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Writer's pictureHeather Jerrie

The Piano Kid



Todd was the kid who was always in trouble. Always. Over the years he'd plowed a path through dozens of exasperated teachers. He wasn't mean or a bully - he was just a bundle of nervous energy every minute of the day. None of the kids wanted to sit next to him, because he'd be sure to poke them in the side or drive them crazy tapping out endless rhythms on the desk.


His backpack was a disaster of crumpled papers. He rushed through every assignment, scrawling his answers and tossing the paper down. In gym class he was gawky and uncoordinated, The coach would finally send him off to do laps just to let off some of that energy that drove himself and everyone around him nuts. He got into fights almost every day; the pressure inside him just seemed to keep building and building, until finally he'd whirl on the kid who bumped him in the hall or sweep his books off his desk.


It seemed like the only time he seemed to find any peace was when he sat down at the piano. Suddenly then he'd come into focus. He touched the keys like a man dying of thirst who's found a river in a desert. And when he played, all that energy seemed to pour out in a flood of music, like a dam that's burst.


But the rest of the time? He was a firecracker, poised to go off any moment, on the brink of being expelled - the kid we all figured would never make it to graduation.


All that changed when Mr. Ellis, the principal, happened to walk by the music room one morning. There was jazz playing on the radio, it sounded like. He glanced in and saw it was Todd, sitting at the piano, playing. The music teacher saw him looking in and came over. "I'm sorry, is he supposed to be with you?" Mr. Ellis tilted his head toward Todd. "Oh, yeah. He drops in a couple times a week and plays a bit. He's even played for the class once or twice when we had a little time. He loves it." "Is that so?" he stared thoughtfully at the boy.


That next Monday Todd was sitting in Algebra class, poking the kid next to him, when someone came to the door with a note. The teacher read it and sighed in relief. "Todd, you need to go down to the office." The other kids exchanged glances. "Ooh, Todd!" they hooted. His forehead wrinkled in puzzlement - was he in trouble again? He didn't remember doing anything - well, not lately anyway.


Mr. Ellis folded his hands and looked at him thoughtfully, the lanky kid sitting perched in the chair, feet tapping and fingers twitching. "I hear you play piano," he said suddenly. Todd, surprised, mumbled, "Um, yeah, but I just do my own stuff mostly. It's not classical or anything." "Would you play a little for me?" Todd looked wary. "How come?"


"I like music. Come on." They walked down the hallway in silence, Todd shooting nervous glances at Mr. Ellis while the principal just smiled slightly. The music room was empty for the moment. Todd sat down in front of the piano and looked up uncertainly. Mr. Ellis nodded to him, then turned away to gaze out the window, ignoring him. So he turned, squared his shoulders, set his trembling hands on the keys and began.


There were a few tentative chords, a trill, a surprisingly easy, skillful scale, and then the scattered notes started to organize into a riff, bass notes start a rhythm, and soon jazz music filled the room, building momentum, pulsing with energy, on and on. Mr. Ellis had to stop him, finally. And then they talked.


No one knows the deal they made that day, that kid at the piano and the world-weary man in the crumpled suit, but that week was a strangely quiet one in our high school. There were a few almost-fights, but for some reason Todd would turn and walk away instead, stuffing his hands in his pockets. In the teachers' lounge they could be heard muttering how for some reason Todd Hanson was being a little better this week. It couldn't last, they all agreed.


That Friday the kids filing into the cafeteria for lunch didn't pay much attention when the janitor rolled the old piano into the corner. But then Todd walked over, sat down and started to play.


The buzz of noise died away as his music filled the room. The pulsing beat got kids up and dancing. You could hear the shouts all the way down the hall. In his office, Mr. Ellis looked up from his papers and smiled. When lunch hour was over he wandered down the hall and watched as Todd left, beaming and red with exertion. Their eyes met and he nodded, just once, and Todd nodded back.


And that's how it went every Friday for the rest of that year, and the year after that. And finally, one momentous day in June, the kid no one thought would ever walk across that stage graduated.


Todd went right on playing, first in bars, then with his own band, then in concerts. We watched his career take flight. And a few years later he came back to do a concert on that same stage. Right in the front row sat a guy in a wrinkled suit, nodding and tapping his foot to the music. When the audience leapt to their feet at the end in a standing ovation, he rose too, stiffly, clapping hard and smiling. And when Todd took his final bow, their eyes met, and the man nodded, just once, and Todd nodded back.

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Wow, such a powerful story of the power of music and the wisdom of a caring adult.

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