It’s the people who
are least likely to transform our lives that do.
Ten years ago, my
sister and I had this piano teacher, Miss Penny (even the name sounds adorable
right?). Neither of us can remember exactly how long she taught us, but for the
few months - or years - that she did, she had inspired a love for music and
teaching. We only had her for a short while since she needed to clear up her
schedule for her ARCT Performer’s (she got her teacher’s certificate while in
university so after she got her PhD in biochemistry (I know, smart and adorable!) she went for the
performer’s certificate just for the fun of it). But before she let us out the door at our
last lesson, she brought me into the kitchen, gave me a blue plush flower key
chain (which naturally I lost… but it’s ok because my sister still had her
white one which I “adopted”…), and gave me a letter (which I lost). The letter said
things like how she loved teaching me and how (even then) she could see my
musicality. But what really struck me was what she wrote at the end: “I think you’re
going to make a really great piano teacher one day”. (Awww! Enter waterworks…)
These past few weeks
–especially since my big piano teaching exams are right around the corner- I’ve
been thinking about the impact that one little letter has made on my life. From
that moment, she incited this obsession in me of wanting to inspire, to share
what I love, to be that ‘Miss Penny’ for others.
So that’s what I see
myself doing ten years from now: teaching the world to see music for what it
truly is. That it’s not just ink on paper, but a soul’s longings poured out in
a moment of abandoned solitude, a colourful tapestry of intricately woven
vibrations, a letter from the past read out loud to thousands, a painting of
hope on the canvas of death’s silence, a rebel’s war cry in a plume of blood
and disaster…. As you might already be thinking, I could go on… and on… and on…
and on… but I won’t J to save
you some brain cells. (Thank me later.) Every Saturday morning, as I’m sitting
beside my adorable kids (piano students… I call them my kids… don’t judge -_-)
I can count on this tingly feeling of equilibrium to fill the very tendrils of
my body. That teacher’s chair, that piano, those kids, that’s where I’m meant
to be. That’s my ‘ecological niche’ in the world (as my sciencey dork self
would call it).
It’s quite funny
really, how freakishly accurate Miss Penny turned out to be. My mom remembers
how she predicted my sister would only make it up to the advanced level and
quit because she lacked patience. This of course came true for that reason
exactly. Amazing it is how life can only be understood backwards. My sister and
I were on the brink of quitting when we had to transfer to this horrible old
hag of a piano teacher (ok not that bad, but still pretty bad). But just as we
were thinking of giving up, Miss Penny called and told us about her teacher who
taught her up to her teachers’ level. To this day, I’m still studying with her
(well, mine now) teacher.
