What kind of parent would I be if I didn't take a moment (or two or three) to brag, dote, gloat and generally ramble on about how great my kid is?  OK. Kids are.  I'll match any or all of my five against any takers.  But, today it's just about Zoë.  My other Z's will surely have their turns.

Zoë has been taking piano lessons for two years now.  She turned 6 in January.  You can do the math.  My wife and I knew that she was ready to take lessons.  Some things you just know about your kids.  Zoë has a gift.  Our problem was convincing an instructor of the same. Countless calls to potential instructors all had the same result.  "She's too young.  Call me when she turns six or eight."  Then we stumbled upon Mrs. B.  Stumbled may imply that it was luck or chance when in actuality it was the dogged persistence of my wife.  I can honestly say that if you give her a task or better yet, a challenge, she will never back down and rest assured she will almost surely prevail. 

Mrs. B. has been a Godsend.  When told of our difficulty in locating a willing instructor she simply stated, "I started playing at age 4.  I'll be glad to start Zoë."  Mrs. B. is one of those incredibly talented souls that truly loves teaching.  She exudes confidence and even better is able to produce confidence in her students.  I was basically sold on her as a teacher during my first visit to her tiny studio.  In a small picture frame hanging on the wall is a picture of her some years back standing in front of Carnegie Hall in New York City with a hand scrawled congratulatory note about her performance there.  Now, I'm just a laid back guy from Louisiana, but I've had dreams.  I guess that anytime someone has actually accomplished something from my personal list of things to do in my lifetime it automatically earns them a degree of my respect.  Hey, it's not a very high bar I know.  But there may be some of you reading this that have actually milked a cow at some point in your lives that can now say with all manner of certainty, "Zoë's dad thinks I'm cool!"

Some of you may be familiar with the Suzuki Method.  I am...now.  Two years ago the only thing I could tell you about the Suzuki Method was that it's probably best to wear a helmet and don't grip too tight.  You'll get a cramp.  The Suzuki Method basically is an educational philosophy which strives to create "high ability" and beautiful character in its students through a nurturing environment. Its primary vehicle for achieving this is music education on a specific instrument (often violin or piano). The 'nurture' involved in the movement is modeled on some of the factors present in native language acquisition, such as immersion, encouragement, small steps, and an unforced timetable for learning material based on each person's developmental readiness to imitate examples, internalize principles, and contribute novel ideas.  In essence, I get to teach my daughter how to play the piano. 

This was all fine and good for the first year when we only used five of the eighty eight keys on the piano.  And only one hand.  I was Master Po and my little Zoë was Kwai Chang Caine.  It didn't take her long to figure out how to walk on the rice paper without leaving a footprint and now the student has become the Master.  The girl is good!  She'll hear a song and walk over to the piano and start banging out the melody.  She is somehow able to absorb the notes and structure of a piece of music and repeat it over and over again without the benefit of being able to read music.  She has written a couple of songs, simple little melodies mind you.  But it's music where a jumbled string of notes and numbers used to be.  I would be impressed with any six year old doing that.  The fact that it's my six year old just makes it awe inspiring.

I quite often tend to push her a bit hard.  I probably do that with all of my kids but especially Zoë.  It's just that I am able to recognize that what she takes for granted is a gift.  More than once I've had to step back and remind myself that she is only six.  The great thing about kids, however, is that if you do forget they have ways of reminding you.  Just the other day I had Zoë finally cornered and still long enough to practice her lessons.  She sat there, in her underwear, warmed up for a minute or two and started a most beautiful version of Go Tell Aunt Rhody.  Halfway through the song she stopped, pulled her left foot up and stuck it into her face and exclaimed, "Whew! My feet stink!"  Then she started right back in and finished the song flawlessly.  I considered myself reminded.

This past Sunday we played host to Mrs. B's Family Recital series.  The Family Recital series was the brain-child of Mrs. B. as a way to get the families of the piano students together in a relaxed and informal setting all the while showcasing the talents of not only the students but also Mrs. B.  I can honestly say that Mrs. B.'s incredible tutelage is not exclusive to my daughter.  The afternoon consisted of ten different student performers as well as a piece by Mrs. B.  The house was filled with music, good music.  And good people.  And Zoë?  She played flawlessly, stinky feet and all.