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 protégé 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 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 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 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 persistence or maybe it was
something inside of me saying that it would be
alright.
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 protégé but
that night I became a protégé...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
bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in
Oklahoma City in April of 1995, where he was
reportedly....playing the piano.
Sent by my friend Madhury Roy. Source: Unknown.
|
|