A Teacher, A Mentor, A Friend

I will never forget the first time I walked into her house. She was taller than me in those days, but she has always had the same sweet smile. This was my first harp lesson. I was so excited. I have loved music since before I can remember and by the age of ten my grandmother had convinced my parents into giving me harp lessons. (If only my parents knew what they were getting themselves into.)

I stayed close to my mother is side as we entered the house. She introduced herself as Anne saying, We have the same name. I was immediately hooked and thought she was the neatest teacher. I was very quiet during my lessons in those days, but always exceptionally attentive and responsive to her instructions. I learned quickly and was told I had a natural talent for the harp. My harp teacher has never believed in always praising her students because she does not want them to get the idea that they play so well that they do not have to continue to work hard. This does not mean she is negative. She is very good at letting you know that things are improving. However, she is constantly pointing out how to make it better. As a result, I never developed an ego and have remained persistent in achieving my highest quality of playing.

By the time I was thirteen I was sure that I wanted to be like my teacher when I grew up and practiced everyday dreaming of playing all over the world in the greatest symphonies. I even knew where I wanted to go to college, Eastman School of Music. I didn't have an exact reason except that I had heard some of her older students talking about how many of the best musicians in the world studied there. My teacher realized my love and dedication to the harp and encouraged my interest. She asked me to play in recitals that she gave. What an honor! She thought I was good enough to play with her. She took me back stage with her during the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra concerts introducing me to other musicians and telling them of my talent. I even got turn her pages and watch her record her CD.

My parents took me to visit Eastman School of Music when I was fifteen. It was all and more than I expected to be. Without a doubt this was where I had to go to college. This was serious and my teacher knew it. She had me playing in community orchestras, participating in concerto competitions, and attending harp workshops with some of the best harpists in the world. I practiced so hard and when it was time for my college auditions my teacher was right there with me to reassure me I could do it. Sure enough my audition went well and I was headed to Eastman. My teacher didn't want to see me go but she wished me the best and asked that we stay in touch.

Attending Eastman had been my dream, but shortly after arriving I realized this dream was not all it was cracked up to be. My teacher and I clashed and I could not deal with being consumed with my music 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It wasn't me and never was. I lost touch with my teacher that first semester because I was so miserable and didn't want to have anything to do with my harp. I eventually stopped practicing and took up other classes in hopes of changing my major to chemistry. My parents made me stay at Eastman for an entire year because they couldn't let me drop my dreams without giving it a better try. My teacher had kept in touch with my family and often asked about me. I was practicing at my grandmother's house while I was home for spring break when my teacher showed up to give my grandma a lesson. I didn't want to see her and I didn't want her to hear me play because I had digressed since I left and I was so embarrassed. She walked in and with such understanding asked how I was. No questions about why I hadn't kept in touch or why I was so miserable. Instead, she wanted to help me with what I was working on.

I finished the year and planned on transferring to Carnegie Mellon University to study chemistry and never play the harp again. After an entire summer of not going near my harp I was beginning to think about how I could give up a gift God had given me so easily. I began to think, "Why can't I just make it a hobby like I had before? It was so much fun before. It is okay not to make it my career." I decided that I could take lessons with my teacher at CMU since Iid be there studying chemistry and I wouldn't have to worry about it being becoming my life. The last time I had talked to my teacher was over spring break. However, I found the courage to call her and she was more than happy about the idea. CMU was a lot different than Eastman because there were more people there than just musicians. My parents had a heart attack when I called them two weeks into school and told them I was going to switch and go back to majoring in music. My teacher couldn't have been more pleased. I was uncomfortable with her at first. I was still embarrassed and ashamed of what had happened the prior year and was unsure of what she thought of my playing. By then end of my first semester she had built up my confidence again and I was extremely happy with my decision.

It was so good to enjoy studying music again. I wasn't sure about what I wanted to do with it but I had learned that I didn't enjoy it being my entire life. My teacher was certain of my talent and work ethic and encouraged me to strive to be part of a symphony. I was never very responsive to this suggestion, but I could never tell her that someone had sparked my interest in arts management. My second year at CMU, my teacher decided that I needed to start getting myself out there, participating in competitions and auditions so that I would have experience for when I was auditioning for symphonies come graduation. She picked up that I was not at all enthusiastic, but continued push me to be my best.

I was dreading my lesson. I had auditioned for a chamber orchestra and wasn't chosen, and I knew from the phone call that my teacher was disappointed. However, I was not expecting what she was going to say. She lectured me about how it is to make it and the effort require and then asked, "What do you want to do?" I started to cry; it was the first time she had ever seen me cry. How could I disappoint her again and tell her that performing was not what I wanted to do? She was so proud of me and I didn't want her to think any less of me. However, she hugged me and told me that I don't have to perform and that she just needed to know what I want so she can know the best way to help me.

Ever since that day and all we had been through, our relationship began to grow. It has meant so much to me to have a teacher who gives endless support and who truly has my best interests at heart. She is the reason I am doing what I am today and I am so thankful for her encouragement and love! Anne-Marguerite epitomizes all the qualities I could ask for in a teacher, a mentor, and a friend. I will never forget her and I will never lose touch with her again.