hi frndss,,pls spent 5 minutes on reading this story i hope ,,,,,,u vl nb guaranteed wit d satisfaction dau u spent ur 300 secondss in a valuable manner,,,,,, a true story i really loved it,,,,wanna share with u ..........
We can all
make a difference. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people
present us with a choice: Do we pass along a spark of the Divine? Or do we
pass up that opportunity, and leave the world a bit colder in the process?
Friend pls do read this story......it makes u realise something in life.....
as written by : Mildred Hondorf
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 DeMoines,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 manylevels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of
having a protégé 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 wildapplause. Overcome and in
tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby injoy. "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
protégé but that night I became a protégé...ofRobby's. He was the teacher
and I was the pupil. For it was he that taught me the meaning of
perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a
chance on 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.
with tears in eyes....... learned somethng frm this story........ urs
k!sS :)
We can all
make a difference. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people
present us with a choice: Do we pass along a spark of the Divine? Or do we
pass up that opportunity, and leave the world a bit colder in the process?
Friend pls do read this story......it makes u realise something in life.....
as written by : Mildred Hondorf
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 DeMoines,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 manylevels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of
having a protégé 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 wildapplause. Overcome and in
tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby injoy. "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
protégé but that night I became a protégé...ofRobby's. He was the teacher
and I was the pupil. For it was he that taught me the meaning of
perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a
chance on 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.
with tears in eyes....... learned somethng frm this story........ urs
k!sS :)
