method, which seemed to me then as it does now in good accord with all I know about children's learning. The Times article went on to say that children were encouraged to experiment with their instruments, to make sounds both fast and slow, high and low - I remember it said children were asked to make sounds "like an elephant" or "like a little mouse." It then said that all over Japan, hundreds of four-, five-, and six-year-old children taught by these methods gathered to play music by Vivaldi, Handel, and Bach.

 

A few years later, when a group of these children came to the New England Conservatory on a tour of the U.S., I was there to hear them, along with several hundred others, many of them music teachers. The children, perhaps twenty of them, came onstage, healthy, energetic, and happy. At the time I thought the average age of the children might be five to six; I now think they may have been perhaps a year or two older. Dr. Suzuki and a young assistant checked the tuning of the children's violins. We waited in great suspense. What would they play? Perhaps some of the slower and easier tunes of Vivaldi, Handel, or Bach. Dr. Suzuki gave the downbeat, and away they went - playing not some easy tune but the Bach Double Concerto, in perfect tune, tempo, and rhythm, and with great energy and musicality. It was breathtaking, hair-raising. I could not have been more astonished if the children had floated up to the ceiling. Rarely in my life have I seen and heard anything so far beyond the bounds of what I would have thought possible.

 

During the question period, Dr. Suzuki told us (through his young interpreter) that the Japanese children we had heard were unusual in only two respects: their families could afford to pay for this trip to the U.S., and their mothers could go with them. But there were apparently many hundreds or even thousands of children in Japan who could play as well. I have to emphasize before saying any more about Suzuki in this country that all I know about Suzuki instruction in Japan came from the Times story and a couple of others, and from what I learned from this short meeting. It is possible that the picture of Suzuki instruction that I made in my mind out of these brief materials was far from accurate. What actually happened then, or happens now, in Suzuki classes in Japan, I don't know. What I can say with certainty is that from all I have seen, heard, and read of it, Suzuki instruction in the U.S. today is very far from my idea of what it was, the one I have just described to you, and even further from the method by which children learn to speak their own language. Suzuki instruction today is in fact very much like most school instruction. The material to be learned is broken down into many very small pieces; each one is supposed to be done perfectly before the next one is attempted; mistakes are corrected instantly, from the outside, by the teacher or the parent; there is considerable pressure put on children to "practice"; and children are given little room or encouragement, if any at all, to improvise and experiment with the instrument.

 

Some of the reasons for this probably have to do with differences between Japanese and American family life and culture. Japanese women are much more likely to be at home with their children and Japanese parents, if told by an expert that they must play recordings of simple violin tunes for several hours a day for years on end, are perhaps more likely to do it. To some extent, Dr. Suzuki surely had to modify his method, whatever it was, to take into account differences in American family life, in American adults' ideas about how to treat children (we are generally much more severe with them than the Japanese), and in American music teachers' ideas about how music had to be taught.

 

It is also important to note that not all Suzuki teachers are alike, any more than are all Montessori teachers or any kind of teachers. Some are more inventive and flexible than others; indeed, as happened with Montessori, some Suzuki teachers have already broken off from the rather rigid American organization and call themselves independent Suzuki teachers, to give themselves the freedom, if they wish, to modify the strict methods handed down from above. If I ever teach string playing to adults and/or children, as someday I hope to, I will certainly use Suzuki materials, but much of the time I will use them in my own way. The only way to find out what Suzuki instruction is like in your town is to see the people doing it. I have seen some astonishingly bad teaching done under the name of Suzuki, and also some very good teaching. See and decide for yourself.

 

On the whole, though, it is safe to say that Suzuki instruction in this country has become very rigid. And whether because of this or for other reasons, it certainly is not producing the kind of results that we were told it once produced in Japan. Some very fine string players are coming out of Suzuki training, no question about it. But there are very few 6- to 8-year-old American children who can play the Bach Double Concerto. If you hear large numbers of Suzuki children playing in this country, what you are more likely to hear are simple variations of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," which (for good enough musical reasons) has become a kind of Suzuki national anthem. The organization and the method are certainly doing some good things, but much less than they apparently once did in Japan, and what is more to the point, much less than they could do here if they really practiced what they preach - that is, helped children to learn music in the same way that they once learned language.

 

What then is so good about Suzuki materials and methods, and why are we adding them to our list and recommending them to parents?

