Music Teachers | The One Who Didn't Like Me

In my last blog about Music Teachers I walked about Karen.  I did my Grade 5 & part of Grade 8 with Karen.  If you go back and read, you'll understand the impact she had in such a brief amount of time.  When I completed Grade 6, I did that with Candace Sorenson and while it went fine I can't say it was particularly memorable and the couple memories I have were of when her dog died and when I competed in the festival.  That's no slight against her at all.  It's what it was.  When Karen needed to move after I'd learned three quarters of the Grade 8 material and already registered for the exam, I had to search out a new teacher to help me get the rest of the way.

I had one lesson with a lady who picked apart every single piece I had learned to the extent that I was supposed to work on my hand position and gestures.  Um no.  No time for that whether it was necessary or not.  I found it pretty ironic that she had incredibly long fingernails that prevented her from actually having great hand position and yet here she was commenting on mine!  I have no idea what her name was and I left her house with a determination to find someone else.

I got a list of Registered Music Teachers in the area.  One name stood out because her husband had been the band teacher (remember I quit band after grade 7) at my high school.  Mrs. Gibson.  She had a warmth about her, was small in stature and had short grey hair.  I'd go into the basement of their bungalow where there were some couches to wait and two baby grand pianos amongst shelves and filing cabinets of books.

Mrs. Gibson was a good teacher but she had a very cutting way about her.  My perspective is that she likely had a lot of students who excelled and while I always thought I was average I do realize now I wasn't.  She was the one who made me feel that way.  She told me things like how I needed to practice 4 hours a day.  She said things like "I thought you knew what you were doing." when I'd got 91% on my theory exam and not 100%.  She made me file my nails as short as they could be because they tapped on the keys and encouraged me to remove all rings and watches so 'I could be free'. 

I often describe her as "the one who hated me" even though I chose not to title this blog in those words.  It's possible she did like me or at least tolerate me. I know she didn't like that I was already teaching.  She didn't like that I played on keyboards.  She didn't like a multitude of things about me.  I never got to hear about the things I did well.  The drills on scales I won't ever forget nor will I ever teach them that way.  None of these things I took forward with me in my own teaching.

I received a 75% on my Royal Conservatory Grade 8 exam.  I thanked Mrs. Gibson and never looked back.  

I thought for a long time that 75% was a poor mark.  Many many years later and after putting my own students through multitudes of exams I have gained an understanding that it was actually a pretty good mark and that even the most exceptional of piano students only got marks in the 80's.  You see they mark in a way that means you have to prove your worth and show why you deserve the mark.  I spent a long time thinking less of myself.

But who really cares because I got the certificate and I've spent 30+ years teaching music.

A few years ago, I saw Mrs Gibson at a Royal Conservatory seminar.  I was shocked.  She still looked the same.  I didn't talk to her and she didn't recognize me.

Music Teachers | Klassical Karen

I was in my third year of teaching when I decided that I needed more training.  My student load was increasing and my employer at the time, Gordie Brandt’s Music was getting more confident in my abilities.  Remember, my background was mostly music played on the organ and mostly pop/rock music.  But, things were changing.  Technology was changing.  The plinkety-plink piano’s of the past were now high tech with digital sounds and disk drives.  They were considerably cheaper than an organ with the same capabilities.  As the market changed more parents were enrolling their children for for piano lessons.

The course that I was taught was Technics, TMA, and later TriTone.  They published a course for organ and a pop keyboard version.  The music wasn’t all that different, yet I knew I needed more knowledge…..more than I could teach myself.  So I checked into some other teachers at the music school.  There was a new teacher, Karen Berard, who had just moved to the city.  She was very experienced and was a top notch teacher.  She taught in the next classroom and we soon hit it off.  

My first lesson with her was an eye opener.  There was so much technical stuff that I had missed out on with my previous teachers.  She drilled me relentlessly.  Sometimes, I think she must have wondered how I got to be a teacher without knowing these things.  I wondered too why anybody had faith in me. 

I don’t remember what my lesson day or time was.  I know that I had one hour lessons before we had to teach.  It was fun.  Karen had a way about her.  She was my age and was strict…..without being strict.  If I goofed up, she would laugh about it.  She was patient.  She was silly.  Karen turned out to be one of my best friends.  

I took my Grade 5 Royal Conservatory certificate with her, but because of her changing circumstances she was not able to teach me for Grade 6.  I was able to do part of my Grade 8 certificate with her.  What I really learned from her was so much more than the notes on the page or what a minor sixth interval sounds like.  It wasn’t perfection, but an attitude…...or a way to be Me and the teacher and the student all rolled into one.  What ever it was, she made me willing to practice like I’d never practiced before.  

We had the same battles.  Karen was not overweight by any means, but always worked hard to keep thin.  We would go walking together early in the morning at the Communiplex and then sometimes we wouldn’t!  Sometimes she would show up at my door and say “I don’t feel like walking today…..how about we go to Robin’s Donuts?”  She once confided in me that she had moved around so much over the past few years that she had never really had any good friends.  She said I was probably her closest friend.  

