Get a Kleenex and be inspired
> 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.
XOXO
> 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.
XOXO
Belly is most certainly a babe, m'darling...ME, I'm just me, a silly girl next door! 
