Sharing Music

Before I began my first day of work, a seasoned teacher told me not to buy a second-hand guitar here and that if I did, not to tell the kids at school. He said that if they found out, they would pester me incessantly to play for them all of the time. Honestly, that was one of the worst bits of advice I have received. Buying that guitar and sharing with the students that I love to play and sing was one of the best things I have done here so far.

Leaving my guitar behind in the United States felt like abandoning my best friend. I knew I wouldn't last long without one, so I quickly ventured to a second hand store and picked up a gently loved guitar. I’d reckon it only spent a few hours in a love hotel (I really hope someone gets that joke).

It’s gotten to the point where losing my voice was a terrible disaster because it meant I couldn't play for the kids. The second I woke up one morning and could barely speak, my thoughts turned to my own devastation and the likely future devastation of my students and the other teachers. The fact that it has persisted for almost a week has made for some painfully empty-feeling lessons. The teachers were crushed that I couldn't play for their classes, too. 

But more than the fact that the guitar has become an integral part of my lessons, it has taught me to be more confident. The first day I ever played for my students, sweat rolled down my face in unattractive gobs and gave me armpit stains appearing as if I’d run a marathon. My nerves reached an unprecedented level. I doubted myself at first, thinking that perhaps my music didn't mean much to the students. However, more and more they approached me and told me how much they appreciated my music. The simplest comments, like “your music makes me happy” or “we love to hear you sing,” transform me from shy and uncertain about my guitar playing to a beaming performer. I no longer sweat like a hog on a spit at a Hawaiian luau (actually, I guess the hog is, hopefully, dead in this scenario so probably beyond the ability to sweat).  So, I no longer sweat like a person standing next to a hog on a spit at a Hawaiian luau. 

I realize that many musicians would love to be in my place. For sixteen classes per week, I get the privilege to play for a cheering audience. They make me feel like a celebrity every single day, and are truly an amazing audience. Apparently, the key to getting some rowdy teens to be attentive is to play music for them.

I AM awesome, you're right!

Furthermore, their constant requests force me to practice and improve my rather limited guitar skills and learn songs I never otherwise would. It also gives me a chance to improve the music taste of Japanese youths by playing songs by The Beatles and other classic rock bands instead of only the Disney pop songs they are used to. Not that there's anything wrong with Let It Go. Until I've played it about fifty times, that is. 

My only worry is that upon my return, my guitar at home (named Nathan) will have developed some serious abandonment issues. But hey, it won’t be anything beyond what some good ol’ anti-depressants can’t fix.

No, guitar dearest, I love you!