My weary eyes felt like rubber bands that were stretched out too far and would snap shut the moment I lay down. It was a Friday in mid-April, and I was exhausted after a long school day. I wished for nothing more than to dash home as quickly as possible and relax, but instead, I had to go to my violin lesson. I dragged my heavy feet, which felt like they were coated with cement, to the entrance of the violin studio.

Inside, the atmosphere was hot and stifling. It was a small room surrounded by depressing white walls lined with foam silencers to make the area soundproof. There was no room for echoes, and the only noise was the muffled, scratchy sound coming from my violin. The room seemed to close down on me as time went by. I was playing an excerpt of the “Moldau” by Bedřich Smetana to my teacher, but I simply could not play with emotion. I followed all the notations on the sheet music, played with correct articulation and dynamics, and crescendoed where I was supposed to. However, I still managed to make music describing the life of spring with blooming flowers and blissful gardens, sounding like flowers screaming in despair and dying bitter, miserable deaths. My violin teacher sat completely still and listened carefully to my playing, and I huffed in frustration as I saw her eyebrows furrow.

She stood up abruptly and walked towards me, studying the sheet of music with deep concentration as if she was trying to understand what it was saying to her. She asked me what the piece’s mood was and in which style I was supposed to play the music. I stared at her blankly and shrugged. I was exhausted and only wished for the lesson to end.

She paused momentarily and suddenly pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. “Can you draw an image of what you think a typical day in the forest during spring would look like?” she asked. I stared at her in confusion, thinking it was one of the pranks she liked pulling on her students. However, I obliged and took her pencil and began to sketch. I let my imagination run and pictured the scenery in my mind. I started by drawing lush, green grass that tickled my palms when I ran my hands through it and a beech-brown forest that was a woody heaven. Squirrels and wildlife scurried on the earthy undergrounds of the woods. Butterflies lazily fluttered in the sky full of dreamy clouds, with chords of magnificent light glowing through them. Wildflowers bloomed in all types of vivid colors, and feathery moss and wild berries ripened under the leafy dome of the forest. Of course, a sapphire-blue stream was also lacing through the forest grounds. It was glistening like a thousand diamonds blessed by the sun when it hits just right.

A few minutes later, I completed my sketch. I put down the pencil and admired my drawing. “Now, pick up the violin and play this excerpt again with this vivid imagery in your mind,” my violin teacher said. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and began to play. The introduction of pizzicato notes and syncopated rhythm was like a capturing magic spell, playfully luring unsuspecting people into the dreamy forest. Then, beautiful staccato notes were played in a gentle brush-stroke motion, musically depicting morning dewdrops and scenic mountain springs in a magnificent forest setting. One phrase leads to another, just like the nature of a free-flowing stream, and as the piece’s main theme is introduced, I played with such exceptional, brilliant expression, which I have never been able to do before.

As I wrapped up the piece, my teacher was stunned into silence. She paused and blinked for a moment. “That was the best playing I’ve ever heard from you so far,” she said in astonishment. “Who knew drawing out the scenery would help you better interpret the music? Maybe sometimes all we need is to use our creativity and try different methods when we face difficulties.”

Since that unusual yet inspiring violin lesson, I have not only learned to interpret the piece better but also essential problem-solving skills that I could implement into my daily life. By looking at things from a different approach, using my creativity, and paying attention to small details, I am able to find solutions for even the most complex problems. To this day, I am still beyond grateful to my violin teacher for teaching me such a valuable life skill.