Sunday, April 21, 2019
This Is Why I'm Like This: The First Time Depression Cost Me A Gig
I'm not going to bore you with the last three years. Suffice it to say that the stages of grief suck hard, and adding depression to it was and is devastating. Particularly when you are actively avoiding facing the fact that you are depressed.
It's not new, I'm not unique. I'm just sharing.
The depression commercials all point out that it's physical. I have never experienced any physical symptoms other than the standard wish to sleep all of the time. I was not aware, until this last year, that when you hit true bottom, indifference is there to welcome you, and it can impact your memory.
And you really don't care.
Let's also add changing my teaching assignment from theatre to lang arts, where I am so far out of my comfort zone I can't even see it from here.
Last year I taught and directed for two different theatre companies. I was able to keep schedules for classes in Boulder, rehearsals and classes in Denver and Highlands Ranch while supporting Harp's pregnancy and G's post college transition year all in line. I even managed to rip up the carpet in the bedroom and get us started on the ReFi, which went through, finally, in December.
Now add a house that is being ripped up and purged and bathrooms renovated to the list.
How're you doing?
I was doing OK until this weekend, when I managed to completely screw up a directing gig this summer. One of the only things keeping me from slipping completely away was botched by me. I own it, nobody else.
Turns out when you are depressed and indifferent, you don't really read your contract as thoroughly as you should. And you have no choice but to own it, and lose the gig, because there are consequences for being unprofessional.
Which is likely fine, as I have acknowledged this year that teaching full time lang arts plus gigging is really starting to weigh on me. I thought it was my age, or the mileage, or both. But it turns out it's the depression.
I had to step back yesterday, after saying "I'm not OK," to three people whilst owning my mistake, and look at the last three years. The gigging, I thought, was keeping me from sliding into utter madness, which is one perspective,"on the one hand". On the other hand, it could be that I was using it to avoid dealing with the deep, empty hole that losing my theatre left, but also keeps me from really caring. About anything.
Including losing the gig.
The girls have been after me to take time off, to heal, but I am ornery and pigheaded, as Edward Albee once wrote in a letter of rec. He also wrote that I cry a lot, which was untrue. Maybe I need to cry a lot. Maybe that would help?
I'm just sharing. I don't want to bother anyone, but if reading this sounds familiar to you and where you are, I just want you to know you aren't alone. There are more of us out there battling depression than not, and all the Facebook re-posting of memes is not helping.
And that, my friends, is that. I also suspect that is why I have struggled to rediscover my voice as a writer.
It is also why I sliced my hand on a paper cutter last week. Fourteen years running a theatre, table saws, jigsaws, electrics, drills: accident free. But I'm a lang arts teacher now, and I have had my first work injury. From a paper cutter. Because I am distracted, always, and fuzzy and working harder than ever to hide how low I am from my colleagues.
But I gotta say, they know something is wrong. I mean, I walked down the hall to the office with my hand cleanly sliced open, looking into my hand at the muscle, blood running down my arm, and arrived to calmly tell the principal "I'm gonna need stitches."
To be fair, the rumor in the building is that I was unnervingly calm about the whole thing, and that my hand was "butchered". So I got that going for me.
On one hand, I seem to be fine, just fine, stop looking at me.
On the other hand, I have six stitches.
Saturday, April 13, 2019
Why I'm Like This: God Is Good
I realize this is a little different, and possibly surprising.
I have always had a bumpy relationship with God. I believe in God, and I believe that God believes in me. I also do not believe I have to go to church, because I am not a fan of most religions, and at a young age my family was silently frozen out of our church. That didn't seem very God like, and it was not. Because they were human beings, and human beings were given free will, which is a fatal flaw in our design.
I pray daily, but in my older years I began to pull that human thing, I wasn't getting what I wanted, the answers to my prayers were "No", and I got grumpy. Distant. I dealt with demons "on my own" (I know, really?) and ventured into crystals and alternative medicine. I don't believe that last one had much to do with God, but I'll clarify: instead of praying for something I started doing something. I took on looking after my own health outside of western medicine and prayer.
I would like to say I was both right and wrong.
I need to take responsibility for my own health, and my grumpiness with western medicine doesn't mean I should have stopped praying. They go together, guys. Like God and science go together. But that's a deeper blog for another day.
