Growing up, music was a big part of my life. Both of my grandfather’s appreciated good music and played it quite often whenever my family and I visited. One grandfather had a radio in every room playing a different radio station at all times. It was chaotic but still provided music to fill any resemblance of silence. There are a few members of my family who are quite musical and my grandfather decided that I should have the benefit of music as well. So I started piano lessons at age 5. I took to it like a fish to water. I had a great teacher named Aimee who let me teach myself and just have pointers. I don’t remember how she did it but she taught me to read music in a way that made it easy to learn. In fact, to this day I don’t remember not being able to read music because I was so young when I started. I remember getting my first music book and playing on the black notes before graduation to the white keys. I was so eager to learn that I learned all the music in the book within a week of getting the book. I practiced all the time and really enjoyed it. Abruptly after my lesson my wonderful teacher started to cry and told me that she was moving away. I was devastated. She referred me to another piano teacher who she promised would help me to develop my natural talent. The next teacher I had was a taskmaster. She had a ruler she would use to hit my knuckles when I hit a wrong note. She emphasized technique and memorization. I slowly felt my affection for the instrument fading away as it got swallowed by hours of practicing songs I didn’t like and keeping my nails short. The funny thing is that I actually started to improve. Eventually I changed teachers and started to get even better. I practiced a lot and was faithful in my hand exercises that were designed to make my fingers more nimble. I was being trained to be a classical pianist but my parents religious convictions about certain things prevented me from being in competitions. Needless to say, I knew I was good at playing but I never knew exactly where I was compared to others my age. My parents aspirations for my playing seemed to not go much higher than accompanying a church congregation. However I continued taking piano lessons–even when my favorite teacher died of cancer. All that being said, I had about 16 years of piano lessons. The longest hobby I’ve had to date. Playing an instrument taught me about discipline and sticking with something. I can still read music and I have a deep appreciation and respect for musicians and for music that actually has musical value. While I know that all kids aren’t musically gifted, I think that creative outlets are very important. Children who are perpetually bored tend to find non-productive ways to spend their time that sometimes become criminal in nature. That’s why I think it’s important to support the arts and expose children to somethingthat is new to them. 

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