Four years ago, I decided to teach piano lessons. For several years, I had experienced alot of discouragement and regret about my lack of involvement in the music world after finishing my master's in 1998. After I graduated and moved away from the university environment, I spent the next year spiralling downward into clinical depression related to our inability to have children. Without the structure and motivation of graduate school, I had a hard time staying focused on any career goals and dreams I may have had. All I wanted to do was have children, and since that wasn't happening, nothing else seemed quite wonderful enough to work toward.
During that time, I did small things. I had a few organ students. I worked at a protestant church for a year just after getting out of counseling for my depression. That job was literally sent from heaven. It fell into my lap with no effort on my own to find it, and it was a much-needed blessing. But I let my dream of being a guest organist at the Tabernacle fall by the wayside. I was in therapy at the same time that I was trying to completely the very long audition process. I could not deal with both at the same time, and playing at the Tabernacle lost.
After a year of working at the church, we moved several hours away. I taught one student in the time that we lived in Idaho. One. I was afraid to take on too much because I hoped at any moment to get a phone call telling me that I was a mother. I thought motherhood would solve everything.
It solved the most important things, of course. But I was surprised to find myself a few years into mothering longing to be back in music. And having no clue how to get there. After numerous years of not practicing regularly, I was certainly not in any musical shape to do the kinds of things I'd always dreamed of doing. I still had big dreams for my future, but at that point in time I thought all was probably lost, and I'd most likely never get to do any of those things now. It was too late. This was depressing to me. I thought about my college friends and all the wonderful things they must be doing with their lives. (I found out later that they had many of the same feelings I did, trying to balance parenthood with their musical ambitions...) I stayed out of the organ scene completely because I was so embarrassed at how far from it I'd strayed. I surely didn't want any of my friends or former colleagues to find out how much my playing had slacked. I was mortified by what I perceived as mistakes that I'd made, lack of ambition, (in my mind) lack of talent, etc. I felt that I must not be good enough because I hadn't been able to do what everyone else had done.
But a series of experiences changed my thinking. I honestly can't remember what most of those experiences were. Perhaps things I read, or just impressions given to me by the spirit. But at one point I realized that it was not too late. Sure, I was not at the place I'd been in 1998 upon graduation. But it was never too late, I could still have goals and dreams. I just needed to start taking steps to get there.
So about this time of the year in 2005, I decided to start by teaching piano. Organ students were very hard to come by (though I did have one great one at this time), but I felt that teaching piano could be a beginning, and perhaps I could actually groom some of those pianists for later organ study. I taught piano for three years, quitting last fall as I got burned out and also had some strong impressions that this was the time to stop.
I have been reflecting lately on all the blessings that have come about because I changed my attitude, and because I was willing to humble myself, put myself out there, realize that we all have to start right where we are... In 2008, I was invited to teach at the BYU Organ Workshop because I dared to ask the workshop director if he would let me have the opportunity. Believe me, it was scary to ask him. In my heart, I felt that I surely could not be good enough to teach there, or he would have asked me long before. Imagine my shock when he said, "Sure!" That same year I was invited to play for one of the general sessions of the BYU Women's Conference in front of thousands of people. Why? I believe it was because I took the initiative of getting my name added to a list of people approved to play the organ in the Marriott Center at BYU, after seeing that list and noticing that my name was not on it.
Teaching at the organ workshop that first year was exhilarating. I found that some of the things that were most nervewracking (like being asked to teach improvisation???) turned out to be my favorite experiences from that workshop. Then this year came around. I was asked not only to teach at the workshop, but to play for the closing session. In front of distinguished faculty, some of whom were Tabernacle organists, some of whom were university professors, some of whom had careers as recitalists.
You see, I was comfortable teaching. My piano teaching, my private organ students, and my prior year's experience had returned me to my deep love of teaching. Teaching music is one of my passions, and I think I'm really good at it. When I'm teaching, I feel energized and alive!
But now I was being asked to perform. Outside of playing for the Presbyterians, I really had not performed in more than 10 years. Even that experience had ended 8 years earlier. I certainly had not performed anything classical or substantial, anything outside of low-key church literature. Not as a soloist. The couple of times I had ventured to perform during that time period, I'd found myself wracked with stage fright. When I auditioned for the job at the Presbyterian church, I had to stop my audition piece in the middle because I was so nervous I could not keep it together. When I played the prelude my first Sunday at that church, I was so freaked out it was all I could do to not jump off the bench and run away. In school, I performed all the time without any difficulties. Even at my graduate recital, I was not as nervous as I was any of the handful of times I have performed during the past decade.
