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 sometng 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 #2120 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.
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