Robby's Night

--------------------------------------- ----------------------------------

Robby's Night 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 from Des Moines , Iowa . I've always
supplemented my income by teaching piano 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 earlie r 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 becaus e of his lack of
ability, that he had decided to pursue sometng 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 piec e. 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 an
nounced that he had chose n 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 Rob by 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 pro digy
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.
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? Thank you for
reading this. May God bless you today, tomorrow and always.
********* If God didn't have a purpose for us, we
wouldn't be here!

Robby's Night

--------------------------------------- ----------------------------------

Robby's Night 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 from Des Moines , Iowa . I've always
supplemented my income by teaching piano 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 earlie r 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 becaus e of his lack of
ability, that he had decided to pursue sometng 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 piec e. 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 an
nounced that he had chose n 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 Rob by 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 pro digy
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.
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? Thank you for
reading this. May God bless you today, tomorrow and always.
********* If God didn't have a purpose for us, we
wouldn't be here!