Vergil’s Coffee

One year ago, I stumbled upon Twitter.com via a news feed and since then, I have made 5,493 tweets. Not sure if that’s something to put on a resume, but it has been sometimes useful in keeping in contact with people. Anyway, thanks to folk that keep the twits acomin’.

It’s the one thing that I can say to Evan that will guarantee a dramatic response. It goes like this:

ME: Evan, how was your day?

EVAN: Eh. Fine, I guess. (Fiddling with a miniature paper airplane as he looks longingly at the PlayStation2 which he’s been ground from for the rest of the week. These are mean parents).

ME: (Noticing the hope in his son’s eyes for all-things-PS2) Yeah, that’s not going to happen. So, have you practiced your piano and cello?

[EVAN immediately hits the ground like a sack of potatoes and screams as if he were in pain...real pain]

EVAN: Noooo! [And EVAN throws the miniature airplanes in the air and runs upstairs to his room before the planes hit the ground]

ME: (to his wife): Well, that didn’t go well, did it?

And really I can’t talk. When I did make the varsity basketball team and then started, I can’t tell you if or how much I practiced during the off-season. Sure, I wasn’t a great player, but my heart wasn’t it. I remember trying to do conditioning (running I think) on the back roads of the town we were living in at the time (Monte Rio). And, I remember getting all jazzed up out getting into shape for the season and I think I made it 5 minutes down an incredibly beautiful road lined with massive redwood trees and then stopping. I think the universal, existential question popped into my mind as it probably does with Evan when he has to practice his piano: “Why am I doing this?”

I did practice, though, my lines for the play “Who Am I?” in which I had the lead and the entire short play (30 minutes) was based on my character and what he said (it was sort of a 20 questions “show” with me being host). I felt the pressure because, well, I was the lead and Ms. Jungkeit said I needed to know my lines. So, each day to school, I would drive 40 minutes and practice my lines until I got the mountain that crossed into Rincoln Valley (the driving was curvy and I really needed to concentrate). I knew my lines and the performance was, well, okay. See we were the opening play, then there was another short piece, and lastly, the main event: You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown in which my best friend Jeff Graves had the lead role.

Now that I think of it, I wonder if I was on the “B” team and the “A” team played the important parts.

And now Evan sort of faces the same situations. See, the guy who played Snoopy couldn’t sing, and if you know the musical, you know that Snoopy has at least one solo and our Snoopy could not sing. No, he could not sing…I’m not kidding. But, people liked him and he was able to ham his way through the song and people were happy. Sometimes the more talented don’t get the lead roles or the better spot on the team.

Evan has had his best year in playing chess than the previous two years. He’s had better tournament records than before and had a great team contribution last weekend in winning all the games he played. See, originally he was on the “B” team, but because one of the players didn’t show up, Evan got to play on the “A” team and, again, did well (won all four of his games). One of the kids on the team is a good friend of his and the others were happy to have Evan on the team. In fact, they might have wondered why he wasn’t on the team.

Now, this is where I stop as a parent so it doesn’t look like I know what is best for the team and my son (imagine a fist fight breaking out in a chess tournament: Dad slugs the tournament director). But that’s not how I do things and frankly, I’m not violent. I was happy for Evan and how well he did. But the worst thing for me was realizing that he’s had a “successful season” without little or no practice outside of Monday and Tuesday school practice times.

Ouch!

And I think he’s a smarter player for it. He understands the board a bit more and he makes the most of his playing on Mondays and Tuesdays. But even at those times, he doesn’t show off or try and make sure that the coaches see him playing. No, he plays against his friends and sometimes is a twit (and yes, he gets that from his father).

Unfortunately, the “practice like you play” and “practice makes perfect” or “Independent Practice” (aka Homework) are all hallmarks of parents and teachers of the answer to “Why do I have to do this?” It’s unfortunate, because it is not accurate. And I think down deep inside, most reflective people know this to be true (and sometimes we call those kids who don’t practice: “bright, but don’t work up to their potential”). It’s as if that we as adults merely make the children do stuff as payback for when we had to practice when we in their shoes (it’s the anti-lesson of Atticus “…you never really knew a man until you stood in his shoes and walked around in them”).

It seems to me that instead of practicing something over and over that one should actually be doing that particular task (be it writing or reading or calculus or chess). Instead of reading about or talking about or thinking about a particular skill or activity, shouldn’t we just be doing it? I think Evan is learning that lesson and he seems happier this chess season because he gets to play some chess and be silly with his friends.

I wonder if he’ll hit the floor today when I remind him to practice his piano and cello.