I let human bullshit infect my relationships with those in my life who are Godly people. I did not openly snark, and quietly I respected their relentless commitment.
And then there are those who just....are too much human and church and not enough God. I can now differentiate.
And I am here to openly celebrate that God is Good. My life has been impacted so many times by God, and because I have no interest in making Him sound like a magician, I don't wish to share examples. My examples will be explained by science by those who don't believe, and my exhalations will not change anyone's mind. Because I also have an issue with Bible thumpers who believe knocking on doors is going to work, and I figure you will allow or you won't, you have free will. I find it hard to believe that there are people in the US who have never heard of God. They have, they've made their choice, and you on their doorstep is not going to change that.
Any more than this little blog will change your mind. I am simply saying that I cannot pretend that I have any control, in any capacity. I can free will myself into a frenzy, but if it's not in His plan, it's not happening.
Nothing short of miracles have occurred. The one story I will share, is my mom's gall stone. It was so large it needed surgery. They put her in the hospital, and mom continued to pray. They kept her over night, and we all sat around waiting for the results. But they never brought her into surgery.
Because it disappeared.
Gone. Vanished. Vamoosed. Literally over night.
Sure, you can use science to explain why that happened. I happen to believe that God is a scientist and he knows if he pulls a straight magic miracle, everyone would believe. He'd rather do it this way, and give us the choice.
We can believe or not. We have free will.
I believe.
And of late, after a few years of Not Getting What I Want, but watching everything fall into place, and be What I Need, I am now the kid who just prays in gratitude.
Scene.
Friday, April 12, 2019
Why I'm Like This: Math
I do not recall having a poor relationship with math early on. I remember mom buying flash cards for multiplication and division, and that didn't help much, but it wasn't catastrophic. I just started breathing heavier and crying during timed math tests. In third grade. No big deal.
In fourth grade is when I started to really understand that math hated me, and that I hated math, and by extension math teachers hated me. I will use her name because there is no chance she will ever read this: Mrs. Petrock. At Patterson Elementary. In my mind's eye she's fairy hippietastic with long dark brown hair and high waisted pants I called "elephant pants", but they did not have elephants on them, the were just a wide leg. They were always red or orange in my mind. I don't recall that she was particularly unkind to me, but as I mentioned above, I started struggling around third grade and I clearly had all the symptoms of what they now call "Math Anxiety". That did not exist in the 70's, they just figured you were stupid or distracted or both.
I should mention here that, in the 1970's, there was this groundbreaking movement , the New Fabulous Idea, to put everyone in open pods. So all classes happened in taped off sections of an open pod. I do mean, open, not even wall dividers or rattan or paper Chinese privacy things. Open. Room. With 100 kids and four teachers. There was no way this could go poorly, as elementary students are not easily distracted by three other classes going on around them. Sarcasm, party of one. When Mrs. Petrock realized I could not function at the screaming fast pace of public school fourth grade math, her assessment was that I was distracted. As were the other 100 fourth graders in the massive pod, which contained a wading pool with crawdads in it for science class. But I was singled out , I suppose, because I was just that hideous at math. Or maybe my young, developing Resting Bitch Face I was nurturing to use as defense put her off. So she brought in a refrigerator box.
I'll give you a minute.
No, I am not kidding.
I spent fourth grade math sitting in a desk, inside a refrigerator box. Cut off from my teacher whose job it was to teach me. I was given worksheets, which I did not complete because the cardboard wall of the box could not explain the math on the paper to me. I wrote on the walls of the box.
In fifth grade some other genius thought it'd be a good idea to create a single class combined of fifth and sixth graders, but not by IQ or drive or work habits, completely random. So my extended family took to thinking I was somehow smarter because I was in a combined class, but I suspect the reality was economic: they were short teachers. This is when I got to be with the beloved Mrs. Bengle, who in my mind was also my sixth grade language arts teacher. That year, for math, the New Fabulous Idea was to stop teaching math to the class, and instead give us worksheets. There was a file set up, and we would work our way through the packets in our own time. Mr. George was present for questions, but when you have no idea what the hell you are doing, it's difficult to formulate a question. He would tell me to read the directions again, and I still wouldn't get it. Sometimes a kind classmate would lend a hand, but for the most part I spent fifth grade math missing my refrigerator box. At least inside the box nobody could see me being stupid. But I did learn the definition of the word "virgin" from some boys who were bullying the girl who helped me, so I got that going for me.
