Draft #15

I always liked the piano. In the fourth grade I convinced my parents to let me take piano lessons. It was fun! I liked it a lot. At the end of the month they had a recital and I had to play. I was still a beginner, so the song I had to play wasn’t complex, it was very simple. I remember sitting down, watching the advanced piansts stroke their fingers on the keys, listening to the beautiful music, and comparing myself to them. I started feeling insecure. My song was a baby song, I wasn’t good enough. I played my song the audience applauded, I bowed and went back to my seat. After the recital was over, my dad and my sisters told me that I did a great job. I felt better when they told me that. The next week I went to piano lessons with a different mindset, I wasn’t good enough. I decided to quit. I told my dad that I wanted to quit because my instructor wasn’t really a good teacher (she was, I just needed something to tell him). He agreed with me (the reason why he agreed was because he didn’t want to pay anymore) and said it was okay.

I’m mad that my dad let me quit. I wish he motivated me to keep going and supported me, but he didn’t he just let me quit.


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