When I lived in California, a 14 year old boy shyly came to a lesson with his older brother. He really wanted to play piano. He sat down at the keys and I saw that he had one perfect, strong hand. But his other hand, at the end of a withered arm, had only 2 fingers, both in the middle. I was immediately grateful that this 14 year old boy had the courage to come for piano lessons. I also was excited at the challenge in front of me. I was determined to teach this boy how to play, and how to play very well.
I taught both boys together. I gave them exactly the same songs. I always found a way to show the 14 year old, who I will call Harold, how to play everything his older brother was learning.
After two months of lessons, Harold was playing lively, fun songs. His strong left hand reached across the keys to play what the right hand usually plays. But what was staggering, even from the beginning lessons, was how Harold forgot about his handicap as his withered right arm whipped over his fast moving left hand in a great big X punctuating the low notes in all the right places to support the harmonies. I watched in amazement as his two remaining fingers kept a strong beat going.
What I was doing, was teaching him everything he needed to do to bring out the melody with style. I taught his brother the same. Then I showed him exactly what his other hand needed to do. And he did it. All three of us, his brother, Harold and I were ecstatic at each lesson.
Because Harold was able to forget about his handicap, and himself, while he played, I thought it might be a good idea to put the 2 boys in a group with three other kids. I thought it would inspire kids who didn't have such problems. And I thought there was a good chance that, led by my attitute, the whole group would see Harold as a hero.
Harold's parents agreed. They were as excited as I was. They told me he always shied away from the other kids. He just wanted to hide.
Harold's brother was enthusiastic about the idea, and Harold nodded shyly.
I prepared the 3 kids who were going to be merging with Harold that he had a special talent and that they would love having him aboard in their group, but that's all I said.
I got Harold and his brother to come a few minutes early. Then the other 3 kids came in. I introduced all around. The 3 kids were polite, but looking incredulously at Harold. But I didn't pause for a moment.
As usual, I said, "Who wants to go first? And what do you want to play?" To my shock, Harold said, "I'll go."
And go he did. He sat down and played like his hands were on fire. Both of them. The melody flying, the bass punctuating in all the right places. Everyone else stood up and couldn't stop clapping.
Harold was grinning from ear to ear. He kept up with every piece of music we did.
There was not one week when I didn't wonder how on earth I was going to teach a particular song. But it always worked. Harold's favorite was the famous Mozart Sonata in C, all fancy finger work.
The second year after Harold began, I had an opportunity to have my students perform piano as part of a fundraiser for Many Mansions, an organization that provided affordable housing for families in need.
I wondered if this might be too much for Harold, tons of milling strangers, hearing and watching him play.
I approached the group. "Many Mansions" has invited me to present my students at their event. Anybody want to sign up?"
You guessed it. Harold's hand was up with all the others.
And he was great.
I lost touch with Harold when he went to college. I don't know what he's doing now. But whatever it is, I'm sure he's still great.
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