Free Again

I feel like a dark cloud was lifted from over my head after I followed the suggestions of Richard, Kelly, and a couple of my neighbors. I’m taking another break from piano lessons because they were making me more anxious than happy.

The big question I had yesterday when I decided to quit was what to say to my teacher (of one month). I could have very easily blamed it all on the 45-minute commute, which meant a whole morning each week was shot by the time I drove all the way to upper northwest DC, had my lesson, and drove home. My husband (the guy who in his youth had his mother call in sick for him every other lesson) offered to call up my teacher and tell her I was going to be sick for a long time. But I felt I really owed her the whole truth.

As I was cooking dinner last night, she returned my call. We had a very frank and open conversation, where she still used many of the metaphors that filled her lessons. She said she had been trying to do the equivalent of teaching me to drive on the other side of the road, which requires a complete rethinking of driving. I replied that perhaps I really didn’t really want to learn to drive on the other side of the road. I just wanted to get pleasure out of playing, even if I never held my hands completely properly or played every note correctly.

It’s always nice to leave a difficult situation on good terms and terms that don’t necessarily close the door to the future. We agreed to e-mail as I continue to follow up on piano glasses that have never been quite right. We will stay in touch.

But I was visibly relieved to be my own piano “boss” once again. I can branch out from Beethoven’s Pathetique sonata to some jazz and fun stuff that’s been on the shelf for the past month.

This experience makes me wonder what sort of teacher would be best for me. I don’t doubt the benefits from working with the right person. But whoever it is, it will have to be someone who builds my confidence and nurtures my lifelong love of music.