When I closed my Manhattan piano studio in May of 2007, over half of my students had been with me since they first started lessons (the others were transfer students), some for over nine years.  That’s a long time. 

This summer, at the end of June, five of my students came together at a student’s home for an informal concert.  Two of them represented opposite ends of my studio:  little John, four years old, had just started lessons some five months prior; Jamey, though at fourteen not my oldest student, was finishing his tenth year with me.  

Jamey had, from the beginning, a passion for the piano, he’s always delighted in figuring things out by ear – most recently parts of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet Suite and Rachmaninov’s C minor Concerto, and he has a natural talent for piano technique – there wasn’t much teaching or correcting I had to do, it was more guiding him; I’d show him once or twice, and he’d get it.  At the moment, he loves romantic piano music, likes ragtime, tolerates Beethoven, and strongly dislikes Bach.  Over the years, our relationship changed from teacher-student to a more equal, collegial one.  We share the love of discovery, and immersing ourselves in piano music, listening, playing, sharing.

Even though there’s still so much I could and would like to teach Jamey, I decided a while ago that it was time for him to move on to a new teacher.  I felt he needed a fresh face, a new voice, a new – everything, different gender even.  Somehow, since the decision to transition to a different teacher was made, our lessons have changed:  they are now even more relaxed and enjoyable.  Gone is the pressure and my expectation to make progress all the time – and thus my frustration if things didn’t move as I thought they should.  I enjoy hearing about the lessons he’s had with his potential new teacher (we intentionally overlapped for a bit), and he enjoys showing me new things he learned. 

Two days ago, on Friday, we had our last – official – lesson.  He’s now not “my student” anymore.  Soon, he will have a new piano teacher (he has a meeting scheduled with another potential teacher in a week).  We confirmed, again, at the end of the lesson our desire to stay in touch, and that I will always take a strong interest in his piano education.  His mother who has over the years become a wonderful friend presented me with a picture book they had put together, pictures and memories covering these past ten years.

Ten long years.

Here’s an excerpt from an outstanding article I found online, published last summer:

Music and Mathematics – A Divine Relationship

Most people know the aesthetic beauty music and art can offer. Many, however, may not be aware of the mathematical principles which exist in music and composition. The aesthetic perception of music is governed by the right half of the brain. Mathematical relationships and spatial reasoning are controlled by the left half. This brief article is based on the premise that music theory reflects the laws of mathematics and nature, and that great composition contains mathematical relationships which enhance the perception of its aesthetic beauty. In other words, knowing music exercises the whole-brain, the whole-person.

Composers have long been fascinated by numerology. The ancient Greeks knew of the relationships between numbers and what they considered perfection in architectural design. The Golden Sequence, also known as the Golden Section, the Golden Number, or the Divine Proportion, is one such mathematical relationship, the formula of which often occurs in the natural world. (A preliminary internet search on this phenomenon turned up over thirty million hits!) This proportion can be created by dividing a line into two parts. The point of the division should be in such a place that the square of the longer subdivision is equal to the product of the shorter subdivision times the length of the entire line. Put as a formula, A (shorter subdivision) x C (entire line) = B2 (longer subdivision), or proportionally A/B = B/C. Line B is roughly 1.62 times the length of A (B/A), or conversely, line A is approximately .62 times that of B (A/B). The same relationships hold for lines B and C. To the Greeks, the 1.62 figure is known as Phi and the .62 figure is phi.

The ancient Greeks believed that a rectangle whose sides were in this proportion were the most aesthetically pleasing and based their architectural principles upon it. The most well-known such building is the Parthenon in Athens. It is also a fundamental formula used by the ancient Egyptians and is most notably seen in the pyramids.

The Golden Sequence is also found in the Fibonacci series 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55… wherein each new digit is the sum of the preceding two. In the Fibonacci series, dividing the larger of two successive numbers by the smaller yields a result approximating 1.62 [Phi]. Or, using the above formula, the product of the outer two of three consecutive numbers very nearly equals the square of the inner.

Please take the time to read the rest of the article here!  The author manages to describe a complex phenomenon in very readable terms, without “talking down” to the reader.  Highly enjoyable!