It's a bit long so I don't know if that could make the reader lose interest. Any suggestions/corrections/etc. are appreciated!
I was probably first exposed to Bach while in the womb. My father - a huge advocate of classical music - only felt it appropriate that his two daughters learn to play the piano. At the mere age of five, I would not hear of it. Rather than playing with friends, it was expected that I practice for two hours everyday. I screamed and cried and threw my fists in the air but all of it amounted to nothing.
The moment I walked past my front door after school, I was overcome with anger. There, adjacent to the brick-red walls of the living room, was a giant, mahogany oak structure - a piano. Its presence taunted me. One tear silently traveled down my face and found a happy landing spot on my left clavicle. I brushed it off and ran to my room. With a slam of my door all of the anger that resided in my chest released and I sobbed. I just couldn't understand why my parents would do this to me! While all of the other children were hop-scotching down the sidewalks or creating scenarios with their Malibu Barbie's, I would be at home, sitting on a hard bench, repeating the same silly songs until I perfected them. I was in a prison of F Flats and C Majors.
A week later, a knock on the door echoed through the house. On the opposite side was a woman in a tacky blue outfit. Her name was Mrs. Mayock and she was a 60 year old woman with scarce yellow hair covering her very pale scalp. She would be my piano teacher for many years. I sat on the couch with a smirk on my face as I witnessed my sister struggle through her first lesson. The time came and it was my turn. My feet dragged on the tile floor and I sat on the bench. My back remained slumped despite the number of times Mrs. Mayock told me to straighten up. I tried to make this lesson so difficult she would never want to come back again. Looking prim and proper, she sat down, and began the lesson. I watched as her hands gracefully flew along the keys as she told me of all the scales and chords.
"Okay Christine," she said encouragingly, "I want you to repeat what I just did." I smiled, placed my finger on what I would later learn to be C Major, and pushed down.
The minute my finger pushed the key down a lush sound enriched my ears. Every time the tip of my finger toughed those ivory keys, a shock went through me. A spark deep inside my soul was finally ignited. I struggled, but that only motivated me to improve. That lesson I learned my first song - "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." I practiced religiously.
The next few months I learned more songs, all of which were childish and simple. Because my sister, Sally, was six years older than I, she was learning at a much faster pace. She was already moving on to classical composers like Beethoven, Mozart, and Debussy. Meanwhile, I kept learning from the same book with the child caricatures playing the piano. Envy burned within and I had a strong desire to learn more challenging songs. I would look at the sheets of music Sally played from and craved to understand the notes on them. A passion burned inside to play Mozart's "Alla Turca" and Chopin's "Nocturne in E Minor." Mrs. Mayock was our instructor for about five years, until we moved.
After Mrs. Mayock left, I decided to cheat on the piano. I experimented with other instruments like the flute and guitar, but none satisfied me like the piano did. My heart tore a little each time I passed the piano. Finally, my sophomore year of high school, I had enough. I sat down on the bench, opened a book, and began to teach myself "Fur Elise". I already knew how to read notes and soon I was able to play the entire song flawlessly. I felt whole again. It became my goal to learn a new song by the end of every month. By the end of my junior year, I had mastered a variety of songs ranging from Brahms' "Hungarian Dance" to Chopin's "Fantasie Impromptu".
Music is often called a universal language. Every listener hears a different story in a song, whether it be of love, life, or turmoil. Piano has increased my knowledge of culture and tested me in ways I had never anticipated. When feeling "out of tune", a simple song or even a scale allows me to channel my emotions and think more clearly. Just like a piano, the outcome of my life all depends on how I play it.
Fantastic essay. This is great. I was drawn to the essay the entire time, and I didn't even notice its length. Seriously, great job, and great ending too. =)
Thank you! :)
May I ask what prompt you are answering?
I agree with amy. It's good enough that people wouldn't notice its length.
However, I did found some of the things that you can try to improve. (this is just my opinion)
I think you focused on your childhood part more, and the struggle presented in your essay is not very well explained. You said you hated the piano and you wanted to make you lesson with the woman next door very difficult. But you didn't elaborate on those critical parts, and making the essay looked kind of incomplete. Try to write a little more about it.
Rachovsky: Topic of your choice...I think this is the only one that my essay falls under
Angela: Oh okay I see. I'm gonna go back and try to revise it. Thanks!
The content was very interesting and over all the piece was written well.
Good Job and Good Luck!
Thanks!
This is a fantastic essay! I can really sense your love/hate relationship with the piano and it shows a lot about your personality.
But if you could cut some of the essay, you might make the adcoms happier. :) Other than that, good ending/essay!
I was probably first exposed to Bach while in the womb. My father - a huge advocate of classical music - felt it only appropriate that his two daughters learn to play the piano.
Rather than playing with friends, it was expected that I practice for two hours every day .
With the slamming of my door, all of the anger that resided in my chest was released, and I sobbed.
