By: Morgan Topol

I got my first flute in fourth grade. A student model. Selmer, to be precise. This was a new beginning for me, and I was so excited. I’d taken weekly piano lessons for some years prior, but I’d lost the passion for it. This was because my second and final piano teacher would make me rehearse the same piece week after week, refusing to let me move on until it was near perfect.

Even my parents raised a brow – and they’re meticulous, so that’s saying something. Lessons were grueling.

I don’t want you to think my teacher wasn’t a nice woman, she was. And I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful for the lessons, because I am. In fact, 50% of why I became a music teacher in college is because I wanted to give kids with a passion for music the same access to opportunities that I had growing up.

However, by means of her own strict methods, my piano teacher robbed me of the chance to experience music in a simple, child-like way I could fall in love with – one that wasn’t defined by discouragement, control or the fear of failure. That’s the other 50%. Not only do I do it for the kids, but I do it for myself. It’s healing. Rectifying.

As a music teacher with Musical Empowerment, it’s always been my main goal to provide my students with a mode of instruction I would’ve wanted at their age. When I’m being addressed as “Ms. Morgan,” I don’t prioritize constant improvement in music, but a curiosity, excitement and love for it.

I don’t think my piano teacher intended for her instruction to have any consequences. But I still ask myself, was that really her call to make? To sacrifice the joy I would’ve otherwise been experiencing through music, in favor of inching me closer to her highly technical definition of “perfect”? What if the neat, little boxes she forced me into were really just doors of opportunity being single-handedly slammed in my face?

Truth be told, I’m not really sure. But I’m able to accept and exist within the contradiction her methods created. The good with the bad.

And it doesn’t really matter, because after getting my first flute in fourth grade, I’d go on to meet and be mentored by a woman who would prove to be an amazing influence on my life – Ms. Anne, my private flute teacher. Her laissez-faire style would prove to be the perfect fit for me, but that’s a blog for another day.