Angel's Craft
The Piano Lesson
I am a former
elementary school music teacher from De Moines, Iowa. I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons –
this is 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
protege 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 alright. 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 protege but that night
I became a protege... 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.
by
Mildred Hondorf.
courtesy
of Odette
A COURSE IN MIRACLES [excerpt]
THINGS AREN’T ALWAYS WHAT THEY SEEM
Check out my web links page to see where I got my neat
new backgrounds.