I enjoy playing the piano, but most people who've ever heard me will readily agree with me that I don't really play the piano. I clank on the piano. I sort of had lessons when I was about 11, after being self-taught since age 7. But those lessons weren't much, and so I will often say that I've never had lessons.
When we lived with Eric's parents before moving to New Zealand, Eric's mom, Kathleen, would often tell Eric and I that she wanted to teach us piano lessons. To which both of us kind of rolled our eyes and said, "Uh, that's okay."
Then I got to New Zealand and realized how stupid that was. When you don't live in Utah, very few people in the Church know how to play the piano- like really play, like able-to-accompany-in-meetings play. And I was sort of close to being able to do those things, but not really, and I never felt really confident giving it a go.
Then on Christmas Eve Kathleen played her family-favorite rendition of Silent Night, and I happened to be sitting where I could watch her hands. Again, I was kicking myself for not taking lessons, and I told myself that the next time she said, "I want to teach you piano lessons," that I would say, "Good! I want to learn!"
So I had my first piano lesson lesson night. Like a real, bonafide piano lesson. I have a lot of technique to fix. And a lot of other learning to do. I'm excited to have such a qualified teacher; this lady really knows what she's doing!
1 comment:
Great! I never appreciated how much I'd let my skills slide until I was outside of Utah myself. I'll add "adult piano lessons" to the lifetime goals list . . .
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