I decided to go to Cleveland Institute for a Master of Music in Piano Performance but didn’t know who I should choose as my new teacher. I asked Prof. Scholz for advice. He looked at the faculty list and suggested that I studied with Vitya Vronsky-Babin. After arriving in Cleveland, I mentioned her name to a few Taiwanese piano students who had already been there. They advised me to reconsider. Nevertheless, I followed through with my request to study with Mrs. Babin.
A child prodigy, Vitya Vronsky was always an active performer. After forming a piano duo and marrying Victor Babin, he became the center of her life professionally and personally.[1] His sudden death in 1972 affected her profoundly.
Trouble started at my first meeting with her. Based on my playing, she said that she would accept me into her undergraduate class–out of respect for Prof. Scholz and would keep me there for four years. She asked about my age. For whatever reason, I answered, “Twenty-third,” instead of “Twenty-three.” She took me to the office and told everyone there that I didn’t speak English so I should not be in the graduate classes.
Since I had tested out of most theory classes and could actually speak some English, I entered the school officially as a graduate student. I was determined to work hard and prove that I was able to do advanced work. After all, I graduated top of my class. There was no reason that I couldn’t turn things around.
I seriously miscalculated! Hours of work between lessons didn’t win me any positive comments. In fact, I became more and more confused of what I should do, technically and musically, as I was given contradictory information from week to week. Every time I walked into the small soundproofed practice rooms, the walls seemed closing in on me. Part of me started to lose confidence; part of me wanted to stay as far away from playing as possible.
Very quickly, I knew that I had to leave. Before taking any drastic actions, I sought advice from the school officials. However, Mrs. Babin’s words seemed to be the only thing that mattered. My only way out was to transfer to another school. Earlier I was accepted as a Master candidate at Kent State University. Wanting to attend a school with name recognition, I requested for a one-year admission deferral. It gave me a chance to make a smooth transition. After the end of the semester, Mrs. Babin found out indirectly that I was leaving. She graciously wished me all the best with my future endeavors.
Looking back, she probably had the best intention throughout the entire time I was in her studio. She might have wanted to keep me there long enough so I could fully absorb all the information. Unfortunately, her idea and my plan didn’t match. For the first time in my life, I had to accept my failure, face the consequences, and move on.
And, I walked away from Mrs. Babin studio having learned an important thing. During one of my lessons, while I was struggling with a soft passage, she said to me: “Think about how elephants walk. They are heavy but they walk quietly.” These words and image stayed with me since then. Later, Mr. Wustman would give me similar advice: “Use big muscle when you want to play softly. They have better control than the smaller ones.” Great minds think alike.