My piano teacher, Julia, is a genius. For the past few weeks I’ve suffered from piano malaise, a malady that afflicts piano students and makes them want to ignore their studies. At best, it blows over in a week or two; at worst, it becomes chronic to the point that the student quits altogether.
I am somewhere in the middle.
But at my last lesson, Julia said, “You really enjoy taking pieces you’ve learned and playing them for pleasure. Are you doing that?”
My head shook left to right, revealing the sad answer.
“Well,” she said, “maybe that should be your homework assignment. Instead of working on new pieces, maybe you should play pieces you’ve learned, only with the new skills you’ve acquired so that you can make the piece even more your own.”
I grabbed the idea, hoping to salvage my piano career.
So Julia assigned me approximately ten pieces that I’d mastered, at least at the particular level that I was when I attempted them. She sent me home to practice and enjoy them – with the emphasis on enjoy rather than master.
Maybe that’s part of the problem. I am a perfectionist by nature and learning a new language, the language of piano, at this age flies in the face of perfectionism. Instead, it argues for enjoyment and learning for the sake of enjoyment and learning alone. I think Julia must have known this all along.
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