When I was in high school, I switched teachers. My first teacher was nurturing and he developed my meager talents very effectively. But I hit a ceiling. I had a disastrous experience at a master class and my parents and I decided to make a switch to a professor at the University of Miami who had a thriving private studio on the side. I was not in contact with that teacher for many years, but the memory of the two years I spent in her studio (not to mention the technical improvements I experienced) stayed with me. That teacher was Dr. Rosalina Sackstein. She passed away at 93 on Valentines Day. This is a bit of a remembrance. It's also an invitation to talk about how teachers affected you.
Part of my decision to switch teachers was a brand new piano! To that point, I had "learned" on an old junky upright. At age 16, Dr. Sackstein frankly terrified me. The audition confirmed that my terror was well founded.
I remember playing the Rach C# minor prelude, with arms, wrists, and shoulders full of tension. Well, I didn't know that at the time, but she pointed it out rather matter of factly.
Nonetheless, she saw something in me and agreed to add me to her private studio of younger (non-college) students. My terror receded as I settled more fully into her studio. Alas for me, I didn't have enough time studying with her before heading off to college, and she told me she wished I had started working with her many years earlier. Oh well. History can't be undone. Claudio Arrau used to stop by her house every other year to work with her students in an informal master class, but not in the one year (my senior year) where that would have been possible.
She also terrified me because her studio was loaded with pre-conservatory types and prodigies ... you know, the seven year olds who practice five hours a day and who can play rings around you.
But she worked with me as I was, and corrected the bad habits she could get at in such a brief time. I had never been around such driven and talented musicians. It was daunting and challenging at the same time. I still recall very fondly my last formal studio recital on campus at the University. She arranged the program by age, so I was at the end with all the conservatory-bound seniors. I nailed my piece and went out with my head held high.
I can trace my lasting appreciation for the piano to the two years I spent in her studio.Thank you, Rosalina. Rest in peace.