05/19/25
Can You Really Blame Them?
The events and individuals described in this piece have been altered for privacy and narrative purposes. Some characters and events are fictionalized or composite. The reflections and interpretations expressed herein are solely those of the author and represent personal opinions, perceptions, and experiences. They are not intended to assert objective facts or make claims about the character or conduct of any individual.
"Congratulations on your thriving piano studio!"
This is being said by a person we shall call Adult-I-Have-An-Unkind-Opinion-Of-Due-To-A-Past-Negative-Experience (this will be the only time I use this title for obvious reasons).
Rather than being flattered, I'm taken aback - his hands on his knees like I'm some cuddly wuddly puppy dog, eyes and mouth cartoonishly stretched. I feel uncomfortable, it's all so ... performative.
The other emotion I feel is suspicion, because he didn't ask me a single question during the entire event.
Where was this energy then? I think to myself.
A second thought crosses my mind - phoniness seems substantially easier to detect the older you get.
...
"I feel like I'm dominating the conversation!"
The correct word is "monopolizing" I say to myself.
The second speaker - henceforth known as Dom for the purpose of this essay - says this to break the awkward silence at the conclusion of one of his many meandering tangents.
I'm pretty frustrated at what has been unfolding. Quite livid actually, pissed off.
"Oh, I didn't prepare anything!" he confides to me earlier that day, in response to my inquiring if he wanted to give his introduction first to the audience (who are mostly college piano majors).
Hmmm ... should be okay, nothing to worry about. Later on I realize the thought was more of a hope, a prayer.
"Are you suuuure you don't want to go first?" I ask again, though I'm really trying to say you REALLY should go first, I'm trying to save you face.
My former teacher/professor knows how prepared I am. Weeks earlier, we met up to discuss potential topics. Today, I have a stack of index cards in hand. When he overhears us talking he intervenes and says yes, Dom should definitely go first.
...
You could say Dom is a nice guy, perhaps even kind - though this assertion can't be verified since I haven't seen him being kind (kindness itself defined by actions and not words).
I debated talking about him in this essay, I mean it's not like I have a vendetta against the guy. But ultimately I concluded that having a polite disposition doesn't absolve you from a lack of planning for an occasion like this, even if it was on the small side.
It felt unprofessional, unfair even.
But that's not why I was so frustrated:
We had a golden opportunity to positively impact this next generation of students that might be in our shoes one day (willingly or not). Instead he seemed bent on giving a drawn-out, untethered filibuster, using the launchpad of specific questions to blast off into orbits of arbitrariness.
It didn't help that he was goaded by Adult-I-Have-An-Unkind-Opinion-Of-Due-To-A-Past-Negative-Experience (couldn't resist), served question after question about how he conducted his business. I was seemingly sidelined, playing second fiddle to the overall message - a bigger-scale operation (Dom owns and runs a larger music studio) must be more successful than a smaller one (I am a measly private piano studio owner and teacher).
It was insulting. I've spent years upon years working on my craft, obsessing over every little detail to perform at the highest professional level ... only to have someone imply that size determines skill, cutting especially deep because it came from that guy.
...
I'm fidgeting dramatically, rolling my eyes nonstop. Conspicuously playing with my water bottle, drawing endless circles on the table. It has zero effect, explicitness doesn't seem to be part of Dom's vocabulary. This is where I wish he were more of a jerk, interrupting him mid-ramble would have been a possibility.
It's maddening that he's not picking up on the students' visible weariness - vacant stares, clock-checking every few minutes, heads nodding off (if I was bored, just imagine how they felt).
I wait ever so patiently while he takes and takes and takes and takes. Finally there's a break and my chance to present a mere fragment of the ideas and concepts I had drilled a hundred times during the preceding weeks.
Near the end, when it was too little too late, the students are finally allowed to ask questions. He was more than ready to pounce, but I went straight for the jugular - OH HELL NO, you will NOT be taking even THIS away from me!
Connections were made with at least 3 students and at least for me those tiny moments were more than enough to make up for the banality that had transpired.
I'm confident they resonated with what I said. Because my rehearsed answers came across as second nature. Because the whole time I was trying to say here's why this is important for you, you, you and not this is what matters to me, me, me.
Our eyes were locked on each other, heads nodding in agreement. I saw the metaphorical lightbulb go off, the very second something clicks ...
... this is what I live for as a teacher.
...