My sister swears that every time she started messing around during her piano practice time as a child, our mother would restart the timer.

On Wednesday Mark came into his lesson with this announcement.

Some years ago Matt interrupted my early morning reading over a cup of coffee to talk to me about turkeys.

One of my Christmas cacti is in full bloom.

Last week a student asked me, “Miss Amy, what are you going to be for Halloween?”

We are not supposed to have favorite students.

Remember “Pease Porridge Hot?”

Last week ten-year-old Nicholas arrived for his lesson.

The composition assignment in the studio this week is to take a favorite book and write music for a scene, or a character, or the emotional arc of the story.

First, a disclaimer: I don’t like to cook.

“Cat hunt!” screamed our six-year-old nephew Felix every time he ran up the driveway this summer…

One of my fifth-grade students and I have a code regarding practicing.

The Little Ones are no longer so little.

Last week I had a dream.

There is nothing like a really long break to clear one’s head.

It’s not the students playing Beethoven and Chopin that are challenging when it comes to choosing repertoire for the studio recital.

Recently a friend and I were talking about our teaching. In passing, I mentioned something about “Metronome Mountain” as a practice strategy.

For the last couple of months in the studio we have been madly getting ready for an onslaught of festivals, competitions, the final round of performance classes for the year, and the annual spring recital.

Matt sometimes tells people that he lives with the person who thinks more about practicing than anyone he knows.

School started last week. Yep. Read it and weep. The summer is over. Over.