And it was strange how I could almost hear my violin teacher’s voice in the background as the students each played their all too familiar recital pieces. Bow longer. More pressure. Bow straight. You’re moving your bow too much. She would tell me these while pushing my arm forward and backward as I struggled through a measure. I actually miss violin lessons. That’s a surprise. They seemed more like a hassle for me while we were at it. Mostly because I had grown accustomed to a lot of incorrect violin executions that when I came to her, she began correcting each of them starting from the markers on the fingerboard. Funny how you only remember the things your teacher tell you when the lessons are over and you smile at the memory knowing that she was right. She was right all along. Of course she was.