It is a true story as experienced and written by Mildred Honor.
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At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is
Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary school music teacher from
Des Moines , Iowa .
I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons -
something I have done for over 30 years.
During those years I found that children have many levels of musical
ability, and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a
prodigy, I have taught some very talented
students.
However, I have also had my share of what I call 'musically
challenged' pupils - one such pupil being 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 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 piano 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
would always say 'My mom's
going to hear me play someday'. But to me, 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 dropped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming for his
lessons. I thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his
lack of ability he had decided to pursue something else. I was
also glad that he had stopped coming - he was a bad advertisement for
my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students' homes.
To my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer) asked me if he could
be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils
and that
because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify.
He told me that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano
lessons,
but that he had been practicing. 'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to
play' he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in
the recital - perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside
of me saying that it would be all right.
The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was
packed with parents, relatives and friends. I put Robby last in the
program, just before I was to come up and thank all the students
and play a
finishing piece. I thought that any damage he might 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 the stage. His clothes
were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater
through it. 'Why wasn't he dressed 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 I was surprised when he
announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's Concerto No.
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 anyone 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 onstage and put my arms
around Robby in joy. 'I have never heard you play like that
Robby, how did you do it?
' Through the microphone Robby explained: 'Well, Miss Honor ....
remember I told you that my mom was sick? Well, she actually had
cancer and passed away this morning. And well ...... she was born
deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard me play, and 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 in to
foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy. I
thought to myself then how much richer my life had been for taking
Robby as my pupil.
No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy
....... of Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for he had
taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in
yourself, and may be
even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know why.
Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P.
Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995.
Thank you for reading this.
May God Bless you today, tomorrow and always.
If God didn't have a purpose for us, we
wouldn't be here!
USA , IN GOD WE TRUST!
--
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Leave the rest to God.
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