In high school, a teacher I won't name, actually asked me if I was stupid. By then I was failing pretty fantastically at everything, particularly algebra, for which I went to summer school. I did not learn algebra in summer school; I went to Alameda high school during the day, watched movies and got a passing grade for algebra. That was summer school back in the day. Unfortunately, you have to pass some kind of math to graduate from high school. After hitting the school's brand new desk top computer with a shoe because I couldn't log on, I was moved to the lowest math class GMHS had to offer. I was taught to balance my checkbook, fill out tax forms and other miscellaneous mathy stuff that was actually relevant. I passed.
In college I set about failing every math class I enrolled in, sometimes making it through the semester with an F, sometimes dropping halfway because the professor got tired of me crying. Jim tried to help me with my homework once and I threw a book at him. It became clear that A)I had some serious math anxiety and B) math had no business adding letters to their formulas. I squeaked by some sort of low level math that didn't count for anything other than to qualify me to progress to the next round, where I continued to fail. Again, I was not going to graduate until I passed a math class of come kind. Thank God by then there was a class called "Computers In The Arts", in which I learned Excel spreadsheets and Word Perfect. By the way, I learned to write code, so the issue is NOT that I am stupid.
Turns out what I am is dyslexic.
I discovered the issue my freshman year of college in my child psych class. They were giving us tests to learn about various cognitive skills and learning disabilities, and I failed the one for dyslexia. My prof acted like I knew.
I did not.
I wish I could say the diagnoses changed everything. HELP emerged, I was supported, tutored and led through the remainder of college by a handsome boy with glistening teeth and the patience of Job. All the self diagnoses did was get my psych prof to recommend that I stop taking upper level classes, because I needed the lower level ones first. Which had nothing to do with dyslexia, I realize, but that was the only time my prof talked to me and I guess she needed to make sure she covered the bases.
I am 53 years old and have never needed the quadratic equation. Why are we still teaching it? I did have to learn some accounting shenannegins back when I was an assistant manager of a record store, and I always screwed it up, but it wasn't algebra, or maybe it was. Now I stop breathing when I set up my grade book in infinite campus, because I'm supposed to have more than one type of grade, I guess...in theatre it was one grade, everything equal and 100% performance. Now it's supposed to be broken down into writing, tests, behavior...and it vexes me because I think I am supposed to assign value to each grade, and balance them somehow, but I don't. I broke them into four categories last semester, and never entered a grade in one of them because I forgot I'd created it. So this semester it's "tests" and that's it.
It's fine, I'm fine.
And so, all in all, to sum up, in conclusion, math sucks.
Scene.
Sunday, April 7, 2019
This Is Why I'm Like this:Theatre
March 2015 Facebook post:
My sister and I were out tonight, and as usual we were ranting against the education system... and so...
There is a huge push to allow late work and soften deadlines, and to be rewarded for thinking about things that you cannot, actually, do.
Theatre is doing.
Theatre lives and dies by deadlines. The curtain goes up whether you’re ready or not. The Audience is not going to give you a “B” because you only knew 80% of your lines. They are not going to be forgiving if only 90% of the costumes are done. A deadline is a deadline or you’re dead.
Colleges are graduating people with degrees in ENGINEERING who cannot identify a wrench, let alone use one ( true story). Because somewhere along the line education became about The Big Idea, which is great but nobody can DO anything. This is why I love theatre. She is not patient with those who wish to pontificate. Thinking about absurdism does not produce Waiting for Godot. Giving a presentation on how I imagine Beauty and the Beast does not produce Beauty and the Beast.
Theatre is doing, and it’s doing everything. Analyze the script, research the story, build a believable character using different techniques, design and build a set, design and create lights, design and create costumes. ANDOHBYTHEWAY, we use math in those designs as well as saws, drills, carpentry, AMPS and WATTS, as well as programming a light board. We use sewing machines and patterns, alter and adjust for each actor. And in my case, we design on paper and build models, because I do not have access to any computer programs.
We problem solve. How do you light 3, 8’ roses from behind when there is no grid behind the roses, and only wall dimmers?
How do you get an 11’, 1100 pound plant on your stage that is only 12’ high with 8’ doorways?
