Music Therapy 101

So, I went into my first piano lesson session with guns blazing! I was ready to take the bull by the horns and learn something.

And I had it all figured out. I decided that, right off the bat, if I told my instructor what my problems are, she could give the solution at the beginning of the 8 weeks, avoiding any future delays because of the problems. However, I left feeling like it was a therapy session bearing little musical fruit.

"Tell me about yourself and your history with music," she said.

I took probably three minutes to explain.
And then another ten minutes was spent telling her what I felt my problems were and my excuses for them: I'm sure I have a lack of self discipline: I just don't practice. But that's because I get so frustrated and overwhelmed. And I can't seem to read the notes fluently. So of course, I can't play them either. And because I anticipate certain notes, I guess at them. Instead of reading the note, I look to see if the note is higher or lower and by how many--so I'm not really reading the note...just counting. I've been writing out the notes, but I think that's cheating because I'm no longer reading the note itself, rather the letter I've marked it to be.

And in another ten minutes, I summed up what I wanted out of these lessons: I want to read music effortlessly. And I want to play what I read just as easily. I want to be able to process all those different notes at once--and with both hands. I'd like to be able to transpose a piece of music...and while we're at it, I want to sing while I play.

With seven minutes left in our session, I stared at her waiting for some life-altering revelation--something that would magically solve my frustrations at the piano and transform this dull pumpkin into that piano-playing genius I envisioned.

Instead, she said, "I think we can accomplish some of that."

I really don't know what I was expecting....but for sure, something with a little more "hoo-rah!" than that. So with the remaining time we had, she placed my fingers on the keys, beginning with middle C, counted the number for each finger, played three notes, and proceeded to issue my first assignment: "Practice page 6 and read page 7."

That's it?

"So, where do you see me in 8 weeks?" I asked. Yes, I felt funny asking the question. But, after throwing all my issues out there--and although optimistic--I wanted to be realistic about it! I mean, if there's no hope for me here, just tell me now!

"Well, it depends on how fast you learn, and how much you practice. We'll just have to give it some  time to see."

She's making me work for it!

But she did offer a few encouraging words, and before anything could damper them, I was on my merry way. And when I got home, I practiced. And practiced. And practiced.

The noise I was making wasn't sounding like much, which was frustrating and a little discouraging at times, but day after day, the more I practice, the more I solidify the notes and key strokes into my brain. 

For my second lesson, I decided not to open my mouth--only to breathe a little--because I wanted to learn as much as I could.

It's amazing how much you can learn when you just BE QUIET. So instead of laying my brain on the table and dissecting it with her, this time I just asked questions, picking her brain a little.

I've only had two lessons so far, with only one and a half weeks of practice under my belt. But I can already feel the benefits of practice. Amazing to think, all these years, all I needed was guidance.