The toughest and smartest student I ever taught was David.
He was the only student I ever seriously considered giving up on — and actually tried to.
During his second piano lesson, I asked David to hand me his piano book so I could write a note in it for him. Instead, he threw the book at me. The rest of the lesson went downhill from there. No matter what I tried, he fought me on everything.
I’m a pretty patient person, but at that point in my teaching career, I didn’t have the experience I have now. Today, I probably could have redirected him better. Back then, I couldn’t.
After the lesson, I told his mother I didn’t think I could teach David anymore. But with a heartfelt voice, she asked me to give him another chance. She told me he needed me.
I’m glad I stayed.
David eventually became an incredibly talented musician — both as a pianist and later as a trombonist in high school.
But oddly enough, that’s not really the story I wanted to tell. I just always feel like I need to start there when I talk about David.
David was clever. He constantly joked with me, pushed boundaries, and tested reactions. One lesson he looked at me and asked:
“Bacon… is it really as good as people say it is?”
David was a kosher Jew and had never tasted it before.
“Oh yeah,” I told him with a grin. “It’s bacon, man. There’s nothing better.”
We had the kind of relationship where we could joke with each other like that.
After the lesson, I called a good friend of mine who was Jewish — not kosher, but Jewish — and told him about the conversation. That’s when I learned about kosher bacon bits.
Apparently, they tasted just like bacon.
I immediately called Libby, David’s mom, and asked if I could bring some to the next lesson. She loved the idea.
The following week, I pulled out the bacon bits and away we went.
We ate the entire container while talking about bacon and how it made any food better. But while I was teaching David about bacon, David was teaching me about being kosher — what it meant, why it mattered, and the traditions behind it. It ended up being an amazing education for both of us.
Honestly, I can remember more lessons where a student experienced something special than I can remember actual music lessons.
I’ve never formally surveyed former students, but I’d bet many of them would say the same thing.
Whenever I reconnect with students I taught 20 years ago, we rarely talk about scales, technique, or theory. We talk about whatever it was that connected us.
For some students, music itself was the connection. For many others, music was simply the vehicle we used to build one.
For David and me, sometimes that connection was bacon bits.
Article by Jay Maurice. Founder, Lessons In Your Home
