The First Lesson
Originally written on April 15, 2008, with the title, “Ihip- ihip: Meet the Teacher”. The author is migrating her works to Medium from other platforms.
April 15, 2008
Tuesday
UP College of Music
around 9:25 AM
It was the first day of my flute lessons.
When I was deciding which instrument to study for the summer, two came into mind — the flute & violin. I wanted to enroll in violin just out of curiosity. I recall telling my father when I was younger that I wanted to try to learn the said instrument. But I was surprised because that was one of the rare occasions (come to think of it, I think that was the only time) that he discouraged me to learn something. He said so many things that made studying the violin seem so hard. He told me something that stuck in my head until now, “baka mas may pag- asa ka sa flute.”
So there I was sitting on a bench, with room 201 in sight, waiting for my flute teacher. I studied how to play the recorder when I was around 5–6 years old and since that time, I have wanted to try to play the “real” metal flute. Honestly, I was quite excited that day to learn and to meet new people.
It was already 10:00am and I saw someone enter room 201. After a minute or two, I stood up and walked until I was exactly in front of the door. The door had a square glass window which allowed me to see the lady who entered earlier. She was writing something on a sheet of paper while seated at the teacher’s table. I asked myself, “Bakit wala pang ibang tao?”. I moved away from the door and waited for someone else to enter the room. 3 minutes… 5 minutes… 7 minutes already passed but no one came.
I turned the doorknob and pushed the door nervously. The lady smiled, said hello, and then asked, “Ikaw si Jill Manapat?” I nodded and she gestured me to sit on the chair in front of the teacher’s table. I was thinking at that time, “Naku, one-on-one ata ito.”
I found my teacher to be a very delightful person because of the sincere smile she wore on her face. It made me feel welcome and it lessened my nervousness. She asked for the form given to me at the office upon enrollment and there she saw my age. “18 years old ka na?” she asked in a surprised manner. I said yes and she replied, “Akala ko high school ka pa lang. Neneng- nene pa itsura mo eh!” I told myself, “I like this teacher! I look young in her eyes! haha.”
She explained and shared a lot of things regarding what type of flute to buy, the flute choir (which she was very proud of), and her dream of learning archery and photography. My teacher was telling stories one after the other that I didn’t have an opportunity to ask the question that has been bugging me since I entered the room. But finally, she stopped for a while to get something from her locker on the other side of the room. I asked her, “Ma’am, ako lang po ba mag-isa?” She replied cheerfully, “Oo. Ikaw lang.” while walking back to her desk. “WEH? One-on-one?” I said a bit loudly. Then we laughed.
Since I didn’t have a flute yet, which meant starting from scratch, my teacher taught me proper breathing. She made me stand in front of a whole-body mirror and said, “Sige nga, ipakita mo sa akin kung paano ka huminga.” A quizzical look appeared on my face. How am I supposed to show her how I breathe? Hindi pa ba niya nakikita na humihinga ako? I didn’t know what to do so I said, “Ha? Ano po?” She smiled and asked, “Paano huminga ang aso?” I didn’t know what came into my mind, but I imitated a panting dog. We laughed a bit then she made me do deep breathing. So I filled my chest with air and that’s when she said, “ah, ah, ah, mali. Mali.” She fired another question, “Paano huminga ang baby?” I was silent for a while, thinking of a baby in an incubator. Then she said jokingly, “hindi mo napapansin ‘no?” To simplify everything that she explained: when we inhale, the stomach part (hanggang likod) should be the one expanding and not the chest. Babies (as well as dogs) breathe this way. However, as we grew up, we were taught to breathe by filling our chests with air, which was wrong. I practiced this for about twenty minutes, my teacher correcting me every now and then. I told myself, “Grabe, ngayon ko lang na-realize na mahirap pala huminga. haha.”
Before I left, she told me to photocopy some notes (A Tune a Day) from the booklet she got from her locker earlier. I saw her name written on the cover — Dorothy Lumagui. My flute teacher was Ma’am Lumagui.
That was the end of my first lesson.
