My Story: Inspired



   Last time I wrote a 'My Story' post, I mentioned how Mr. B's free-structured recital plan did not set well with me. I would not be doing Mr. B. justice if I left it at that. He was one of the key musical influencers in my journey.

   Up until the time he began to play piano for church, I had drudged along in piano -- a typical, uninspired child who grumbled about practice. (I'm so glad Mom didn't let me quit in those days!) I had always loved to listen to music. I loved it when some of the young adults in our church would give a spontaneous, post-fellowship-lunch concert for us. I loved it when Mom would pop a classical CD into the player, and she and I would invent a story to go with each song on our way to the grocery store. I just didn't like to play piano myself. 

   I can't pinpoint the day, the moment, or the hymn number when that changed. I just know that it gradually began to change as I listened to Mr. B. playing in my early teens. I guess it opened me up to the possibilities of what piano could be. Alive. Vibrant. Colourful. 

   Mrs. A, gracious and humble, did not resent Mr. B's prowess. Instead, she arranged for me to have a special lesson with him right before my Grade 8 exam. This fueled the growing passion I had begun to develop for music. The same passion I heard in his notes every time he played. 

   Eventually Mrs. A. said to me the words I'd been dreading: "I can't teach you anymore." (Now that I'm a teacher, I have a great deal of respect for the courage it takes to say that.) So, she had me transfer to Mr. B. His lessons were as good as his playing. His is the kind of teaching that exists to imbue the student with a love of the subject. 

   I have a lot I could write, but I'll just share one amusing memory. In one of our earliest lessons, after I had played Debussy's "La fille aux cheveux de lin" (The Girl with the Flaxen Hair), he asked me a question I had never been asked before. He said, "So, what colour do you think this piece is?

   Colour?! Um, black notes on a white page? 

   When I mumbled (after recovering from my shock!) that maybe it was purple or grey, he grinned and said, "I'm glad you didn't say yellow. If you had said yellow, I would have known you were influenced by the title."

   Incidentally, he was also the first teacher I had who didn't tell me to stop banging on the piano. He himself had a very full-volumed touch. 

   That year, I took my Grade 9 practical exam under his guidance. As it turned out, that would be the only year I studied under Mr. B. The following summer, he and his wife moved to the same area his wife's sister and her family lived, which happens to be somewhere around three hours away. But, before they moved, he recommended me to his former teacher for instruction, which would turn out to be the experience of a lifetime. 

   He was only my teacher for a short while. But Mr. B turned out to be one of the most influential people in my musical education. 

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