Sitting on a piano bench in a picturesque room overlooking a lush garden of dotted with violet flowers, the round-faced Olga Dvorchkin laughed with twinkling eyes.

At first, it may not seem like the 56-year-old Jewish-Russian piano teacher, who lives in Campbell, can exude anything other than joy and care.

After all, the simple morning light shining in through the polygonal windows is an exact resemblance of her bright nature, which she has shared for more than 30 years by teaching aspiring pianists, like me.

However, her life hasn’t always been as carefree as it is today.

As a Jew living in the oppressive Communist reign of the Soviet Union, life was tough. However, her passion for music always carried her through life’s difficulties, and eventually it even helped her build a better life once she escaped to the U.S.

Born in 1961, Dvorchkin grew up in the town of Gomel in the former Soviet Union Republic of Belarus.

While living in Gomel, strangers on the streets would blatantly harass Jews and call them names.

She recalled, “They would tell you horrible things like ‘Why didn’t the Germans [Holocaust] kill you all? You were all supposed to be in the ovens.’”

Applying for jobs was another difficulty for Jews.

Even though she attended standard children's schooling and moved on to graduate with a bachelor’s degree from eight years of studying at the Academy of Music and Arts of the state of Belarus, employers still discriminated against her identity.

They would look straight into her eyes and turn her down once they opened her passport and saw the Jewish identification, Dvorchkin said.

Furthermore, the devastating 1986 explosion of the Chernobyl power plant, which was only 100 kilometers away from Gomel, was purposely hidden from her family and many others by the Communist government.

In an effort to overlook the reality of the explosion’s consequences and not claim responsibility, the government attempted to cover up the disaster.

“We weren’t supposed to go out in the streets for the first few days and they [government] thought they could hide it,” she said. “They never told us until the whole entire world found out.”

Moreover, news from beyond the Soviet Union was strictly censored with severe bans on foreign culture such as certain music and books.

“I remember looking for some music that wasn’t allowed and trying to listen to some bands that were prohibited like Led Zeppelin,” Dvorchkin said.

So it was no surprise in 1988, when former U.S. president Ronald Reagan offered to lift sanctions against the economically unstable Soviet Union in exchange for allowing Soviet Jews to leave, her family and many others saw a chance for freedom.

Alongside her mother, younger brother, 5-year-old daughter and husband, Dvorchkin boarded a train, paid for by the international refugee rescue organization HIAS, to Vienna, Austria, with only $500 altogether and no possessions.

Rather than fear the future, Dvorchkin and her family were extremely relieved to leave the Soviet Union behind.

“We were disgusted with all the lies. The communist and socialist party were feeding us lies,” she said.

On the train rides, “everything was hidden” and the Jews were not allowed to leave their places at stops, because such a large concentration of Jews could draw potential anti-semitic-driven hate crimes.

After staying in Vienna for three weeks, Dvorchkin took a train to Italy. Once three-and-a-half months passed in Italy, many Jews were transported to either Israel or America.

Her family took the route to San Francisco.

The 28-year-old Dvorchkin was dropped off in a brand-new country with only her family, the hope for a better life and her extensive knowledge in classical music.

A childhood friend, who escaped in 1981, when a similar bargain was negotiated with the Soviet Union, sponsored Dvorchkin and her family in the U.S., and by working all kinds of jobs and borrowing money, Dvorchkin was able to rent a tiny apartment with her family.

For the first few years, Dvorchkin couldn’t become a piano teacher, because she didn’t know how to speak English.

“On top of the English language, I had to learn the [new] music language,” she said.

In the meantime, Dvorchkin, a talented musician and teacher, worked as a tailor, while her husband, a skilled engineer, worked in construction.

Additionally, she began to steadily pick up English bit by bit on her own time through watching TV, listening to other people’s conversations and studying books.

“Fortunately, I was young and I had a good music ear and it came to me fast,” she said.

When her English became proficient enough to not only converse but impart music terminology, Dvorchkin decided to become a piano teacher.

“I was determined, because that’s what I did my whole life and I was successful in Russia,” she said.

It is this same success and passion for music that drives her to keep teaching today.

“Music is a magic. To me, it’s something unreal…,” she said. “You listen to some sounds and just the sounds of music can make you smile, cry, feel excited, and feel in many different ways.”

Now, whether she is feeling sad or happy, Dvorchkin will simply sit down at the piano and improvise.

“I love all types of music,” she said, adding with a grin that all types meant everything except rap.

If she hadn’t escaped the Soviet Union, it is more than likely that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the luxury of listening to “all types of music.”

“We were very grateful,” Dvorchkin said. “We always thought that this is a great country, and this country can totally survive without us. If they allow us to be a part of this society, this country, this culture, a part of this life, you have to be very grateful.”

It is true that America could survive without Dvorchkin and that her contribution to society as a whole isn’t great.

However, the giant tackboard in the studio corner plastered with colorful thank-you-letters from students indicates while Dvorchkin may not have had a noticeable impact on general society, she has deeply touched the hearts and lives of many with her passion for music.