At Mr. John’s Music in the Italian Market, I have just as much fun as my toddler

My wife was taking guitar lessons at Mister John’s when she learned they do kids’ general classes and was invited to bring our daughter in for a trial class. Marigold was about a year old when we joined a morning class in October. We were excited for her to experience a designated space, on some kind of schedule, with many kids—her sweet childcare setting is just her and one other little girl. But I was afraid it would feel like sitting in an episode of Barney and Friends. I was wrong.

Beyoncé over Barney

That first day, we sat in a circle on a cozy carpet in the Italian Market. Musical instruments and whimsical decorations like a unicorn trophy (“Most Fabulous”) line a wall. Yes, we sang classic children’s songs, but John “Mister John” Francisco himself alternately led songs I knew from my early adult life. He played piano and acoustic guitar. I realized each tune was a Destiny’s Child song, and noticed a digital photo frame on the wall, showing photos of the trio. By 11:30am, the adults were tossing stuffed monkeys around during "Jumpin' Jumpin'" like a playful piano bar.

I asked if every Saturday was a mix of kid songs and Beyoncé’s early work? No, Destiny’s Child was merely the artist of the week. Since signing up for full sessions, I’ve learned that the artist of the week rotates and changes several aspects of class time. Mister John told me, “We ask that our teachers play all different types of genres of music and highlight all different types of artists.” Artists I’ve celebrated in class include a range of vintage and modern acts: The Jackson 5, The Drifters, Beyoncé (solo), The Beatles, The Isley Brothers, Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber.

A rhythm for all

Every class includes the same activities, with variations, some relating to the Artist of the Week. We count in several languages, we move our bodies, we have a round of “Meet the Instrument” in which each kid and adult gets their own handheld instrument, like a tambourine, to play during a song by the artist. The teacher guides a simple rhythm. Despite my own childhood musical training, I struggle with the rhythm but gleefully jam along all the same. We also have brief conversations, at a toddler-friendly level, about inclusion and relationships. These usually pull from the artist’s life and they’re a nice reminder of my own values.

During each class, the instructor poses an artist-related prompt of the week for parents. While many of the activities are aimed at the kids, this question is a chance for parents to share, with topics like “What would your ideal green room rider be?” or “What ‘era’ are you in right now?” (One mom disclosed that she’s in her Lexapro era, prioritizing mental health—we love to see it!)

Halfway through the class, we all introduce ourselves and kids by first name. We greet each kid with a song customized to their outfit of the day, as in, “Oh, Neil is wearing overalls, Neil is wearing overalls… Let’s say hello to Neil. Hi Neil!” (Try this at your next staff meeting.)

Showing up, just as we are

Blessedly there’s no attendance policy. People miss classes due to colds or travel, but across a session it generally feels like there’s a core set of families we see most weeks. It’s actually the kid who is enrolled, rather than specific adults, so folks rotate a bit. Some kids have both parents nearly every time, some have grandma sit in occasionally, and some reliably have a specific parent who’s on class duty. (One family has at least three kids in arts classes across the neighborhood during our class time, so the dads switch up who’s where when. Congratulations to them on coordinating all that!) It’s nice to be in a space where we’re all showing up the best we can, maybe a few minutes late or unshowered; a space where our non-parenting lives don’t matter that much. I have no clue what almost any of these adults do during the week. It’s refreshing.

A 45-minute class goes by quickly. Each component lasts the length of a simple song, and is designed for toddlers. When I’m there, my phone is largely away except to get a couple snaps of Marigold. I want to capture some of her joy, of course, while respecting the privacy of other families. But most of the time my hands are busy clapping or shaking an instrument, marveling at how confident Marigold has grown in this space.

Universal joys

Francisco explained to me how he came to teach music for little kids. He was teaching school-age children on the autism spectrum and he discovered he could be “breaking down fundamental social-emotional lessons to digestible kernels,” serving youngsters in core sponge-like developmental stages, “watching little humans become themselves.” The classes’ main goal is “a sense of connection and belonging through the arts,” but beyond that, they give new parents “access to people who are going through the same phase of life that they are.”

I asked Robert, Rudy’s dad from class, about his experience, and he said “I think I have more fun in Rudy’s classes than he does sometimes. I have always been intentional about incorporating music into Rudy’s life but seeing him explore has further encouraged me to engage with him. Mister John’s energy is infectious and inspiring!”

Every session closes with a bubble machine, a universal hit. One parent gets designated to walk the bubble machine around. I was eager to be picked. After months, it happened. Mister John played a final song and I strode through the room with purpose and presence. What a joy.

Above: Neil and his daughter Marigold enjoy bubble time at Mister John’s. (Photo by Kelsey Stewart.)

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