Piano

  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 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 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 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 senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal
Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995, where he was
reportedly....playing the piano.