Nice True Story- the boy who never gave up!!

This is a beautiful and touching story of love and perseverance. Well
worth the 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 Des
Moines , Iowa . I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano
lessons - something I have done for over 30 years.

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

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 avertisement 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 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.