Feeling: evil
Listening to: Winnie the Pooh
Reading/Watching: The Great Hunt, by Robert Jordan

I am officially a monster.

At first I told interested parties that I would only teach junior-high ages and up. Then, I got talked into teaching a nine-year-old girl (the lure of an extra $30 a week when one is comically broke is very strong) who is adorable and enthusiastic and does a little dance when I show up for her lessons (side note: the cuteness melts my knees).

I changed my rules to include children eight and up, because I realized that I used to wander around my own backyard, singing The Sound of Music at the top of my lungs when I was seven and eight years old. I could sing a cappella and switch back and forth between songs with no problem, not to mention match pitch with any instrument. If I could do it, I should allow other kids the opportunity to prove their precocious talent, too.

I still turned away parents who wanted lessons for their six- and four-year-olds (seriously: FOUR? Unless I'm teaching them Suzuki violin, no way in hell), but had an introductory lesson today with an eight-year-old little girl who loved Martina McBride and wanted to be a singer.

She didn't match pitches with the piano, she only stayed on key when I sang with her, and she couldn't sing (or follow along with) anything from my Disney book. This generally means a student is too young to study private voice. They need more time to mature, time to sing in a choir, sing with their age group, and train their ears to do better than sing along with the radio.

When I tried to explain this (very gently) to her mother, I also took extra care to explain to the girl that this didn't mean she sounded bad, or that she wasn't good enough, it just meant her voice had a little more growing up to do. It didn't matter how tactful I was, though, she understood what I was saying. Her eyes filled with tears.

I just made an eight-year-old cry. I am evil. I am the witch from the fairy tales that eats small children for breakfast.

So now, I am off to go build a gingerbread house in the woods. Be sure to swing by, and bring lots of bread crumbs.

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