Problem Solve. Measure. Think around it. Figure it out.
And do it fast, because we open in ten minutes.
________________________________________________________________________________
March 2019
I came across this blog this week in my Facebook memory. I am now almost a year into being a full time language arts teacher, trying to convince myself that it's fine, I'm fine, stop looking at me I'm fine. I still teach at PAA two days a week, it's not like I don't do theatre any more, and I thought that would be fine. I know people who have day jobs and then do theatre as a hobby, and they seem fine. I figured I could follow that model.
Lang arts means I'm no longer on the radar with admin, which is good. It means I just teach approved content and nothing else. I don't connect with the kids the way theatre allows. I'm told by my colleagues that I am connecting with kids, they "hear things", but I don't think I am, and that's what matters. What's best for students is teachers in love with their content. I see it more clearly now that I'm in a core and my colleagues are core teachers who love their subject.The issues are very different, because my kids have to be there. Even if it's an elective (I teach poetry) they still have to take four years of language arts. And since I'm not a lang arts teacher, they aren't getting excited or passionate about reading and writing because I'm not passionate about it. I have writers I love that I'm passionate about, but it's work to get them to read. I'm not trained for that. I can't convince a fourteen year old that Of Mice and Men matters. Not without a lot of waving my arms and reading to them, and stopping to point out symbolism and motif along the way. And then that question still lingers:Why did we have to read this? Why does it matter?
Theatre kids want to read. They can't read enough, my play library was constantly ravaged by kids excitedly digging through the titles, holding them up every third or fourth asking "What's this one about?" They want to analyze the text because it gives them insight into the playwright, the design and how they will portray the character. My third year, I referred to my students as "Hungry, Hungry Hippos" because I was rapidly running out of new texts and exercises to feed them. They gobbled up Tennessee Williams in one gulp. They were slowed down by Shakespeare, but once they understood there was no stopping them, even when they realized it's much easier to analyze the plays on paper and think that you understand. There is an entirely different level to performance, and they ate it up,slowly with the proper silverware. They wanted to think AND do. I was completely flummoxed when nobody wanted to read in lang arts.
I figured I would get around it by teaching plays, but the plays approved by the district at the 9th grade level aren't plays that inspire fourteen year olds. While I am certainly willing to teach Greeks all semester, they are not so much willing to read Greeks all semester. They even groan about Romeo and Juliet. Every time I introduce a book I get the same question "Is there a movie? Can we watch the movie?" I will allow them to see the film after we've read the book, because there is some validity to cementing their understanding of what they've read, and comparing what they thought the character would look like to how they looked in the film. Even then I get comments that frustrate me. For example: Of Mice and Men. There were way too many "Lennie wasn't big enough" comments, and the unfortunate "Curly's wife is hot, can we watch her scene again?" and they're not willing to let go of that. They want to talk about other actors who are bigger, and who they would cast, and I lose control of the class. Sometimes the film is not close enough to the book, which is fine, that opens a screenwriting conversation with honors kids, but regular kids don't care, they just want to watch the next movie.
Funny Moments That Happened During Of Mice and Men. To be clear, we read it in class and there were quizzes and writing prompts along the way.
Watching the movie, one of my brighter scholars gasped: "Did he just kill the puppy? I'm sad." I just stared at this girl. Really? We read it, there was a question on the quiz about the symbolism of the puppy. You were here. Really?
Quiz answers:
Q: What happened to Candy's dog?
A1: He ran away.
A2: He got sick and died.
A3: Which one is Candy?
Sigh.
I love to read, I was always a kid who read. I tore through every Nancy Drew I could get my hands on, and then Trixie Belden, because my mom had said "She was Nancy Drew for my generation." Nobody had to force me to read, and when Mrs. Bengle would read to us in 6th grade, I would check the book out of the library and read it again. Since I have no memory of visiting a book store as a kid, I must have been snatching books and not returning them, because I remember clearly a book called A Detour For Meg that Mrs. Bengle read to us and that I had at home. I read it twice over the summer.
I can argue for theatre in schools because I've seen it change lives. It hits every aspect of what is needed to become a human being. There is room for a kid who doesn't want to act. There is room for artists. For kids who write. The kid who likes to build stuff. The electronic bug. I can argue these things are necessary for survival because they are. Meeting deadlines. Team work. You will never regret your theatre class, and over the years, I meet people constantly who find out I'm a theatre teacher and tell me "I took theatre in high school, I loved it." They then proceed to explain which aspect of theatre they still use in their life.
