There must be a light under the bushel!

The Piano Monster

About 10 years ago when I was in college, I decided to take piano lessons for a fine arts credit. I was bummed that I refused to take them when I was a child, but I figured it was never too late to learn. Too bad my piano teacher didn't agree with me!

My lessons were in the afternoon, and I didn't have an instrument to practice on between lessons. Apparently, this was a big no-no. I was also the only one who was at the beginner's level. Most of her other students were already accomplished pianists; therefore, her patience with me was close to nil.

She wasn't really a bad person; she just didn't have any patience with beginners and told me so. Well, I wasn't going to let that discourage me. I really wanted to learn.

Surprisingly, I looked forward to my lessons each week. She had me working on all those little nursery-rhyme-like songs that remind you that you're supposed to take beginning lessons as a child. That wasn't going to stop me though. I plodded through like a trooper (and, I bet, with a lot less whining than an 8 year old!).

I progressed through the slow-learners group work into the actual beginner lessons by the end of the semester. I didn't think that was too bad considering I couldn't practice outside of my lesson time and I had no idea where a middle C was before I walked into my first class. I'm not usually very patient, so I was pleased with my good attitude. I even endured many old-fashioned hand slaps when I messed up on the notes. How much more virtuous could I have been considering I never once slapped her hand back?

Unfortunatley, my good attitude just seemed to piss her off more. I think she believed I should have felt a lot more humiliation at the low level of my playing. One day she actually had me stay after class to listen to this tiny Asian girl whose lesson was after mine. This girl sat down and played some Bach/Beethoven/Chopin (I really have no idea what, but it was some kind of classical fancy piece). After she finished, the teacher looked at me and said, "Well?" I just smiled and mumbled some kind of praise. She shook her head at me in disgust. I was working on "Yankee Doodle Dandy" for my recital piece. What great insight did she expect me to have?

I still regret that I gave up after that one semester. Granted, she basically told me that I needed a beginner teacher and she wasn't it, but I wished I would have followed through and found another instructor. However, I'm still of the mindset that it's never too late to learn, so last week I bought a keyboard and signed up for lessons once again. I met the instructor, and he seems to be a pretty nice guy, so here I go again. I even saw little kids waiting for their lessons, so he should be used to my speed! I warned him several times that I was practically a blank slate, and he just laughed and said, "No problem." What a nice beginning...