 

1) Their musical selections are very good. They are playable - not too hard and not too easy. They are fun to play, and what is just as important for the parents who will have to hear them over and over again, they are fun (or at the very worst, at least tolerable) to hear. The children are very soon playing pieces written by the great masters. Some have objected that what the children play are simplified versions of what these composers wrote, but I see no objection to that. A child I know well has already moved from a simplified version of a Bach piece to one much closer to the real thing. It doesn't cause her any problems and I don't see why it should. She just thinks that a piece she already liked has become even more interesting.

 

2) There are recordings (see the review following this one) available of good performances of the music that the children will be playing. I suspect that most parents don't play these as much as they might or should; still, with these recordings you can do Suzuki as it was supposed to be done; that is, you can make it possible for your children to really know these tunes before they start trying to play them, so that, as in learning to talk, they can correct their own mistakes rather than have to have parents or teachers do this for them. One of the things American Suzuki teachers do that seems to me a complete mistake is to put little pieces of tape on the violin (or viola or cello) fingerboard so that children (or their parents) can tell by looking at them where the fingers are supposed to go. This is musical nonsense; it is our ears, not our eyes, that are supposed to tell us where to put our fingers.

 

3) The children become members of a musical community. In a performing art, like music, the uniform curriculum for which the schools so mistakenly strive in other areas actually makes sense. Wherever a Suzuki child goes, she will find that other Suzuki children at about her level of skill know the same pieces she does, so they can play them together, which is fun for the children and beyond that is one of the chief joys of music. Learning a musical instrument, at least until you got good enough to play in a band or orchestra, used to be a rather lonely business for children. Now it doesn't have to be. Not only do the Suzuki teachers in a community have their pupils play together every week or so, but there are in addition even larger gatherings of children, often hundreds of them, at various Suzuki conferences. These can be enormously exciting to the children. The actual classes and workshops may or may not be interesting, but in between them the children can rush around and play with other children all the music they know. One mother of two very talented children, who has gone to several of these big get-togethers, says that the best things that happen there, as far as the children are concerned, are the things that are not planned - informal, spontaneous music-making with other children. For me this is a very important asset, and one which outweighs any objections I have to the program.

 

So I think that the Suzuki materials and organization can be a very useful resource - one of many - for children learning music, and their parents (perhaps also learning music). The trick is to make use of those materials, but not restrict yourself to them. Branch out: encourage the children to improvise freely, to make up tunes, to write down tunes, to write compositions for each other to play, to begin as soon as possible to play real chamber music, which so far does not play a very big part in formal Suzuki instruction - though this may be changing, as it should and as I hope it is.

 

In short, put back into learning music the exploration, the discovery, the adventure, and above all the joy and excitement that is properly a part of it, and that too formal and rigid instruction can only kill. - JH

 

 

SUZUKI RECORDS HERE

 

VIOLIN VARIETIES and RECITAL FAVORITES ($11 each + postage: 75c for 1, $1 for 2). These two recordings include the music from the first two books of the Suzuki violin and piano instruction series. The same company makes several other recordings in each series, to go with the later Suzuki books; if there is enough interest, we will add the later recordings, along with the later books, to our list.

 

A similar set of recordings has been produced in Japan, and is distributed here by Summy-Birchard, who publish the written music. But all the Suzuki people I know feel that the recordings produced in this country are quite a bit better - as well as somewhat cheaper - so these are the ones we have chosen.

 

As far as I know, the company has not yet produced any recordings to go with the cello, viola, or flute written music, but perhaps these will be available soon. We will let you know if we find out. - JH

 

 

OTHER BOOKS AVAILABLE HERE

 

WOMEN OF THE WEST, by Cathy Luchetti ($23.50 + post). This is one of the most unusual, beautiful, informative and thought-provoking books about history that I have ever seen, a book about what I call True History, as opposed to the textbook history that I, and I suppose most children, studied and still study in school. A British historian once said, very aptly, "History is the propaganda of the victors." We could as well say that it is the study of What The Big Shots Did. Reading it, one would hardly think there had ever lived anyone except kings, generals, and an occasional religious leader or two. What ordinary people did, how they worked, how they lived their lives, above all how they felt about their lives, is something we almost never find out.

