“The cornet, sir,” replied the boy.
“You’re pretty young, aren’t you?” said the teacher, looking closely at the small, bright-eyed lad.
“I’ll soon be nine, sir,” the youngster replied, eagerly, though he was really stretching a point.
“Well, we’ll try you on an alto horn in the second alto section. What’s your name?”
“Edwin Goldman, sir.”
Just two weeks later Edwin was asked to remain after band practice. “What’s the matter boy?” asked the bandleader, “You don’t seem to be able to play.”
“It’s hard to read that second part, sir,” said Edwin. “I’d rather learn to play the cornet.”
“You’d better wait a year or two. I told you before that you are too young. That’s all. Turn in your instrument.”
Eddie rushed out of the room fearing his tears would be discovered, while the young teacher hurriedly wrote “No talent” after the name of Edwin Goldman.
However the boy’s keen disappointment was so evident that two weeks later the teacher said, “Well, Edwin, I’ll give you another try—on the cornet this time—we’ll see what you can do.”