The lovely Ella and I did a gorgeous art song recital in Berrima yesterday afternoon, as part of the Berrima Smalls concert programme. The venue is a prettily rustic little village hall, lovingly restored and bedecked with quilts, cushions and flowers by the local music community. Despite the crazy weather we had a good turn out, and afterwards, a home-made afternoon tea!
But the amazing part for me was seeing my first singing teacher again after many years of being out of contact. She taught me whilst I was at high-school, but we fell out of contact when I was 18, at the point when I gave up singing completely. Last year, she heard a broadcast on the radio of me singing with the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs, and emailed them to see if it was the same Karen Fitz-Gibbon whom she had taught.
I'd really been too busy to think much on it before the time came to travel to Berrima, other than to be pleased about the pending reunion. Then, over breakfast, the friends whom I'd stayed with the night before were entertained by a sudden mild panic of embarrassment that descended upon me when I looked back on the things this woman had endured at my hands: not practising, forgetting my music, forgetting sometimes that I even had a lesson, turning up to the lesson and crying. Nothing truly evil, of course (as if I'd share that, hahahah!) but the sort of irritating, demoralising behaviour that I have heard my Uni friends who teach lament over many a time.
Well, it was wonderful seeing her again. Really, really special. And to all the amazing teachers out there, not just music teachers but teachers of all kinds, I'd like to say: these students who are rubbish and do not treat the knowledge that you offer them with the respect it deserves, and who do not seem as passionate about their lessons as you would like....don't let it get you down. Sometimes, it just takes a very long time for seeds to grow.