When I say I teach lang arts, I get a polite nod. Occasionally someone will recall a beloved lang arts teacher, or a text they loved, but it isn't the universal gush of love I got with theatre.
Writing -that upsets me even more, because I freaking loved my lang arts teacher in high school. She had just as much of an impact on me as theatre and music did, it was a trifecta for me. But I am not K. Starkey, and no matter how I try, I never will be. She loved literature, and she loved teaching lit and writing. That's the difference. Kids feel that. It feels like I'm doing these kids a disservice by not loving what I'm teaching them. I don't hate it, it's not like they made me teach math, which would have been a glorious debacle:"Let's write monologues about how much we hate math," and "If a quadratic equation were a character in a play, what would it represent?", and then we'd read Picasso at the Lapin Agile by Steve Martin, because math people get all of the jokes. In fact, they had to explain them to me when I read the play. I love that play. But it's not approved by the district, so I can't teach it in lang arts...
I've lost my thread again, shocking.
Theatre is doing. I love teaching it because kids love doing it. I loved teaching tech in intro, because I would see it grab those kids who weren't into performance. Their eyes would widen at the bounty of opportunities offered to them through theatre. Every single kid would be engaged, 100%, in their intro final because there was something for everyone to do: write, direct, stage manage, design, act, run lights, run sound. Every single kid in the group had a specific role that they got to choose and have control over. You know how buzzwords emerge? "Student Led" has never gone away, and that's how my theatre classes were run. By the time they were seniors, I was merely an adviser. I would joke that they were Lord of the Flies, which wasn't always that far off base or funny.
You don't get that in lang arts, no matter what. They write and read, read and write. And nowadays...test test test test test test. My entire first two weeks of the semester were MAP tests and Lit Terms tests, and I had to test them the week after spring break, and next week is PSAT, SAT and whatever they're calling the state test now--is it still CMAS? I dunno. Sheesh. Once those are finished, I have to give the MAP test and the Lit Terms tests again, to prove growth. Nobody gets standardized tests in theatre, we just do it because we love it. And as stated above, you are 'testing' in front of 500 people when the curtain opens. That's your test. Do it or don't do it, there is no try.
The thing is, you have to read to be a better writer. They're not going to be better writers because they won't read. I have to read to them in class because they won't read at home ---I know, I tried it. Honors kids will, but they don't necessarily enjoy it. They're programmed differently, they want to go to college, so they do as they are asked. That is not instilling a love of reading by any stretch, that's compliance in the name of reaching a goal. But their writing is pretty good because they do read, whether they want to or not. It's the wanting to do it that I'm missing. It's not the IEP's or 504's or discipline issues solely, it's that nobody has passion for language arts. And if they did, I killed it with testing and content I'm not passionate about.
And so, all in all, to sum up, I do not believe I am a very good language arts teacher and I miss theatre. I'm not immersed . I really miss being on my feet and changing directions, keeping everyone engaged. I miss the glitching light system, the speed bumps in the wings and watching kids rehearse on stage. I miss introducing tech and getting kids excited about the possibilities. I miss the excitement and frustration when they perform The Odd Couple and two of their group members don't show up, but six other kids in class volunteer to fill in. I miss laughing out loud at their fairy tales and rejoicing as they demonstrate something they can do---that was a fun project, I always got food! I miss teaching them mime and how to be a believable zombie. I miss sitting in the house as they rehearse with my notebook out, planning what is next for Acting II, reviewing calendars, looking over designs or contemplating shows. I miss the look on their faces when they get to learn the light board, and the utter joy they experience when they understand the power they now have. I would always say "And the Lord said let there be light" and they'd turn up the lights. I miss the house, Maris (the stage's name), I miss starting my mornings with yoga. I miss the stupid ever glitching sound system, the terrible light angles, the perpetual fussing at them to go clean the costume shop, why won't you clean the costume shop, I will flunk you if you don't clean the costume shop. I miss how cold it would get in the shop in the winter. I miss walking around Maris with a student designer, trying to troubleshoot. I miss the upperclassmen questions about their future. I miss Absurdism, Manners and Commedia. But mostly, I miss the kids. I miss theatre kids. They're different. And spending fourteen years with them ruined me for lang arts.
