Coming Down From the Mountain

My (and many other's) Piano Mom

Fran and Washington Garcia from Texas State

Doug (Vickie's hubby), Betty Mallard (my college teacher) and Vickie

Me, Jeremy and Paul 

Linda, Mary, Gerardo, Hway-siew (we did our training together) and Doris

Janie and Angelica (Austin mentors)

The gathering spots

Yelena, Fran, Jonathan and Mary

Sacred Places

Me, Dr. Mallard and Hway-siew (we were at UT together too)

Another sacred place--the sun room

I've just come from the mountain. To be completely honest, coming back from Austin is never easy. There is always a post-Austin meltdown. Their workshop is such a high--the children, the teachers, the community, the music, the FOOD. And the sacred places.

Let me tell you about the home of Doris Harrel.

This is where I learned about unconditional love. This is where I learned that I was loved but I still needed to practice more. This is where I learned I had a place in the Suzuki community. We all have a place at Doris's house.

This is where we all come in and get our own coffee as though it were our own kitchen. Or tea. And little pieces of toast from the Great Harvest Bakery with butter and some sort of jam that seemed like nectar of the gods. And a bowl of strawberries. And we sit at the table and talk about teaching. And we move into the living room and conjure courage to play for each other and listen. This is where I learned the language of music. How to translate those tiny little black dots into something that could stir the heart.

Not that I have achieved this. But this is also where I learned that we keep learning way past 80. God willing. There is still time for me.

This is the tenth year I have taught at this workshop. Walking down the hall and seeing Doris and seeing ALL my college teachers always makes my knees a little weak. All of THEM. I start to wonder how the heck I have fooled them. Me, who can't perform my way out of a cracker box--compared to THEM, that is. What could I possibly bring to this?

Alas, this is where I learned that there must be something valuable about me, that is different than what is valuable about them. And, they keep asking me back and that makes my knees shake a little less every year.

I loved doing the parent lecture. Instead of whining about our kids. . . which sometimes can happen. . . we talked about setting yearly goals and breaking those goals all the way down to the daily practice. This is something I am very good at, further confirming that being crazy-ass organized goes a long way toward achievement. Nobody ever stumbled into learning a concerto. Setting goals and organizing time may turn out to be post doctoral level material. So, that was super fun. I think I will submit the lecture for the next conference. Won't that look good on my teacher trainer application. . . 

Speaking of goals, alas, nobody ever stumbled into completing the Suzuki Teacher Trainer Application either. It's time for me to finish up this application before I start to be grouchy mom of the century.  Little thoughts like--if I was practicing the two hours a day that I'm spending at the piano with my kids, I would have this sucker done. . . are creeping into my head and that's not healthy.

All that's left is my own performance videos. Three of them. From memory. That I can be proud of. Meet my own standards.

Everything else is ready. Write a paper? I spit that out in my sleep. Videos of students? I've got archives of amazing student performances. Lesson excerpts? Done. Documentation of every moment of my professional career? It will not surprise you that that was easy for me.

So--what I thought I would do is practice what I preach. I'm gonna make a famous Sara Kotrba chart. I'm gonna set little daily goals for the three pieces I need to video. I'm gonna sneak in fifteen minutes even when I don't have an hour. I'm gonna put down the hand held device. I'm gonna just do the next thing. I will make some beautiful videos. And get this SOB done.

Jonathan, one of the performers on the faculty recital played these awesome Gershwin transcriptions. He told an anecdote about Gershwin wanting composition lessons and approaching Ravel for such. When Ravel heard Gershwin's music Ravel apparently refused him saying something like--you can come here and be a Ravel want to be-- or you can be the very best Gershwin.

I've said it before, but it bares repeating this time of year while coming down from the mountain. . . none of us is ever gonna be the next Doris. Most of us will never perform like college faculty. None of us will do it exactly the same. Each of us would do better to be our very own best self. And as we grow into that very best self, little by little our skin will fit, and our knees will shake a little less, at being exactly who we are, and trusting that we are exactly where we are meant to be at this moment. . . and that while we are loved unconditionally. . . .we still have some practicing to do.

God bless you, Doris. God bless you, Austin.