someone passed along on facebook, “Did you have a music teacher that affected your life?” My high school friends wrote and responded regarding my high school choir teacher, who frankly betrayed most of us. I am one of the few who knew and realized this betrayal. I tried to save the feelings of my friends. But I will never view her as someone who affected our lives (at least in a positive way).
But I did have a music teacher who affected my life… Mrs. T. Mrs. T was my piano teacher from the ages of 7 to 14 or 15. She started as a strict teacher, and she turned into my best friend. I recall around 6-7th grade (12-13yo) going in for my weekly lesson and telling her everything.
Early in my lessons (7-9yo), I wanted to be a concert pianist. Around ages 9-10, i was “burnt out” and I stopped practicing. But I continued to see Mrs. T. I learned how to sight-read pretty well, and she would pull out 4 hands pieces for us to play together.
Very often I would go into her house and tell her everything. I would likely tell her about friends or difficulties. Truthfully I don’t remember anymore. But I know I told her about my life. And I know I wasn’t the best or most studious student.
I also don’t remember all the details (anymore) about how it ended. I remember her telling me about her leaving. I don’t remember what she said or what happened. But I remember it was a traumatic experience in my teenage life. I actually wrote a college essay about it. It was my essay in my application to Harvard. But this was in the days before electronic records for everything, so I don’t have any evidence of this. As a result, I don’t remember (now 25+ years later) why or how it was so traumatic, or if it was just the over-dramatic difficulties of being a teenager.
Still, I never had piano lessons after that. And I was never truly a musician after that, either. (and for the record, I did not get accepted to Harvard - but that might not have been the reason why.)
Somehow Facebook and that post spurred all these thoughts in my head… so I searched on her name. And there she was. She looked different. But actually her haircut was about the same, and she had posts about pianos, music, and animals (all in line with my memories of her). It was her.
I wrote her a message and “friended” her. after 30 years. yes, 30 years. She may not even remember me. But to me, she was my best friend.... the best friend of a troubled, emotional teenager.
Loading comments...