About 2 years ago a friend of mine gave me a new potted plant, a nematanthus (they also call it "goldfish" flowers). I've already had an African violet since 2011, so I thought another potted plant couldn't be a problem.
You have to know, that before I had the African violet (which I will call Max, from now on, because that's his name, actually), plants just didn't want to survive around me. I've bought Max the day after I broke up with my boyfriend in 2011, and back then I was thinking that if this plant is going to survive, and it even going to bloom, I'm not that hopeless as a human being after all. My mother taught me that if you would like to buy a potted flower, you should buy the one that haven't yet open its flowerbuds, so I followed the instruction. I had done some research on how to take care of an African violet, also asked my mother (she's an expert in my eyes, when it comes to potted plants) and my grandmother (she has a lots of them at home) as well, gave him the name Max, and I was waiting what will happen after the flowerbuds open, and the flowers wither. I was expecting Max to die and was hoping for his survival at the same time, but he surpassed my expectations: instead of dying, not only he survived, he blooms like crazy whenever the time comes for blooming (mostly in spring, or whenever he's in the mood). Max brought me many nice memories with his flowers and made me proud (because of his flowers and my success, and it made me think "finally! I can keep at least a potted plant alive!"). He's still standing on my table enjoying scattered light, and next to Max there is the nematanthus.
In a way, it was completely different with the nematanthus. This little one almost prove my success with Max wrong, because in the first few days she spent in my room right next to Max, she dropped her buds. I did my research, like I had done when I bought Max (though neither my mother or my grandmother could help me, because they have never had a nematanthus before). I was looking at her dark green leafes and I didn't know what to do. It was clear she wasn't feeling comfortable in my room, though she didn't die right away, she just refused to bloom.
I had to realize that the nematanthus is more sensitive and more demanding than Max is. It was easy with Max: I just smiled at him proudly and he was happy, he felt at ease, and both of us were satisfied. So at a certain point, I literally told the nematanthus: I don't let you die. Made another vow as well, which brought a tiny vision along, but that's not something to share with the public (I have my secrets as well). The nematanthus arrived in November 2013, and around the first weeks of February 2014 a discovered she's growing a new sprout. Before that I was sure she would stay the way she were after dropping her flowerbuds (still hoping for some progress and growth, though I couldn't be 100% sure about the success), but more and more new sprouts appeared, and grew into new branches, aiming towards the window. I didn't do more than this during the whole time (ever since I made that vow): I was speaking to her, I was encouraging her and asked her not to give up, and I made her sure that I love her. She got the same treatment as Max always had, and kept talking to both of them. And then, in the end of August, last year, a flowerbud appeared on her, and though after blooming she didn't bring more flowers for a while, when I got back from Hungary in January two new flowerbuds apperared... and then again two more... and by now I discover every week a few new buds on the nematanthus.
The potted plant I was sure (regardless my bold vow, I don't let you die) I will only be able to keep in a vegetative state (without flowers) for a while, is now blooming, and I am grateful for every single little bud. This plant-experience reminds me to my grandfather (from my mother's side): the real plant and tree expert is him. He just smiles at his plants, flowers (especially his roses) and fruit trees in his garden and they are blooming, and the fruit trees are bringing delicious fruits, though the soil conditions in my hometown, Dévaványa is not a kind that a plant or a tree would wish for. And my grandfather also speaks to them, sometimes without speaking.
OK, why am I telling you about this gardening success of mine? In my opinion working together in an ensemble, working on your own development or your singing pupil's development is very much like gardening. And I am not talking about the botanical side of gardening, but taking care of a garden. I have never seen a good gardener whose garden would have been messy or filled with sick and dying plants, while taking care of others' gardens perfectly fine.
I obviously wanted to get better when I bought Max, and I wished for recovering when I saw the nematanthus dropping her flowers. I had to realize that not every potted plant needs the same treatment, just like not every individual is able to handle the same treatment when you teach them or work with them. It is essential that you stay calm and flexible at handling their problems, but above these you have to love them. Talent - doesn't matter if we are talking about a colleague's, a pupil's or your own - should be treated with love, and nothing more can inspire someone than knowing that he/she is being loved. Listen to them, look at them, pay attention to them, but never ever try to change them to be in a certain way on purpose, or force your way to the bottom of their heart. Be gentle, remain open and curious about the results they come up with: you never know what kind of and how many flowerbuds they'll show you. Just let them sing, guide them (based on what they need as an individual), comfort them when they are down, and never leave their side in crucial moments, just be their safety net. That's all they need.
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