Slice of Lucy: Learning Piano

 

Learning Piano

March 1, 2026

Lucy Yeager

This is my first post...ever. I'm 55 years old, and I kind of wonder why anyone would want to read something I've written about something I'm doing. That said, I can write my story even if no one wants to read it, right? I have thirty minutes until my piano lesson, so here goes!

When I was a little girl, I loved to dance. My family somehow scraped together the money for lessons, and I invested myself wholeheartedly in ballet and Russian folk dancing for a decade. Due to time and financial constraints, each kid in my family basically got to do one extra-curricular, and dancing was my thing. Dance gave me a sense of community and joy; in fact, I still take a dance class each week. 

However, thirty years later, when I was awaiting my son's birth and contemplating all of the hopes and dreams I had for his life, I promised him (and me) that he would get to study music at a young age. I knew it would be easier to learn then and would light up neural pathways in his developing brain. True to my word, he started Suzuki violin around the age of eight, and according to that philosophy, I was a partner in his lessons and daily practice. 

After awhile, for a host of reasons, my son switched to piano, so I was no longer a part of his lessons. I felt a sense of loss, not because I was absent from his lessons, rather because I was not learning music. Five years ago, we moved a thousand miles to a new home, and he started piano lessons with a new teacher. Within a year, that piano teacher had a new student -- me!

Beyond my hopes for a child fluent in the language of music, I had always dreamt of sitting at a piano next to an open window, curtains gently buffeted by an evening breeze, a glass of wine breathing and waiting for me to finish a tune, something jazzy and layered, like Diana Krall's "Peel Me a Grape". So, I decided to do something about that dream and signed up for music lessons. 

At the age of 51.

I started with Faber's Piano Adventures Primer, literally a cast-off from my son's earlier lessons, bearing depleted scratch-n-sniff stickers and penciled-in admonitions about shifting finger positions and practice reminders. 

A few years later, I'm still learning piano, and I'm already on Book 3A! That said, although I have learned to read music, every note still takes my whole concerted effort, thinking about what I need to do and actually making my fingers do the required action. 

You might think it is humbling, even depressing, to be such a struggling beginner, especially when I practice after my son who is quite fluent. 

Nope, I love it. Of course, there have been a few tears and some cussing. 

Actually, lots of cussing. 

Truth told, I love working at it, letting the world fade away and exalting in each step toward a recognizable rendition of the assigned piece. 

I love asking my son for help when I cannot figure out the bass clef or something sounds off, especially when he shares that he, too, struggled with the same piece years before.

I love when my mother who lives with me now recognizes the piece I am practicing, which must mean I am actually doing it, playing the piano, right?

I love sharing with my 6th grade students that I, too, have to practice piano each night, and they goggle at me, wondering how and why their middle-aged teacher would subject herself to such a vulnerable and must-be-embarrassing endeavor. 

I'm learning piano! Almost every week, I secretly believe I will not be able to play my piece with any accuracy by the time of my next lesson, but day by day, I build muscle memory and confidence. I marvel at my progress each week from when I first turn the page and see the new music to my last practice before I head out the door to play for my teacher. Speaking of which, it's time to head to my lesson...

At our shared lesson, I love listening to my son work with his piano teacher, asking questions about music theory and struggling with her to figure out a tricky rhythm or chord. I also love letting my son sit in the room while I take my lesson so he can see what it means to always grow and do. Dreaming about what you want to do is just the first step. I always want to take that next step, the doing, and I hope my son will, as well. 

I am a dreamer and a doer. What's next?