88 Keys

Piano. One of those things that most ABCs will encounter during the childhood, right next to Chinese school and Kumon. Being a piano student for over eight years, I'd like to share my experience with those black and white keys.

According to my parents, I was enrolled in piano lessons because of my interest. I studied at the Cleveland Institute of Music in the pedagogy department when I was six years old. During the first year, I studied under the head of the pedagogy department, Mrs. Olga, a very strict and outspoken teacher. Eventually, I was transferred to one of the dean's students, Ms. Yudha.

For most of my years living in Ohio, piano lessons meant a tiring half-hour drive, anxiety and frustration. Mrs. Olga would constantly scold me for my stubbornness, the reason why she handed me down to Ms. Yudha for future instruction. Ms. Yudha would often point to a trash can and say, "That's where your mom's money is going." Lots of backward glances to my mom during these scoldings would be returned with as harsh a look. Frequent piano recitals only served to worsen my experience. I dealt with a lot of stage fright, from the moment I walked into the building.

There were a few situations that only served to augment my disliking of piano lessons. Because Mrs. Olga was a pedagogy teacher, she had her college students observing how she taught me. To me, they were just a group of people whose presence only served to intensify my anxiety. Once, when I was learning that the numbers next to the notes meant the fingerings for the key, I asked a question along the lines of "So why aren't there any 6s?" (the numbers 1-5 meant the five fingers for the hand). The whole group of college students burst out in laughter, like a pack of hyenas satisfied with its kill.

Ms. Yudha and Mrs. Olga seemed to be devoid of any human compassion. I can't remember a single compliment or word of encouragement from them. Once or twice, I felt so bad about my playing that I started crying a little. How did they react? Mrs. Olga most likely used this as a model of strictness for her college students to follow. Ms. Yudha encouraged me to cry more.

What force enabled me to continue going into that building week after week? This question still remains unanswered to this very day. Did my parents' strictness at home keep me on track with my studies? Were piano lessons and practice just so routine that I became numb to my negative feelings about it? Was my interest as a toddler enough to allow me to sustain the constant anxiety and practice necessary to study piano? Was it the anticipation of a future accomplishment, like when one works on a jigsaw puzzle, my motivation? Maybe it was even the sticker I got after completing a piece that made all the work worthwhile.

Ms. Yudha was eventually replaced by one of Ms. Olga's prior students, Mr. Lo. If I had to partition my overall piano experience, the line would be drawn at the time that I started studying at Mr. Lo. I felt that he had a tangible interest in teaching music, unlike the first two. Ms. Yudha seemed to be more concerned in the technical details rather than music as a whole. Mrs. Olga was an elitist, only offering instruction to those who were able keep up with her high standards.

Moving to New Hampshire was a hiccup in my piano instruction. Unable to find a traditional teacher, my parents signed me up with a teacher in a hole-in-the-wall type of piano instruction. I was introduced to lots of new things during my short time studying with him, such as jazz, contemporary music and music theory. When I moved, I also got an electric piano. All these factors expanded my horizons on music.

When I first studied under Philip Feng, I knew he would be completely different than my previous teachers. He taught in his apartment, giving a sense of informality to the lessons. Another thing I noticed was the length of time he spent devoted to his lessons. Ms. Yudha seemed to precisely partition an equal amount of time for all my pieces, as if she just wanted to get a cursory taste of what I'd done in the past week. She'd frequently interrupt my playing with criticism. Mr. Lo would spend most of the time on one, sometimes missing the others because of the time limit. For Philip, it would be natural to go past the 45 minutes allocated for the lesson. Usually, like Mr. Lo, he would spend a significant amount of the time on just one piece.

Philip was much less strict than Ms. Yudha and Mrs. Olga. This was much appreciated as it made me more feel more comfortable playing. In Cleveland, I don't remember feeling like I was getting into the music because I was more concerned about playing the notes correctly rather than feeling the music (This might also have been because the music was much simpler then). When I studied under Philip, he downplayed the effect of wrong notes on overall performance. He spent most of his lesson focusing on phrasing and expression. When he talked about technique, it was presented as another way to introduce a different color and tone to the music.

It was working with Philip where I really began to enjoy playing piano. I was made aware of the vast amount of musical nuances behind the notes. With the right mindset, this understanding led to a greater appreciate of piano, just as the understanding the motifs and themes behind a piece of literature leads to a greater appreciation of it. Although I was still reluctant to put lots of hours into practicing, I was considerably more interested and focused when I did practice.

Although I didn't know it at the time, piano competitions gave me motivation to practice more, just as matches and tournaments give athletes motivation to train harder. My performance in annual auditions and competitions gave me the opportunity to see how I had progressed in the past year. Additionally, it made the hours spent preparing for the competitions, though not that many, worthwhile. Getting an honorary mention in the Granite State Piano Competition in 2006 was one of the most satisfying moments of my life. Not receiving anything save a record of participation the following year was difficult, but it made me realize that piano was an all or nothing activity. It entails long hours of practicing, even if it is just spent on a small section of music. Because of this, it also requires a lot of interest and motivation, something I don't think I have enough of. These opportunities helped me to view piano as something past practicing in the living room and playing in long studio recitals.