So understandably, I was a bit worried about the organ workshop performance. I considered it a huge personal triumph that even though I made numerous mistakes in my playing, I was able to handle the nerves and not be such a basketcase. It felt like such a breakthrough!
Last night I played a kind of lecture-recital at the culminating session of a local stake's series of organ classes. I prepared a 30+ minute program of hymn-singing interspersed with some hymn settings. My student, who was hosting the classes, had given me the instructions: "Play something classical. Show them what the organ can do."
Sounds easy, right? Not if you haven't actually learned anything classical in almost a decade. I purposely programmed the evening with lots of hymn singing, knowing that it would help me be calm. I added in an LDS hymn prelude, and some easier classical settings by Pachelbel and Brahms. But I knew I could not do this without including some Bach. After all, Bach and the organ are practically synonymous. But none of the Bach pieces I know or like are easy. I finally settled on one short setting, and tried to make time to practice. No small feat when you have young children and no organ at home. (Have you ever tried to practice with a 3-year-old sitting by your side playing along with you?)
But I did it! The whole program went so well! The Bach went fabulously! And I wasn't nervous at all when I played it. At all! I was nervous about it during all the pieces prior. I was trying so hard to not think about that piece while I played everything that led up to it. Big mistake from a mind-game point of view (thinking about a future piece instead of concentrating on what you're playing...not good) But when I got to that Bach, all the nerves completely disappeared. I know it's because of all the prayers I said beforehand. It was performing like performing should be--fun! So enlivening that you want to do it again right on the spot!
This was my last demon, and conquered it.
The whole evening was a huge rush. I love teaching, and I love playing.
I started a new student this morning, a 15-year-old girl. And it was so exciting to watch her "get it" and just know in my heart that this young woman is going to take to the organ easily. I could just tell. It was fun to listen to her dinking around with the pieces I'd just assigned her while I talked to her mom afterward. Last Monday I had a student who comes out here from another town once a month. This woman was passed on from a friend of mine. The first few months I wasn't sure she would ever be able to complete the BYU independent study organ class she's doing, she struggled so much. But this week she passed off her played assignments. She's getting it! I'm so excited for her to get it. I now know she'll be able to do it.
It's such a high!
(Now how am I going to keep doing all this stuff if I homeschool???)
During that time, I did small things. I had a few organ students. I worked at a protestant church for a year just after getting out of counseling for my depression. That job was literally sent from heaven. It fell into my lap with no effort on my own to find it, and it was a much-needed blessing. But I let my dream of being a guest organist at the Tabernacle fall by the wayside. I was in therapy at the same time that I was trying to completely the very long audition process. I could not deal with both at the same time, and playing at the Tabernacle lost.
After a year of working at the church, we moved several hours away. I taught one student in the time that we lived in Idaho. One. I was afraid to take on too much because I hoped at any moment to get a phone call telling me that I was a mother. I thought motherhood would solve everything.
It solved the most important things, of course. But I was surprised to find myself a few years into mothering longing to be back in music. And having no clue how to get there. After numerous years of not practicing regularly, I was certainly not in any musical shape to do the kinds of things I'd always dreamed of doing. I still had big dreams for my future, but at that point in time I thought all was probably lost, and I'd most likely never get to do any of those things now. It was too late. This was depressing to me. I thought about my college friends and all the wonderful things they must be doing with their lives. (I found out later that they had many of the same feelings I did, trying to balance parenthood with their musical ambitions...) I stayed out of the organ scene completely because I was so embarrassed at how far from it I'd strayed. I surely didn't want any of my friends or former colleagues to find out how much my playing had slacked. I was mortified by what I perceived as mistakes that I'd made, lack of ambition, (in my mind) lack of talent, etc. I felt that I must not be good enough because I hadn't been able to do what everyone else had done.
But a series of experiences changed my thinking. I honestly can't remember what most of those experiences were. Perhaps things I read, or just impressions given to me by the spirit. But at one point I realized that it was not too late. Sure, I was not at the place I'd been in 1998 upon graduation. But it was never too late, I could still have goals and dreams. I just needed to start taking steps to get there.
So about this time of the year in 2005, I decided to start by teaching piano. Organ students were very hard to come by (though I did have one great one at this time), but I felt that teaching piano could be a beginning, and perhaps I could actually groom some of those pianists for later organ study. I taught piano for three years, quitting last fall as I got burned out and also had some strong impressions that this was the time to stop.
