For the love of my job . . .

This week I began to teach my last music lesson of the evening. The girl stood and walked slowly towards the piano. She did not sit down and begin her scales as was customary. She merely stated, “I am not going to play today.” I mentally laughed and thought; “Now this could be fun, for I have a will of my own.” My jaw clenched in determination as I raised my eye brow, chuckled and said, “Yes, you are.” She moaned, “Oh! I hate piano.”

Annoyance faded and I became concerned for her. If this attitude of play mindedness and laziness continued it would affect her family, those around her, the kind of education she would obtained, the kind of marriage she would have . . . everything!

So, I began my lecture in an effort to save the world. ;-)

“I want you to sit down. I am going to say something to you and I want you to look at me the entire time.” She looked up in surprise, “Am I in trouble?” I grinned, “Not yet.”

I threw myself into the lecture that I had mentally prepared for weeks as I found myself frustrated with her. I never thought that I would actually come out and verbalize my thoughts but finally, I said everything that I had always wanted to say. “You know, no one likes to be around someone who is whining and moaning all of the time. If you like to be around people who are full of life and are always cheerful, then I suggest you become one of those people. All of your life you are going to do things that you flat out dislike. Since you seem to so detest piano, you should be grateful for the opportunity to practice disciplining yourself to do things that you dislike without complaining about it. So, I want you to sit down, listen to me, display your practicing (or lack thereof) and be happy about it.”

Little did I know – my mom was dying laughing in the next room.

I cannot help but wonder how many people have been longing to give me the same lecture.

None the less, her attitude improved considerably and I am clinging to the hope that piano will change this girl’s outlook on life . . . maybe . . .