In my practice I see singers of all ages and abilities. A very special group is made up of children and teens who sing. I am not referring to kids who sit around the teacher at school singing nursery rhymes, but older children, often teenagers, who sing regularly, with some instruction, and have professional aspirations. This is a potentially problematic situation, and I would like to outline some of the concerns that I, as a laryngologist, have when dealing with these patients.
The child’s larynx is small and, prior to puberty, there are more similarities than differences between the larynx of a boy and a girl. The entire vocal apparatus, beginning with the lungs, is underdeveloped. The lungs have a smaller capacity, and the resonant cavities of the pharynx are small. They simply cannot sound like adults—not in terms of volume, technical sophistication, or musical intelligence.
What is not small, however, is the ambition that these children, and especially their parents, bring to the task. There is a psychopathology at play here—the parent seeks fulfillment through the child, and the child, lacking willpower or wanting to be compliant, buys into the paradigm and internalizes goals that are, in fact, not hers but those of the parent. One of the worst scenarios is the “American Idol”-bound teenager, usually a girl, who has been deluded into thinking that she has what it takes to “make it to the top.”
What that “top” represents is a topic for another column. But as clinicians, we must deal with a youngster, right in the middle of major, hormonally driven changes in her vocal apparatus, who is trying to emulate a sound she simply cannot safely produce yet. A further confounder is the fact that the sounds she is trying to copy, with or without the guidance of a teacher, are themselves already pathologic and further electronically morphed in the recording studio. Add to this a support system of parents and friends who further fuel her unrealistic delusions, and you have a potential recipe for disaster.
By overburdening her vocal apparatus, this sort of singer is headed for an early demise of any burgeoning career. Excess muscle tension, nodules, and even the premature onset of vocal wobble are the price she and all others like her pay for pushing too hard and too soon.
So, what do you do with musical children who want to sing? There are different schools of thought. Most would suggest that they be directed, by age and developmentally appropriate instruction, so they can avoid damaging their larynx.
A completely opposing philosophy is to let children be children. Don’t teach them about “raising the palate” and “flattening the tongue.” They have plenty to do just growing up.
My position is somewhere in the middle: When I see children or teenagers who truly love to sing (rather than simply echoing the ambitions of parents), I make an effort to direct them to good teachers. Whether they comply with my suggestion or simply continue to work with a coach or vocal stylist, who helps to get them through their next audition, is another question.
Keeping the child’s welfare foremost in our mind, the goal should not be to try to achieve that 15 minutes of fame at the cost of ruining the larynx for the rest of the child’s life. It should be, rather, to gently nurture the talent and love of singing, with a respect for the changing limitations that anatomic and physiologic development imposes.
Childhood singing is a part of many cultures. There are songs and games specifically for children. As a young child in Budapest, I grew up with the Kodály Method, singing solfège with hand signals. In schools all across the U.S., there are many excellent choirs and ensembles. This may be a good initial venue for the musical child. It combines the pleasure of singing with the camaraderie of an ensemble—and the vocal output of an ensemble is a product which is greater than the sum of its parts, putting less strain on the individual voice.
Similarly, teenagers can also sing, but with care—the vocal tract changes rapidly during the teenage years, and during this time nothing is constant except for change. Furthermore, as teenagers grow, they do so disproportionately. We typically see a child who suddenly seems inches taller, but with a child-sized and -shaped head (which catches up to the rest of the body later).
In the same way, the various components of the vocal tract may change disproportionately during these years and regain their relative proportions (and final dimensions) only toward the end of the growth spurt. Many of my young patients already have nodules, and they sing with a pushed and pathologic voice that sounds, and is, “on the edge.” I suspect that, at least in some cases, this is the result of an almost adult-sized thoracic cavity overdriving a still infantile larynx.
Whenever I see “Broadway-bound” 13-year-olds in my office, I invariably caution them about the difficulties of a vocal career, ask them to think of where they would like to be in 10 years, and advise them to prioritize singing among their many other activities (they are also cheerleaders and play lacrosse). I then try to direct them to an experienced and sensitive teacher who will care for the person as much as the aspiration.
