When my oldest son, who is now 13, was in Kindergarten, his school music teacher introduced him to the violin. He came home from school and announced that he wanted to learn how to play. A school year went by and he was still asking.
In first grade, we began violin lessons. His teacher was Ms. White. I'm not sure how old she was (it felt "old") and I didn't know how she would match up to our little 6 year old. Come to find out, it was a beautiful fit. She became part music teacher and even part counselor as he grew older.
She slowly introduced him to the basics and he worked his way up to his first recital. He insisted on dressing in his Sunday best - a smart navy jacket and tie. His grandmother drove over from Harrisonburg to see his courage on stage.
His turn came and the little 7 year old stepped onto the stage in front of about a 100 students and family members at the local library. Ms. White cued him on the piano and he began to play his piece. Then he stopped. Then he began to flip through the pages. Then he proceeded to turn his book RIGHT SIDE UP. I waited for the tears. But the tears never came. Instead he gave a little shrug, gave the crowd an adorable smile and pressed on to complete his piece. I couldn't believe it. I'm not sure what I would have done at 7 should this have happened to me. I was incredibly proud of his courage and perseverance.
The years passed and the lessons continued. There were times where he played in public - at school and at church - and although playing the violin came quite naturally to him, hearing him practice at home was rare.
He tried other things, too. Baseball, football, soccer and basketball. He ran races, he participated in art events (even winning a state award in photography).
When 4th grade proved to be one of his most challenging years, it was Ms. White who was a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. She was also a school teacher and felt sad for the year he was having. There were weeks when he would arrive for his lesson and as soon as the door closed, he would let it all out, telling Ms. White things he had not even shared with us regarding his frustrations in his classroom. The tears would flow.
Towards the end of 5th grade, Ms. White announced her retirement. It was also time to make choices for middle school classes. Luke selected "strings", following up on his years of violin lessons. He was immediately placed in playing the bass for his size. His teacher, just as Ms. White, proved to be both teacher/counselor. Her quirky personality was a perfect match for our son - and he loved her. He just didn't love playing...
His passion was rising more and more for soccer. It was also during this time, he tried out for a local travel team. Practices are sometimes three days a week. He never wants to skip. He never makes excuses. He is always excited to go - sometimes ready to pull out of the driveway before we are.
On this team, he has had good times (and even some bad times). He has played every minute of the game. He has sit on the bench. He has played in the heat, he has played in the rain. And he has loved almost every minute. On this team he has found a band of brothers.
He was falling further away from music and didn't seem to connect with the children in that circle. He neglected practicing his instrument at home - although he is rarely without a ball at foot or in hand. He "forgot" to tell us about recitals and other musical commitments. But - he never forgot to remind us about soccer commitments. He made sure they were on the calendar.
So - when the time came this year to select his "specials" on his 8th grade schedule, he asked to drop strings.
Which brings us to letting him "quit". Some have said "how sad". But I see it quite opposite. How good is was that he had the opportunity to try. To hold an instrument in his hand and realize the hard work that goes in to making music for the world. I, too, am a quitter. I tried majorettes, pottery, and painting. I tried playing the piano. And I didn't continue with any of them. Was that sad? No - it was beautiful that my parents allowed me to try new things - to dabble - to be well rounded.
Sometimes in the dabbling a child (and even sometimes an adult) finds their passions.
This year he has asked to take "family consumer science". He has seen his peers sewing and cooking - both boys and girls - and he wants to give it a try. Who are we to tell him "no"? He may not discover a passion - but he will learn how to do some basic sewing and cooking. Skills that will serve him well throughout life. But - maybe he will discover a passion. How sad it would be that we never let him try.
Commitment and loyalty are important and unless our child was in a truly troubling situation, we would not let them drop out mid-season or mid-term of anything - once you make your commitment, you follow it through to the end. However, we do believe in reevaluating with each season of our lives - especially now. This should be the age of exploration - to try new things. I hope he always has the confidence to try something new - to not feel like due to loyalty that he must stick with things that no longer feeds his soul and passions.
So for now the violin will sit in its case gathering dust. Perhaps someday he will want to dust it off, but maybe not. And that's ok, too.
He's found his passion for now - with the ball at his foot, protecting his teammates and friend in goal and the feel of coming into the huddle with an amazing group of boys. He will always remember these days - and I bet having a ball at his foot or in his hand will also be a source of comfort, strength and happiness for him throughout his life. But maybe not - and that's ok, too.
So - here's to all the quitters. Don't be afraid to fail. Be afraid not to try.
