Playing the Piano

It’s funny how some memories stick like glue – good and bad. And it’s also interesting to me that sometimes I have such clarity of vision about certain events. Then I sometimes look back on my life as a kid and am shocked at the things I did that I didn’t even consider a big deal. Things that as an adult I certainly realize were a big deal. But my parents didn’t faun over me, or unduly praise me, or over-emphasize my talents to everyone else (Well maybe they did this when I was not around, but I think back then they just wanted me to not talk so much so they could maintain their own sanity)

What things did I do that I thought were no big deal, but now I realize were fairly uncommon, you ask? At the risk of sounding like a braggart (which nobody likes), I’ll tell you.

The first one is totally attributable to my mom. (If we have any sense in our heads at all, MOST or any of our abilities attribute back to a wise and wonderful relative). My mom started teaching me to play the piano when I was five. She was a piano teacher, so this made sense. I probably had a piano lesson every day or every other day at that age. I think I grasped it fairly quickly – I was reading and writing my name at four, (I clearly remember playing with the alphabet flashcards with my mom when I was younger than that), so this was all kind of to be expected.

But then in the Second Grade things went south with the piano lessons. My mom would try to teach me, and I would have angry, ugly outbursts. What I couldn’t articulate back then, but what I realized by the time I was in College (when we all receive our brains back), was that I had this massive “performance” mentality going on. What “Therapy” would reveal (And I’m a huge fan of therapy – even if you think you lived the perfect life) to me is that I had some fairly typical “hang-ups”.

1) I was the oldest, aka “First Born”.  And you’ probably heard about how “First Borns” are the performance based, people pleasing type kids. Outside of the home, anyway…

2) I was adopted. And “First Borns” who are adopted tend to be people pleasing by nature.

3) I’m pretty competitive (I think this is because I am a people pleasing, performance based person). So, when my mom would correct me (which any regular piano teacher would do), I would translate it into “ She doesn’t like me, she thinks I’m dumb, she’s not happy with me”. (These were stupid lies in my head)… but what came out was, “ I HATE THIS!” So, she stopped teaching me piano.

But I loved playing the piano. And she had plenty of piano students of all ages and a ton of piano books. I would listen and figure out which kid was playing the hardest music, and then I would get that book from my mom’s book shelf, and try to play it myself. And my smart mom would casually walk through the room and say something like, “ Did you get the B flat in that piece? I think it’s in the key signature”. This was no big deal to me, nor was it offensive – it was just conversation. (Mind games people play). But it worked. I know my parents would have let me had piano lessons from someone else if I wanted them – my mom even suggested it, at one point. But, I knew they cost money, and I didn’t want my parents to pay money for something I COULD get at home.

I guess it worked out ok, because I was the accompanist for the Elementary school choir at my school was 4^th-6^th grades. I didn’t think a thing about it then, but now I look back and think, “ Good golly. I was good.” Because I have had possibly THREE students during the many years I’ve taught High School choir that were good enough to accompany a choir. And NONE under the age of 15. And the only one who was consistently qualified was the 15-year exchange student from Japan – Aki. And she thought she was “moderate.” (She was SO good).

Me with my cousin, Zahra, at the piano I learned to play on.

The thing I like about this is that I had a true talent, but it was encouraged by the people in my life not as a “true talent/you’re so amazing”, but as something that I would naturally develop because I had it. It wasn’t to the exclusion of anything else; it wasn’t capitalized on as in “ Oh, you could get a scholarship for this”. It was simply, “you play the piano well, play this piece, please.” And so I did, and I was a “regular” person for it. I wasn’t compared to others, nor was I “vaunted” over others – I was just expected to do something good with what I had been given. If it was my mom’s dream for me to play she didn’t tell me that.  Why do we do that now?

“Oh! You’re SO good, you should keep playing that.”

 “You’re AMAZING. Let’s get you private lessons. No, let’s get you three private lessons a week. Wait. How about if you just get home-schooled so you can focus exclusively on your TALENT?”

Seriously? How about if we just let people be people? Encourage them in what they excel in, support them if they want to try something else (I do NOT mean three different sports/lessons a week, and you are a taxi drier – get some self-respect), and most importantly, RAISE your kids, don’t just manage them. Come on – you are the grown-up. Act like it. Stop trying to be their “Best friend” – you do know Gilmore Girls was just a TV show, right? Say the hard things at the hard times. The word is “NO.” You can handle it. It only has one syllable.

The worst part of this is, I find myself doing it with my students, sometimes. Although I have made a conscious effort to try to not over-praise. A few reasons for this:

1)   Give me a break. It’s stupid.

2)   Why emphasize what people do well? I don’t want “average”. I want amazing. And when it’s AMAZING, then I’ll tell you. (By the way, all students know this. They know when you’re praising crap, and they’re not impressed with you. It makes them trust you less and like you less. And not just “students”. Parents, this is to your personal kids, too)

3)   When I praise, I want them to know I mean it. And they do.

4)   I value sincerity and genuineness. And so do they.

5)   Shall I go on?

After my Senior Recital. With Charlotte, Dotti and Karen (my college roommate and dearest friend to this day)

All this to say, if you’re really good at something, as in exceptional, take it seriously But don’t take yourself so seriously. Nobody likes to be around “those kinds of people.” Praise excellence. Don’t praise mediocrity But you can still be nice. Just don’t be ridiculous and over use words that should be reserved for true excellence. And if you’ve never been excellent at something, you should try it. There’s something about that level of determination and sacrifice that is amazing.