Things Are't Always As They Seem - Off Topic

[Guest guest]

Piano Lessons

At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred

Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines,

Iowa. I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons-something

I've done for over 30 years. Over the years I found that children have many

levels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of having a prodigy

though I have taught some talented students.

However I've also had my share of what I call " musically challenged " pupils.

One such student was Robby. Robby was 11 years old when his mother a single Mom)

dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially

boys!) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to

Robby.

But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the

piano. So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano

lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor.

As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to

excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I

require all my students to learn.

Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to

encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he'd always say, " My mom's

going to hear me play someday. " But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any

inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off

or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never

stopped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons.

I thought about calling him but assumed because of his lack of ability, that he

had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped

coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the upcoming

recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in

the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he

had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mother had been sick

and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing. " Miss

Hondorf . . . I've just got to play! " he insisted.

I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his

persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would

be all right. The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was

packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the

program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing

piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end

of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my

" curtain closer. "

Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and

it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair

looked like he'd run an eggbeater through it. " Why didn't he dress up like the

other students? " I thought. " Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his

hair for this special night? "

Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced

that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not

prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they even

danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo. . .. from

allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent!

Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people his age.

After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on

their feet in wild applause.

Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy.

" I've never heard you play like that Robby! How'd you do it? " Through the

microphone Robby explained: " Well Miss Hondorf . . . remember I told you my Mom

was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this

morning. And well . . she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever

heard me play. I wanted to make it special. "

There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social

Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, I noticed

that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer

my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I've never had a prodigy but that night I became a prodigy. . of Robby's. He

was the teacher and I was the pupil For it is he that taught me the meaning of

perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance

in someone and you don't know why. Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of

the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995. And

now, a footnote to the story.

If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you are probably thinking

about which people on your address list aren't the " appropriate " ones to

receive this type of message.

The person who sent this to you believes that we can all make a difference.