Do you see what I see?

Mrs. Darylene Williams, teacher to many and friend to all

I heard an interviewer ask Annie Liebovitz, a world-class photographer, what the most important thing a beginning photographer could do. Her answer: "Learn to see." Leibovitz has trained herself to see everything as if looking through the lens of her camera.

Then I thought of my son's piano teacher, Mrs. Williams, a woman in her late 80s who is legally blind. Once a concert pianist who studied under the tutelage of some of the finest musicians in the world, Mrs. Williams can no longer see well enough to read piano music. Fortunately, though, the music is so ingrained in her that she doesn't have to read it. Brilliant, Mrs. Williams graduated from high school at age 16 and started her music studies in earnest at UC Berkeley and the Conservatory of Music. She describes herself as "a haughty young woman" who had trained herself to see life through music and intellect.

Then her life changed dramatically. 

A terrible car wreck forced her to relearn many things, including how to play the piano. This time around, though, her musical talent was no longer a gift; it was hard-earned, the way it is for most piano students. She had to learn to see both music and people in a new light. Now a more compassionate musician, she taught piano for decades. Then, with age, she began to lose her sight and, along with it, much of her freedom and independence.

Today she can no longer drive herself to the store; she can't read a book; and she can't knit, crochet, or sew. Instead of doing these activities, she searches for purposeful ways to spend her time. She gets up every morning at 5:00 a.m. to clip off six miles on her treadmill. Then, even though most days she doesn't leave the house, she dresses professionally, complete with makeup and jewelry. Piano students are warmly welcomed into her immaculate home, where she has dusted the furniture (twice over), and they are greeted with a smile and some sort of inquiry into their lives.

In spite of her losses, Mrs. Williams has lost neither her dignity nor all her vision. Indeed, she has developed a new kind of sight. For instance, she can see when a student is frustrated or tired. She can intuit when one student needs to be challenged and another one needs to relax a bit. And her gift of sight is not limited to her students. She notices mothers overwhelmed with life also crossing her threshold, and she later sends them cards and flowers. To other parents, harried and heartbroken, she lends a listening ear. 

Yes, Mrs. Williams is legally blind. Try as she might, she'll never be able to see with her eyes what Annie Leibovitz sees through a camera lens. Instead, she has trained herself to see everything and everyone through their heart, and she follows her own advice: "Learn to listen."