If you're from a very recent
generation, I'm not sure how you may know of Duke Ellington. But I'm sure
that you should spend some time finding out, because he had a tremendous impact
on American music.
My thoughts today were inspired by a
comment I heard from a radio announcer: basically, that if you're a kid whose
parents force you to take piano lessons, don't resent it, because you never
know, you could end up like Duke Ellington. Not a bad way to end
up! I won't be the Duke Ellington of my generation, but I am very
thankful for the piano lessons I was "forced" to take.
I started piano lessons at age six,
about the same time that I began attending school. I took formal lessons
for ten years, before making the conscious decision that I did not want to
pursue a career in music. (You can laugh here, if you wish; the irony
doesn't escape me either.) During those ten years, there were moments of
great frustration in which I would scream at my mother, "I'm
quitting!" She always very calmly responded that, if I wanted to
quit, I certainly was free to do so. Once I had time to get over myself
and my teen-age tantrum, I must've realized that I'd be missing out on
something really valuable, because I never carried out my impulsive threats.
What frustrated me? All sorts
of things. My teacher, Rose Hahn Dirr, lived only two blocks up the
street, so most of the time I walked to lessons. Along the way, I'd come
into earshot of another piano teacher's house (her rambling, wood-frame home
had no air conditioning, so the windows were almost always open) and her
students were playing "popular" pieces like Moon River.
Meanwhile, I'd been practicing Bach's Minuet in G or Beethoven's Fur
Elise. "How boring!" I pouted. "No one
wants to listen to that old stuff any more!"
Or those times that I'd come to my
lesson and Mrs. Dirr would set an unfamiliar piece of music in front of
me. I'd struggle to play those pieces to the best of my ability, but
rarely were they subsequently presented as my next piece to learn. I
assumed that it was because I didn't play them well enough, so I would strive
harder and harder to play them better and better, in hopes that I could prove
that I had the aptitude to play those pieces.
Mrs. Dirr was an exacting
task-master. She always insisted that I play my scales and my Hanon
exercises; she demanded that I use correct fingering; she'd make me break the
music down into short passages that I had to perfect before going on to the next
passage. "How chopped-up is this piece going to be, if I'm
constantly focusing on little parts, rather than the whole?" I'd
think. And Mrs. Dirr could always, always tell when I hadn't practiced
enough!
Perhaps you've seen the method in
what I used to consider Mrs. Dirr's madness, but if you haven't, let me
explain. The precision that I learned through the study of piano's great
masters enables me to play, not only their works, but Moon River, and
practically anything else, as well. The kids who'd studied Moon
River? For the most part, they can still play that piece and the other
specific pieces that they'd learned, but they struggle through anything new --
if they're still playing the piano at all -- because they didn't develop an
essential body of skills. I learned how to "sight-read," a
critical and highly prized ability, through all of those musical
"pop-quizzes" administered through the pieces that I saw only once
and (mostly) never again. In short, I suppose one could say that I
"learned how to learn" music, which over the years has helped me with
not only the piano but the organ, the guitar, other musical instruments -- and
of course the dulcimer.
Mrs. Dirr taught me so much, not
only about music and the piano, but about teaching. I now realize that
it's not always necessary, nor even possible, for students to comprehend
"why" they must perform certain tasks in certain ways, but it's very
important that their teacher understand "why" and really stick to
tried-and-true methods, knowing all the while that kids complain because it's
their nature to do so, and hoping all the while that they'll be thankful for it
later. Music ... mathematics ... reading ... the same general approach
applies.
Every discipline has its Duke
Ellington, though few of these "Dukes" will attain the status of
legend among the general populace. And behind every one of those
"Dukes" is one or more "Mrs. Dirrs."
Happy Birthday, Duke
Ellington! ... And here's to you, Mrs.
Dirr!
