Music Scholarships for Independent Schools, Do they encourage child abuse? Options

[Alicia Ocean]

We have a few local independent schools - not specialist music schools, that's rather different - that offer a discount on fees by way of a scholarship in various fields. There's generally a maths scholarship, an academic scholarship, a sports scholarship and a music scholarship.

I know an eight year old entering for grade 5 piano this term. It's essential to the parents that this child continues to show outstanding achievement to maintain their music scholarship and hefty discount at their school. The child gets back from school at 7pm (no homework as it's done at school) and then has time for tea and practice before bed and then doing it all again the next day. I can't say whether the child is enjoying this routine but I know the mother is very, very strict about practice. Isn't this sort of pressure on a child a form of abuse? Are the music scholarships perpetuating this? Any thoughts?

[Yoshifumu]

Isn't this sort of pressure on a child a form of abuse? Are the music scholarships perpetuating this? Any thoughts?

I would say that forcing a child to practice something against their will just to gain some financial reward (especially one that is never relayed to the child) is tantamount to abuse.

Whether the school is encouraging it is a bit different...

You could say that following the same line of thought boarding schools encourage gross neglect.

I just hope that schools have enough insight to find children who actually enjoy their music and voluntarily practice and learn. Either way there is a whole load of debate on this topic of strict parenting and forcing children to do stuff as well as whether it is good or bad for kids.



To add some extra dimensions to the topic, check out this Tiger Mum stuff for examples.


Here's an extract from this newspaper article (which in turn extracted it from the book mentioned above):

Lulu was about 7, still playing two instruments, and working on a piano piece called "The Little White Donkey" by the French composer Jacques Ibert. The piece is really cute?you can just imagine a little donkey ambling along a country road with its master?but it's also incredibly difficult for young players because the two hands have to keep schizophrenically different rhythms.

Lulu couldn't do it. We worked on it nonstop for a week, drilling each of her hands separately, over and over. But whenever we tried putting the hands together, one always morphed into the other, and everything fell apart. Finally, the day before her lesson, Lulu announced in exasperation that she was giving up and stomped off.

"Get back to the piano now," I ordered.

"You can't make me."

"Oh yes, I can."

Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu's dollhouse to the car and told her I'd donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn't have "The Little White Donkey" perfect by the next day. When Lulu said, "I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?" I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn't do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.

Jed took me aside. He told me to stop insulting Lulu?which I wasn't even doing, I was just motivating her?and that he didn't think threatening Lulu was helpful. Also, he said, maybe Lulu really just couldn't do the technique?perhaps she didn't have the coordination yet?had I considered that possibility?

"You just don't believe in her," I accused.

"That's ridiculous," Jed said scornfully. "Of course I do."

"Sophia could play the piece when she was this age."

"But Lulu and Sophia are different people," Jed pointed out.

"Oh no, not this," I said, rolling my eyes. "Everyone is special in their special own way," I mimicked sarcastically. "Even losers are special in their own special way. Well don't worry, you don't have to lift a finger. I'm willing to put in as long as it takes, and I'm happy to be the one hated. And you can be the one they adore because you make them pancakes and take them to Yankees games."

I rolled up my sleeves and went back to Lulu. I used every weapon and tactic I could think of. We worked right through dinner into the night, and I wouldn't let Lulu get up, not for water, not even to go to the bathroom. The house became a war zone, and I lost my voice yelling, but still there seemed to be only negative progress, and even I began to have doubts.

Then, out of the blue, Lulu did it. Her hands suddenly came together?her right and left hands each doing their own imperturbable thing?just like that.

Lulu realized it the same time I did. I held my breath. She tried it tentatively again. Then she played it more confidently and faster, and still the rhythm held. A moment later, she was beaming.

I doubt every child that gets a scholarship goes through the same thing.

But some definitely do, and it is difficult to compete with other children at this age on a performance basis if they are practicing that hard (albeit for all the wrong reasons).

It's only later when they will get their own choice to quit that the competition might become a bit more fair.