Last Friday, my music teacher, Mrs. Myrtle Mashburn, passed away at the age of 97, having taught more than seven decades’ worth of piano and voice pupils over her long career of teaching and enjoying music.

As one of those many students, I came to the visitation and the funeral flooded with memories of my eight years spent studying piano and voice with her during my elementary, middle, and high school years. And I thought: “What better way to honor her publicly than to write about her impact on my life in my weekly “creativity” article?”

How I Met Mrs. Mashburn

This amazing lady not only taught me piano and voice, but she had also taught my dad to play the piano 40 years earlier. When I was a kid and beginning to show interest in learning to play the piano, Mrs. Mashburn was the first person my dad thought of, and we were all pleasantly surprised to find that she was still teaching piano and voice at the age of 79.

So my first memories of Mrs. Mashburn came down to me through Dad’s retellings, even before I met her officially. Dad remembered her as an energetic, encouraging younger teacher; the lady I met was simply a white-haired version of that unbeatable spirit, showing her joy in music not only by playing it herself, but by teaching others how to play and enjoy it as well.

As a girl of 10, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that she was so “old” by the world’s standards, and yet seemed no older than my parents. But that was Mrs. Mashburn’s personality–the years just didn’t seem to affect her mind or her hands, even as they affected the rest of her health a rare few times. She maintained a lively (and fairly large) group of private piano and voice students every year, even into the summers, and held recitals at the end of every school year.

Favorite Memories

Mrs. Mashburn recognized from the beginning that I had a good ear for music, but when she discovered I was relying on that ear a little too much and not learning how to read music properly, she sought to fix that, working with me on really learning how each note was written on the page. Even though I disliked trying to read the notes off the page at first (it was so much slower than just hearing the music and playing it back), she reminded me that if I didn’t learn these notes, I would always be dependent on someone else to play the music for me first. “You learned to read books quickly–your parents told me–so I know you can learn to read music just as easily,” she said, without a shred of doubt in her voice.

That certainty never wavered, even as I grew up and sometimes got out of the habit of practicing as much as I should have. Another of my favorite memories comes from a practice session in which I royally screwed up a difficult piece of music, and a curse word slipped out before I was aware I had spoken. I realized what I’d said a half-second later, and in the middle of apologizing all over myself, she burst into laughter, saying, “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before! Just start back at measure 38 and go from there–it’s all right.” She was great at handling mistakes, even off the keys. 🙂

The yearly recitals Mrs. Mashburn held generated another memory; one of the youngest piano students froze up during a recital and couldn’t get past a certain part of the piece she was trying to play. She tried a couple of times, and she looked like she was about to cry, and then Mrs. Mashburn came up and whispered something to her. I don’t know what it was, but the little girl’s face brightened, and she started the piece again–this time finishing it! The situation could have been so awkward, but somehow, Mrs. Mashburn knew what to say so that she would encourage and not embarrass the little girl. It was a sweet moment, and one that brings tears to my eyes remembering it. :’)

I remember that we always had a good mix of ages at recitals–there were always students who were just beginning, some who were fairly far along but still learning, and then the about-to-graduate crowd who were already so awesome. 🙂 Though we often didn’t see each other much except for at recitals, Mrs. Mashburn always encouraged us to be supportive of each other and helpful. Even when her health began to fail (arthritis, especially), she never seemed to hesitate in taking on a new student and working with him or her to teach them the same joy of music that she felt. And believe me, each of us students understood how wonderful music could be when she taught it!

What I’ll Miss Most

In a very real sense, Mrs. Mashburn brought together a little mini-community of music students and performers, across the decades. At her funeral on Monday, two-thirds of the 100+ people present were her former students, ranging in age from early twenties to mid-seventies (at least!)–we were all bound together by the music and the life of this one woman, who had guided us in how to play music, as well as encouraging us in our own personal studies of music. I don’t know if anybody else could do what she did…she was remarkable.

I’ll miss her dedication and joy the most, though I know she’s gone back to accompany the angels in their hymns. I hope I’ve done her life credit; to be caught up in that energy and love of music, even for a short while, made such a wonderful difference in my life. Thank you, Mrs. Mashburn, for giving us all that gift. 🙂