CRNA Board Review

Thanks quiigley for the info!!!

Tess;) ;)

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Jedav wrote on 02-02-2004 10:36 PM:

Just a quick message on the review...to contact Howard Armour, you can do so at Westmoreland-Latrobe School of Anesthesia at 724-832-4144. I am a junior in the class (grad 2005). Let me know if you need anymore info....and most of all-Good Luck!

Jamie

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Thanks also again Jedav!!!

God bless to y'all SRNAs. I know and truly understand what you are all going through. I had no social life when I was in nurse anesth school. I would go to bed at midnight and be up by 4 or 5 am just study study study for oral and written exams daily non-stop. Just hang in there and you will graduate in no time. I'll pray for y'all. Time flies when you're having lots of fun in anesthesia school y'know. Y'all take care, you hear? LOL

Tess ;)

Thanks for the info Nilepoc. I truly liked the R & R Board Review because the two instructors Howard Armour and Chuck McCombs were like Mutt and Jeff. They were very funny and their methods of instruction were very helpful and concise. I did not fall asleep at all :zzzzz during the review course. It has been scientifically proven that the human brain retains well all information that target the emotions like sad, funny, frustating, angry, etc feelings .

The reason why I did not pass the boards in 1995 is because of my own fault and not because of these guys. I'll take this course and the board exam again in jiffy when given the opportunity.

Here's something for you and all SRNAs to read when the tough gets going in anesth school. Take care y'all! Tess

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Robby's Night

True Story Worth Reading!!!

At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Hondorf. 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 students' 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 last on 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 beater 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, I 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 on 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. 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?

You have two choices now:

1. Delete this.

2. Forward it to the people you care about esp other SRNA classmates.

You know the choice I made. Thank you for reading this. May God bless you today, tomorrow, and always.

Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like nobody's watching. Sing like nobody's listening. Live like it's Heaven on Earth. :)