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Câu chuyện có thực - True story.
Qua nhiều năm dạy Piano, tôi nhận ra rằng trẻ em có nhiều cấp độ về năng lực về âm nhạc. Tôi chưa bao giờ hân hạnh có được một học trò thần đồng nào cả, dù cũng có một vài học sinh thật sự tài năng.
At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Honor. 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 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 Honor 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 CO 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 Honor . . 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."
Qua nhiều năm dạy Piano, tôi nhận ra rằng trẻ em có nhiều cấp độ về năng lực về âm nhạc. Tôi chưa bao giờ hân hạnh có được một học trò thần đồng nào cả, dù cũng có một vài học sinh thật sự tài năng.Tôi có được cái mà tôi gọi là những học viên “ được thử thách về âm nhạc”. Robby là một ví dụ. Robby được 11 tuổi khi mẹ cậu bé, một người mẹ độc thân, đưa cậu đến học bài Piano đầu tiên. Tôi thích học viên của mình ( đặc biệt là những bé trai) bắt đầu học ở lứa tuổi sớm hơn và điều đó tôi cũng có giải thích với Robby. Nhưng Robby nói rằng mẹ em hằng ao ước được nghe em chơi Piano. Vì vậy tôi nhận cậu bé vào lớp.
Qua nhiều tháng, cậu bé thì cần mẫn học bài và cố gắng luyện tập, tôi thì cố gắng nghe và động viên cậu. Cứ cuối mỗi bài học hàng tuần, em lại nói: “Một ngày nào đó mẹ sẽ nghe em đàn”. Nhưng dường như vô vọng. Đơn giản là cậu bé không có năng khiếu bẩm sinh. Tôi chỉ nhìn thấy mẹ cậu bé từ xa khi bà đưa con đến hoặc ngồi chờ con trong chiếc xe hơi cũ kỹ. Bà luôn vẫy tay và mỉm cười nhưng không bao giờ vào nói chuyện với tôi.
Rồi một ngày kia, Robby thôi không đến lớp. Tôi có nghĩ đến việc gọi em, nhưng lại thôi, vì nghĩ rằng em đã quyết định theo đuổi một cái gì khác. Thật sự, tôi cũng mừng vì em nghỉ. Robby là một màn quảng cáo tồi tệ cho khả năng dạy học của tôi!
Vài tuần sau, tôi gửi đến nhà các học trò của mình tờ bướm giới thiệu về buổi biểu diễn sắp tới. Thật ngạc nhiên, Robby hỏi em có thể tham gia biểu diễn không. Tôi trả lời rằng buổi diễn chỉ dành cho những bạn còn đang học, trong khi em đã nghỉ rồi.
Robby nói mẹ em bị bệnh nên không đưa em đến lớp được, nhưng em vẫn tiếp tục luyện tập. Em năn nỉ tôi cho em tham gia. Tôi không hiểu điều gì đã xui khiến tôi đồng ý. Có thể vì sự kiên trì của cậu bé, hoặc có thể vì một cái gì đó trong tôi lên tiếng rằng sẽ ổn cả thôi.
Rồi đêm diễn cũng đến. Khán phòng của trường chật ních những phụ huynh bạn bè, thân nhân của các em học viên. Tôi xếp Robby ở gần cuối chương trình, trước tiết mục nói lời cám ơn học viên và biểu diễn một bản nhạc kết thúc chương trình của tôi. Tôi sắp xếp thế để nếu Robby có làm hư bột hư đường thì tôi cũng có thể cứu vãn bằng tiết mục của mình.
Và buổi diễn đã diễn ra khá suôn sẻ. Rồi đến lượt Robby. Cậu bé bước lên sân khấu với bộ quần áo nhàu nhèo và mái tóc giống như cậu mới vừa dùng máy đánh trứng để đánh bung nó lên. Tôi thầm nghĩ sao em không ăn mặc như các học viên khác, sao mẹ em không chịu ít ra là nhắc em chải đầu trước khi đến với buổi tối đặc biệt này.
Tôi ngạc nhiên khi Robby tuyên bố em chọn bản Concerto số 21 của Mozart. Tôi vô cùng bất ngờ với những gì được nghe tiếp theo. Các ngón tay cậu bé lướt nhẹ nhàng và linh hoạt trên phím đàn. Tiếng nhạc đi từ cực nhẹ đến cực mạnh, từ rộn ràng đến sâu lắng. Tôi chưa từng được nghe người nào ở tuổi Robby chơi nhạc Mozart tuyệt vời đến vậy. Sau sáu phút rưỡi, em kết thúc bằng một đoạn nhạc mạnh dần lên. Mọi người đứng dậy vỗ tay vang dội.
Ngất ngây và giàn giụa nước mắt, tôi chạy lên sân khấu, ôm chầm lấy Robby trong niềm hạnh phúc. “ tôi chưa bao giờ nghe em chơi tuyệt như vậy! em làm cách nào thế?”
Qua micro, Robby nói trong xúc động, giọng ngắt quãng: “ cô có nhớ em đã nói mẹ em bị bệnh không? Mẹ em bị ung thư và đã mất sáng ngày hôm qua. Mẹ em bị điếc bẩm sinh, vì vậy tối nay em đã cố gắng đến đây vì nghĩ rằng đây là lần đầu tiên mẹ có thể nghe em chơi đàn. Em đã cố hết sức mình vì điều ấy”.
Cả khán phòng hôm ấy không ai cầm được nước mắt. Khi những người ở ban công tác xã hội dẫn Robby về để nhận người đỡ đầu, mắt họ cũng đỏ và đầy xúc động. Tôi thầm nghĩ cuộc đời mình đã giàu hơn biết mấy khi nhận Robby làm học trò.
Vâng, tôi không có học trò thần đồng nào cả, nhưng tối hôm ấy, tôi trở thành học trò của Robby. Em đã dạy tôi ý nghĩa của lòng kiên trì, tình yêu và niềm tin vào bản thân hoặc thậm chí dám đặt cược vào một người khác mà không hiểu tại sao.
Tôi tin rằng luôn có những thiên thần ở quanh chúng ta, bên cạnh chúng ta, và ở trong bản thân ta. Có lẽ bạn cũng có một thiên thần trong cuộc đời bạn, chỉ có điều đôi lúc chúng ta không nhận ra mà thôi?
-----
Bản văn nguyên thủy :
Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995. And now, a footnote to the story.
True Story!
At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Honor. 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 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 Honor 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 CO 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 Honor . . 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. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995. And now, a footnote to the story.
If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you are probably thinking about which people on your address list aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message.- The person who sent this to you believes that we can all make a difference. 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?
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