Tickling the Ivories

It’s fair to say we’re a pretty musical family. Music is what puts food on our table and pays the bills. The house is littered with instruments we’ve acquired over the years and we are the proud owners of a lovely piano, bequeathed to us by my late step-father who was himself an accomplished and respected musician and teacher. Our daughter and her younger brother have both taken piano lessons since they were 6 years old and are progressing through their grades…but, you see, we have a bit of a problem.

 Whilst our daughter embraces the process of learning the instrument in a formal way, our son regards his teacher (a warm, friendly and very relaxed lady) as his arch-nemesis. The colour drains from his face at 3.45 on a Wednesday when the doorbell announces her arrival, and getting him to practise even twice a week, let alone daily, without tears and arguments is but a pipe-dream. We’ve read every ‘How To get Your Child To Practise’ manual from cover to cover, but we are at a point now where we believe that to continue his formal tuition would be detrimental to his happiness and our sanity.

I can hear the gasps from ‘proper’ musicians out there. Yes, we’re aware of the statistics – only 10% of children take musical instrument lessons but 90% of adults wish they had. I agree whole-heartedly that for those children who take to the discipline, whose characters and personalities lend themselves to the structure of working through grades at a young age, the benefits are enormous. But here’s the thing; before starting lessons, our son would happily sit at the piano of his own volition and amuse himself with the sounds and rudimentary tunes he could elicit. He showed a natural musical ability, which we hoped lessons would enhance and develop. Unfortunately this has not been the case, and slowly we’ve seen his joy in playing the piano diminish. So, after much soul-searching, we’ve decided to knock it on the head.

I recently read a fascinating blog by Charles London, entitled ‘Boys Don’t Read, Except When They Do’ which, as the title implies, tackles that ubiquitous educational issue of boys showing significantly less enthusiasm for reading than girls. I urge you to have a look here. London argues that ‘boys today are consuming more text than at any time in human history. Adults simply are not valuing the reading that boys are doing.’ Indeed, he goes on to explain how research has shown that boys themselves don’t regard the literature they enjoy (gaming manuals, comics, sport magazines, fact books) as ‘proper’ reading. And why would they when, throughout their early education, little more than lip-service is paid to the subject matter and styles of text they find stimulating. This is especially noticeable in the literature used to assess their reading. How can a boy’s ability to analyse and interpret text be fairly compared to that of a girl, when that chosen text is significantly more suited to the tastes of the latter.

So how does this excellent article relate to our problem? Well, one reason our son gives us for not wanting to continue piano lessons is that, unlike his sister, he doesn’t consider himself musical. Yet after much deliberation, reflection and discussion, my wife and I realised that he does have a passion for music, but it’s a passion which sits outside the regime of timetabled lessons, practising scales and negotiating his way around a stave.

For instance, on car journeys he loves being in charge of the in-flight playlist, treating us to an eclectic mix of Neil Diamond, Led Zeppelin, Ludovic Einaudi, Jeff Buckley, Ministry Of Sound 80s Anthems and some nasty thumping techno pop which, to quote Morrissey ‘says nothing to me about my life’! When he thinks no one is listening he plugs in one of my old electric guitars (the expensive ones are off-limits) and simply makes noises, exploring the fret board and wreaking havoc on the whammy bar! We’ll often find him with drumsticks, beating out increasing complex rhythms on different surfaces – sometimes drums, sometimes his thighs, but mostly the furniture. And then there’s his keyboard, with over two hundred different pre-set sounds and rhythms to choose from. Without any parental coercion he regularly just sits and amuses himself with all the machine has to offer. He’ll pick out familiar tunes, experimenting with different sounds and beats. He’ll try to work out the chords to his favourite songs (currently it’s the delightful ‘Sideburns Song’ by Tobuscus – don’t ask). Oh, and he’ll spend ages repeatedly pressing the key that makes a fart sound.

