Thursday, February 17, 2011

C minor


I blushed today. Haven't done that in a long, long time. I was in my piano lesson with Mrs. Janzen, going over Beethoven's Sonata in C minor Op. 13, which I'm playing for recital in two months, and I was having a hard time counting the notes. I was trying to explain my frustration without actually explaining it--but today it didn't work.

In the course of the conversation, she asked me a direct question I have always dreaded, especially since I started lessons again--"How many counts is a sixteenth note?"

The silence stretched out. Her eyebrows raised and she repeated the question that any student who has had more than 6 months of piano ought to know. This time she added, "And what does 4/4 time mean in relation to that?"

I felt my face flush. I was so embarrassed and angry and ashamed, and so I almost yelled, "I don't know! I don't know how to count or what the different note values are or what the heck it means when something is written in 6/8 time! I just don't know!"

Well, there it was. The secret I'd managed to hide for almost six months. She sat back and looked at me, like she'd suddenly discovered she had on two left shoes. Not disgusted or irritated or anything, more just like she was trying to understand a perplexing dilemma that she hadn't anticipated. I started to calm down, and when she carefully reiterated her question, I managed to convince her that, yes, my lack of knowledge is indeed appallingly vast.

She shook her head, finally. "I find it hard to believe that someone who can play this," she gestured to the music scattered across the piano, "can't tell the difference between a sixteenth note in 6/8 and 4/4 time. Or what a 64th note is."

At this point, having spent an hour with her reviewing all the things I've forgotten in the 12 intervening years of piano-lessness, I can't believe it either. At least I don't feel quite as stupid as I did this morning. I think that's a lot of what life is, sometimes--running through it and hoping nobody realizes how little you really know. I should have just told her a long time ago.

6 comments:

anelles47 said...

Fractions!

I didn't know you played. That's awesome. You know, despite this . . . I think you know more than you think you do. Most people do. :-)

I don't know if this makes any sense.

Christoffer said...

This is great.

Becca said...

Dude, I'm a terrible counter. Dr. Cooper never figured it out cause I knew the style well enough to not have to bother :) He too, would have been appalled at how bad I am.
But let me tell you something- the trick is in how well you play,not how well you count :) You're good- and I liked your blog- it's true, those things you feel like you should know but don't... they can be the most humiliating.

anelles47 said...

Lol yeah, but pretty much all people have those things that they should know but don't. If we knew everything we should know, we'd . . . probably not be wasting our time and money on school. Which doesn't actually sound so bad . . . Hmm.

Then again, I like school.

Robby Van Arsdale said...

Hm. Sometimes I feel like this in choir.
[Kibble waves arms, Robby sings]
Dr. Kibble: ROBBY, METER MATTERS

I cannot say how many times I have heard that.

Alyssa said...

Bwahaha oh, you guys kill me. I'm glad everyone enjoyed the story of my humiliation. By the way, I figured out the time signature and everything is absolutely great, as Chris said. Just great. You all ought to listen to the sonata. I love it.