I found a wonderful Suzuki Piano teacher for my boys.
She lives right down the street from us and has the patience of Job. Watching her teach my boys has been a fantastic experience filled with pure pleasure and awe.
Every week my oldest child went to his piano lesson and was showered with praise and patience. Soon, my younger son followed. Again, pure inspiration.
One day I asked her if she taught piano to adults, eagerly hoping that she did. I wanted to get on her waiting list.
Fast forward a couple of years. THE day came and I received a phone call that she had an opening! By this time, she and I had become friends and I was ecstatic to be learning from such a masterful teacher and friend.
I remember the first lesson that I had. I sat down in her studio, nervously put my hands on the keys, strongly screwed my right foot into the pedal and Bang, Bang, BANGED out a 4/4 tempo tune.
It was AWFUL. Abysmal. Abominable.
But, there she sat, seemingly impervious to the dreadfulness that exuded from her Steinway Grand Piano.
She patiently pointed things out.
She did not laugh, grimace or roll her eyes with contempt.
She did not lecture.
She just listened with a smile. Ahhhh......bliss.
I found someone who wanted me to progress in my musicality. She was enthusiastically willing to lead my melodic journey.
I worked hard for 6 months.
We began in the “Banging Period”.
We next ventured into the “Over Pedaling Period”. (This era of music was rife with overcompensating to hide bad technique).
Then there was the distinct “Voicing Period”.
Slowly and surely I began to play somewhat musically.
I was accomplishing a dream that I had held since childhood: To play the piano AND to enjoy hearing myself play.
I was able to take the black notes and white pages of my favorite show-tunes and unravel them.
“We” were getting there. “We” were a team!
Every week I would criticize my playing. Often expressing this frustration in onomatopoeia form: “Ssssshhhoooooot.”
Looking back at the self-criticism, I recognize it as frustration; it was always there, nagging at me. A perfect week of practice blown within 2 minutes. Often, I would sit at her piano wondering if she had possibly moved the keys before my arrival.
I wanted to get better and still couldn't quite figure out what was wrong. And then they were spoken....those 5 words that changed EVERYTHING.
She gave me a gift when she said to me what her master teacher had said to her:
“Be Happy Where You Are”.
Wow. That changed Everything.
Everything.
......................and not just my perception of music.
Piano, like most things in life, is a process.
Time and practice make everything work right.
In Piano, muscle memory is key. Being able to read, count, and feel the music is absolutely a major (not to be confused with a minor) key.
Once I learned to be happy where I was, I was able to move on and learn more. I took risks. I was consciously free to grow.
I invested in myself and in my interest.
I took a college level music theory course and learned how to count music.
The music theory class was the foundational knowledge that I was missing.
…..OMG....I remember when this teacher learned, at one of my early lessons, that I didn't know how to count beats. To this day she has no idea how I could read and play music without being able to count. She had a valid point.....
While learning those missing foundational pieces I continued to play and learn from her. Soon, I was playing Beethoven's Sonata; Billy Joel's She's Always a Woman; and my ultimate favorite, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody.
These were incredible feats for me and I took pride and pleasure that I had accomplished them.
I can now count. I can now voice. I can now feel the music. I am thrilled at my progress. I still get frustrated at my playing, but I always remember, “be happy where you are”.
I now use that phrase in every aspect of my life.
Those 5 little words changed my attitude toward most situations and have brought me ultimate joy.
As a follow up to this story. I began to personal train that piano teacher. She valued my knowledge just as much as I valued hers. One day, after a session, she said to me, “you are such a good teacher, you are so patient and really seem to understand me”.
I was ecstatic.
I realize that she had, without realizing it, taught me how to teach.
She taught me to be patient and kind. She taught me to teach others. She modeled the perfect teacher for me.
With a beaming smile on my face, I realized that we had come full circle.
To you Mrs. Hunter, I tip my hat!
