I have always wanted to take piano lessons from an established pianist.
I didn’t want to someone with just a B.A. in music to teach me.
When I asked the universe for the instructor, it hit all the criteria.
My piano professor, let’s call him A.M., is a concert pianist who is highly regarded. He did professional recordings, concerts all over the world.
When I read the biography that was posted on his studio door before my first lesson, I got even more nervous to play for him.
But my nervousness quickly stifled when I realized he’s just a nice human who likes to go fishing on the weekends. And I assume he quickly figured out that I have less experience learning pieces than his other students, which is totally ok!
I was never taught how to count music professionally, I didn’t have any coaching on my audition pieces. It was on a whim that I wanted to get in. I wanted to get into music school so badly that I put on a facade that I looked like I knew what I was doing. In reality I was playing the piece wrong in some sections and making mistakes.
It’s a miracle I got in.
So I am here now, taking lessons, doing baby steps, learning slowly.
It feels good to finally have a piano mentor. It feels like a life jacket is put on me after treading water for so long.
I’m hungry to know more. Because what I’ve learned so far is making so much sense and blowing my mind. I want to get better, and I know I’m in the right place for that.
I just need to get rid of the unworthiness, and own it.