During that lesson, I learned my first song - "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." I practiced religiously.
Finally, during my sophomore year of high school, I'd had enough.
I really like the last sentence.
:)
Thanks for the corrections!
It didn't seem that long. I enjoyed reading your essay!
I like how you described your childhood memories about piano/piano lessons.
I really like your conclusion too.
"Music is often called a universal language." I agree with you! :)
Well,
Good luck ! :)
Hi! I really liked your ending. It's very strong and seems to sum up everything above it. Great job!!
There are some suggestions though:
I screamed and cried and threw my fists in the air (,) but all of it amounted to nothing.
Every time the tip of my finger toughedtouched those ivory keys, a spark deep inside my soul was finally ignited.
all of which were childish and simple. I suggest you another adjective for childish
The third paragraph where you talked about Mrs. Lee needs a little editing. I think it is better if you fix the order of the sentences because it doesn't really flow well. And also talk more about how did you change your attitude about the lesson perhaps?
Other than that, it was a well written essay :)
This essay is very detailed and descriptive, which is good, but I am a little confused with the chronology. Let me see if I have this right: Your mother made you practice piano for two hours everyday for a week, and you didn't like it. (Did you have a teacher? Or did your mother teach you?) Anyways, after a week, you get a new teacher. As usual, you were a bratty little kid (Nothing personal, I'm sure you're lovely--that's just the vibe you convey); however, once you begin to copy Ms. Lee, you suddenly become inspired. (Why now? What was so special about Ms. Lee, besides that she was old and patient?) You continue to progress in piano until high school, at which time you try out different instruments. However, you realize that piano is your favorite (Why? Why do you love piano?). You begin to teach yourself progressively more difficult pieces. Suddenly, MUSIC BECOMES A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE. If this is your main point, I think you definitely need to provide hints toward this notion throughout the essay. For example, you could say that you conveyed your gratitude to Ms. Lee by practicing your pieces and playing them well instead of through language. You could say that you could not effectively communicate with harp/guitar, and instead returned to piano, your native language. These things sound a little foolish, but they set up the reader for the big idea at the end. Furthermore, I trust that you can form more eloquent phrases than mine.
I was first exposed to Bach while in the womb. My mother, a huge advocate of classical music, wanted her children to play the piano. Rather than playing with friends, it was expected that I practice for two hours everyday. I screamed and cried and threw my fists in the air but all of it amounted to nothing.
Everyday after school I would walk into my house and adjacent to the brick-red walls of the living room, was a giant, mahogany oak structure. Anger would fill my little body. I just couldn't understand why my mother would do this to me. While all of the other children were hop-scotching down the sidewalks or creating scenarios with their Barbie's, I would be at home, sitting on a hard bench, repeating the same silly songs until I perfected them. I was in a prison of F Flats This is funny and clever. A musician would definitely appreciate your joke. and C Majors.
A week later, a knock on the door echoed through the house. On the opposite side was a woman in a tacky blue outfit. Her name was Mrs. Lee, a 60-year-old woman with scarce yellow hair covering her very pale scalp. My feet dragged on the tile floor and I sat on the bench. My back remained slumped despite the number of times Mrs. Lee told me to straighten up. I tried to make this lesson so difficult she would never want to come back again. Looking prim and proper, she sat down, and began the lesson. I watched as her hands gracefully move along the keys as she told me of all the scales and chords.
"Okay Christine," she said encouragingly, "I want you to repeat what I just did." I smiled, placed my finger on the key, and pushed down. The minute my finger pushed the key down a lush sound enriched my ears. Every time the tip of my finger toughed those ivory keys, a spark deep inside my soul was finally ignited. I struggled, but that only motivated me to improve. That lesson I learned "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." The next few months I learned more songs, all of which were childish and simple. I started moving on to classical composers like Beethoven, Debussy and Vivaldi.
After I entered high school, I decided to cheat on the piano. I experimented with other instruments like the harp and guitar, but none satisfied me like the piano did Awkward. As you say earlier that you are "cheating," as in committing adultery, the mention of satisfaction could be considered crude . Finally, I had enough. I sat down on the bench, opened a book, and began to teach myself "Fur Elise". I already knew how to read notes and soon I was able to play the entire song flawlessly. It became my goal to learn a new song by the end of every month. By the end of my junior year, I had mastered a variety of songs ranging from Brahms' "Hungarian Dance" to Chopin's "Fantasie Impromptu".
Music is often called a universal language. Every listener hears a different story in a song, whether it be of love, life, or turmoil. Piano has increased my knowledge of culture and taught me discipline. When feeling "out of tune", commas belong inside quotes a simple song or even a scale allows me to channel my emotions and think more clearly. Just like a piano, the outcome of my life all depends on how I play it.
This is a really good essay! I honestly think you don't need much else criticism besides the points above! :)
