February 8, 2005 at 6:22 PM

I wrote a poem for everybody. I posted it in the "Life in General" section.

My teacher was very pleased with me this week. I was a little bit "másnapos" (hungover) from a party the night before, but he had no complaints but for my lack of syncopated rhythm, which was quickly corrected. I then attempted to play the "Ode to Joy" for him, which seemed to make him even happier.

I am learning to practice slooooooooooowly. And in front of a mirror. And with/without my tuner. As tragically curious as I am, however, I am still playing around with what might be termed "advanced bowing."

With my teacher beaming at me, I finally felt comfortable asking him about something with which I've been experimenting:

Me: Uh... I've been meaning to ask you... Uhhh... It's about technique...

Him: Technique?

Me: Uhhh... Well, I can almost do this: [I attempt the bastard child of a double-stop and a louré/spiccatto which is meant to produce a smooth whole note on the Ging and a bip-bip-bip on the D.]

Him: [He tries it himself.] Where did you see this?

Me: Errr...nowhere I--

Him: It's very hard, try this:
[Louré on alternating strings.]

Me: [I try it.]

Him: No, try again.

Me: [Again.]

Him: Uh-huh.

Me: Yes, but that's not what I'm trying to do. See, it's with the big note on the Ging like this: [I repeat what I did before.] But I can't do it when the big note's on the Ding: [I attempt and fail miserably, my violin emits a fearful PRRREEEEEP!]

Him: ... Why do you want to know?

Me: I'm...just...curious!

Him: [Gives me the 'I don't know that English word' look.]

Me: [Digging out the Angol-Magyar dictionary.] I'm-- I'm-- [flip-flip-flip] Kíváncsi! Kíváncsi vagyok!

Him: [Looks at me like I have three heads.] Uh-huuuh!

Well, at least he didn't yell at me like the time I tried shifting (I was barely past my three-month mark, he had every right to stop me from cultivating bad technique). My teacher and I have a sort of strange relationship as far as I can tell. He's a good, strong string of tradition, structure, and technique so that my experimental kite doesn't fly away, but at the same time I can hardly wait until the day when I become advanced enough that he allows me to develop a playing stance in my own style.

I'm waxing ecstatic because this weekend I was given a reminder of just how good my teacher is (at both performing and teaching) when a friend of mine from college came for brunch. After brunch we went over to my teacher's apartment so I could introduce them. This friend, G., also plays the violin and to introduce himself he played a part of a Bach solo sonata for K., my teacher. K. listened patiently and then retreated to his bedroom, reemerging a minute later with the appropriate sheet music and his violin and bow. He proceeded to give my friend an impromptu lesson, after which my friend sounded amazingly better.

It seems to me that my teacher was excited to work with a more advanced student, which made me jealous in a way, but at the same time I realized that the faults that G. had--a stiff and heavy right elbow, intonation and timing which were rather off at times, and a bobbing violin--are faults that I will never have so long as do what my teacher tells me. For this reason, I consider myself lucky that fate made me wait so long until I was guaranteed to become a student the teacher who would be perfect for me (I'm 23 now and have been playing for a little over 6 months. No sh*t, I'll never play the Ernst concerto, but I would like to busk with the Paganini Caprices someday).

It's not that no other teacher could have taught me what I have learned, but somehow I feel that the psychological experience I have had with my teacher is more fulfilling than any I could have had if I had started to play violin in the third grade. Judging from other people's stories about their teachers, I think my relationship with my teacher is just wierd, but I wouldn't have it any other way. From the way he asks for payment, to the quiet approval when I do something right, to the patient, gentle but strict way in which he corrects my faults, my teacher is beloved to me, as much as my violin is beloved to me. If I had to really explain the relationship to anyone, I would probably say, "You know those Kung-Fu movies where the rash young kid is taken on by the kung-fu master and goes through an utterly grueling training, requiring him/her to swallow his/her vanity and learn psychologically as well as physically, like when the Bride goes to Pai Mei for training in Kill Bill 2? Or perhaps the kind of relationship between a Zen master and a student in the koans? That is my relationship with my teacher."

It's not the kind of relationship that every student should have with his or her teacher, nor is it the kind of relationship that every teacher should have with his or her student(s), but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I could go on to describe how it makes me feel, but then I'd push all the other journal entries off the page and bore you all, so I think I'll stop here so I can go home and eat.

And practice.

Slowly.

From Sue Donim
Posted on February 8, 2005 at 10:24 PM

Jessica, your blog makes me laugh:)

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