At Sunday's lesson, the Schubert concerto was "performed" end to end and then unceremoniously dumped into the latrine. Thus ends my career as a player of concertos, and I will never stand among the ranks of Mateo and Michael and Clarissa and Cassandra and Mark and all the other fabulous studio kids. In place of the Schubert I was assigned a 2-minute, half-page piece of largo sustained notes written by a Hungarian I've never heard of. The instructions for this week were to finger and bow it, without "cheating" (finding it online and listening to it). As the week goes by I am developing some idea of how it should sound, but I have no idea if it's correct - I often hear things differently out of context. Next lesson, not only the notes but the interpretation will be up for scrutiny.
I am not in the mood to take up the campaign for elder rights, or push my interpretation of this piece. Just tell me what you want and I will do my best to play it that way. My other teacher - the one whose relative optimism and indifference to age helps me tolerate Mr Critical Teacher's low opinion of my playing - has been dealing with a family issue for the past couple of weeks, and we haven't had a lesson in a while. I miss him. I need a bit of shoring-up.