I remember standing next to a piano with my mother ten years ago. She talked about being able to play it, and she convinced me to sign up for a piano class offered at my performing arts school. As a
ten-year-old I thought I could sit down and automatically play. I had never been so wrong before. It was much harder than I expected. I didn't have the slightest concept on how complex piano playing really was.
I cried because I was scared I couldn't do it. My piano teacher kept working with me, but she never gave me easier pieces to play. Well, actually I had to play the same pieces as everyone else in my class, but she expected me to practice to progress faster than them. Some of my classmates were second-year-students and they were still in the pink books (the first set), and after two quarters (one semester) I was in the purple books (the second set) before I knew it. I was always ready to play my assigned pieces and I succeeded every time. I had to work hard and prove to my mother that I can be like her and play too. When the annual piano recital came around during the spring she made me play the hardest piece. I cried again.
Gosh, now thinking about it, I cried over a lot of silly stuff in those days.
Once again, I thought I couldn't do it, but then I thought about something she always told me. Practice. Practice. Practice. Practice. I did what I was told to do to prove to myself that crying it pointless and it paid off. My first performance was a success, and it was because a teacher had confidence in my potential. Everybody needs a somebody to push them to their potential. When I'm a teacher I'll exercise my ability to give my students confidence.
Impression: "You actually believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself."