this morning an email popped up in my inbox from my dad. usually (okay, always) when my dad takes the time to send me a link, i can count on the fact that it’s gonna be a good one. today’s link was no exception.
i’m grateful that i had a piano teacher for 10 years who was as fierce as a tiger. she didn’t take any crap and i didn’t dare let her down. i remember once when i was 10 years old, she told me to correct my hand position while playing a piece. the next week i repeated the mistake at my lesson, and she told me, “if you come back to my office next week and your hand position isn’t fixed, i will never teach you again.” you better believe it was fixed by my next lesson. she taught me that practicing something until it was right wasn’t enough. i had to practice it until i couldn’t do it wrong, until my fingers would no longer let me play those notes wrong. she taught me that if 5 hours wasn’t enough, i needed to practice 8. and if 8 hours wasn’t cutting it, i better start putting 10 hours in a day. she shaped my character like clay on a potter’s table. and i will never be able to adequately express my gratitude for her powerful, life-altering influence.