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It all began with dangling feet unable to reach the pedals and the quest to find Middle C. From there, years of scales, arpeggios, Bastien Primers, and recitals eventually took me from chopsticks to Chopin and from novice to professional. My first brush with losing a beloved teacher was after mastering the Bach Partitas on the violin at age 12. Your instructor is someone who knows all your vulnerabilities and talents so trying to find someone else, a stranger, who can do that is like running through the halls of your high school naked, no matter how old you are.

The bond between pupil and instructor is vast. There is a nurturing and commonality between student and teacher that notes a passion for the music and the art of it all. A child may not be able to share that sentiment with anybody else, so the instructor becomes God-like. Such was the case with my piano instructor. She was old and crabby, but moreover, a brilliant and accomplished pianist. She was a perfectionist who feverishly marked my music with read pen, screaming when I missed a note and smacking my back when I slouched. She quizzed me on how many hours I practiced each night and vehemently tried to make me quit playing soccer and having any sort of social life in my teen years. She was prepping me for Julliard and on most occasions, I despised and revered her simultaneously for that. She made sure I did everything correctly and allowed me no room for mistakes. She forced me to pay attention to every last detail and in the end, that is what I miss the most. Like an athlete, I was in perpetual training and it was rigorous and tiring and time-consuming, but she knew exactly what she was doing and I knew I was capable of playing anything and accomplishing any feat with her by my side.

The day came when I grew up and suddenly was left to my own devices. There was nothing left for her to give me and it was time to move on. I had to teach and depend on myself, and as well-prepared and taught as I was, it was very difficult. Being classically trained, I decided that for the first time, I would veer toward different styles and genres, as my instructor had never allowed wiggle room for that sort of exploration. Eventually, I joined a rock band and had to be able to play and write music within that genre. My teachers then became my band mates. Next for me, is blues and jazz. The possibilities are endless and the skills remain.

I think when you have outgrown an instructor you have probably mastered the particular genre of their expertise so it makes sense to learn a new style with an instructor who specializes in that new genre of piano playing. There is always uncharted terrain for a musician and outgrowing your piano teacher, while sad in some respects, is a way to use you talents more freely and to find a new niche and challenge.

Learn more about this author, Taylor Divico.
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