Once upon a time, before we moved to camp, I was a piano teacher. I really loved it. It was a fantastic job, and for many years, music was part of everything for me.
And then I got tendonitis, and then we moved to camp, and so it’s been a while since I’ve played, or taught, piano.
I have a beautiful piano. And it’s just sat there for so long, which has made me sad. I was really looking forward to the day when Anika would be old enough for me to start giving her piano lessons.
I wanted to start a few years ago, but I held off – partly because homeschool gave us enough of a teacher/student relationship to adjust to, and partly because as a piano teacher who’s done some research on the topic, I feel a little bit strongly that kids shouldn’t start piano before they are in Grade 3.
And now Anika is in Grade 3. So on Saturday, I began to give her piano lessons. And as I sat there, watching her having fun, and figuring things out, and tinkering around on the keys, I felt this warm feeling spreading deep inside of me, and I realized just how much I wanted her to love music. I realized how much I’ve been wanting to share this part of my life with her.
And every time she voluntarily goes to sit down at the piano to play her little songs, I smile and feel really happy.
I do not pretend for a second that it will always be like this. I am enough of a piano teacher to realize that learning to play an instrument always involves moments of frustration, and times of wanting to give up.
We are so in the the honeymoon phase right now.
But I’ll enjoy the honeymoon phase, and we’ll deal with those other phases later. This is our moment, and I will revel in it.
Ordinary Days 