Narrative- Viola Lesson Essay example -- Personal Narrative Writing

Narrative- Viola Lesson I strolled towards the double glass doors, deliberately kicking at a large, spiky, chestnut pod as I went. It skidded across the concrete and sent three more spike-balls rolling before toppling over the edge of the ramp. Gazing upward through the branches, which were camouflaged by green and brown splotched clumps of large, tear-drop shaped leaves, I could see bits of crisp, blue, autumn sky. I repositioned the strap of my viola case on my shoulder. It's too bad I can't stay out here to enjoy the weather. At that thought, I slowed my walk. Why am I nervous? I'm more prepared for my lesson this week than I have been in a long time. The set of doors now loomed ahead of me, and I tugged one of them open, making my way up to the second floor of the building. I knew there was no reason for me to be nervous, but the butterflies flitting around in my stomach didn't seem to care. As I approached Dr. Sternbern's office, his door came clearly into view--I always enjoyed looking at it. The dark wood could barely be seen beneath the dozens of humorous cartoons pasted all over it. There was even a picture of Dr. Sternbern himself, with a carrot protruding from his mouth, and a sign below asking, "Do you know this man?" I smiled and could feel my anxiety floating away. Poking my head through the door, I spotted him working at his computer. Dr. Sternbern was in his mid-thirties, with dark hair, and a beard, which he had just started growing over the summer. He looked up and smiled a greeting, motioning for me to come in. "So how are you doing, Miss Marie?" "I'm fine," I replied, closing the door and looking for a spot to set my case. The chair where I normally put it was stacked with papers, and there were orc... ...embered something Dr. Sternbern had told me before. He said he had seen lots of students try to excel at too many things. It usually resulted in them being unable to do their best at anything. So, my thoughts continued, I should pick one thing to do my very best at, and then work hard in the other areas with the time and energy I have left. A smile of understanding slowly spread across my face. Through my lessons, Dr. Sternbern had taught me many things about playing the viola, but what I had just begun to understand was, perhaps, of even greater importance. I realized now that this truth, more than any technique, would allow me to reach my goal of playing the viola to the best of my ability. Sighing happily, I tilted my head upward, breathed in the refreshing fall air, and, with a well-aimed, departing kick, sent half a dozen more spike-balls shooting off the ramp.