I started taking piano lessons when I was 7 years old. My teacher, Miss Anna*, was already teaching my brother and wanted me to wait until third grade. I waited and waited, and was so excited when I finally got to start.

That enthusiasm never faded. I picked it up pretty quick, and loved my lessons with her. Every Thursday my mom would pick us up from school, get us a cookie from TCBY, and then drive us out to her house. She had a beautiful baby grand piano, and an awesome electric keyboard right next to it. We played on both, but mostly the keyboard. Sometimes we got to choose what we wanted it to sound like; an electric guitar, an organ, or just a plain ol’ piano.

I can’t think of a time that she wasn’t smiling. I can’t think of a lesson where she got frustrated with me. I can’t think of a song she gave me that I didn’t like.

She rewarded progress and encouraged me to learn. She let me highlight notes that I was having trouble with so that they stood out on the page for me. She focused on all the things I did well, and gave me goals for the next lesson. While she made sure I was learning, she always made sure I was enjoying the process.

I had a mentor, a friend, and an idol. She was so talented, I thought (still think) she could play anything. I was so inspired, and I always hoped that one day the notes would sound like that when I played them too. When I think about those years now, I realize I learned a lot more than just how to read the notes and press the keys.

I learned that I have to be persistent and patient with something if I want to get it right. I learned that everything will require some practice, and with that comes the reward of knowing that I’m making progress. I learned discipline from practicing every day, memorization skills that have helped in all sorts of situations, and an appreciation for art and music that I’ll always carry with me—no matter how much science consumes my career! You can definitely love both.

Last Saturday I attended a Celebration of her life (I don’t like the word “funeral”). She had Wegener’s Granulomatosis, a rare disease affecting the blood vessels. Even though she died at a young age, she had accomplished so much in her life (operas, singing at the Olympics, teaching, etc.). I hadn’t realized until then how much she had influenced me and what I’ve done. After hearing stories about her and what she’s done, I felt so lucky to have had her as a part of my life. 

I may not take lessons anymore, but I still sit down and play the piano whenever I can. My first dorm in college had one in the basement (a little creepy), and I would go down there and play when I felt stressed or bored. I never thought of it as an “outlet,” but I guess it is. And I love that.

It’s not often that we look back on things like piano lessons, or second-grade teachers, or soccer coaches, and really think about how much they influenced us to do what we do. But I definitely think it is important to pause and remember those who helped along the way.

*name changed for privacy

Posted by Mary Ellen Nunes at 07/15/2008 01:21:13 PM |