My grandmother is a pianist. As often happens, the pendulum swung the other way with my mom, who neither had an interest in taking piano lessons nor in making her kids do so. I vowed to throw the pendulum back the other way with my kids, enrolling them in piano lessons even though they showed no interest.
As fate would have it, my eldest fell in love with the instrument. Soon after, I signed up for lessons, too. This fall I’ll begin my 10th semester as an adult piano student at our local university’s music education program.
Over the years, I’ve learned to read notes and play chords. I performed an arrangement of Billy Joel’s, “Piano Man,” and Burgmüller’s “L’Harmonie des Anges,” for my recitals. The more I advance, the more I realize I am years away from the confident sight-reading necessary to fulfill my original vision of being able to plop down at the piano and play any pop song or carol in front of me. But that doesn’t matter to me so much
Sure, there are many reasons I could quit, but I find there are many more to continue. In total, I spent about $6,000 on piano lessons for our family last year, and about $2,400 of that was for me. The investment was worth every penny.
Music is great for my brain
Many parents know and understand the advantages of having our children learn how to play an instrument. No matter what our age, adults can benefit, too. A 2025 study found “playing an instrument was associated with a 35% reduced dementia risk.”
I saw the value firsthand when I attended ‘Your Brain on Beethoven,’ a public concert put on by the Music-in-Medicine Initiative. While the musicians performed the “Archduke Trio,” a “Brain-Computer Interface and EEG brain dynamic data visualization” provided real-time feedback on how the music affected the pianist as a performer and the audience as listeners.
Even without a Ph.D. in neuroscience, I can feel the positive impact of music each time I play. Oftentimes, my lessons feel like a literal mental workout.
The concentration required to learn is meditative
As a parent of two, time is difficult to come by, so getting myself to sit down at the piano is the hardest part. That resistance quickly dissipates as soon as my fingers strike the keys, when the concentration required to play each note is so all-encompassing I can only focus on the task at hand.
Stepping away from a lesson, I often feel relaxed. My stress seems to melt away during the 45 dedicated minutes when I do not check my phone or email, or think about what I should do next. I get the same boost when I practice, as long as I take a minute to silence my phone.
Courage begets more courage
Learning something new is daunting. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the more I tried and failed, the more courage I had to do it again. Successes are delightful, but making it through failures while sitting at the piano bench is truly thrilling.
I might not free solo a mountain, but surviving my heart threatening to beat outside my chest while performing a piano recital is a wonderful reminder of aliveness, without any physical risk.
At my last recital, my hands shook so visibly that it was noticeable from the back row. I played through the adrenaline, managing to hit the notes and extract some musicality despite my strong physical reaction.
I gathered with the other adult students after our performance, and we congratulated each other. We all pointed out what went well. Instead of dwelling on mistakes, I took the compliments. Learning as an adult is not about being the best. It’s about being the best version of yourself. It’s a lesson I both learn and can pass along to my kids.
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