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Lower Secondary English essays

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My tutor
 
My parents wanted me to learn the piano. No matter how much I protested, they eventually found and hired a tutor to coach my playing.

From then on, a regular lesson schedule was implemented with the tutor, Mr Peterson, coming in on Friday afternoons at around three o'clock. This was my daily nap time, and I was always grumbling about having to forgo it every Friday. The tutor was very strict in the first few months, forcing me to repeat a problematic piece several times until he was satisfied. Mr Peterson was a good tutor, despite his strictness, and his explanations were very clear and simple. Soon, I could play several tunes adequately, and Mr Peterson decided to sign me up for a music examination.

The examination was about eight months away, a long time to me, but Mr Peterson made me work hard, giving me increasingly difficult pieces. I could not understand why I was being made to practise so hard. Every time I protested, my tutor told me very firmly that I was to strive to achieve success. Naturally, I was forced to continue struggling with increasingly complex chord progressions and often felt deep-seated resentment towards the glossy piano that sat in our living room. Towards the fourth month, however, things began to change. Mr Peterson began to skip lessons occasionally, and when he did turn up, he was very often rather late. I was usually much too frustrated to take notice of the dark circles growing around his eyes.

One day, he asked me to play two examination pieces, which I grudgingly did. I started with the first one, nervously pushing at the keys with my fingers. I ended up missing several chords and hitting the wrong keys, and stopped at the end in anticipation of a scolding. Nothing. Without looking at Mr Peterson, I began to repeat the first piece, certain that he wanted me to. This time, my fingers flowed easily over the keyboard, and I made no mistakes. However, Mr Peterson remained absolutely silent. I found it very strange, since he was usually either scolding me or praising me. After a moment, I launched into the second piece. As I was playing it, I noticed him nodding out of the corner of my eye. I assumed that he was acknowledging my skilful playing and I played on, heartened. Gradually, however, the nods became more and more pronounced, and my hands began to waver. Finally, Mr Peterson gave a rough grunt, and I jumped slightly. This was too much for me, and I turned to look at my tutor. He was bent over the keys, fast asleep.

I stared at his half-open mouth, mesmerized, but eventually snapped out of it. Turning back to the musical sheet, I slowly lifted my hands and began playing the second piece from the beginning. I kept glancing round at him and could see that Mr Peterson was continuing to enjoy his nap. It was a warm afternoon, and the more I looked at him, the sleepier I became. Soon, my hands began to slow, and I fell into a deep slumber. Suddenly, someone was tugging at my sleeve, and I sat upright, rubbing my eyes vigorously. "You must be tired," my tutor said. "You fell asleep during the lesson. Nobody falls asleep during a music lesson, understand ?"

I was tempted to tell him what I had seen, but I did not want him to tell Mother that I had fallen asleep, so I obediently echoed, "Yes, Mr Peterson. Nobody falls asleep during a music lesson."

     
forgo   miss
     
mesmerized   captivated
     
slumber   sleep
 
 

 

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Lower secondary English essays 1

 
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