I Piano Teacher

For the last year I have spent some afternoons giving piano lessons to some local international kids (I know it’s an oxymoron, but it works). Two of my students were driving from another housing development located 16K (10 miles) away. That doesn’t seem like much, but in afternoon traffic it can take up to 1 hour there and even more on the way back. I noticed my students were lethargic and unmotivated after all that driving. So I suggested to a friend who lives there, if I could get a couple more students, it would be worth it for me to drive to the housing and give multiple lessons. I charged a little bit more for my time and within 24 hours I had 4 new students in addition to the 2 I already had from that area.

So once a week, I drive the long route to give piano. I love teaching. I enjoy watching kids’ eyes light up when they realize a new concept. I’ll admit, I also like the instant gratification of payment. My husband is proud as well and unsparing with his adoration for my multiple talents.

But this week, we got a flat tire.

I couldn’t cancel, it just isn’t in me to do it. I wanted to go. I wanted to see my students and keep them moving forward. So I made plans B, C, and if absolutely necessary, plan D.

It turns out I ended up using a combination of these options.

After three hours of schooling my own kids, I caught the bus from our complex to the local town. I rode a couple of miles until the first drop-off where I waited for a city bus that would take me most of the way there. I clumsily paid my 28 rubles while an elderly man kindly showed me how to insert the ticket so I could go through the barrier on the bus. You certainly can’t sneak onto these things without being pretty obvious. I was appreciative and he smiled.

On these roads, there are lanes specifically for buses. They move pretty well while car traffic sits. In a mind-boggling 15 minutes, I arrived at my next connection. From here, I had planned to walk a ways to get to my destination. Trying not to appear frazzled or out of place, I glanced now and then at my hand drawn map. I crossed countless streets and walked over train tracks realizing I wasn’t getting anywhere. My map literally flew away in the wind after a wrong turn. After walking an hour and fighting back the tears, I grabbed a cab and haggled for a decent price.

I told him where I needed to go and he smiled and said, “You America? America eez good!” I politely said, “Da.” Once we were on our way, I noticed that his gas tank was in the warning symbol for empty. Excellent. A friend told me later that sometimes Russian cabbies have mechanics wire their tanks with a spare propane tank in the trunk so when the gas runs out, they flip a switch and run on propane. That may have been true for this guy driving an older-than-dirt beater. As we sat in traffic under a tunnel, in a blend of Russian and English, he asked every form of question from my opinions on American Presidents to whether I like Russia. I have learned that simple speech is easier to understand for a foreigner. It’s certainly true when people talk to me.

“I Piano Teacher.”
“Aaaah!” he says. “You in Moscow alone?”
“Nyet.”
“You in Moscow with adeen (one)?”
“Nyet.”
“Two mebee?”
“Nyet. Shest (six).”
“Aaaah!” he says. “You mama?”
“Da.”

At this point, I quickly grabbed my phone and texted my husband. I had a feeling maybe we would be stuck in this tunnel and the man would question me to death. But he smiled so much and that is a rarity in Moscow. I actually liked him quite a lot.
When we arrived, I paid him the ridiculous price and waved goodbye. I was an hour early so I turned on my ipod and sat on a snowy park bench until my lesson started.

After all the lessons were over, a friend walked me through the route I originally wanted to take and made it back to my destination to grab a bus home. It’s the simple things like riding the bus that make me feel accomplished. I arrived home to a tidy home, happy kids, and dinner on the table. For what more could a girl ask?