I finally got in touch with my saxophone teacher fifteen days ago or so and had my first lesson last Tuesday at 6. My teacher's name is Jory. He's a graduate student, he's a really good player and he's really nice. My first impression was a positive one.
This week, I accidentally wrote down the wrong time for my class and missed it altogether. I showed up about two minutes after it ended thinking it was due to start. When Jory found out I hadn't intentionally blown him off, he rescheduled the lesson and arranged for a substitute teacher. And so my second private sax lesson ever was yesterday at 5, with another amazingly kind, patient grad student named Ben who seemed worried I was getting bored with playing scales. (Jory taught me one last week; Ben added two more.)
"I'm happy to play scales," I told him. "It's more than I walked in here knowing."
"Well, I'd recommend finding a recording of a sax player you like and using it as a reward for playing your scales," Ben said. "Try to figure out the songs; try to figure out some other scales on your own. You'll learn so fast if you do."
It's so exciting to hold a saxophone in my hands again and actually begin to feel I know what I'm doing.
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