Zoe, the Piano, and Me

"My name is Zoe Wong, and I'm going to play Shepherd Count Your Sheep and Old PigDonald's," Zoe announces to a small audience gathered on a few pews at Pasadena Presbyterian Church.  She takes a deep bow, pigtails dangling by her ears, one arm across her belly.  She quickly turns around and settles onto the piano bench, resting her feet comfortably on the footstool and pedal.  She places her fingers on the black keys and begins, from memory.  The sounds of the grand piano ring clear and true through the tall room, she knows the songs by heart and plays them without hesitation.  It was a full circle moment for me, seeing this performance, seeing myself in her... actually, seeing a better version of myself in her.  She was the first to go up, but she was not nervous--she was brave without even knowing it.  She took a hasty little bow and happily leapt off the stage when her turn ended with a big smile, running straight to Wes's lap.  My parents and Wes's mom sat behind us, beaming at her.  

Three months ago, a week after Zoe turned five years old, she stepped foot into her first piano lesson.  I am a kid who grew up with piano as a constant during my childhood.  It wasn't always easy and fun, but more a mixed bag of emotions...a love-hate relationship that eventually turned into a place of comfort and a source of pride.  Ten levels of music theory, book after book of Sonatinas and finger exercises, being expected to practice after school, and going to recitals and competitions year after year, must have at least in part molded me into the person that I am.  Playing the piano was not just a skill to be mastered, but a journey of discipline, self-determination and even, as I came to realize much later, a part of my identity.  

I kept up with it for a long time, but often dreaded practicing and did not really see it as fun... I think I did it mostly because it made my parents happy, and maybe it made me more like my peers, who of course all took lessons too.  Back then, in Irvine as a Chinese American family, it was simply what everybody did.  I officially quit going to lessons later in my sophomore year of high school.  Not long after, though, I started going to church with my boyfriend at the time and volunteered to sub in as the congregation pianist when the usual person was out.  It was oddly wonderful, getting to sightread easy hymns from the hymnal, improvising background music during prayers, adding flourishes and changes to what was written on the page with each repeating verse.  I'd never had the opportunity to be so free with the piano, an instrument that I knew so well.  I was letting years of training in technique and theory take flight--and my parents were never in the room.  When I realized the potential here, I was so glad that I had this ability.  After I stopped going to church, I continued to revisit the piano with joy.  Wes generously bought me an electric piano for my birthday after we moved in together, which prompted me to continue to play here and there for fun over the years, particularly during the pandemic when there was not much else to do.  I also was pregnant during the pandemic, so Zoe must have heard the sounds in the womb.  Then, after she was born, she would sit with me and bang on the keys.  I didn't know if or when I'd push lessons on her, but this year, when she learned Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on a little toy keyboard, it occurred to me that she could very well be ready.  

When deciding on whether to begin piano lessons for Zoe, I reflected on my own life and upbringing.  It's interesting how much I think about that these days, as a mom.  Honestly, I see most of my parents' decisions as good ones in the end, though I definitely have memories of being frustrated and pressured.  Because my mom also loved music, she started me on lessons young and made sure that I put in years of good effort.  I realized that it was not a performative thing for her, like it was for maybe some of the other kids who I grew up with.  She liked giving us the chance to compete and advance, but it didn't matter how well we did.  However, she knew that we had potential and walked the fine line of maximizing that and making sure we stayed interested.  She did not know how to play piano very well, so I imagine that she wanted to realize that dream in her children.  She made sure that though we had limited funds, each of us learned piano and another musical instrument.  Now, it's my turn to instill things into my own child.  I think that despite the hard work and potential friction that could occur between Zoe and I, I wanted to go for it.  Music is a universal language.  Being able to not only interpret it, but feel it and produce it, feels kind of like a superpower.  Of course, I'd love for Zoe to have that.  And of course, it would be great for her to learn that skills need to be built gradually with effort, patience, and persistence.

So... I popped the question.  I asked her when she was about to turn five if she wanted to take piano lessons with a piano teacher.  She said yes (she seems to say yes to most things anyway).  The thought of Zoe learning the piano was exciting but I was anxious, too.  What if she loses interest after a few lessons?  What if the teacher is not a good fit and it kills the flame?  What if I ruin it for her?

Wes knew that I was casually looking into piano teachers, so he mentioned that there was a piano studio next to his barbershop.  I went onto the website and it seemed good--owned and taught by an independent piano teacher, versus a bigger group or company.  So, I reached out, having no idea what would come next.  The teacher responded and offered a10-minute trial lesson, which actually went well.  Mrs. M was a patient and experienced, and I could tell that she could be rigorous.  The teacher dived right in, with very limited niceties and introductions.  She was not in the business of befriending your kid, which I actually think works for this specific industry.  Zoe gave her full attention and played on the white keys, then the black keys, loud and soft, short and long.  The teacher improvised music to go along with whatever she played.  I could tell that Zoe was nervous, as she spoke very softly and played the piano keys gingerly, unlike the way she carries herself at home.  By the end of the trial, the teacher gave us her approval that Zoe was ready to start.  I also could see the potential during this short trial and I liked that the teacher provided a guided, no-pressure, but still serious learning environment.  I just hoped that Zoe would open up and be more comfortable as time went on.

Three months later, I never thought that I'd see this vision so soon, but there was Zoe, up on a real stage taking a bow and playing at a recital.  She had learned so much in such little time, as have I.  Though I feared becoming a high-pressure piano-mom, I learned that a bit of a push does her good, and that though she is little, she's actually able to meet higher expectations.  She demonstrated a level of discipline and focus in classes that I had not seen in her before, which also validates the fact that there is no way I could have stepped into that teacher role myself.  I saw a different style of teaching than what I remember as a kid, and really treasure the opportunity to sit through lesson after lesson, just watching how it all unfolds, from square one.  Zoe is a quick learner, but she can get ahead of herself sometimes and I know how eager she is to be able to play like me.  I always remind her that it will take years, but that she is doing such a great job and she will get there if she keeps practicing.  Sometimes, the teacher will nitpick her hand positioning and while at first I wondered whether that was developmentally appropriate, I now chuckle on the inside, remembering exactly how that was when I was a kid.  Then on the flip side, the teacher would let certain things go that I could have sworn would make a difference.  I learned to just trust the process and not get overly involved.  After a just a short period of time, I saw things fall into place.

It is still with cautious optimism that I look into the future and see piano there years from now for Zoe, but I think that we are doing things right for now.  I'm really proud of her and so glad that we started down this road.  Some days, I still have to remind myself that she's only five, and to let it be; but other days, I remind myself that she needs to put in more effort and she needs me to show her that I believe in her.  Every day is different, I see that there is no way to force a formula on this delicate process involving not just learning skills, but also developing confidence.  Sometimes it's about reading her cues--some days it's okay to push for more, other days to back off.  I think that she is really starting to grasp musicality, she will sometimes improvise a bit on her own, and she is singing her piano songs out at random moments throughout the day.  She even goes to the piano and plays her songs in the morning to wake me up, which means that she isn't doing it only when I'm telling her to.  She will even be disappointed when she can't go and play because Daddy is using the room for a work call.  And of course she will ask to play piano right before bedtime, to extend her wake window just a bit more.  How could I possibly say no to that?  

Like parenting in general, this is simply an ever-changing journey with risks and benefits.  All I know for sure is that I am loving this age.  While we are excited to keep building Zoe's repertoire of skills and experiences as she shows so much potential in so many areas, we still want to preserve her playful, lighthearted childhood for as long as possible.  We hope that we can continue to achieve this balance as she gets older, but most of all, we hope that she is loving her life.