Sadly, I can’t recall the last time he chose to sit at the piano just to tickle the ivories for his own amusement. Fingers crossed it won’t be too long.

One show down...one to go!

What a great two days! We met some very talented people x

Stage fright!

Just a comforting (I hope) message to all of you who are currently getting hot under the collar about your forthcoming leavers’ productions. I’m assuming that, as D-day approaches, there’s been lots of yelling, arguing, threats of cancellation, pulling out of hair, vowing never to put on a musical again…etc etc. There certainly used to be when I produced an end-of-year show.

Anticipation of the big night used to leave me more than a little on edge; in fact, the only situation I've been in that has caused the butterflies to rampage through my delicate abdominal region with greater force is when I've assumed the duties of best man.  I've had this dubious honour three times now, which is a higher than average tally even for a man of my years. When I just think of the responsibility and pressure of this vital role, I still get a churning sensation. Anyone who’s safely delivered an old chum into the matrimonial arms of his intended will tell you that organising a stag weekend, or safeguarding the rings, is a stroll in the park compared to the ‘big job’.....the speech.

Very much like your pending production, it has to be well-delivered, slick, and with the right level of emotion. It must have pace and be audible to the deafest of elderly relatives sitting at the back of the room. Above all, however, it has to be funny. For it to be considered successful it needs to cause titters, giggles, chuckles and belly-laughs a-plenty. During my last-but-one foray into bestmanland, as I sat at the top table next to the father of the bride (who’d just delivered a top-drawer speech of his own), he could obviously sense the anxiety and stage fright as my moment in the spotlight drew near. ‘Don’t worry’, he told me. ‘What you must remember is that you have a captive audience. They’re on your side. They’ll forgive the nerves, the fluffed lines and the jokes that are misjudged or badly timed. They’re all here for the same reason, to celebrate a landmark in their friends’ and families’ lives. They’ll be supportive and encouraging, willing you to do well because they’re simply happy to be a part of this special occasion. You can’t go wrong…..I promise.’ And I didn’t. With a well-earned glass of bubbly I basked in the compliments and pats on the back and wondered why I’d ever got myself so worked up.

And so it will be for you and your class during your leavers’ production. In spite of your fears, children always pull it out the bag and your performance will end with lots of soggy hankies, red eyes and big smiles….I promise.

Break a leg! 

Are You SAT-ing comfortably?

As KS2 SATs week draws to a close I hope those of you involved in the tests (teachers and children) have been spared the anxiety that the build-up to and partaking of SATs has historically caused. I’m sure if you read my last blog you could easily guess my attitude towards the standardized testing of young children and the subsequent creation of primary school league tables, so I’ll spare you the ranting this time. Well, maybe not….

My blood pressure received a small boost yesterday when I heard about a parent offering his daughter £25 for each level 5 she achieves this week, in each individual paper! Now, my maths ain’t what it used to be, but even I know we’re looking at a three-figure wad if the lucky girl sweeps the board with top marks. Dear oh dear (big sigh), has the world gone mad? Don’t get me wrong, a little financial incentive can work wonders on children and teenagers – indeed, I remember back in 1987 my own dad dangling the carrot of a fiver for every C or above I got in my A-levels. The difference, however, is that A-levels, GCSEs, baccalaureates, NVQs etc. are bona fide qualifications. They lead to acceptance on college courses, they enhance employment opportunities, they secure places on training schemes….in short they mean something. There’s a real and tangible consequence to doing well or not so well in the exams we take and coursework we submit at sixteen years of age. But to compound the unnecessary pressure and stress which Yr 6 SATs sometimes subject children to is at best short-sighted. This parent in question has obviously missed the point (or lack thereof) of KS2 SATs. Does he anticipate that at his daughter’s first job or college interview someone will say to her, “Hmmm, well young lady, your A-level results were excellent and you seem to have all the qualities that we’re looking for, but unfortunately that level 3c in your KS2 Mental Maths test seven years ago has scuppered your chances of ever making anything of your life. If only your father had provided a financial incentive you may not have failed so miserably. Close your door on your way out.”

