The events and individuals described in this piece have been altered for privacy and narrative purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 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.

"Warren, this is unacceptable. You cannot just show up unprepared, you need to practice!"

It was my first time playing Mozart, at least in a public setting. The violinist I was accompanying awkwardly shuffled his feet, the silence in the room was pretty uncomfortable.

I'll admit it, I wasn't always great at receiving critique. Even if what you were saying was actually useful, you'd have to coach it in ultra-positive terms for the advice to not fall on deaf ears. Otherwise my ego couldn't handle it.

But it didn't help that this professor (a fictional character created from many, many composites and absolutely, positively does not exist in real life) chose to share his harsh opinions in front of my fellow students. In my opinion, he got backwards the age-old adage praise publicly and criticize privately.

(Ironically, I'd been practicing at least 6 hours a day.)

Ultimately, I don't regret this happening because it made me try even harder. The anger built my motivation to epic proportions.

But in my view, I personally found his actions inexcusable because:

1. had I been a more fragile student it would have utterly decimated me. Best case scenario you get over it, worst case you drop out of school.

2. this was, in my opinion, an amateurish assumption any educator could make, especially a professional musician with more experience than the entire room combined.

From where I stood he seemed only capable of listening to the notes that were played, an all-too-common affliction that also afflicts many educators relying on superficial metrics like the grades a student gets to assess a student's intellect or effort.

Ironically, this bias again reared its ugly head when yet another piano professor followed in his footsteps and noted in the comment sheets to one of my very first juries, "I don't doubt the talent, but I question the discipline."

(I still have those comment sheets, but the ink is beginning to rub off as it has from my memories.)

More ironic is a scene that comes to mind that must have happened a few semesters after my very nonprivate humiliation. This same professor publicly decried how upset he was that his own student had been lambasted by a string faculty member for being a poor accompanist. How unfair it was because a cello student had begged her to help out at the last minute (their preparation consisting of half a rehearsal).

I can only thank my lucky stars I didn't study under him. This student he made a fuss about happened to be one of his most talented. The same care and empathy seemed to be conspicuously absent concerning his other students who didn't play as well.

And when I finally heard words of praise for the first time, they rang hollow. Though the aforementioned professors unanimously agreed it must have been due to the labor I put in, I was only left to wonder where their support was in the beginning.

So I remain eternally grateful to Dr. Chou, my teacher for the entire duration of my undergraduate and graduate studies.

Before anyone else could ever notice, he was the one who recognized my dedication and commitment. All because he had that rare and uncanny ability to listen beyond the notes that were being played.

Cheers.