When Societe de Ballet suddenly closed, I stopped both my ballet and piano lessons. Societe de Ballet was a 15 minute walk from my house to the center. I was able to go to my lessons, because our housekeeper could bring me to my lessons with no problems. Finding a center with proximal convenience was near impossible. Hence, this was the end of my ballet potential and I will forever be a frustrated ballet dancer.
It was somewhat easier to find another piano teacher. My mother was able to find one that provided home service, Mr. E. Mr. E was a tall figure with a patient ear. He taught me two pieces that I played over the summer. However, while playing my piano pieces, I overheard one of my Titas say that I played too loud. It was like running a spear through my hard and slashing an ax through my wrists. I didn't burst into tears while playing in front of them. I did however, stopped playing the piano and my mother stopped my piano lessons with Mr. E.
After a while, my mom told me she had found a new piano teacher for me, Mrs. C. She found the piano teacher in my school. The piano room was in the High School building. I always found it so exciting that I actually had a reason to walk from the Grade School Buildings through the Book Store and have access to the High School Buildings because of my piano lesson. I would pass by the open gymnasium where I would see the High School girls practice their cheerleading. There was a small annex building with an airconditioned room. Mrs. C. was a curly-haired lady with big round eyes, wrinkled hands and a gleaming smile. I would have hesitated to sit beside her because she reminded me of my Ninang in Laguna. My Ninang scared everyone around her so it evoked the same feeling. But Mrs. C. with her raspy voice and highly energetic persona made me feel comfortable.
Mrs. C. was the perfect piano teacher for 10-year-old me. She commanded authority, being a person that I would correlate with my Ninang made me listen intently to her. She was enthusiastic about me, which made me feel comfortable. We would have a piano piece that we would pick at the beginning of the year and she would patiently teach it to me for one year so that I could perform it well. Later in life, I realized what tenacity and patience she had to tear my little hands and my little brain the piano. She made sure that I not only memorized the pieces but played it with feeling. Mrs. C.'s strictness was also warranted for such a bratty little girl like me. During my piano exercises, she would usually doze off but awaken suddenly if I made the wrong note. This completely baffled me how she can awaken by a single mistake and I felt really proud if she was able to sleep through the exercises. My wrists, palms, and fingers have the perfect posture because Mrs. C's pointed finger shaped them that way. Old piano teachers used to hit the dorsal part of young pianists' hands back in the day, Mrs. C. shied away from that practice. Instead, she'd hold my hand with her hand under mine and her sharp nails hurting my palms if I had poor posture. How to wash your hands before piano playing, how to sit on the piano, how to curve your hands, how to memorize the piano piece well, how to feel each note from the piano piece, how to make your version of the piano piece, and how to take a beautiful bow at the very end while sitting or standing– were valuable life lessons I learned from Mrs. C.
After my first piano recital with Mrs. C, she had asked me to rummage through my piano pieces at home and find a piano piece I'd like to play. Excitedly, I went through my family treasure. Everyone in the family played the piano. And we had a big collection of piano pieces that we haven't played yet. Most of them were by the piano and some were inside the piano chair. It felt like a wonderful treasure hunt. We had several pop songs and a few classical pieces. I wandered through the different titles and tried to find a piece that was short enough for my young hands to play, "All I Ask Of You" by Andrew Lloyd Webber from the musical, Phantom of the Opera. The booklet was arranged for beginners and the cover enticed me with its black background and a mysterious white mask and rose that contrasted the darkness. I had never heard any song from the Phantom of the Opera, but I trusted my family's collection and showed it to Mrs. C.
Mrs. C looked skeptically at the arrangement and I could see in her eyes that she could hear the piano notes just by reading them. She browsed through the two page booklet and saw the piano piece before All I Ask You, "Music of the Night". I witnessed her eyes sparkle and widen, saying, "This is a better one!"
She played Music of the Night for me and I felt soft magic from the sound. My mouth was wide open and I clapped when she ended it. Mrs. C has a way of encouraging me by making me believe I could play as wonderful as she could. She was my angel of music.
