Minuet No. 3

When I flew to Kabul, I crammed as much sheet music as I possibly could into into one large priority mailing box. I brought pedagogical books for teaching as well as music for my own study. I have to admit, I was a little too ambitious thinking that I could tackle Kodaly Solo Sonata and Berio Sequenza, in addition to teaching full-time, six days a week. Not happening.

Of course I brought along the Suzuki books. They are absolutely indispensable. After realizing that the library at school did not own Suzuki Book Two, I brought my own copy from home to share with Nazira, one of my most talented and hard-working students. This is the very same book I played from when I was first learning the cello. It's full of funny little doodles and lots of reminders like, "don't forget to count to three!" and "REACH for the G sharp!" There's even a shopping list on the back page.

Nazira and I playing a duet at an ANIM student concert

One day, after deciding that Nazira was ready to move on to the next piece, I turned the page to Bach's Minuet No. 3. There, above the title, was a date. 3/25/98. Indeed, I had been struggling through the very same piece almost thirteen years ago. Upon seeing that date, I was hit by a wave of emotion and nostalgia. I suddenly came face to face with the twelve year old me; trying to master those tricky slurs and grappling with the uncharted territory of third position. In that moment, I was struck by a sudden and deep understanding of my relationship to music and saw my journey up to this point in a new light.

I guess like everything in life, our passions and joys change and evolve. We grow up and on to new places, new relationships, new discoveries, new triumphs and disappointments and of course, new Suzuki books. And as I look back and think about my teachers, I can't help but feel tremendous pride in knowing that I am now a part of the tradition that guided and inspired me throughout my years as a student. I wonder what else I'll find in the pages of my old Suzuki books.

Reflections

Today marks one month living and teaching in Kabul! Incidentally, today was also "Teachers Day," a school-wide event honoring the ANIM faculty. I arrived in the morning to find my room decorated with streamers and little paper flowers. Throughout the morning, the faculty was led from room to room where feasts had been prepared and laid out by the students. There was cake, dancing, music, speeches, gift-giving and more. It was quite touching as students came up to me to shake my hand and to congratulate me on being a teacher. What better way to celebrate one month in Afghanistan!

Teachers Day cake

I thought I would reflect on this anniversary by traveling back in time and revisiting the events that led me up to this moment. When I first heard about the opportunity to teach in Kabul, I knew deep down that I had no choice but to go. Something drew me to it. I applied for the job without really thinking it through completely. But when I was actually offered the position, I had to really take a step back and give it some serious thought. Even after making the decision to take the job, it took me almost three months to fully accept the fact that I was actually going. Some days I would be thrilled and excited, and other days I would be deeply, profoundly anxious.

A banana merchant

Nothing would prepare me for my last days in New York before my departure. I wanted to savor every moment of my familiar life before it all vanished. At the same time, I was extremely restless and subject to sudden waves of panic and emotion. Then, just a few days before leaving, my Grandmother passed away. We had been expecting it for awhile, but the news was still shocking and tragic. It was a hard time. My Mom had decided to take a job in New Jersey, leaving my Dad to look after the house in Virginia. She was struggling with the fact that she would be living in a new place by herself and having me move halfway across the world. My girlfriend, while ever-supportive, was nervous for me and afraid, as I was, about the impending year of long-distance. The mixture of excitement and anxiety was overwhelming.

Kabul

After a devastatingly difficult farewell to my girlfriend at the airport a few days later, I finally stepped on to the plane bound for Kabul. At that moment I was struck by the oddest feeling of profound relief. The hardest part was the waiting. When I felt the airplane take off I knew that this was it, a new chapter of my life had begun.