Anyway, I’m sure you all know where a child’s performance in their SATs really figures in the league table of significant and important events in their life – more Wigan Athletic than Man Utd. I hope this week was no more than a blip in what I bet is an exciting, emotional and event-filled term as they prepare to take that next big step. (Ooh, a bit of subliminal product placement there!) And if you’re still in search of a superb leavers’ musical to give the last few weeks some fun and focus, you know where to look…….…

Bravo!

Last night, accompanied by my wife, son and father-in-law, I went to see my 8 year-old daughter in her end-of-term musical production. On the past few occasions we’ve seen our children perform, it has been in musicals that I’ve written, which is always a nervous experience for yours truly. I’m in a constant state of agitation, wondering whether the audience thinks it’s a good show. Are they laughing in the right places? Are they laughing at all? Do they seem to be enjoying the songs? Why is that parent not clapping as enthusiastically as that one? Maybe I should re-write all of scene 1, most of scene 2 and change the melody and lyrics to half the songs. In fact, maybe I should give up writing completely and find something to do that I’m good at….such is my train of thought throughout.

However, last night’s production wasn’t one of mine….hang on, why wasn’t it one of mine? Don’t they like what I write any more? Maybe I should give up writing completely and…..you get the picture. It seems there’s no escape from the self-doubt that arises when ones creations are put out there for all to love, loathe or have no opinion about whatsoever. That said, without any vested interest beyond hoping she would speak with expression, sing beautifully and not forget any of her lines, I was able to relax and enjoy my daughter’s brilliant school musical as nothing more than her dad, which was a fantastic feeling.

What made it all the better was the short speech given by the headteacher post-performance. Myself having taught under a headteacher who would always address an audience with well-chosen words of wisdom, I’ve kind of grown to expect that parents will, because of these afore-mentioned words, end such an evening safe in the knowledge that their children attend a school which has got its priorities right. And now I’m a parent myself, I’m happy to say I too am safe in that knowledge. I listened last night as the headteacher told us how she, her staff and the children are, year-on-year, weighed down by ever-increasing demands to meet ridiculously unimportant targets that benefit their growth and development not one iota. We heard how, if she were to follow unquestioningly the agenda set by those ‘on high’ (whom we all know have no idea about the reality of school life) then there’d simply be no time to let anyone in the school’s community enjoy and benefit from such things as a musical production. As she so rightly pointed out, for so many kids who are the butt of over-assessment, performance targets and the whims of idiots who prioritise the academic level attained in primary schools over the experiences and memories created, a musical production or a sports fixture may be the only chance they get to show that they have a talent. Only because I didn’t want to embarrass my family, I resisted the urge to stand up and shout ‘Bravo!’ I now really wish I’d done it.

You see, I don’t give a flying flip-flop whether my children’s school exceeds the predicted number of level 5s in its KS2 SATs, or whether it achieves its required quota of individuals on the ‘gifted and talented’ register for numeracy and literacy. Sod that – I want to know that now and then it’s going to stick two fingers up at the powers that be, confident that its qualified and dedicated professionals know what’s the right and healthy thing to feed the growing minds and talents of children. I want to know that a teacher, without being frowned upon, has used his/her PPA time to make props and costumes, instead of number-crunching and pen-pushing. I want to know that legions of kids have missed ‘proper’ lessons to go and represent their school on the sports field and that mornings, afternoons and whole days have been given over to learning songs, rehearsing scripts and bringing a production up to performance standard. It’s these things that children will remember and that will help them develop into well-rounded and balanced human beings.

So, bravo to all of you who tire yourselves out making sure that’s the experience children have of school. You’re fantastic!

Now, back to worrying about why my children’s school didn’t do one of my shows this time………

'Tis The Season...

