Touching true story

Published: April 26, 2011, 1:18 pm

Updated: April 26, 2011, 1:20 pm

A friend of mine sent me this in an email today. Being a musician myself, it was touching to read.

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
DesMoines , Iowa .

I have always
supplemented my income by teaching pianolessons - something I have done for over 30
years.

During those years I found that children have many levels of music
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
thathis 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 surprisedwhen 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
Robbyexplained: '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.

And now, a
footnote to the story. If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you
are probably wondering which people on your address list aren't the
'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message. The person who sent this
to you believes that we can all make a
difference!

So many
seemingly trivial interactions between two people present uswith a choice

Do we act with
compassion or do we pass up that opportunity and leave the world a bit colder in
the process?

Entry #459