I’m Not Always Right, But I’m Never Wrong

I stand by this.

By *this,* I mean my decision to start and maintain this blog, as infrequently as I may post. 10 years after my first post, it is more true than ever that I have to be intentional about remembering my wins. Apparently, ‘What Have You Done for Me Lately‘ is how I view myself. It seems like I don’t have ‘Control‘ over my negative unkind ‘Nasty’ thoughts.

Anyhow, it’s never a bad time to reflect upon how I came to live in a ‘Rhythm Nation’.

Why Did I Start Music Lessons? How Did You Choose an Instrument?

One of my mother’s graduate school professors commented on my lithe fingers as a Baby J. They enrolled me in piano lessons when I was 4, and I am told that I got through 3 years of music study before I realized that I had not asked to do it. I guess I was having a good time. 🙂 I am not one to wish I was a child again, but I rather like that this was chosen for me – having confidence in your parents’ discernment is a big deal. The rest has always been up to me, which, again, I rather like.

Who Encouraged You Along the Way? How?

My parents deserve the biggest shout out for not just logistics and finance, but cheerleading. Not just at recitals, but during my daily practice. Successful daily practice enabled the recitals that my extended family, friends, and teachers attended. I cannot think about my music study without thinking about all of the love in my life. It amazes me that people took time out of their day to listen to a child play the piano.

What Experiences Were the Most Impactful?

Dude. Piano Camp. My parents dropped me off at the Indiana University School of Music Piano Academy in 2000 and 3 weeks later, I was a different pianist. It was like a revival – I could not get enough piano and piano literature when I returned home.

I must say that I both live and die by the applause. Losing competitions stick with me more than any that I won – how did it matter that I was talented if others performed better, even in a moment? It’s not as though my parents ever cheered me less, so I can’t say I felt pressure in that sense. That being said, the fact that I didn’t win 100% of the time didn’t make piano study any less wonderful, even if I thought less of my ability to play in relation to others. Thinking about it now, I cannot recall any time I ever thought to myself, “I’m going to practice more so I can win!” Winning was playing the piano well and earning the praise of my piano teachers.

How Has Music Changed Your Life?

I can’t read that question without laughing. It might be easier to share the areas of my life it has not impacted. Music is always there for me – whether I need to dance, sing, cry, play. She is faithful, even when I am not. Having the skill to curate musical experiences for children is incredible. Just this week, I had a child in class have a meltdown when asked to go on the risers – just to sing in class as we often do from our chairs with no additional audience. After class, he ran to me and hugged me, expressing how scared he was to sing. I told him he could come back during another period and try again. I’m tearing up as I recall how he trusted me to be brave enough to sing the music he clearly enjoyed in front of others. I get to help people take chances and discover how amazing music is.

How Did You Decide to Become a Teacher?

The short answer is that I love being a student, and it is impossible to teach (well) without learning. I type this and shake my head at myself, because I regularly lament that I do not know more than I do, even though somehow I understood years ago that I would need get to keep learning if I chose this career path. I would be remiss not to mention that I want to ensure that my students have positive experiences – while the vast majority of my experience as a piano student was positive, it wasn’t until I had a negative one that I thought about teaching. I often think about Coco Gauff’s US Open postgame speech about how her haters thought they were pouring water on her fire when they were really adding gas to it. I never want to put water on anyone’s (healthy) fire. May God forgive me for any time as a teacher I have provided insufficient fuel.

What Do You Want to Carry Forward from Your Story?

I want to let go of my feelings of inadequacy. I was telling my cousin just the other day that I don’t feel like I will have accomplished anything unless I am able to help other professionals, not only students. I know this isn’t true, but – ugh. I want to be a winner. I don’t have to beat anyone per se, but I would like to feel like other teaching professionals respect and can learn from my work. I wonder if I would feel this way had I not attained so much education, but it is what it is. “Woe is me, I am credentialed.” I could just ‘Scream.’

What Do You Want to Leave Behind?

I want people to feel better about themselves while working with me because I helped them be their best selves. I want to leave behind a good time, and I want people to know that I have the keys (I really didn’t do that one on purpose) to a good time.

One more for the road – I want to take people on a musical ‘Escapade.’

Legacy

“What have I done with my life?”

