It's been fifty years since I graduated from high school. A half century. It's really hard to believe. I was going to change the world, of course. It never occurred to me that the world would change me instead.
A little more than a year after graduation I gave my first guitar lessons for money. That started me on a journey that still continues. But truthfully it was haphazard and unintentional at first. I was 32 when I finally decided to teach professionally full time. Over the years I've taught hundreds or even thousands of people to play guitar to varying degrees of proficiency.
I soon learned that teaching was a real privilege. In many cases I've been a part of their family. A rare honor that I don't take lightly. I've watched very young children grow into their teen years and then become fine young adults. Occasionally kids will tell me things that they would never tell another adult because they know they are safe with me.
Last night I had to say good-bye to a student. She's fifteen going on sixteen and has been with me for ten years. Her lessons had stalled. She had not practiced in months. She would come in and chat about stuff and then play an old song (usually the same one) just to prove that she could. But there was no progress. I tried many different things to re-motivate her but just couldn't rekindle the flame. And, after ten years, she really should be self-motivated at least part of the time. So she and her parents, with some input from me, decided that it was time to discontinue.
For our last lesson we chatted for about 15 minutes and I reassured her that I wasn't angry and that she would always be welcome. Then she played her "old standby" song. After that she played three more. One of them we hadn't studied in well over a year. All of them were from the renaissance and she played them very well. I'm not sure she realized it, but these songs were her parting gift to me.
Many students, when learning a new song, will abandon the old songs. They are only interested in moving on. Not her. She was less interested in progress and more interested in just playing. I think I can count that as a success.
At the end of the lesson she handed me a hand written note. In it she thanked me for all I had done for her over the previous ten years and said she would miss me. I re-read it when I got home and then recalled similar notes and cards I've received over the years.
I thought of the students who went on to successful performance careers. And others who are now successful teachers. And still others who followed other career paths but are still involved with the arts. I am still friends with a few of them and I keep up with some others via social media. I occasionally will hear from one or another who fondly remember their time with me.
When I said that teaching is a privilege I wasn't kidding. And I guess, through one student at a time, maybe I have changed the world a little bit.