It's a bit long so I don't know if that could make the reader lose interest. Any suggestions/corrections/etc. are appreciated!
I was probably first exposed to Bach while in the womb. My father – a huge advocate of classical music – only felt it appropriate that his two daughters learn to play the piano. At the mere age of five, I would not hear of it. Rather than playing with friends, it was expected that I practice for two hours everyday. I screamed and cried and threw my fists in the air but all of it amounted to nothing.
The moment I walked past my front door after school, I was overcome with anger. There, adjacent to the brick-red walls of the living room, was a giant, mahogany oak structure – a piano. Its presence taunted me. One tear silently traveled down my face and found a happy landing spot on my left clavicle. I brushed it off and ran to my room. With a slam of my door all of the anger that resided in my chest released and I sobbed. I just couldn't understand why my parents would do this to me! While all of the other children were hop-scotching down the sidewalks or creating scenarios with their Malibu Barbie's, I would be at home, sitting on a hard bench, repeating the same silly songs until I perfected them. I was in a prison of F Flats and C Majors.
A week later, a knock on the door echoed through the house. On the opposite side was a woman in a tacky blue outfit. Her name was Mrs. Mayock and she was a 60 year old woman with scarce yellow hair covering her very pale scalp. She would be my piano teacher for many years. I sat on the couch with a smirk on my face as I witnessed my sister struggle through her first lesson. The time came and it was my turn. My feet dragged on the tile floor and I sat on the bench. My back remained slumped despite the number of times Mrs. Mayock told me to straighten up. I tried to make this lesson so difficult she would never want to come back again. Looking prim and proper, she sat down, and began the lesson. I watched as her hands gracefully flew along the keys as she told me of all the scales and chords.
"Okay Christine," she said encouragingly, "I want you to repeat what I just did." I smiled, placed my finger on what I would later learn to be C Major, and pushed down.
The minute my finger pushed the key down a lush sound enriched my ears. Every time the tip of my finger toughed those ivory keys, a shock went through me. A spark deep inside my soul was finally ignited. I struggled, but that only motivated me to improve. That lesson I learned my first song – "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." I practiced religiously.
The next few months I learned more songs, all of which were childish and simple. Because my sister, Sally, was six years older than I, she was learning at a much faster pace. She was already moving on to classical composers like Beethoven, Mozart, and Debussy. Meanwhile, I kept learning from the same book with the child caricatures playing the piano. Envy burned within and I had a strong desire to learn more challenging songs. I would look at the sheets of music Sally played from and craved to understand the notes on them. A passion burned inside to play Mozart's "Alla Turca" and Chopin's "Nocturne in E Minor." Mrs. Mayock was our instructor for about five years, until we moved.
After Mrs. Mayock left, I decided to cheat on the piano. I experimented with other instruments like the flute and guitar, but none satisfied me like the piano did. My heart tore a little each time I passed the piano. Finally, my sophomore year of high school, I had enough. I sat down on the bench, opened a book, and began to teach myself "Fur Elise". I already knew how to read notes and soon I was able to play the entire song flawlessly. I felt whole again. It became my goal to learn a new song by the end of every month. By the end of my junior year, I had mastered a variety of songs ranging from Brahms' "Hungarian Dance" to Chopin's "Fantasie Impromptu".
Music is often called a universal language. Every listener hears a different story in a song, whether it be of love, life, or turmoil. Piano has increased my knowledge of culture and tested me in ways I had never anticipated. When feeling "out of tune", a simple song or even a scale allows me to channel my emotions and think more clearly. Just like a piano, the outcome of my life all depends on how I play it.
Christine Gales
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