This is an ode to my violin teacher. Except it isn't in poem form. Her patience never gets pushed. If I feel, as I often do, that I should have practiced more, we just play some duets for pleasure. If I drop my bow arm, she instinctively knows that
my shoulder is tired and I have to stop and shake it out, or , we chat for a few minutes until I can go on. She never criticizes my lack of talent. This encourages me to keep going. My mantra is" what does talent have to do with anything". My pleasure is what
counts and every Thursday afternoon I get to have my space and my time. It makes me feel good.