He was stern, thorough, and I still remember him after a distance of several decades. He was a short man, fairly round with a thatch of white hair. He was born and raised in England and he spoke with a British accent. His name was Mr. Stone. He was my first piano teacher.
Every week, without fail, my mother took me to his piano studio. He was never mean or harsh, but I was in awe–okay, I was scared! I don’t know why. Maybe it was because I was afraid I would forget something he told me about technique. Maybe it was because I was afraid he would know I hadn’t practiced for thirty full minutes every day. “Curve those fingers!” he said. “Play on the ends of your fingers. I want to hear your nails click, but be sure your nails are short. No long fingernails.”
What? Wasn’t that a contradiction? I thought I would just quit. It was too hard and I didn’t want to keep going, but I did.
I must sit up straight and always enter the piano bench from the left side. Timing was everything. I must not go back or falter, if I made a mistake. I must keep right on going. When I graduated out of my first book into the second piano book, I was elated. Harmony! I was playing harmony. Boy! It sounded good.
And, those recitals! Oh, my! I was scared stiff as I slid onto the piano bench from the left side and sat up straight and curved my fingers. But, I played and didn’t die or flub up too badly. If I made a mistake, I hoped no one noticed, and I kept playing.
Those pieces were by the old masters–Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, the whole lot. And, each piece had a lot of things to learn in it. It might look difficult and impossible, but it wasn’t–not the way Mr. Stone saw it. Take it a measure at a time, he said, don’t worry about the whole thing until you’ve mastered one measure. Correct notes, timing, dynamics –there was a lot in just one song.
Looking back, those sessions with Mr. Stone were bright spots in my childhood. I learned a lot from him–lessons that have stayed with me for a long time–sit up straight and keep going; look out for all the small nuances, listen for the beauty and make the music sing. Things that seem hard and maybe even impossible aren’t–not when you take them a measure at a time. There’s music in everything, so listen for the melody and let it come through. But, most of all, when you make a mistake, keep going. Never, ever, not even hardly ever, should you quit.
Speak Your Mind