When most students are done with their last class at 3:20 p.m., they feel relieved to break away from the classroom and begin their extracurricular activities. I immediately rush down to the Paul Mellon Arts Center to unwind as I sit on the piano stool and get ready to practice for the next three hours.
For an amateur pianist, I practice a lot. Even my parents, who initially made the decision for me to start playing the piano thirteen years ago, tried to persuade me to spend less time practicing the piano last summer. I told them that I wasn’t willing to give up the time I spend each day with the piano. However, I didn’t know why I didn’t want to quit.
I always knew that I have not given up playing the piano partly because of the achievements and compliments I get from it. It was my chief motivation as a kid, being able to play an instrument that someone else could not. I’ve always feared being mediocre — I want to live a life that leaves a trace on the world. Playing the piano was my way of proving that I could do something unique. But given the amount of time I invest in practicing the piano every day, I’m sure that I can be good at lots of other activities. Only recently, I have found that being a pianist also allows me to remember my past and create memories for the future.
As an international student, I faced a lot of challenges when I arrived at Choate two years ago. I was overwhelmed by the sudden changes of my life — being a boarder, meeting people who have very different backgrounds, and managing my own schedules and plans; every aspect of this school was new to me. Piano was the only constant I had among the chaotic events that constantly took place every day. When I sit in the practice room after classes are over, I sense a piece of my past identity. It’s like flipping through the pages of a worn book that I read years ago and having flashbacks of memories coming back to me at certain lines or phrases. I can sit in a practice room for the entire afternoon, engaged, because I am able to achieve a state of composure.
I’m always afraid that being a member of the Choate community will erase the existence of my previous self. Sometimes I feel as though I absorb all the new knowledge, ideas, and values like a sponge but end up abandoning my past perspectives, friends, and identities. I’m unwilling to stop playing the piano because it might be the last piece of my past.
Some say that a pianist lives a loner’s life. However, the solitude allows me to gain a private experience that remains unchanged as time goes by. My experience as a pianist at Choate can become a memory for me in the future. Years from now, when I am once again distressed due to new changes in my life, I can still find assurance sitting on the piano stool.