One night, I showed up for my lesson at her apartment.  Karen greeted me at the door and informed me that they had to move again.  This time to High River Alberta.  Her husband had either gotten a job there or was going to go to school there, I can’t exactly remember now.  Her mother was there helping her pack.  It was sad.  

I talked to her once after that on the phone.  Then a number of years later, I heard she bought a new piano from my employer and was living in Red Deer.  Then one time, when I worked retail, I actually saw her mom.  It was a weird circumstance.  She came into the store and we'd always input into the computer where the customer was from and she mentioned the same town Karen had been from and I said as I often do "oh I used to know someone from there named Karen Berard" and she informed me that not only was that her daughter but that she'd just dropped her off at the airport.  

I finished my Grade 8 certificate with another teacher.  But I didn’t take any formal lessons after that.  What I learned from Karen was far more valuable to me than a certificate.  Lot's of the things she did in her teaching I also do in my teaching to this day.  As for lessons, while I think about continued education from time to time I also think I am pretty successful just the way I am.  I've had a lot of good friends in my life but I haven’t had a friend like her since.  If I ever have the chance to talk to her again, I would definitely say “thank-you.” 

Music Teachers | My Rockin' Organ Lessons Part 2

When I was finished with lessons from Su Ling Lo I went to a new teacher, Claude Rivet. He was a middle aged man with a thick Canadian French accent.  He taught out of the basement of his house and was able to teach me contemporary music, rock and even jazz.

I would play and he would accompany me on his piano or keyboard. He’d dance around and make faces to our playing. He had lots of practical information. He let me arrange and be as creative as I wanted to be. I was always a step ahead or sometimes several steps ahead. I could always go and learn things on my own. I don’t know if this frustrated him or just made his job easier.

At one of these Step Ahead Lessons, he asked if I would start on the next song.

“I can play it already.” I stated. But little did he know that I could not only already play it, but I had been working on if for quite a while. I had made introductions, accompaniment variations, sound and drum choices….everything. (In those days, we'd orchestrate the entire song and instruments were capable of playing back up in the roll of a band.)

“Okay, play it for me.” I think he didn’t believe me. The song was ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’. I probably liked the song so much because Corey Hart was singing it on the radio then. Gosh, that dates me doesn’t it? At any rate, when I was done playing the last note, I turned to look at Claude. “WOW!” He exclaimed and somewhat shocked. He praised me up and down for what I did and then we moved on to the next song.

I don't think he gave stickers.  Actually, I don't think any of my teachers gave stickers for rewards.

I ventured to his house every week for about 2 years and then he moved to teach in the Gordie Brandt’s Music Academy which had opened in a run down creaky ex movie theatre. It was during one of these lessons in this spooky old place that Claude informed me that he was getting out of teaching. I don’t remember what he was going to do, just that he was moving on. He explained that he had taught me everything he knew and he really didn’t feel that he could take me any farther. What he did need though, was someone to teach a couple beginner keyboard students of his on Saturday mornings. He asked me if I would want to try my hand at teaching and reassured me by saying that he would be around to keep an eye on me. I agreed.

So in the spring of the year I was turning 17 I began teaching. Claude did keep his eye on me. I taught for the Prince Albert Academy of Music as the old Gordie Brandt’s had gone bankrupt and changed hands.  One day he contacted me. He offered me the job of school director as they were trying to reopen Gordie Brandt’s. I declined. Not because I couldn’t do the job, but because I just didn’t trust that a new business would fly. I was right to go with my gut feelings. Since then, there's been many incarnations of that same music school.

Many years after this and just when I was beginning to feel burnt out from teaching we crossed paths again. I was working in Cotton Ginny in the mall and I happened to cut through the furniture store where he was working as a salesman. I told him how I was feeling and that I just needed to prove to myself that I could do other things. He said he understood, but that it was a shame because I was a natural. Claude told me that he even was getting back into teaching after all those years.

After Friending each other on Facebook, I did see Claude another time in recent years.  I was in Costco and I heard, "well look who it is?" and I wondered, who is it?  It was me.  I gave him a big hug right there in front of the rye bread and we did a little catch up.

I often think of his bopping around to music while we were practicing together and all his funny faces.  Sometimes I catch myself making faces when I listen to my own students play or perform.  I wonder if they notice. 

Music Teachers | My Rockin' Organ Lessons Part 1

By the end of grade seven I was finishing my clarinet career and trading up into the keyboard world.  Originally, I wanted to be in a band.  Be a rock star.  My parents bought me an inexpensive keyboard/synthesizer.  I could already read treble clef notes and I was trying to play a little by ear.  I would put the rhythms on and play away and dream.

One day, my Dad came home to say that if I was no longer going to play in the school band then I would have to take some other activity.  I was given the choice...piano or organ lessons.  

Let me take you back. This was about 1984-ish. Piano's were not digital. Piano's were the standard upright or baby grand vintage. Keyboards were just coming out. The organ on the other hand was awesome. They had drums and all kinds of sounds. Organs were cool. I chose Organ lessons. I know what you're thinking...not many organ rock groups out there. I didn't care.  