As someone who has struggled with the chronic condition of imposter syndrome for the entirety of her adult life, I ask myself this fairly often. Though I’ve yet to find a cure, I manage my symptoms by – well – working. Bills are a bother, but I’d rather unfurl myself from a ball and work than live uncomfortably. However, there are some occurrences that cause major flare-ups, and this one is big.

My piano teacher died.

I couldn’t think of a more poetic way to learn of the news. It was my college bestie’s 40th birthday, and I was driving home from visiting her in the Florida panhandle. As I stopped to get gas, I checked my email. My first piano teacher was informing me of the memorial service for my second piano teacher. I wrote back right away, saying I would help in any way I could. I continued on Interstate 10, thinking of the four years I spent in college as a piano performance major at THE Florida State University that would not have happened without either of my teachers. At the next stop, I checked my email once more. This time, I was asked if I was willing to play. Ah yes, how much time did I spend being stressed about a performance in this area of the state? I’ve been playing at funerals/memorials for my family, but this call, frankly, was different. I called my first piano teacher through tears, saying that I didn’t know, wondering if I was worthy for such a task. He reassured me that worthiness was not an issue, but not to feel obligated, given the time constraint and heavily charged emotions. I asked him for a few days to think about it, and he graciously said yes. I called the friend I had just hugged a few hours earlier and talked it through – what would I regret more? I probably make most of my tough decisions by asking that question, and I knew that if I chose not to honor her at her memorial by playing, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Coupled with the fact that the first piece we worked on together was one based on a funeral poem? Sometimes God whispers to us, other times, He shouts. This was a shout.

Her obituary doesn’t come close to capturing the essence of the amazing woman with whom I was so privileged to study. She was a BFD, my favorite humble diva. Now she’s gone, and I’m left wondering what I have done thus far. It does not feel correct to call her a colleague, even though we technically taught piano at the same time (her career wrapping up as mine started). Yes, I’m a music teacher, but so what? Am I any good? Who is better because I was in their lives? I know God is good, because in the days after my learning of her death, He sent me people to help reassure me I’m not a complete waste of space – a student saw me at the mall and ran to hug me excitedly; I saw a parent at a football game who bought lunch for my husband and me as a way of saying thank you for my help over the years. Well – that’s two!

In terms of my schedule, her memorial couldn’t have come at a more ideal time. Of course, the time off I had to practice was also time for me to sink into the abyss. What kind of pianist am I? I don’t practice. What kind of teacher am I? I don’t have private students right now. What have I done with everything that I’ve been given? It didn’t matter – I know if I didn’t play the hell out of that piece, I wouldn’t honor her the way she deserved. All I can do is my best, even if that isn’t very good. She got me to a Superior rating on Rachmaninoff’s Elegie Op. 3 No. 1 as a high school sophomore, and dammit if I wasn’t going to show I earned it. I followed her directions – practiced in different rhythms, hands alone, sections. I played for two of my pianist friends, whom I knew would be supportive but give excellent feedback. I thought about how many wonderful people I’ve met because of the path she helped me walk, from the friends I made in college and graduate school to professional colleagues I cherish.

When I arrived at the recital hall, I met her cousin, who asked if I would introduce myself prior to playing. I said I would say my name but that was about it because if I spoke before playing, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to keep it together. She insisted – but I ignored her 🙂 As gentle a person as she was, I was confident my teacher would not have wanted my emotions to interfere with the business of performing. Upon entering the stage, I simply said my name, said I was once called Joanie, and proceeded to play. It wasn’t perfect, but it never is. I know I played well, but I wish I remembered it. I was so prepared for the business of playing that whatever emotional detachment I needed to do it is still there. I then gave my thoughts on her place in my life.

One thing with which I am struggling is the final years of her life, as I hadn’t spoken with her for a long time. She was in an assisted living facility, and I had tried once or twice to meet with her virtually, but the strange circumstances of her moving there made it difficult. Whoever was in charge of her estate – God will take care of them. I hope she knows how much I loved and admired her. It was helpful to see her other students at the memorial, each of whom told me that she spoke highly of me to them. Most meaningfully, I learned that she had a picture of me in her room where she lived. It was displayed on a table with other keepsakes. When my first piano teacher told me I could have it, I immediately put it in my purse.

I am not sure what kind of legacy I will leave, but I know who helped make it. No pressure!

