Larry Corio Reflects on Career, Looks to Future

Visit the music wing in Irvington High School and you'll find hundreds of photos covering the walls; follow them to Larry Corio's desk and you won't find even an inch of empty wall space around it.

There are photos of family members (his wife and two sons), students—past and present—concerts, playbills, tickets...

But all of that has already started coming down. Like one of his idols Joe DiMaggio, Corio wants to go out on a high note. Though some might think him young for retirement—and many students have attempted to cajole him into staying—Corio's decision is final.

"During my 29 years in Irvington, the highlight—without a doubt—has been the kids," Corio said. He's filled nearly every position in the music department: K-12 general music, orchestra, band, music history and music theory.

"I believe that if you can't find the goodness in a child, you shouldn't be in this profession," he said. But that doesn't mean he expects every student to be "good" players from day one.

"Something my students have come to call a 'Corio-ism' is that I always say, 'It's not how good a child is, but the goodness in a child that counts.'"

So, if that's the way he rolls, why do his students play so captivatingly, mind-blowingly well?

"I also tell the kids, 'The person next to you is always right; you're always wrong.' That means that they need to listen to the other players to tune in. They need to have big ears."

As big as his students' ears have grown over the ears, so has Corio's heart.

"I tell my students to leave the 'I can'ts' out the door," he said. "I want them just to try so that they can overcome that fear of failure everyone has."

He's a firm believer that you learn more from your mistakes than your instant successes.

"And when a student tries and finally succeeds, the smile you see is glorious—It's what I live for," he said. 

Corio—who started playing the piano when was seven, "picked up the clarinet when he was in 4th grade, the saxophone when he was in 5th and flute when he was in the 6th grade"—firmly believes that his students need a wide repertoire of music appreciation in order to be great players.

"Even in band we play orchestral arrangements and very old music," he said. "We also play some fun stuff—like rock and hip hop— because that's what the kids are into."

Corio says he has a way of presenting old music that makes it fun. "For the last concert, I had the band playing a piece written more than 150 years ago, and they were really feeling it."

Before coming to Irvington, Corio performed at dinner theaters in Glen Cove, Long Island as part of the pit orchestra. Then, when he moved to the Catskills to teach, he continued performing at night.

"That schedule was draining," he admitted. Since coming to Irvington, Corio's dedicated himself to his day job...and, of course, to his wife, two kids, golf, and a burgeoning career as a nature photographer.

"That's right," he said. "We have a house on a little island near Charlston, and I like to put my photography equipment on the back of my bike and watch and photograph the migratory birds. I have a keen and patient eye."

Corio even has a home studio and a clandestine website...

Or at least it was. 

Corio's wife, a banker, isn't ready to retire. But Corio can't wait for his future reveling "in la dolce far niete." (The sweetness of doing nothing.)

However, for him, "niete" entails: teaching private lessons from his home in Tarrytown, learning to play the cello, developing his photography studio, lowering his golf handicap, volunteering as a music therapist at a center in Harris, NY for children with autism and other developmental disabilities, and—oh yea—going South for Spring Training.

Sounds relaxing...

He'll also take time to visit his mom, who is 87, and lives on Long Island. And if his 25 and 26-year-old sons will let him, Corio will spend time with them too.

"Larry just got his Masters in Education Policy and Brian works for a restructuring firm in Manhattan," Corio said. "I am so proud of them."

Though he's sad to take down the pictures that surround his desk—thinking nostalgically about all the smiles, international trips, curtain calls and recognitions his bands have received—Corio imagines the unstructured European lifestyle he will soon enjoy.

"I want to spend mornings in the Village and on Arthur Avenue eating a pastry—slowly—and just watching the people go by," he said. "If it's good enough for the Italians, it's good enough for me."

So one can say Corio is leaving Irvington as Joe DiMaggio left baseball:

At the top of his game. 

What are your best memories of Mr. Corio?  Post them in the comments section below. 

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