I blame the kids.
Scene.
My sister and I were out tonight, and as usual we were ranting against the education system... and so...
There is a huge push to allow late work and soften deadlines, and to be rewarded for thinking about things that you cannot, actually, do.
Theatre is doing.
Theatre lives and dies by deadlines. The curtain goes up whether you’re ready or not. The Audience is not going to give you a “B” because you only knew 80% of your lines. They are not going to be forgiving if only 90% of the costumes are done. A deadline is a deadline or you’re dead.
Colleges are graduating people with degrees in ENGINEERING who cannot identify a wrench, let alone use one ( true story). Because somewhere along the line education became about The Big Idea, which is great but nobody can DO anything. This is why I love theatre. She is not patient with those who wish to pontificate. Thinking about absurdism does not produce Waiting for Godot. Giving a presentation on how I imagine Beauty and the Beast does not produce Beauty and the Beast.
Theatre is doing, and it’s doing everything. Analyze the script, research the story, build a believable character using different techniques, design and build a set, design and create lights, design and create costumes. ANDOHBYTHEWAY, we use math in those designs as well as saws, drills, carpentry, AMPS and WATTS, as well as programming a light board. We use sewing machines and patterns, alter and adjust for each actor. And in my case, we design on paper and build models, because I do not have access to any computer programs.
We problem solve. How do you light 3, 8’ roses from behind when there is no grid behind the roses, and only wall dimmers?
How do you get an 11’, 1100 pound plant on your stage that is only 12’ high with 8’ doorways?
Problem Solve. Measure. Think around it. Figure it out.
And do it fast, because we open in ten minutes.
________________________________________________________________________________
March 2019
I came across this blog this week in my Facebook memory. I am now almost a year into being a full time language arts teacher, trying to convince myself that it's fine, I'm fine, stop looking at me I'm fine. I still teach at PAA two days a week, it's not like I don't do theatre any more, and I thought that would be fine. I know people who have day jobs and then do theatre as a hobby, and they seem fine. I figured I could follow that model.
Lang arts means I'm no longer on the radar with admin, which is good. It means I just teach approved content and nothing else. I don't connect with the kids the way theatre allows. I'm told by my colleagues that I am connecting with kids, they "hear things", but I don't think I am, and that's what matters. What's best for students is teachers in love with their content. I see it more clearly now that I'm in a core and my colleagues are core teachers who love their subject.The issues are very different, because my kids have to be there. Even if it's an elective (I teach poetry) they still have to take four years of language arts. And since I'm not a lang arts teacher, they aren't getting excited or passionate about reading and writing because I'm not passionate about it. I have writers I love that I'm passionate about, but it's work to get them to read. I'm not trained for that. I can't convince a fourteen year old that Of Mice and Men matters. Not without a lot of waving my arms and reading to them, and stopping to point out symbolism and motif along the way. And then that question still lingers:Why did we have to read this? Why does it matter?
Theatre kids want to read. They can't read enough, my play library was constantly ravaged by kids excitedly digging through the titles, holding them up every third or fourth asking "What's this one about?" They want to analyze the text because it gives them insight into the playwright, the design and how they will portray the character. My third year, I referred to my students as "Hungry, Hungry Hippos" because I was rapidly running out of new texts and exercises to feed them. They gobbled up Tennessee Williams in one gulp. They were slowed down by Shakespeare, but once they understood there was no stopping them, even when they realized it's much easier to analyze the plays on paper and think that you understand. There is an entirely different level to performance, and they ate it up,slowly with the proper silverware. They wanted to think AND do. I was completely flummoxed when nobody wanted to read in lang arts.
I figured I would get around it by teaching plays, but the plays approved by the district at the 9th grade level aren't plays that inspire fourteen year olds. While I am certainly willing to teach Greeks all semester, they are not so much willing to read Greeks all semester. They even groan about Romeo and Juliet. Every time I introduce a book I get the same question "Is there a movie? Can we watch the movie?" I will allow them to see the film after we've read the book, because there is some validity to cementing their understanding of what they've read, and comparing what they thought the character would look like to how they looked in the film. Even then I get comments that frustrate me. For example: Of Mice and Men. There were way too many "Lennie wasn't big enough" comments, and the unfortunate "Curly's wife is hot, can we watch her scene again?" and they're not willing to let go of that. They want to talk about other actors who are bigger, and who they would cast, and I lose control of the class. Sometimes the film is not close enough to the book, which is fine, that opens a screenwriting conversation with honors kids, but regular kids don't care, they just want to watch the next movie.
