EFML: Change is the way of life
I was looking to find solace from music amidst all the ongoing chaos. I signed up for the next module of my course, looking forward to it. And then, I got a call from support saying that I would be reassigned to a new teacher. I was utterly shocked. I had not seen this coming at all. I felt betrayed.
Let us take a couple of steps back. I have been learning Carnatic vocal on a premier online platform with distinguished teachers for the past one and a half years, with one particular teacher. In this period, my life went through drastic changes: I graduated from college, got into my first job, got married, shifted house, volunteered as a mentor, made a significant career change, and also faced a few ups and downs in my health. But through all this, music was the one constant. Mind you, I was not an excellent student. I could never practice as much as my teacher wanted me to. Time and again, other parts of my life would take over, and I would lag behind in my assignments. I would apologize to my teacher whenever this happened, and he would always be very understanding.
I had the feeling that he understood me--I was in a different phase of life from the school students that he usually taught, and music while being an important part of my life, could never be at the forefront. I always had other things going on. He pushed me to participate in recitals, in competitions, on the grounds that I had potential. I sometimes agreed and did it, but most of the times, I refused on the grounds that I had other commitments and couldn't do it justice. He was always understanding, and seemed to believe in my musical abilities despite what I thought were my shortcomings.(More on this here: On being haunted by mediocrity) Every week, during our virtual conference class, I would tell him a few things about my life, about what I was currently going through. He would empathize, but also hint that I should practice more, like every good teacher does.
Sometimes, I would take breaks between modules, because the barrage of assignments would get to me--I wanted a few weeks free of that burden, and I didn't want my hobby to turn into something I dreaded. During my last class of the previous module, my teacher told me that he would meet me in the next module, and asked me to brush up on old lessons. I found nothing weird or out of the normal.
I did not know much about him and vice versa, because we had the new age camaraderie that was founded solely upon virtual interactions. Yet, I had formed something of a connection with him. He was always friendly, cheerful and withheld judgement. I had accepted him as my Guru, and imagined that I'd be learning from him for a long time to come.
But now, I was told that he wouldn't teach me anymore. My first reaction was naturally to focus on the why, to which I got a shaky answer from the support team. It didn't ring true. I had the distinct feeling that there was something else I wasn't being told.
I felt upset. More than that, it was the abrupt ending that left me feeling sad. He could have told me directly, he could have at least hinted at it. But to have someone else, a stranger, tell me coldly and without emotion was just short of devastating. It felt like the proverbial breakup over text.
I had so many questions that I couldn't answer. Why did he choose to stop? Did he finally give up on me? Did he feel he was wasting his time on me? Did he think I had no musical abilities? Why did he do this for one and a half years then? Why, why, why. The unanswered, haunting whys.
The rational part of my mind was chiming in: He could have personal problems. He might be leaving the academy. He might have a million reasons that have nothing to do with you.
But he could have told me, I would have understood. I could at least have said a goodbye and thanked him.
I could think of the answer to that one too. An academy, especially one as top-notch as this, wouldn't let teachers who were untrained in public relations handle such matters. They would definitely be asked to follow protocol and route it through the support team, who were trained to communicate such situations.
The logical part of me knew and agreed with all this, and yet I was feeling desolate. Yet another thing that I couldn't control. That I didn't anticipate.
Life is like that though. There is a part of it that we cannot do anything about, except in how we react to it. I choose to take this in my stride, even if it is difficult. Even if I feel abandoned and betrayed.
I think I'll write a thank you note to my former teacher regardless. I'll try my best to learn from my new teacher, and be positive about it.
Let us take a couple of steps back. I have been learning Carnatic vocal on a premier online platform with distinguished teachers for the past one and a half years, with one particular teacher. In this period, my life went through drastic changes: I graduated from college, got into my first job, got married, shifted house, volunteered as a mentor, made a significant career change, and also faced a few ups and downs in my health. But through all this, music was the one constant. Mind you, I was not an excellent student. I could never practice as much as my teacher wanted me to. Time and again, other parts of my life would take over, and I would lag behind in my assignments. I would apologize to my teacher whenever this happened, and he would always be very understanding.
I had the feeling that he understood me--I was in a different phase of life from the school students that he usually taught, and music while being an important part of my life, could never be at the forefront. I always had other things going on. He pushed me to participate in recitals, in competitions, on the grounds that I had potential. I sometimes agreed and did it, but most of the times, I refused on the grounds that I had other commitments and couldn't do it justice. He was always understanding, and seemed to believe in my musical abilities despite what I thought were my shortcomings.(More on this here: On being haunted by mediocrity) Every week, during our virtual conference class, I would tell him a few things about my life, about what I was currently going through. He would empathize, but also hint that I should practice more, like every good teacher does.
Sometimes, I would take breaks between modules, because the barrage of assignments would get to me--I wanted a few weeks free of that burden, and I didn't want my hobby to turn into something I dreaded. During my last class of the previous module, my teacher told me that he would meet me in the next module, and asked me to brush up on old lessons. I found nothing weird or out of the normal.
I did not know much about him and vice versa, because we had the new age camaraderie that was founded solely upon virtual interactions. Yet, I had formed something of a connection with him. He was always friendly, cheerful and withheld judgement. I had accepted him as my Guru, and imagined that I'd be learning from him for a long time to come.
But now, I was told that he wouldn't teach me anymore. My first reaction was naturally to focus on the why, to which I got a shaky answer from the support team. It didn't ring true. I had the distinct feeling that there was something else I wasn't being told.
I felt upset. More than that, it was the abrupt ending that left me feeling sad. He could have told me directly, he could have at least hinted at it. But to have someone else, a stranger, tell me coldly and without emotion was just short of devastating. It felt like the proverbial breakup over text.
I had so many questions that I couldn't answer. Why did he choose to stop? Did he finally give up on me? Did he feel he was wasting his time on me? Did he think I had no musical abilities? Why did he do this for one and a half years then? Why, why, why. The unanswered, haunting whys.
The rational part of my mind was chiming in: He could have personal problems. He might be leaving the academy. He might have a million reasons that have nothing to do with you.
But he could have told me, I would have understood. I could at least have said a goodbye and thanked him.
I could think of the answer to that one too. An academy, especially one as top-notch as this, wouldn't let teachers who were untrained in public relations handle such matters. They would definitely be asked to follow protocol and route it through the support team, who were trained to communicate such situations.
The logical part of me knew and agreed with all this, and yet I was feeling desolate. Yet another thing that I couldn't control. That I didn't anticipate.
Life is like that though. There is a part of it that we cannot do anything about, except in how we react to it. I choose to take this in my stride, even if it is difficult. Even if I feel abandoned and betrayed.
I think I'll write a thank you note to my former teacher regardless. I'll try my best to learn from my new teacher, and be positive about it.
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