I should probably explain a huge difference between the piano and organ. The piano has one keyboard of 88 keys. The organ has two keyboards, foot pedals [much like a keyboard to be played with the left foot] and the expression pedal, for the right foot. The organ is more complicated to play because of the needed coordination of both hands and both feet.  

My teacher was a lady named Su Ling Lo. I was signed up for the 8 Week Introductory Course for $99. I would go into the basement which housed the music school and wait patiently every week. When the eight weeks were over I continued. She said I had promise. I learned quickly. had fun and I was good at it.  

The most vivid memory of her that I have and probably something that become one of my own vices was her pens and pencils. She had different colors laying about all over the organ. Su Ling would want to make a correction. Look about bewildered, and grab another pen or pencil from her desk. Which, no doubt would be lost in the jumble of other discarded pens and pencils littering the organs surface.  It wasn't just the organ.  They would litter the pianos and other keyboards in the room too.

For one of the competitions I entered I chose a Beatles tune. P.S. I Love You.  I was always a Beatles fan. I don't remember being nervous. I would win second place....always a point behind Caroline Haugen. Yes, I remember.  For three years, every festival we would play in we would be against each other. She would place first and I....second. One time we had to play a duet. When it came to our performance, she messed up and I got blamed.  

Another festival, I learned and performed As Long As He Loves Me.  Instead of performing live, we recorded my performance onto a cassette tape and the tape was sent to be adjudicated.  I remember doing it and Su Ling asking me "is that how you want to do it?".  Weeks later when the results came in she expressed her displeasure at how I didn't win.  She wasn't upset with me but was upset with the judging.  She made comment about the person who did win.  Looking back, as a teacher now, I completely understand those feelings.  We know how hard the students work and we always want it to pay off.  

My parents were always supportive of my efforts. There was always music in the house.  Many a weekend morning would include pancakes on the griddle and country tunes on the stereo.  Dad would come home from a long day at work and plop down in his favorite chair in the living room.  

"Play that song for me," he'd say.  

"What song."  

"The one that relaxes me."  

I'd flip pages to Endless Love and play away. Pretty soon Dad would not only be relaxed, but asleep. I'm still not sure if it's a good thing that my playing put him to sleep!  

The third year that Su Ling Lo was my teacher, she decided to combine students into groups. There was four of us in a group all playing organ. The problem was that two of us practiced and two of us didn't and sometimes one wouldn't show up at all. I was one that practiced. In fact, I would often be called up to the front of a class to demonstrate songs.  

I was probably about 14 to 15 years of age then. I was so far ahead of the other people in the organ group that I was hindered from progressing. We asked if I could again have private lessons. When we got the notice of the new schedule I couldn't believe what she had done to me. I was booked for Friday nights at 8 o'clock. Friday night to a 15 year old is totally unreasonable. Unthinkable. Friday was movie night.  

Dad and I took off for the music store and inquired about changing teachers. Not a problem, we were told. This was the end of my organ lessons with Su Ling Lo and her pen and pencil fetish.

Music Teachers | Elementary School Band

My very first music teacher was Bill Douglas. He was from Scotland. He would wear his shirt sleeves rolled up and had gold wire framed glasses. He was slightly balding and had grey tufts of hair. Mr. Douglas was my band instructor and later my Grade 6 teacher. I idolized Mr. Douglas.

In Grade 4, musicality exams were given. Those who scored high were chosen to participate in the band. I don't remember being on that list, however, there was room for 2 more students to begin. Derek Brunning and myself.  We chose the clarinet. We would stay at lunch time to learn how to read music and catch up to the others. Eventually, we were admitted into the band.

The first concert I remember playing in was one where we performed Moon River. Honestly, I don't remember that much about the experience. We were a small group, standing in a row on the stage at my elementary school belting out Moon River.

We progressed to the main band. We became the Arthur Pechey Elementary School Band. We were good. No. We were awesome. I remember playing the theme song from 'Dallas'. I remember my heart pounding in my chest with excitement at the final crescendo.

We travelled to a few different music festivals and always received good marks. A's and B's, but mostly A's. One lunch hour, Mr. Douglas wanted to record us. The cassette recorder was a high tech instrument back then so he used a spool recorder. I recall it looking somewhat like a movie projector with big spools of tape and knobs to turn on and off. He readied us, inspired us, "play for the Gipper" who ever that was. And we did. 

"That was the best I've ever heard you play," Mr. Douglas said. That really meant a lot coming from him. Then he walked over to the recorder. 

DOH!

It wasn't on. 

Whenever we gave performances, we had to wear a uniform of black pants, white long sleeve top, and the most glorious [hideous] Red Smock. The Red Smock, was made of stiff candy apple red polyester trimmed with black ticking. On the left breast was our school badge in colours of black, white and yellow. What a vision [nightmare] we were in our costumes.
I also had to wear my Lucky Socks. They were white knee high sports socks with a navy stripe and a yellow stripe at the top. My performance would suffer without those Lucky Socks. 

I loved those band days. At the end of Grade 7 I would change schools and band instructors. If I couldn't have Mr. Douglas for a band teacher, I didn't want to be in a band at all. I decided that was the end of my clarinet career. Besides, I had to retire my Lucky Socks....they had holes in them.