From “This is boring” to “When’s the concert?”: How parents can guide their children’s experience of the Song and Dance Celebration tradition
By Līga Vinogradova, researcher of the Celebration tradition and mother of two
From Research to Real-Life Experience
Seven years ago, together with colleagues from the Latvian Academy of Culture’s Institute of Arts and Cultural Studies, I contributed to the monograph “Anatomy of Tradition” (2018), where we examined the preconditions for passing on the Song and Dance Celebration tradition. It felt like we had covered it all – the social, economic, identity, historical, and educational dimensions. Later, in my doctoral research, I focused on the role of emotions within the context of the Celebration.
Now, I look back with curiosity at how life’s turning points shift a researcher’s focus. Becoming a mother made me more aware of how much influence parents have on the path we take in life – how we treat ourselves and others, how we perceive the world around us, and what we choose to take from it. How we fill our days, what we choose to do once our duties are done. What kind of culture and related activities do we consume, how we participate, and when we feel confident enough to create ourselves.
This includes whether we honor Latvian traditions and how meaningfully we integrate new technologies. As a side note – just as my research interests have evolved from traditions central to Latvian identity to digital cultural content, I have no objections to either. I am more interested in how we can take the best from both. And I believe balance is possible. So, this time, I want to share how a Song and Dance Celebration researcher introduced her Generation Alpha children to this tradition.
On a subconscious level, my children were familiar with the Celebration even before they were born. From belly kicks to naptime rhythms, both were part of the dissertation-writing process. Still, until this year, they had only seen a couple of video clips and heard me mention this celebration where everyone sings or dances together.
Since we raise our children with relatively limited screen time, every video is met with interest. Even so, it never felt like the conversation about the Celebration tradition could go further without real-life experience. In my opinion, it's not easy for anyone to truly understand the Celebration just by watching it on screen – without the emotions and collective energy that come only with being there in person. For children, it's even harder. That’s why this year's Latvian School Youth Song and Dance Celebration felt like an opportunity I couldn’t miss – even if the kids were still quite young.
Creating the Joy of Participation
Another confession – the “hook” for the Song and Dance Celebration was already set last autumn, when both of my children (then 5 and 3 years old) went to their first folk dance classes. This digression is important to understand how a child’s joy of participation gradually develops.
While researching dancers for my dissertation, I was so fascinated by what I observed that I wanted to give my own children the opportunity to discover the world of dance. There were also practical reasons – we are an active family, and dancing offers both physical movement and the chance to develop rhythm and coordination. Conveniently, both kids have rehearsals at the same time and place, which leaves other weekday evenings free for play.
My daughter, a very social child, loved dancing and attending rehearsals. My son, however, was distressed by the fact that two of his evenings were taken away from playing. And here comes the eternal parenting dilemma: do you push them to continue or let them quit? As a former music school kid, I still remember how it feels to be on the other side. Seeing that he often left rehearsals cheerful and not dragged in by force, we agreed to talk again after the first concert – to give himself a chance to experience the joy that follows hard work. It took two concerts before we returned to the conversation.
My second request was this: “If you don’t want to continue, let’s go and tell the teacher together, because she’s also put effort into teaching you.” A note to fellow millennial parents – our children are braver and more capable than we were. As a child, I wouldn't have had the courage to do that, but this generation is so open that they just go and do it! I’m deeply grateful that today’s teachers, many from our own generation, are equally understanding and kind-hearted, able to handle such situations with empathy.
After the conversation, he went back to dancing – and for the next six months, until the spring concert, I didn’t hear a word about not wanting to dance. The only comment was, “I’ll need a bigger shirt.”
“You’re going to dance?”
“I’ll think about it until autumn.”
What Does “Boring” Even Mean?