….to be poorly! Having succumbed to the joys of bronchitis and sinusitis, my run up to Christmas has been far from jolly. That said, a couple of days in bed and some strong antibiotics seem to be doing the trick, as does my mum’s stew, the recipe for which has seen me through illnesses since early childhood.

Besides great stew, another benefit of being under the weather is the chance to catch up on daytime TV. This I have done enthusiastically – Deal Or No Deal, Escape To The Country, Countdown and This Morning have all received my undivided attention in the last few days. However, one programme in particular has been an absolute revelation, and dare I say an education. Loose Women has given me an insight into a world I knew existed but had never ventured to explore beyond its periphery. I now have intimate knowledge of the opinions, desires, joys, frustrations and expectations of a group of C-list celebrity ladies of a certain age, and feel I am a better, more rounded individual because of it.

What I found particularly insightful (and surprising) is Janet Street-Porter’s thoughts on Nativity plays in primary schools. Following a recent shocking and disturbing news story of a school who dared to modernise the traditional story, Miss Street-Porter’s outrage was on display for all daytime telly-addicts to witness. ‘It's a disgrace for schools to mess with the nativity story? Putting a spin on the birth of Christ surely constitutes the beginning of the end of civilisation as we know it.’ So vehement was her diatribe that I nearly spilled my stew.

Now, nobody mourns the decline of Hark The Herald Angels Sing and Oh Little Town Of Bethlehem more than I do. However, the likes of JS-P should put themselves in the position of those teachers upon whose shoulders rests the responsibility of making this year’s Christmas production a success. Christmas is a wonderful time to be in a primary school, but it’s also incredibly hard work to juggle all that the end of this long term brings. One particular pressure is how to take a story that has twelve characters, only one of them female (maybe two if you give the innkeeper a wife) and present it in a way that allows a hundred children to have their moment in the spotlight, under the often critical eye of parents who want to see their own little star shine brighter than the rest. If the Nativity story needs to be tweaked a little (or indeed a lot) to do just that, then so be it and good luck to you.

If I ever finish my antibiotics in time to have a drink this festive season, I shall be toasting all you wonderful teachers who continue to keep musical and dramatic performance at the fore of your children’s experiences at school…..however you choose to do it.

Happy Christmas, and cheers!

Soul Music

I’m a bit of a youtube addict.  I’ve recently enjoyed late nights with The Who at the Isle of White, Led Zeppelin at Maddison Square Garden, Hendrix at Woodstock and Radiohead at Glastonbury. Drama-wise, the gripping ‘This Is England’ and the outrageous ‘Rita, Sue And Bob Too’ have each ensured that the i-pad was not a wasted purchase.

However, although thoroughly entertaining, each of the above has only served to contribute to, rather than relieve the bouts of insomnia during which they’ve been viewed. There’s a certain (for want of a better word) edge to them that leaves me in a slightly less-relaxed state of mind than before I clicked ‘play’.   

Where’s this leading? Well, last weekend I found myself part of a whole-family outing to Kilworth House Theatre in rural Leicestershire, to see their current production of ‘The Sound Of Music’. Confession time: my name is Andrew Oxspring and I’m a fan of musical theatre. There, I said it. I’m sure many old friends and acquaintances who know of my deep love of all things ‘heavy’ and ‘rock’ will find this amusing, but I’m happy to stand up and be counted. As the Mother Abbess majestically hit that high F# at the end of ‘Climb Every Mountain’, the whole place erupted, and I swear there was not a dry eye (or seat!) in the house. The Von Trapp kids were as engaging as those fostered by Julie Andrews, and I happily swallowed every sugary line they delivered. The car journey home was a reprise of ‘My Favourite Things’ and ‘Do Re Mi’, and my youtube activity that night before bed comprised ‘The Lonely Goatherd’ and ‘Something Good’ - it was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks.

My soul is replenished and balance has been restored………and more importantly I now feel I’ve earned a few browny points to cash-in against some youtube time with Motorhead live at Hammersmith.