Story of love and perseverance : writer unknown

I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines ,

Iowa

At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is Mildred . I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons -something I have done for over 30 years.I have the  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..

During those years I found that children have many levels of musical

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.

He was a hopeless endeavour. 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 mystudents 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.

Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it

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. 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 avertisement for my teaching!

Then one day Robby stopped coming for his lessons.. I thought about

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 on stage

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.

This is a beautiful and touching story of love and perseverance. Well

worth the read.