Summer arrives – along with the Latvian School Youth Song and Dance Celebration. Preschoolers don’t participate in the official events, but as a researcher and an enthusiastic audience member, I want to experience the Celebration in full, including the free events in Vērmanes Garden. When it comes to ticketed events with kids, I decide on dance performance “Viedvasara” at Arena Riga and the Closing Concert at Mežaparks Open-Air Stage. I try to be as flexible as possible when buying tickets – as much as the high demand allows. For “Viedvasara”, we end up in the very last row, which means my kids can only disturb the few rows in front of us. And that’s exactly what happens – twice I get a sharp look from the person in front after a stray foot hits the seat. Guilty as charged! I spent the rest of the show on foot patrol.
I hear about three “This is boring” comments – so the question arises: how do you respond to “boring”? First, I notice that my 6-year-old is watching with genuine interest. He recognizes many of the dances from his own concerts and asks whether his group is performing. Knowing my child, I sense that “boring” is more of a protest posture – because mom made him go to a concert even though he hadn’t been to grandma’s for two weekends. Let’s be honest – a cultural event is nowhere near as thrilling (to a child) as a mud bath in a sandbox. So, I don’t overthink it and just wonder what the eventual takeaway will be. My daughter (4) later says she really enjoyed it – just that it was too long.
To ensure a peaceful experience at the Celebration's Closing Concert, I send my son to spend a few days at grandma’s, while my daughter and I stay behind to enjoy the rest of the Celebration events. When, two hours before the big Dance Concert, we unexpectedly get a ticket, she’s all in and ready to go! After the Dance Concert, my daughter is full of praise, though I did hear at least one “boring” in the middle – and a claim that she’d rather sit in her own seat. One note worth mentioning: many cultural events allow children under 7 to sit on a parent’s lap for free. Still, I usually choose to get them their own seats – it makes them feel acknowledged and important, and it’s more comfortable for everyone. Parents should familiarize themselves with the venue beforehand – for instance, Arena Riga and Daugava Stadium have very tight seating, while Mežaparks offers more space.
Early Sunday morning, we head out to the Procession where every participant walks through the streets of the capital city – which, in a child’s eyes, can be a grand and completely free experience. Why not enjoy it? The real magic lies in the audience calling out to the performers and the groups responding. It’s a vital part of the tradition – and one that increasingly worries me.
Do children and young people who haven’t experienced the Celebration in ten years even know what happens during the Procession? Is a handful of adults in the group enough to keep the call-and-response spirit alive? Are Latvians even capable of calling out “Hello!” (which is what we do in the Procession) – especially to strangers?
At the last adult Celebration, I noticed how my own shyness was overcome by having children with me. Their joy and surprise when someone in the procession called out “Hello, Līga!” was unforgettable. It helps when you know participants from several regions in Latvia. This time, we were able to greet friends from Riga – including my daughter’s dance group and their teacher, who we spotted among the lead choreographers – and family and friends from Limbaži, Gulbene, and Ogre. Due to the two-route system, we missed our Zemgale friends, but the few hours passed quickly and the whole experience was enjoyable, even for a young viewer. On the way back, my daughter happily fell asleep on the singing trolleybus (choir members sing while on it).
In the evening, our whole family headed to the Mežaparks stage. There were a few “Why do I have to go?” grumbles, but to my surprise, everyone put on their linen festival clothes without drama and was ready to leave. We had seats on the edge of our section, which made it easier to leave if needed. We used that option once in the middle of the concert, realizing the kids wouldn’t last the entire time. I admit – I was a bit disappointed not to hear the whole thing, but I’d been mentally preparing myself for weeks to be okay with that. And then, just as I was about to say “Alright, let’s head back,” it was my youngest daughter who said: “I want to go back to the concert!”
It’s hard to gauge how engaging the Closing Concert really was for the kids. The stage at Mežaparks is visually distant, and it’s difficult to make out details. The open-air environment invites behavior that’s not always concert appropriate. After the wind orchestra's party section, it was particularly hard to refocus. That said, this was also what made this year’s Celebration special. Compared to the last two adult Celebrations I attended, the School Youth version had a much more relaxed atmosphere, and it was more pleasant to attend with children.
