Mr. Sean,

you are the coolest person I know.

When I met you, your hair had a streak of electric blue

and it was the most badass thing I’d ever seen,

even though I didn’t know the word “badass” at age seven.

You were tall and funky-looking,

dressed head-to-toe in black and grey,

and you scared me a little,

but then you sat down at our piano.

My jaw dropped

as beautiful classical music spilled from your fingertips.

Scary or not,

I liked you,

and I wanted to have magic fingers too.

 

Since I started piano lessons with you,

I have learned how to think.

I break songs down into their elements:

beat, tempo, key, notes, volume.

I make a plan to practice:
left hand, then right hand,

measure by measure,

then put them together.

I do the same thing in life.

Break down the problem:
cause, reasons it’s bad, what I have control over.

I make a plan to fix it:
set a specific goal, chart progress, watch improvement.

You have taught me to make music,

but you have also taught me self-discipline

and the importance of practice.

I know I don’t get better unless I work on it,

and it isn’t a sprint,

it’s a marathon.

 

You are not only my music teacher;

You are also my model.

I have many interests,

and so do you.

You teach piano,

but you also travel,

paint with acrylics and oils,

draw in pencil and charcoal,

compose music across genres,

and play backup music for a singer.

It is because of you that I believe,

wholeheartedly believe,

that I CAN be everything I want to be.

It is also because of the skills you taught me—

breaking it down,

using self-discipline,

practicing regularly—

that I actually can do those things.

 

Mr. Sean,

you are the coolest person I know,

and one day,

I hope I’ll be almost as cool as you.