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 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 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
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 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 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
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, 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 prodigy 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.

“Ek wil werk, ek wil hard werk, ek soek min geld en staak nie”

Wit man antwoord “Goeie pos vir jou – R50,000.00 per maand, 2 x per jaar oorsee, 13de tjek, en 4 x 4 D/Cab”

Swarte: “Jy lieg vir my!”

Wit ou: “Ja, ma jy`t eerste begin kak praat”

Jy is darem donners gemaklik. Roep jouself as ek klaar is.

Ek sukkel om die gedagtes saam te bind.