Piano played an essential role in my transition to other instruments. Concepts of voicing, phrasing, and dynamics helped me to quickly pick-up and develop my ability to play on drums, bass and guitar. I was able to understand how other drummers transition between parts of a song, because I was used comfortable with phrasing in classical music. With an attentive ear and lots of experimentation, I began to develop my own fills. In bass and guitar, simple concepts in music theory like arpeggios helped enhance my playing.

When I was still in middle school, my dad offered a sort of business deal with me. If I would play half an hour of piano a month at an elderly home in Nashua, he would add $5 dollars to my allowance. I decided to try it out, but I rejected the monetary offer. Playing piano as a form of community service returned me in a way that could not be measured through money. Well maybe it could, because this offer would expand a hundred-fold.

Playing piano at Hunt Community was a very satisfying activity. My audience, though only 5-20 people, seemed to enjoy the performance, giving me lots of compliments afterward. Slowly, connections formed with my audience. I met Susan and Victor Tallarico, parents of Steven Tyler, lead singer of Aerosmith. He would constantly give me feedback on my performance, occasionally ranting about my choice of music. However, his presence made it more interesting to play, as I had professional eyes and ears watching and listening to my performance. He asked me a lot about my teacher. Before I left for the summer, he gave me music suggestions and his own sheet music.

When I asked Katie to help me play piano with me and mentioned that we were both instructed by the same teacher, Mr. Tallarico began to take more interest in Philip. When they finally were able to talk, he gave Philip around $500 worth of music.

Although I'm not in piano lessons anymore, I still play once in a while, sometimes longer than the time I normally spent practicing. When I do, I find myself truly engaged in the music, playing for the sake of listening and enjoying the music, instead of technical perfection. To me, It represents one of the best forms of self-expression, the basis of any further musical learning, and an opportunity to serve the community. It is one of those things that will be a vital part of who I am.

A PrintScrn of Intelligence

After I wrote that "10 Things About Me" note, I realized that I forgot one of my strongest attitudes: occasionally, its a real pain to be smart. One of my first blog posts, and maybe my longest one, lightly brushed on this topic by explaining historical, social and personal reasons behind "intelligence" among Asians. However, it felt like a more retrospective look at the roots of intelligence, rather than a dynamic view of what it feels like waking up each day under the label of "being smart". This post is meant to elucidate some of those emotions.
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"It has yet to be proven that intelligence has any survival value." Although, no one can ignore the social advantages of "being smart", it would be naive to revere academic intelligence as a flawless characteristic. Many people are unable to gauge their overall intelligence because it is not measured in a way that is as concrete as the 10-point grading scale. This leads to a subconscious idolization of those who are academically competent and a fixation on following such behavior. However noble this goal may be, many do not see the downfalls of achieving it.

Above-average performance goes hand in hand with above-average expectations. I recall a conversation with a friend about qualifications about an internship about a software company. I said that because I had qualified for the AIME, I had the advantage above others. He responded by saying something along the lines of, "That's not very surprising because you're Asian. They want someone who exceeds normal expectations." Without getting into stereotypes, I found this to be an excellent illustration of how society has preset expectations of people based on past performance. Performing well on a hard test can lead classmates to expect similar performances on following tests. A 95 could be viewed as both below average and above average depending on the history of the test taker.

It is human nature to compare. In track, people compare times against earlier performances to judge their progress. In school, friends may compare report cards to decide who's smarter. Many events in the Olympics are scored based on comparisons by a panel of judges. Comparisons can lose their effectiveness when judged across incorrectly synchronized standards. For example, a freshmen that runs an 11.4 could be said to be less of a contribution to the team compared to a senior that runs a 10.9. However, when gauging future potential, it is incorrect to say that a 10.9 is better than an 11.4 without considering the age of the runners.

Some people have tendencies to make overarching assumptions when it comes to academic intelligence. For example, "If you're in AP Calculus, why can't you do this geometry question in two seconds?". The teacher of the geometry course, the conceptual differences between calculus and geometry, the memory of the student and ability to problem solve were ignored when asking this question. There are also some questions asked that are cross-curricular but are still fundamentally different. For example, "You finished the whole Kumon program. So why does your design for a vertical conveyor belt device fail?". Some statements are made under the assumption of an omnipotent intelligence. "Oh hey, look at that thick book, Victor must read that". The opposite can also be done. Negative expectations of social and physical skill can be formed when someone is book smart.

In all of these circumstances, someone's image can change based off of stereotypes. The media tends to poke fun at or glamorize some of these stereotypes, only circulating them throughout society more. No matter how consistent such stereotype is, it is not a reliable basis of comparison.

Another disadvantage of "being smart" is the inability to tease others about a foolish or stupid thing they did without having a conscience completely clear of guilt of being haughty or scornful. As stated before, people tend to look up to more experienced people as role models. This being the case, words and actions from that person can be very influential. During freshmen year doing hurdles, I looked up to the seniors hurdlers for advice. Their encouragement also was just as helpful. Although teasing is approached from the perspective of a friend, a perception of an approach as someone intellectually superior can be very damaging and discouraging.

Lastly, intelligence sometimes can single you out because of different tastes. The people you interact can also make a difference, so being placed in higher classes can lead to different interests.

Intelligence has both its advantages and its downfalls. It is one of man's greatest mistakes to ignore the implications of any form of superiority when judging its immediate effects.
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If you found this note mildly interesting, you might enjoy these as well.
10 Things About Me
Intelligence vs. Ethnicity
Some Thoughts About Genius
Giftedness