They say work and politics don’t mix but…

I let it spill over today.

*Student plays like differences in note values don’t exist*

Me: These. 👏🏾 Are. 👏🏾 Quarter. 👏🏾 Notes. It’s like they are a qualified woman and you are America – stop pretending that they aren’t there.

I’m going to bed now.

Freedom to Choose

“Joan. Not everyone is willing to make the sacrifice you are to make the music that you know you can make.”

The words of my piano teacher have been bouncing in my head since I last played for her a few days ago. At first, I just thought she was talking about practicing, as it can be bloody boring and tedious and not everyone is willing to sit and make it happen. Freaking duh. That’s why students quit piano lessons once they reach intermediate levels – if not before. That’s why students enter college and switch majors from music like, five seconds after arriving.

But what of we badasses who survive the hell that is being a music major?

I can only speak to one badass, of course. I managed to make it out of graduate school and the longer I’ve been separated from formal study, the more I want to learn and surround myself with music. Playing it, teaching it, studying it, ery’thang. The last time I had formal lessons before I decided to give a recital was 2009 while I was still a student. My last recital was in 2008. I’m doing this because I want to and that’s amazing. Perhaps this helps you to understand why I was a bit perplexed when my teacher was talking about sacrifice. “I love you, dear teacher, but I’ve been at this a while. I know it sucks quite a bit of the time,” I thought.

As you may already know, I’m quite charming. I also have a very large family. People like for me to spend time with them and I love quite a few of them. It hadn’t dawned on me just how often I turn down requests to hang out because I have to practice, train, or work.

This really isn’t one of those “OMG check me out, I’m soooooo busy!” kind of posts. I’m sure it’s coming across that way, but I swear that’s not my intent. I am not busy to show off – hell, I have to practice and train as I do because I’m working to suck less, hah! The sacrifice my teacher was speaking of has to do with choices. To choose to do anything is an inherent rejection of something else. I eat eggs for breakfast, that means I don’t have a shake. I train for triathlon, I don’t play soccer. I practice to perform – I have to make plans in advance to hang out. My life lacks spontaneity. I suppose I’ve become so accustomed to it that I stopped noticing.

I can’t have it all. Dammit.

Throwback Thursday: Temptation Edition

So, it’s summer. Not just any summer, but teacher summer. Single, childless, teacher summer. Hard to beat. I prance through the mall, singing to myself, “La, la, I’m not responsible for these children!” Not even kidding. When I’m not prancing, I’m either at the gym or at the piano, of course.

Problem(s).

Often, on nutritional regimens, people will say that during the week they are fine but on the weekend, there is a tendency to go buck wild. I’ve found that as long as I plan for the weekend in a way that I plan for the week, I’m good. But, uh – I kind of have a 70 day weekend. I’m not THAT good. Also, playing the piano as much as I am now hearkens back to my days of college and graduate school, where I relied on food to cope with all the negative emotions I had . Even when as I practice happily I think to myself, ooh, food reward! Damn.

Then, today, I had my piano lesson. The kind where I’m taking it instead of dishing it out. I can’t say that it was bad, as my perspective has changed, but it didn’t go how I would like. Quite frankly, I lost my appetite – for everything. No thought of any food excites me at the moment. Feel a tap on your shoulder? Is it Jesus? Yeah, that’s rare. However, I’m starting to realize that this food battle is here with me to stay, so I’m not too concerned about it as long as I don’t eat like I’m a depressed grad student any longer.

What’s more alarming is how tempted I am to give up despite a setback. I arrived home not wanting to eat, but also not wanting to practice. I feel discouraged because it didn’t go perfectly. The spark I’ve had recently is – not dead, but dimming, for sure. No one can reignite it except me. That’s a lot of freaking responsibility. Especially now, because, whereas in school I had the motivation to NOT FAIL, there is nothing outward that can scare me into getting it back.

Good news, though – I am listening to the inner voice that says it is worth getting it back to see how much I can accomplish. I am not like those annoying people who pretend they are never sad; like they are never let down. I don’t have the energy today to try again. But Lord willing, I will see another day, and I plan on trying again tomorrow – to play with joy, to eat with purpose, and to live in a way that glorifies God. How else would I show Him I’m appreciative of all He’s given me?

Ecclesiastes 11:9 (KJV)