Performance Anxiety

Robert and James have both had to perform in front of an audience this week :)

Last Saturday, Robert had a piano recital in an upper room of Smith Memorial Hall on the University of Illinois campus. It was quite the posh location, and I'm glad I asked him to wear his Sunday outfit! We were 15 minutes early, but still barely in time to get a seat on the back row. He was nervous. Antsy. And yet resigned to the necessity of completing the task before him. He was worried people would notice mistakes or laugh if he forgot to bow twice. The teacher in charge had all the performers sit up front in order, so I didn't have a chance to see how he dealt with his nerves up to the last moment. When his turn came, he did a fantastic job! Absolutely fantastic. I couldn't even tell if he was nervous anymore. I clapped and clapped and clapped for him. Great work, Robert! Here he is with the other performers and a few of the teachers:

Front row, black vest, and totally not smiling ;)

I don't remember if I told you guys that I signed Robert up for the Piano Laboratory Program through the University of Illinois School of Music. Half of the instructors are grad students and half are PhD faculty. They take these recitals very seriously. Regimented, tightly scheduled dress rehearsals and all. His teacher is warm, though, and we're all getting to know each other better. Of course I wish for an instant "click" where Robert is motivated to learn and the teacher knows exactly what to say when so he understands and feels understood, but, well, it hasn't happened yet. Each teacher is a unique individual with all his/her own approaches. I am also learning that Robert is pretty content with whomever he has, once he gets used to them. That helps me relax. A little ;)

His practices have been pretty rocky this last month or so. He wants me there, but doesn't want me to speak up or correct him in any way, until he makes a mistake that he feels I *should* have pointed out to him, and then he has a screaming meltdown because now he has to start from the beginning.

*sigh*

His first teacher, Tess, mentioned to him at his first lesson that he would need me to help him practice at first, but by the time he was 8 years old, he should be able to practice independently. That was 18 months ago. Feels like an eternity. I can see it now, though, how Robert is fighting my assistance and bristling against my guidance during practice, but still craving the company. He doesn't like me to clap or say anything if he does well (and if he's anything like me, I know EXACTLY how he feels. I have felt the same way in many, many instances). So, we've begun experimenting with him directing his own practices. Here's what I've learned: the practices are less perfect. There's a lot less wailing and gnashing of teeth. He doesn't love practicing, but he's happier owning his own work.

It's obvious he's just about ready to manage this on his own.  I will, of course, maintain the expectation that the practice be completed (per household rules), but I will interfere/correct much, much less. He will become the "expert" of what's expected from him. Like his homework. I may even stop attending his lessons. Robert has been a little happier as we tinker with this change. I have been happier, too. He lets me clap for him from the other room :) (and if he's anything like me, then this is why: clapping from the other room means I was paying attention to him and appreciating his efforts when I didn't have to. Clapping at his side is simply a petty dog treat for doing only what I asked him to do. A consolation prize, not real appreciation. See the difference? I do. Totally.)

So, you did a fantastic job, Robert! I mean this from the other room. Not from beside you. Seriously. I wanted to pick you up and swing you around in circles, but the sentiment would have been lost in translation. Big time. I'm still learning to speak your dialect, but I know enough that gushing attention is a big no-no, even if it's heartfelt. I reigned in my enthusiasm and kept it to the facts, "Whoa, Robert! I couldn't even TELL you were nervous." The corner of your mouth twitched into a genuine half smile before you tucked it away and asked about the refreshments.

James also had some time in the spotlight this evening. It was his preschool's Christmas program. Every time I mentioned it this week, James would get a big smile on his face and kinda hide his face. Was he embarrassed? Excited? Both? He didn't seem afraid of it, but he never brought it up on his own. Anyway, he lined up and sang tonight. Brave, brave, shy little boy. He sang the words he knew, not being any more energetic than the bare minimum. I could tell he was feeling shy in front of all those people, but he trusted his teachers. He only looked at Ms. Rohrer and us. I loved it when he looked at us. Even as his shyness kept him docile and barely noticeable in that crowd of outgoing and boisterous, extroverted, show-stoppingly cute classmates, every so often James would flash a big grin our way at a funny or silly part of a song that he loved. Then he'd look back at Ms. Rohrer, stifle the grin into a coy little smile, and sing in his shy but compliant way. Here he is in the crowd:

James is in the back row, third from the left

Fantastic job, James! So brave. So big. I gave you a gigantic hug until you giggled and finally relaxed.

It means a lot to me to see these boys overcoming some of their fears and doing hard things. They probably didn't feel like they had a choice, come to think of it, but they put on a brave face and did it anyway. I am so, so impressed with their courage.