Fwd: Inspirational Post

[Guest guest]

The Piano Teacher

> 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 DeMoines, Iowa.

> > I've always supplimented 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 protege though I have taught

> > some talented students. However, I've also had my

> > share of what I call "musicically 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 very first lesson 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 some day." 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

> > s! topped 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 mom 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 persistance 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' run an egg-beater

> > 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 progege but

> > that night I became a protege...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.

> >

> > This is especially meaningful to! me since after

> > serving in Desert Storm, Robby was killed in the

> > senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal

> > Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995, where he

> > was reportedly....playing the piano.