> 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 fromDes Moines ,
>Iowa
> 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. And now, a footnote to the
> story.
>
>
> If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you are probably
> thinking about 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 us with a choice: Do we act with
> compassion or do we pass up that opportunity and leave the world a bit
> colder in the process?
>
>
> You know the choice I made. Thank you for reading this
> May God bless you today tomorrow and always
> 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
>
> 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. And now, a footnote to the
> story.
>
>
> If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you are probably
> thinking about 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 us with a choice: Do we act with
> compassion or do we pass up that opportunity and leave the world a bit
> colder in the process?
>
>
> You know the choice I made. Thank you for reading this
> May God bless you today tomorrow and always
