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Days before the recital, I still hadn't told Mr Assarian I learned the whole thing. I was afraid to. Although Mr A wasn't a martinet or a bully, his mild disappointment was enough to make me feel horrible, like the time he told me I'd never play Bach's Invention in F correctly ever in my life, because I'd learned it with the wrong fingering. Never? I asked. 'Well, maybe when you're much older and have forgotten it. Then you can learn it right.'

Recital Saturday dawned and my father began to make the usual jokes about what time does this shindig start? Are they going to provide eyelids props? And quoting something that began 'They laughed when I sat down to play the piano.'

The kids were gathering out in the corridor as the parents took their places in the gym-auditorium. Just as the parents were required to stay for the duration, the performers had to get there at the beginning even if their piece didn't come for at least two hours. My parents sat in the first row of folding chairs. They shifted around crossing their legs trying to get comfortable on the metal seats.

Mom and Dad were more dressed up than the other parents, because they planned to go out for dinner 'after this thing is over'. I went and hovered nearby while Mr Assarian tried to bolster the courage of a knot of little kids.

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