Book 1, Section 4
From my great-grandfather, I learned the value of being educated at home by excellent teachers rather than attending public schools. I also learned that one should spare no expense when it comes to such an education.
Reading this passage made me think of the teachers who have shaped my life. Professor Kim Joo-Hwan naturally comes to mind: his teachings have opened the way for me to practice inner communication. But this passage took me back to a teacher I met many years ago, John Michael Cooper, whom I was fortunate enough to have as my major professor and mentor while studying music in the United States.
For many years, the word “teacher” has brought him to mind.
Growing up, I often felt anxious and on edge at home. My father drank every evening, swore at my mother and me, and was also physically violent. I don’t clearly remember all the reasons he scolded me, but I remember feeling that whatever I did was wrong.
Every evening, I had to finish my homework, write in my diary, and pack my schoolbag by 9 p.m. Even being a minute or two late could mean being hit on the calves or made to stand holding a chair as punishment. My father constantly compared me to my younger brother, and I gradually came to believe that something was wrong with me.
Years later, when I was an adult, my mother told me that my elementary school diary entries were often about something I had done wrong, followed by a promise not to do it again.
Only now, looking back, do I understand how hard it was to concentrate and stay organized when I felt so anxious at home. This year, I was diagnosed with ADD, and my psychiatrist told me that my difficulties with attention were understandable given the environment I had grown up in.
Life was still very difficult for me in graduate school in the United States. BBut Dr. Cooper appreciated how well I understood the material and built on it to develop my own ideas. I had grown up hearing my father point out what I did wrong. Now, I had a teacher who consistently noticed and praised what I did well. It felt almost surreal to be seen that way, and it meant a great deal to me.
He also opened up new ways of thinking for me. I was deeply inspired by his lectures and could feel his passion for teaching. He challenged ideas about music that I had always taken for granted, encouraging us to listen and think for ourselves rather than fit a piece into an established framework.
One moment from our regular thesis supervision meetings has stayed with me. Beethoven’s music is often regarded as timeless and great, yet Dr. Cooper sang the famous “Ode to Joy” melody from the Ninth Symphony in a deliberately childish way. He suggested that our familiarity with the music might be part of what makes us regard it as great. I was fascinated by this way of thinking. It had never occurred to me to question something so widely admired.
Before each class, he carefully prepared handouts that organized the material he would cover. His dedication and the way he encouraged us to question our assumptions and develop our own ideas left a deep impression on me.
When I was choosing a topic for my master’s thesis, I wanted to analyze a Beethoven piece I already knew. Dr. Cooper instead suggested Beethoven’s Op. 5 cello sonatas, which were unfamiliar to me. This gave me a chance to approach the music with fresh ears, rather than begin with familiar interpretations or try to make it fit what I already knew.
He never hesitated to praise my assignments, even when they were far from perfect. He recognized the effort I put into organizing my thoughts and expressing them in English. He gave me something I had rarely received before: encouragement, recognition, and genuine support.
I received his care as love.
There are many wonderful feelings that come with love, but what I experienced with him was unlike anything I had known before. I felt that I was dear to him and that he respected me. In return, I came to love, respect, admire, and adore him.
For the first time in my life, I began to realize that I could write well, think creatively, and express my own ideas in meaningful ways. I discovered possibilities in myself that I had never recognized before.
By the time Dr. Cooper left the University of North Texas for Southwestern University, I had completed my coursework and passed the written qualifying exams. Only the oral exam stood between me and beginning my doctoral dissertation. But I was terrified of speaking in English and couldn’t find the courage to take it.
With Dr. Cooper no longer there, I also felt that I had lost the person who had believed in me and supported me. Eventually, I gave up on my doctorate.
Looking back, I realize how much his presence had meant to me. He was not simply a professor who taught me music history. He was someone who helped me see myself differently for the first time.
Reading Marcus Aurelius’s words, I think about what it meant to have such a teacher in my own life. To me, a truly great teacher is someone who recognizes our worth, helps us discover possibilities within ourselves, and encourages us to bring them into the world.
Dr. Cooper has also worked extensively to bring renewed attention to the music of Black women composers Florence Price and Margaret Bonds. He has researched their lives and edited and published many of their previously unpublished works.
Perhaps the same quality runs through his teaching and his scholarly work: an ability to recognize value that others have overlooked. In his research, he brings attention to composers whose voices have not been fully heard.
He saw possibilities in me that I couldn’t yet see in myself.
Although I never completed my doctorate, his faith in me never really left me. Even after all these years, the love, respect, and encouragement I received from him have remained with me. I believe they have played an important part in helping me gradually heal and find my way back to myself.
Dr. Cooper helped me begin to tell a different story about myself.
Professor Kim Joo-Hwan may seem to be making a last-minute appearance in this story, but he belongs here too. Through his teachings on inner communication and my practice in INZEUM, I am learning to relate differently to those stories themselves. Even the stories I have carried for years do not define who I am. I can have preferences about who I want to be without clinging to a fixed idea of “me.”
Returning to Marcus Aurelius’s words, I feel grateful for both teachers: Dr. Cooper, who first helped me tell a positive story about myself, and Professor Kim Joo-Hwan, who is helping me loosen my attachment to the stories I tell about myself.
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