What's your story?
I am a piano teacher on Sundays, albeit not an excellent one. I see my students only once a week, and only for an hour each time. I can't say I know them, but yet, I am tuned to their unique idiosyncrasies.
Today, I will talk about C.
She's 13, and one of my new students with signs of teenage angst. Taking up piano was her mother's idea, and it pains me somewhat to watch her mechanically play her pieces. And while it frustrates me the moment she transfers her angst towards banging out the scales she can't get right, I am reminded a little of myself, back when I was practising for my Grade 8 practical. Scales suck. I tell her that, but my words seem to fall on deaf ears.
Yet, the face that is devoid of emotion lights up when she talks about her interest in literature and electric guitar. I wish piano brought her such joy, but this is a passion that cannot be imparted. I wish I could, but I don't think I could alter her resentment towards the piano.
If I can't bring her solace through music, I hope to at least bring her solace through an avenue for the freedom of expression. If I can't give her the love of the instrument, I hope to at least give her 45 minutes each week to be herself. Not what her mother wants her to be, but the person who lights up talking about Shakespeare I glimpse behind the surly persona. Our weekly meeting may seem like a prison term to her right now, but who's to know what the future brings?
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