I must have had one of the most unorthodox entries into the underworld of classical music of anyone who ever attempted to enter it ‘seriously’ — young, single mother of three beautiful little children, initially working as a model, of all thing, to provide support for my family. When I called the at-that-time principal flute to ask if he might take me on as a student, I was almost apologetic. I was also hopelessly naive. My teacher switched pieces on me at the first lesson, from something I wanted to work on, to something they liked. Then he complained bitterly about the name change to Minnesota Orchestra from Minneapolis Symphony, which had occurred some years earlier. Understandably, I was quite puzzled, but, at that point, had no framework from which to object. He then proceeded to send me out on various rabbit trails, which I eventually came to realize meant that he had no intention of teaching me to do anything but fail.
I eventually realized that I had, in effect, walked into a trap. I blamed myself, for being so atypical. But were they really just lying in wait…? :-O
Le Chant du Rossignol...(song of the nightingale) 