They Looked to their Mothers

Our children perform piano pieces in front of judges once or twice a year. I think it makes the piano teachers happy to have some validation for their efforts. I also think that these events push the kids to work harder and achieve a higher level of mastery. I’ve seen my children blossom under pressure and falter under pressure. I experience it with them, whatever the result.

One year at a judging event, I sat in a different place in the audience than I ever had before. Normally the audience faces a profile of the student and if you’re lucky, you can be on the side of the audience where you can watch their fingers fly over the keys. At this school where the judging was taking place, the audience surrounded the piano in a half circle in a choir room. I watched the pianists play through a window created by the raised grand piano lid. Framed by a wooden support and lid, I had a full view of their faces.

I watched many children perform through this new window and I noticed something I hadn’t seen from a profile view. Almost without exception, when a child ended his piece, he looked immediately to his mother.

They looked to their mothers, not the judges, not their peers. I met my two boys’ looks with silent, fervent approval and encouragement to carry them through the long pause while the judges made their notes between pieces. My inaudible support included a pantomime to remind them to breathe. I watched the other parents in their silent motions and expressions do the same.

I’ll always believe that the best honors go to mothers, and it’s not in the usual form of great accolades or certificates. It’s in the form of hastily-crayoned words on a lopsided, handmade heart; it’s being the person the child runs to when in danger, during sickness, or in times of worry; it’s being the person they want to talk to when something goes really well; it’s in their looks of vulnerable hope, framed under the piano lid, hoping to find encouragement. It’s enough for me to see my children look to me in times of trouble or excitement to know how important my job is.

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Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.