Thursday, October 19, 2006

Learn a lesson from Robby's Night



Robby's Night
True Story -- Worth Reading!!!

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,
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.

So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a
choice: Do we act with compassion or do we pass up that opportunity and
leave the world a bit colder in the process?

Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose. There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blessings given to us to learn from.
--Unknown

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

AMEN AND AMEN!!!!
The problem is, why do I have such a hard time learning leasons?
I just don't seem to ever get it right....
I love you Baby Boy, Thank you for sharing.