There were more kids around, a open-minded audience, and opportunities for participation – being part of the scenography, dancing, and singing along. Naturally, you can’t expect children to immediately grasp the meaning of the song “Gaismas pils” (which is emotionally powerful for every Latvian) but it’s eye-opening to reflect on your own answers – why is this or that song important to Latvians?
After the concert, we hopped on the old singing tram. My son said: “I love that we’re singing, so let go further than we need!” My daughter, again, fell asleep – this time in her dad’s arms. As we stepped off the tram, someone in the tram sang famous song through the window: “Time to go, time to go…” and my son waved enthusiastically for a long time.
The next day, we turned on the Closing Concert on TV. My son asked, “When will the Song and Dance Celebration happen again?” And a few days later – “Mom, will we have a dance concert in September?”
A Shared Family Experience of Culture
It’s hard to assess the exact impact childhood experiences leave behind – and as a researcher, I’m not eager to romanticize it as always positive. But I truly enjoy witnessing how children’s cultural experiences unfold over time. As a parent, you need to be strong enough to realize that every “I don’t want to,” “This is boring,” or “Why is this taking so long?” doesn't mean exactly what it sounds like.
Sometimes “I don’t want to” just means “I’d rather be building with LEGO right now,” or “I’m hungry – that’s why I don’t want to, even though I actually enjoy this.” And “boring” can mean “I need to run around or spin in the aisles,” or “Watching Transformers is more tempting, but this isn’t actually uninteresting.”
It takes careful planning, open communication, and a deep understanding of your child’s needs. Experiencing culture with children is not the same as doing it without them. Every child is different. But a shared family experience of culture can be a great way to practice the art of compromise.
One child may love dancing, another may enjoy singing, and another may like the singing tram. One will gladly walk miles to see the parade; another might be better off running in the yard and attending fewer events. Some will simply need to come along because it's a family thing. But when only a few days later you hear, “When can we go again?” – that’s when you know it was worth it.
To conclude, I’d like to emphasize that the Song and Dance Celebration has two sides: the performers and the audience. What the participants do is incredible! And here, especially when it comes to young children, parents play an irreplaceable role.
This year, that role was beautifully acknowledged during the grand Dance Concert, where parents were given the chance to participate as part of the scenography – the human "pixels." And I’m not even talking about those who, with sweaty backs and steel nerves, supported their children throughout the Celebration week.
But this also takes me back to the everyday practices I wrote about in “Anatomy of Tradition.” It’s parents who carry the responsibility to encourage participation, to adapt their routines around rehearsals and concerts, to cheer their children on when they’re tired – and simply, to be there.
Then there’s the other side: the audience. It, too, needs to be nurtured. Children and parents who are not active participants still need opportunities to attend and experience the Celebration.
Before this year’s events, there was much debate around ticket sales – whether only parents should be allowed to buy them. But for the tradition to be passed on, new participants must be able to join it.
Supporting and encouraging children to attend the Song and Dance Celebration as spectators – even if it’s not always the most convenient thing – is another valuable way to introduce them to the Celebration tradition.
The Celebration offers rich emotions and unforgettable experiences even through its free events, especially for those who may not be able to get (or afford) tickets. I’m aware that ticket prices and the added costs of cultural participation are no small matter.
In the context of my current research project, I find myself wondering – is there a family out there so eager to introduce their child to this tradition that they’d be willing to save up for it, perhaps skipping Netflix or other digital subscriptions for a few months? Maybe that’s one way to afford the Celebration.
After all, as families, we have the chance – from the earliest years – to become mediators of cultural participation. So that one day, we’ll hear the sweetest of questions: When will it be my turn?
This article was produced within Activity 1.1.1.9 "Post-doctoral Research" of the Specific Objective 1.1.1 "Strengthening research and innovative capacities and introduction of advanced technologies in the common R&D system" of the European Union's Cohesion Policy Programme for 2021-2027 research application No 1.1.1.9/LZP/1/24/033 “Bridging the Cultural Divide: Strategies for Rural Families to Curate Digital Cultural Consumption for Youth”.