I started lessons when I was in second grade as a wide eyed 6 year old, and I couldn't wait to play the piano. Making my way up the deck stairs I went to the sliding glass door and opened it. A quaint little kitchen met my eyes and I placed my coat on the hook and sat down at the kitchen table to wait my turn. Finally the plunking stopped, and another student walked past me as Mrs.Sperry ushered me into her piano room.
She was the cutest old lady and she always had on a nice button up shirt and nice pants. Her hair was permed and dyed and her huge glasses covered most of her cheerful face. That woman had the patience of a saint, as I was not the most enthusiastic of students. I was horribly disappointed that I could not play as well as my sisters (who were already at the intermediate level), and I was stuck with the stupid songs that made you play one hand at a time.
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| DIE THEORY DIE!!! |
Then there were the Alfred books, I hated those books. First of all, if you're name is spelled A-L-F-R-E-D, it should be pronounced like the man's name, not like E-R-F-E-R-D. This was extremely confusing and frustrating to me, as was the theory book. Each time I got to the next set of Alfred books(there were different levels and each level was a different color), I would hope and pray that I wouldn't have to do the theory book; and I was always let down. These theory books were supposed to help me get better at understanding my music and how to play it, but they were just a pain to sit down and do. I would sit there at the piano for what seemed like hours, erasing and rewriting just to get my theory homework done.
Once a year we would have our piano recital, and that was the most nerve-wracking time my young constitution had ever handled. It was ether sink or swim with your piece, and I definitely had some duds in my day. I clearly recall royally messing up "Walk in a Rainbow", and that was a black day in my piano playing history. The recital was held at Mrs. Sperry's church, and the students would sit in the front two pew rows according to age. The youngest students went first and it slowly went up to the oldest students. Mrs. Sperry was a very smart woman because then the younger students wouldn't have to pay as much attention, and the audience wouldn't be disappointed after hearing some amazing piano solo and then have to listen to a dull version of "Hot Cross Buns". My mom would always make my sisters and I dress up for the recital and then we would have to take a picture with Mrs. Sperry sitting on the piano bench and all of us circled around her.
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| Rockin Out with ABBA |
As I got older the lessons were more fun, but then a new challenge entered my pianist career, accompanying. Both of my sisters had, at some point, accompanied the high school choir and since there were no volunteers in sight I told the director I would be willing to accompany. Little did I know how terrifying it is to play for a choir, and to have to watch a director the whole time. Our director took her music very seriously and she wanted me to do a good job, and that meant one on one practices with her.These practices would run me through the mill, and she would still expect more of me. Somehow I made it through, although once during a concert the director stopped the whole song because I messed up the accompanying. At the end of my high school career I was pro at accompanying because I had accompanied the choir for six years, and a singing group for two. My senior year went out with a bang as I nearly set the piano on fire accompanying an ABBA medley.
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| Juries Make Me Feel: Sad |
My freshman year of college I would accompany my choir during practices because any excuse not to sing was a blessing. I hated that choir and playing for it was the only fun thing about it. The lessons my former director gave me served me well and I was in my college director's good graces for my accompanying skills. Somehow people taking voice lessons found out that I played the piano and asked me to accompany them for their finals. Each student had to sing two songs for a panel of judges to grade them on their semester's work...so no pressure on me. That was grueling work because each voice lesson teacher would want me to come in during their student's lesson time so they could tell me exactly how I should play the song. Now imagine this stress 5 times over and you have what happened to me at the end of my first semester. Luckily, my former training and current practicing served me well and all five of my singers lived through the juries.
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| Says it all |
I still have to play for those damn juries, but the most wonderful thing about being an accompanist is the fact you get to charge people for your work. At the end of juries it is a most excellent thing to have the money in your pocket and a satisfied grin as you recycle the copied sheet music. Looking back on those years with Mrs. Sperry and my choir director I have to smile. There were more than a few tears shed over frustration and anger, but it all worked out in the end. Then of course there is the joy I have in my heart when I am able to tell people that I am pianist, and it is not a dirty word.
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