Because I'm Grounded

Last night I taught a few piano lessons, as I am currently reclaiming the title, "Maestro of Wealthy Suburbia." This title has recently expanded to include South Minneapolis and Saint Paul, most notably Merriam Park and Hamline Midway. One of my students, a ten-year old spirited, loquacious, audacious, loveable girl, was playing through her lesson, and it was stridently apparent to me that she had not been practicing. "Holly," I said in that inadvertantly condescending teacher voice that just happens when you become a teacher, "Have you been practicing every day?"

She looked at me innocently and threw me a big cheese. "Yes," she said.

I paused. "Really? Really really?"

She scowled and crossed her arms. "Fine. I haven't been practicing."

I sighed and reluctantly gave her the talk about practice time being imperative, about commiting to a time each day, about accountability and putting energy into something you love to do. I don't like giving this talk, it sounds so Stoic Piano Teacher, but sometimes I have to do it. I concluded with, "So, make sure you practice every day this week, ok?"

She sighed and narrowed her eyes. "Well, I can't," she said, her voice dripping with exhasperation. Then she widened her eyes and exclaimed, through clenched teeth, "Because I'm grounded!"

That wasn't quite what I had expected to hear. I mean, I've heard some pretty creative excuses about "why I couldn't practice," and I'm sure I have given those same excuses to a myriad of teachers of my own over the years. But I have never claimed that I couldn't practice because I was grounded, much less made it sound so obvious. This girl said it in a way that nearly intimidated me, it was such a compelling delivery that for a moment I nearly responded, "Oooooh, that explains everything! Why didn't you just say so?!"

But I blinked instead, and considered the reasoning. And then it seemed terribly funny. Instead of explaining to her that this was a poor excuse, my blethery self got the better of me and I said, "So! Why are ya grounded?"

At this point I realized I had crossed the line from teacher to gossipy adult friend, and that felt icky, so I retracted that question by saying, "Nevermind. I want to see all your practice times written down in your notebook next week, and make sure there are at least 20 minutes every single day."

She scowled and mumbled something about me being mean, to which I practiced choosing my battles and pretended not to hear her angry comment. I felt a little bad about becoming Strict Teacher. In any case, I was reassured of my high status with this student as I went to leave. As I approached the door, she threw herself in front of it and just stood there, looking up at me with big, serious eyes and a challenging frown. Her dad was standing behind me and he said, with raised eyebrows and a hint of embarrassment, "Holly....what are you doing?"

"I'm blocking the door, Dad."

It took some finagling, but we got her to grant me access to the outside world. I had to promise to come back next week, and that was easy, since I bill out a month ahead of time. Let's just hope this kid makes efficient use of her "grounded" time to practice piano.