Hey, I’m not proud of it. Not at all. But that’s the way I operate, almost despite myself.
When a student decides to stop lessons for reasons X, Y or Z, I never ever prevent them from doing so. First, I always remember that these people chose me every week for 1, 2, 3 or 10 years as their piano or drum teacher, and that’s a great honor. I salute that before anything else. Since I’ve got a healthy business, I do not harbor resentful feelings. I usually think that we had a great journey together, that it was fun to see them on a weekly basis and that we shared some really good moments. More than that, I am very proud of the fact that I didn’t do anything to destroy their love of music and their will to study it. That’s got to count for something, eh?
Anyway, what you’re supposed to retain from the previous paragraph is that I let go of the students who wants to depart.
After that? you might ask. After that, I move on. I have time slots to fill, people to meet: the ones that are eager to learn. I can hear them knocking at the phone or the email. I would love to mourn and be sad, but, honestly, I do not have the time. I am very busy with the pupils that have stayed and the ones I’ll be welcoming soon to take the place of the ones who’ve gone. Am I a bad man? No, because after all, people use my services as just that: a service. Fair is fair.
But there is something worse, something uglier, and oh Dear, I don’t dare confess. I remember people’s face sometimes, but their names, almost never. It is very embarrassing. Not for me, (I don’t get embarrassed easily, that’s another crying shame), but my poor wife. We could be at the grocery store and hear from the other side of the world: “SOOOOOL!”. And here comes running someone with their arms wide open.
- Oh, hi! is my answer.
And I extend a friendly hand, but no, here, they take me into their embrace.
- Oh, I think, we’re at the hug stage.
And meanwhile, my Sweetie, bright red, has to explain that I don’t remember the very nice, very sweet person that’s squeezing me.
Yes, I am a bad man. So there. I am built that way. That’s the way I roll. But if you come to take lessons, you’ll get all my attention and I will remember quite a bit from you from week to week. It’s not all bad.
(yes, I know, it’s always the same picture, I’ll be changing it soon, promise).