piano ha ha's

Most weekday afternoons I feel like I am living in a tv sitcom (only a good one). Teaching piano is just that funny. As Kenz frequently remarks, You have the most interesting piano students meaning they are hilarious and random. I suppose she’s right. I have filled a lot of journal entries with the wonderfully entertaining and wacky things they have said or done. The teenagers are amusing in their own right (that’s a whole ‘nother post), but it is the younger ones (like those under say 10) that are particularly crazy and endearing. I tee hee nearly every week.

You gotta love the little 7 yr old who shows up to her lesson with her recently purchased swimming cap in her bag. To her it made perfect sense to suddenly try it on in the middle of her finger patterns. C-D-E-F-G, apparently, just got too boring. I appreciated her attempt to liven things up a bit. I really did. Finger Patterns, after all, sound so much better when played with a swim cap on. A yellow one, no less. Yup.

This would be the same little adorable girl who, at a previous lesson, pulled out a dime from her tiny coin purse and insisted I take it.

Me: Why are you giving me a dime?

She: Because you need it.

Me: Nope, I don’t. You keep it and save it. Buy yourself something with it.

She: (Getting frustrated) No! You don’t get any money and someone should pay you.

I had a hard time making her understand that the envelope she brought every month, the one marked with my name on it, well, that contained her Mother’s check to me and I did in fact get paid by her Mother.

She could not wrap her little mind around this fact and insisted I take her dime. Which I did.

You gotta also love little Daxton, with his baseball cap and toothless grin. He came bounding up my stairs one day last spring, so excited he could barely contain himself. He proudly announced he had just won a slot in the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival competition at school and would be performing later in the summer.

I couldn’t resist.

Me: Well, let’s hear it then. Go ahead. Tell me your winning story.

So he regaled me with his rendition of The Big Mouth Frog, complete with actions and animated voice and exaggerated frog like mouth.

Highly entertaining. No wonder he won. After hearing it 3 times during his lesson I was convinced of his theatrical talent. As he left, he asked if I wanted to hear him do it again, you know because apparently I might not have caught all the nuances of his performance. Of course, I would love to hear it again. Oh. My.

I’ve learned a lot teaching piano, too. I’m thinking of the little girl who retrieved from her music bag a culinary concoction consisting of saltine crackers, butter and cheese with a big sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

She explained between bites.

Alyssa: I made myself a little snack.

Me: So I see. Well, well.

Before I could instruct her that snacks are best eaten away from the piano, (especially away from my piano) she gave me the recipe for her tasty snack. You know, in case I ever wanted to go whip myself up one.

Alyssa: But remember, (she cautioned! Spewing crackers through her lips) you have to use Cimma Mum.

Me: Gotcha

Through the years I have enjoyed/endured such delightful randomness and kookiness. It’s hard, really hard, not to smile or even laugh out loud at the student who thinks they can play piano with their winter gloves on (and we all know who that would be, eh Lacy? ☺ or who decides to lie down on the bench and stretch out as playing that piece one more time is so exhausting. I’ll just take a nap right now, if you don’t mind. During my lesson.

Oh, and I’ll never forget the time Jesse Boone came wearing his sister's contact lens. I couldn’t figure out why all the tears and excessive blinking. Was he sad, did I do something? No, no. He just wanted to try out his sisters contacts, because you know, that might be fun. Never mind that he couldn’t see with them, and his eyes kept crossing. But then again, nothing J.B. did was surprising. Half the time he showed up without his books because ‘they were nowhere to be found’, his mom must have ‘thrown them away’. And when I asked him what we should do for his lesson then, he always cheerfully suggested, We could just talk about music and stuff. Uh huh.

Here’s another. Gotta love this one. It’s Christmas time, and Jessica, (was then 7), is fascinated by my Nativity scene. She gently fingers the Wisemen and her hand stops on one in particular, the black Wiseman. Her brow furrows.

She blurts out:

Jessica: Where did you get this nativity scene?

Me: Uh… I got it at Costco.

Jessica: No. I mean what State did you buy this Nativity scene from?

Me: (Blank stare)

Jessica: You didn’t buy it in our State did you?

Me: (Still confused)

She continues, matter of factly.

Jessica: Because in our state the Wisemen are white and not black.

Oh. Of course, dontcha know?


I’ll end with Hadley. Just this Thursday. She’s zipping through her piece when she blurts out in the middle:

Hadley: Do you have something for me for my birthday?

Me: What? (I’m caught off guard, she succeeds in distracting me) Umm, when was your birthday?

Hadley: In the past.

Me: Oh. Well. Hmm. Good to know. Er. Continue.

Hadley: (Heavy Sigh, she reluctantly resumes her playing)

I give her an Otter pop as she leaves. For her birthday. The one that has passed.

My students, they never disappoint. I can depend on them to enlighten and entertain and as this weeks encounter proves, to even guilt me in an amusing way. And while I know for a fact that their Mothers would be horrified at what they sometimes blurt out or do, there is something so refreshingly honest and authentic in them. I envy their ability to say what they really feel and find myself wishing I could live with more childlike genuineness.

Who wouldn’t love to just lie down during church, right there on the bench, when the speaker drones on. And what I wouldn’t give to be able to don a yellow swimsuit cap the next time I’m up at the organ playing prelude.