A Beautiful Mind

Elad, known to most as Adi, is my student. I met him in January when I was introduced to my class. Like every other child in my class, I got to know him better and better as the days passed. Known to his peers as a somewhat short-tempered guy, Adi seems to lose his patience with people his own age. (Hey, he aine alone with that one.) To his credit, examples of that were far more prevalent in January than they are now.

I noticed something back then (but please remember that I have the same convenient memory with which my father was blessed) so let me say it this way: Adi seemed unable to express his ideas in English—to his satisfaction. Think of it this way: Adi is Israeli. His mother tongue is Hebrew. He lives in Holland. Instruction is in English. It’s no wonder he hesitated to finish his answers. Seriously, until I convinced him that I was willing to wait him out, Adi would begin an answer, hesitate, begin again, and give up—every time. Every time.

I thought then, and I know now, this guy has a beautiful mind. I could sense the depth of his responses, and I made up my mind—nope, you raised your hand Bud… you’re gonna finish what you started.

At some point months ago I sat with Adi’s mother and discussed Adi’s social issues, his tendency to give up while responding, and the things he does well. She told me that Adi made friends with the two new boys. (Thomas and Mitchell joined the class in January, same as I did.) She told me that it made a difference when they found out he could play the piano. (Yeah, OK. Let me stop right there. Saying Adi can play the piano is like saying Tiger Woods can play golf.) The next time I saw Adi I asked him why he never told me he could play the piano. (Believe me, I had no idea what I was asking…)

A few days later Adi asked me to go with him after school to the music department and he would play for me. Again, I had no idea… We tried several times to find a practice room, and when we finally did, he sat down, flexed his fingers and turned to face me. “I usually warm up my hands,” he said. (OK I should have known something right there.) No warm up, no music, no nothin’ except that beautiful mind. Adi struck the opening chords with the confidence of a virtuoso. Chopin—from memory! The brilliance of this boy was truly, truly powerful. His hands floated over the keyboard as he turned his head slightly, ever so slightly to follow the sounds his hands were making. I was astounded.

“Mr. Thanner,” he once asked, “will you come to my concert?” I wouldn’t have missed it. On Thursday 10 May I attended a piano recital performed by the two-dozen or so students who are trained after school at ISA. Adi played last, and for good reason. With the confidence of Van Cliburn, my eleven-year-old prodigy performed Chopin’s Fantasie-Impromptu in C minor, opus 66. (This time with sheet music. When I asked him if he even needed it, he told me, “Only so I know where I am.”) As Thomas once said of Adi, “It’s like his fingers aren’t even touching the keys.” That’s what I thought, too.

Chopin's Fantasie-Impromptu, opus 66

What allows this child to express this music this way—at this age? I’m guessin’ it’s  that beautiful mind.