Mrs. Alfieri

We got to school an hour earlier than everyone else because my mom was a school cook.  We thought it was better than the hour or so bus ride in so we didn't complain.

 

My shoes clip-clopped on the hard linoleum tiles and echoed against the concrete brick walls as I was entered the hall with my arms outstretched wide twirling around. Nikki and I would head down to the music room each morning.  It was usually still dark out.

 

I opened the door, threw on the light and threw down my book bag next to the piano.  I sat down and started to play my morning ritual of songs.  My little sister Nikki ran around the room playing with the chalkboard and waiting for Mrs. Alfieri to arrive for the day.  She was there but in the teachers lounge that early each morning.

 

The music painfully romped through the piano as I insisted on thinking I could play.  My piano ability back then was limited but every morning she encouraged me to play until the bell rang.  She sat at her desk and worked on her daily plan while she listened and chatted with us.  She said she didn't mind.

 

I taught myself more and more so I could play something different for her.  She loved it and always had such a nice smile when I learned something new.  I thought of her today while I was doing my work.  She insisted that music was always something we should have in our lives even if we don't play well. 

 

Considering I'm 32 and I thought of that while I'm working on bullshit work in a monotone grey cubical for 8 hours a day, I would have to say that she made a difference in my life.