End of an Era

I find it ironic, and somewhat amusing, that my final lesson ends as a no-show. They’ve plagued me my entire career, though never as much as here, so it seems fitting in a way. I had this week built up to say all these careful goodbyes to my students, where as reality had a decent number of them not coming. Of 15 planned lessons this week, 5 didn’t show.

And thus, with a final missed lesson, my time as a piano teacher draws to a close. Unless something changes majorly, I won’t be teaching as a full-time job ever again. There are a lot of reasons; the misses listed above play a hefty part as it’s hard to plan an income around people not showing up. And sure, I try to charge regardless of if they come or not, but reality doesn’t always work that way.

I’ve been teaching, at least part time, since 2005. Eight years of my life have involved guiding children and adults toward reading music, finding where to put their hands, and discovering the joy of music.  I’ve taught privately, I’ve taught as part of a school, I’ve taught in a nonprofit. I’ve taught music on three different continents in three different countries. I’ve had students who blow me away with their ability and dedication, I’ve had students who make me want to pull my hair out because they won’t practice, and I’ve had every student on the spectrum in between. They’ve made me laugh, they’ve made me cry and I was blessed to get to play this small role in their lives.

Thus does the door close. Thus do I set my feet to a new path. I’m excited about the possibilities for the future; but right now, I mourn the loss of this calling. I mourn the students that I’m leaving teacherless here. I mourn the everyday sharing in the life of a child. I mourn bringing the joy of music into lives around me. Tomorrow, I’ll celebrate and enjoy, but for tonight I will mourn.

~The Countess~

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About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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