Mr. Mike’s Family Notes: Meet The Giordano Kim Family

Meet Samantha Giordano Kim and her son Sandro. Samantha signed up for Ms. Deborah’s class last fall but being a first time parent often changes your plan in ways you don’t expect so we rolled her start to January.

She joined Mr. Steve’s class at his Studio in January for two reasons: she’s a music lover who wanted her son around melodies and instruments early, and she’s a first-time mom who needed to get out of the house. The music was for Sandro. Getting out of the house was for her. These two things are so important after the baby comes. You’re suddenly giving 100% of your life to this new beautiful baby. The loss of self can be overwhelming in this new role. The need for interaction with other adults is so important.

This is why our classes have to challenge the adults, not just entertain the babies. We play adult music and lead adult dancing, real songs that make a grown person want to move. Are there silly moments with babies? Absolutely! But if the adult isn’t being fed, a babies class is just pretend. Harry Belafonte in class isn’t an accident. When the adults are genuinely engaged, singing and moving and laughing at themselves, they start connecting with each other. It doesn’t happen because we scheduled a social hour. It happens because people who are doing something real together don’t stay strangers for long. That’s where community comes from.

Samantha grew up in a musical family. She was a theater kid, raised on Rogers and Hammerstein movies before she was old enough for the shows. Both of her parents love music. So when Sandro was born, finding something musical felt natural. What surprised her was how physical it was. In her first class, Harry Belafonte songs were both the free dance and the instrument songs. She texted her mom and her friends afterward and told them it felt like the most cathartic karaoke session. For a first-time mom in the middle of her postpartum journey, that hour of moving and singing did something she hadn’t expected to need.

The moments she remembers most are Sandro’s. Seeing him reach for the drums during his first few classes. Watching him clap along for the first time. Crawling across the room to pick out his own instrument. Standing up on his own under the giant scarf as it billowed above him. She calls it wonder, and she says she feels lucky to have been in the room for it.

One week another parent looked over and said, “Look at how fast he goes now.” Sandro had only just learned to crawl a few weeks earlier. That small comment, Samantha told me, was when community stopped being an idea and started being something she could feel.

When I asked about songs that have traveled home, she had a list.

Is there a song from any Music Together collection that Sandro responds to at home?

We sing the hello song often and use the names of our family members and pets. We use the goodbye song when we wind down for nap and bed. We also love “On Our Way [Trot, trot] to Grandma’s House.” We trot up and down the hallway, except we replace “grandma” with “nonna” and “cookies” with “rigatoni.” Can you tell we’re Italian? Few things get more of a giggle. When we are together with my nieces, I’ll sit down and sing “All Around the Kitchen” and even the four year old gets excited. Whichever song it is, I love that Sandro will suddenly stop whatever he’s doing and look at me with a sense of recognition. Sometimes he will clap and smile. There’s such a strong connection there because of music.

This is the magic of music. Parents are constantly surprised by it. They bring their baby to class expecting to watch, and instead they watch their six-month-old lock onto a melody, or go still when a song starts, or move before they can even walk. Babies don’t need to be taught to respond to music. They arrive ready for it. It’s one of the first languages they understand, and when you see your own child respond to something you’re singing, it changes what you believe music is for.

Do you remember a song your parents or grandparents sang to you when you were small?

My great grandmother and grandparents sang an Italian song, “Batti Le Manini,” which means “Clap Your Hands.” My mom now sings it with Sandro.

A song that traveled from Samantha’s great grandmother, through her grandparents, to her, and now to Sandro. Four generations. Not because anyone planned to pass it down. Because someone kept singing it, and the next person remembered.

When I asked Samantha how she would describe the class to a friend, her favorite detail surprised me. It wasn’t the music or the instruments or even the dancing. It was the no-phone policy. We all could use some time off the grid, she said, and when better to do this than with our kids in a musical setting?

Samantha sent me photos of Sandro at the drum on his first day in January and his last day in May. In the first one he’s sitting. In the second one he’s standing. She said the drums have become milestone markers. I think that’s exactly right. Not because we’re tracking development, but because when you show up week after week and make music together, you get to see your child become someone new inside of something familiar.

There’s room for your family. Come see what Tuesdays sound like.