Recital Idol

There's nothing that combines a tug at the heartstrings and mind-numbing boredom more than a music recital. And no matter how hard the child, the parents and the music teacher try, it is one of the most stressful events there is. For the child, the reasons for the stress are obvious. For the teacher, it's to prove their worth and show off their teaching "chops," so to speak. For the parents, it's the stress of first worrying about your child's performance and then trying your best to stay awake while other children perform. Trust me, this is much harder than it sounds.

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to experience this parenting right of passage thanks to my daughter and her love of singing. Her voice teacher held a recital so that many of her students could prepare for state competitions and college auditions. Other children, like my daughter, were there to just get used to performing in public. Since we are recital veterans, thanks to years of piano lessons, my daughter wasn't really nervous. For us, it seemed like a nice diversion on a frigid Saturday in February.

What surprised me was how it felt like I was watching "American Idol" auditions in person. The only things missing were Simon, Paula and Randy, the infamous judges that are both loved and hated.

The singers in the recital ranged from about 10 years old up to 18. It was impressive to watch some and painful to watch others. Still, just when you wanted to grimace and comment on how "dreadful" they sounded, a la Simon, you watched them sulk back to their seat and collapse into a heap of tears in the arms of their parents.

Suddenly, it hit me: these kids, like all of the singers on American Idol, are somebody's children. Like millions of Americans, one of my favorite winter and spring pastimes is to sit on my couch and boldly criticize the American Idol wannabees that appear on my TV screen. Yet, there I was, hearing some gifted and not-so-gifted singers and watching them beam with pride or blush in disappointment. It made me wonder what kids are learning when they watch American Idol. Sure, the producers of the TV show give us a peek at the bruised egos and the rivers of tears, but we don't see them go home and deal with their very public soul-baring performance. How does it feel to have your dreams crushed on national TV?

Like most parents, my husband and I encourage our kids. Whether it's sports, music or academics, we are their biggest fans. We are not, however, their harshest critics and we carefully weigh our words when a negative message has to be delivered. The judges on American Idol aren't so kind. They're usually blunt and often cruel. It makes for great TV. The question is, what does it do to the person?