 

This is as true of the history of our own West as of the kingdoms and empires of Europe. The textbook history of our West is almost entirely the history of men engaged in romantic and dangerous occupations and exploits - explorers, soldiers, gold-seekers, gunfighters, sheriffs, cowboys, miners. This, though true enough, is only a small part of the truth. Most of the true history of the West is a history of work, cruelly hard work done in a bitter and hostile environment, and much of this work was done by women. In this book, after a very interesting general description of the lives of pioneer women, we meet eleven of those women, and through their diaries, journals, and letters, hear the story of their own lives - the story of the Little House books as they might have been if Laura Ingalls Wilder's mother, the gentle and shadowy Caroline, had written them.

 

Along with the text, in itself fascinating, are reproductions of about a hundred photographs taken at the time. With a few wonderful exceptions - two women galloping on horseback at top speed, two little girls whispering and giggling to each other at school - the photographs are mostly stiff and formal portraits of women or their families, usually in front of the tiny sod or dugout houses or log cabins they lived in. Somehow these photos, in their many shades of black and gray, and their absence of motion, convey more of the harshness of the landscape and hardness of the life than modern color photos could do.

 

Text and photos are beautifully laid out and printed in a book which, just as a book, is a work of the printer's art. I know it is a more expensive book than many individual families will feel they can buy. But families who get together very often, as more and more home schoolers do, could join together to buy it for their joint use. I hope they will do so, and also will try to get their local public libraries to buy it. This beautiful book is one that should be widely known and read, and kept alive for future generations of children to read.

 

A SAND COUNTY ALMANAC, by Aldo Leopold ($2.50 + post). This book, first published in 1949, is one of the great classics of ecology - a word, by the way, invented more than a hundred years ago. It is among other things a book about a kind of biology, and a way of looking at biology, that has almost but not quite gone out of fashion, though we need it now even more desperately than when Leopold wrote.

 

Joseph Wood Krutch, himself a great naturalist and writer, once made a very interesting and important distinction in speaking about biology. He spoke of the difference between "inside" biology and "outside" biology. "Inside" biology, the kind now very much in fashion, consists in exploring, with electronic microscopes and other exotic tools, the innermost parts, the very cells and genes of living creatures, to find out how these parts work and how to make them work differently - presumably better. "Outside" biology consists of trying to observe living things as they appear in nature, disturbing them as little as possible, to find out how they relate to each other, and we to all of them. "Inside" biology seeks to understand nature so that we may change and control it; outside biology seeks to understand it so that we may live harmoniously within it.

 

I had feared that the inside biologists, whose doings are in the headlines every week or so, had won the battle, and that outside biology was no longer a respectable science or perhaps even an active one at all. So I was greatly encouraged to read in the New York Review of Books of 1/20/83 a book review by a Professor of Biology and Zoology at Harvard named R. C. Lewontin. Reviewing the books AGAINST BIOLOGICAL DETERMINISM and TOWARDS A LIBERATORY BIOLOGY, (both of which I plan to read, if they are not too technical), he writes:

 

... What is surely the most powerful and influential metaphor-become- real in Western civilization was provided in 1637 by Rene Descartes... It is the organism as machine... What has happened since 1637 is that, in the minds of natural scientists and a large fraction of social scientists as well, the world has ceased to be like a machine, but instead is seen as if it were a machine. Cartesian reductionism, which regards the entire world of things as, in fact, a very complicated electromechanical device, is not simply the dominant mode of thought in natural science, but the only mode to enter the consciousness of the vast majority of modern scientists. It is no exaggeration to say that most scientists simply do not know how to think about the world except as a machine ...

 

The natural historical approach to understanding the world consists in attempting to reconstruct the causes of events from observing systems in their normal state of motion or stasis. The experimental approach, on the other hand, uses perturbation as its primary tool. The object under study is pushed, picked, and nicked, bits and pieces are removed, foreign agents added and the normal working of the system generally disturbed in the hope that its response to these alterations will reveal its inner workings. The Cartesian reductionist view confuses the nature of the perturbation itself with the "cause" of the system's normal functioning. A Russian story tells of the psychologist who proves that fleas hear with their legs by training them to jump on command, and then observing that they no longer respond when their legs are amputated ...

As the term is defined in this elegant comparison, Aldo Leopold was a natural historian. He liked to observe living things - plants, trees, birds, fish, animals - in their natural state, disturbing them (except for some occasional fly fishing) as little as possible. As a result of a lifetime of this kind of gentle and respectful observation, he was able to see what the inside biologist, the experimenter, the perturber, the tinkerer, never sees, which is the enormous number of interconnections between living things, and the many ways in which a small and supposedly unimportant change in one place may later, perhaps much later, bring about an important change in another.

 

 

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