I have been reflecting lately on all the blessings that have come about because I changed my attitude, and because I was willing to humble myself, put myself out there, realize that we all have to start right where we are... In 2008, I was invited to teach at the BYU Organ Workshop because I dared to ask the workshop director if he would let me have the opportunity. Believe me, it was scary to ask him. In my heart, I felt that I surely could not be good enough to teach there, or he would have asked me long before. Imagine my shock when he said, "Sure!" That same year I was invited to play for one of the general sessions of the BYU Women's Conference in front of thousands of people. Why? I believe it was because I took the initiative of getting my name added to a list of people approved to play the organ in the Marriott Center at BYU, after seeing that list and noticing that my name was not on it.
Teaching at the organ workshop that first year was exhilarating. I found that some of the things that were most nervewracking (like being asked to teach improvisation???) turned out to be my favorite experiences from that workshop. Then this year came around. I was asked not only to teach at the workshop, but to play for the closing session. In front of distinguished faculty, some of whom were Tabernacle organists, some of whom were university professors, some of whom had careers as recitalists.
You see, I was comfortable teaching. My piano teaching, my private organ students, and my prior year's experience had returned me to my deep love of teaching. Teaching music is one of my passions, and I think I'm really good at it. When I'm teaching, I feel energized and alive!
But now I was being asked to perform. Outside of playing for the Presbyterians, I really had not performed in more than 10 years. Even that experience had ended 8 years earlier. I certainly had not performed anything classical or substantial, anything outside of low-key church literature. Not as a soloist. The couple of times I had ventured to perform during that time period, I'd found myself wracked with stage fright. When I auditioned for the job at the Presbyterian church, I had to stop my audition piece in the middle because I was so nervous I could not keep it together. When I played the prelude my first Sunday at that church, I was so freaked out it was all I could do to not jump off the bench and run away. In school, I performed all the time without any difficulties. Even at my graduate recital, I was not as nervous as I was any of the handful of times I have performed during the past decade.
So understandably, I was a bit worried about the organ workshop performance. I considered it a huge personal triumph that even though I made numerous mistakes in my playing, I was able to handle the nerves and not be such a basketcase. It felt like such a breakthrough!
Last night I played a kind of lecture-recital at the culminating session of a local stake's series of organ classes. I prepared a 30+ minute program of hymn-singing interspersed with some hymn settings. My student, who was hosting the classes, had given me the instructions: "Play something classical. Show them what the organ can do."
Sounds easy, right? Not if you haven't actually learned anything classical in almost a decade. I purposely programmed the evening with lots of hymn singing, knowing that it would help me be calm. I added in an LDS hymn prelude, and some easier classical settings by Pachelbel and Brahms. But I knew I could not do this without including some Bach. After all, Bach and the organ are practically synonymous. But none of the Bach pieces I know or like are easy. I finally settled on one short setting, and tried to make time to practice. No small feat when you have young children and no organ at home. (Have you ever tried to practice with a 3-year-old sitting by your side playing along with you?)
But I did it! The whole program went so well! The Bach went fabulously! And I wasn't nervous at all when I played it. At all! I was nervous about it during all the pieces prior. I was trying so hard to not think about that piece while I played everything that led up to it. Big mistake from a mind-game point of view (thinking about a future piece instead of concentrating on what you're playing...not good) But when I got to that Bach, all the nerves completely disappeared. I know it's because of all the prayers I said beforehand. It was performing like performing should be--fun! So enlivening that you want to do it again right on the spot!
This was my last demon, and conquered it.
The whole evening was a huge rush. I love teaching, and I love playing.
I started a new student this morning, a 15-year-old girl. And it was so exciting to watch her "get it" and just know in my heart that this young woman is going to take to the organ easily. I could just tell. It was fun to listen to her dinking around with the pieces I'd just assigned her while I talked to her mom afterward. Last Monday I had a student who comes out here from another town once a month. This woman was passed on from a friend of mine. The first few months I wasn't sure she would ever be able to complete the BYU independent study organ class she's doing, she struggled so much. But this week she passed off her played assignments. She's getting it! I'm so excited for her to get it. I now know she'll be able to do it.
It's such a high!
(Now how am I going to keep doing all this stuff if I homeschool???)
Comments
If anyone can make homeschool work you could!