Piano Lessons

I took piano lessons, and I didn't love them, so why do I feel compelled to pass on piano lessons to my boys?

I took piano lessons first with Mrs. Knapp, a petite blonde woman with three daughters, who gave us rubber busts of Mozart, Bach and Beethoven as we progressed through various pieces. I dutifully did scales, and felt tortured when my parents made me practice. When my parents told me I could give up piano at 12 if I learned to play Fur Elise and promised to play the clarinet in the school band, I agreed.

Later I wanted to take piano lessons again, and I did. Again, I was not a stellar student, though I liked it better.

Still, though I cannot sit down and tinkle the ivories, or get a room full of people singing, I am grateful. I can play a few little pieces that make me happy. I can read music well enough to almost sight read when I sing. I can jump in fast with other instruments. And, I think, piano lessons hugely enhanced my love of every kind of music--even if all I remember was the torture of practice.

Yesterday I took my boys for their first piano lessons. Unlike me, they have been begging to play. Theo has already taken violin for a year, at a super cool place run by Flea that would have blown my mind at seven. There were concerts and young cool teachers and trumpets and bands and camps. And Flea.

But maybe this was better. A sweet, young teacher, who is using different methods with my two boys. A simple Mozart Mouse method with Benji, and songs and a move towards reading music with Theo.

Our teacher, Gigi, is married to a Japanese sculptor and lives in a house perched on a hillside with spectacular views over all of Los Angeles. She has an upright and a grand piano. She starts the boys on the upright, then moves them to the Grand so they can hear how grand it really is. There is even a mischievous dog and a basket full of squeaky tennis balls. When the dog gets too frisky Gigi yells out, "Piano lesson! Ball down!" And Chilo drops the ball and skulks sadly over to his big cushion beside the grand piano. The boys thought that was hilarious. Chilo reminded them of themselves.

By the end of the first lesson Theo was playing Hot Cross Buns and Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, and Benji was improvising with Gigi at the piano, playing beautiful jazzy improvisations to her beat, on the black keys. When we walked out they said, "Can we come back tomorrow?"

Another mother said she would only consider a teacher that came to the house. I get that.

But there is something so special about going to a place that is a shrine to music.

Flea and his Silverlake Conservatory made music feel like a social mission--a joyous, wonderful, community thing that everyone should know. Prices reflect that. It is affordable and there are scholarships.

Gigi has created a perfect aerie with magical pianos. It is a sacred place, with no distractions. You feel like musical music can happen there.

What do you think about piano lessons for little ones? Is it worth it?