Funny Moments That Happened During Of Mice and Men. To be clear, we read it in class and there were quizzes and writing prompts along the way.
Watching the movie, one of my brighter scholars gasped: "Did he just kill the puppy? I'm sad." I just stared at this girl. Really? We read it, there was a question on the quiz about the symbolism of the puppy. You were here. Really?
Quiz answers:
Q: What happened to Candy's dog?
A1: He ran away.
A2: He got sick and died.
A3: Which one is Candy?
Sigh.
I love to read, I was always a kid who read. I tore through every Nancy Drew I could get my hands on, and then Trixie Belden, because my mom had said "She was Nancy Drew for my generation." Nobody had to force me to read, and when Mrs. Bengle would read to us in 6th grade, I would check the book out of the library and read it again. Since I have no memory of visiting a book store as a kid, I must have been snatching books and not returning them, because I remember clearly a book called A Detour For Meg that Mrs. Bengle read to us and that I had at home. I read it twice over the summer.
I can argue for theatre in schools because I've seen it change lives. It hits every aspect of what is needed to become a human being. There is room for a kid who doesn't want to act. There is room for artists. For kids who write. The kid who likes to build stuff. The electronic bug. I can argue these things are necessary for survival because they are. Meeting deadlines. Team work. You will never regret your theatre class, and over the years, I meet people constantly who find out I'm a theatre teacher and tell me "I took theatre in high school, I loved it." They then proceed to explain which aspect of theatre they still use in their life.
When I say I teach lang arts, I get a polite nod. Occasionally someone will recall a beloved lang arts teacher, or a text they loved, but it isn't the universal gush of love I got with theatre.
Writing -that upsets me even more, because I freaking loved my lang arts teacher in high school. She had just as much of an impact on me as theatre and music did, it was a trifecta for me. But I am not K. Starkey, and no matter how I try, I never will be. She loved literature, and she loved teaching lit and writing. That's the difference. Kids feel that. It feels like I'm doing these kids a disservice by not loving what I'm teaching them. I don't hate it, it's not like they made me teach math, which would have been a glorious debacle:"Let's write monologues about how much we hate math," and "If a quadratic equation were a character in a play, what would it represent?", and then we'd read Picasso at the Lapin Agile by Steve Martin, because math people get all of the jokes. In fact, they had to explain them to me when I read the play. I love that play. But it's not approved by the district, so I can't teach it in lang arts...
I've lost my thread again, shocking.
Theatre is doing. I love teaching it because kids love doing it. I loved teaching tech in intro, because I would see it grab those kids who weren't into performance. Their eyes would widen at the bounty of opportunities offered to them through theatre. Every single kid would be engaged, 100%, in their intro final because there was something for everyone to do: write, direct, stage manage, design, act, run lights, run sound. Every single kid in the group had a specific role that they got to choose and have control over. You know how buzzwords emerge? "Student Led" has never gone away, and that's how my theatre classes were run. By the time they were seniors, I was merely an adviser. I would joke that they were Lord of the Flies, which wasn't always that far off base or funny.
You don't get that in lang arts, no matter what. They write and read, read and write. And nowadays...test test test test test test. My entire first two weeks of the semester were MAP tests and Lit Terms tests, and I had to test them the week after spring break, and next week is PSAT, SAT and whatever they're calling the state test now--is it still CMAS? I dunno. Sheesh. Once those are finished, I have to give the MAP test and the Lit Terms tests again, to prove growth. Nobody gets standardized tests in theatre, we just do it because we love it. And as stated above, you are 'testing' in front of 500 people when the curtain opens. That's your test. Do it or don't do it, there is no try.
The thing is, you have to read to be a better writer. They're not going to be better writers because they won't read. I have to read to them in class because they won't read at home ---I know, I tried it. Honors kids will, but they don't necessarily enjoy it. They're programmed differently, they want to go to college, so they do as they are asked. That is not instilling a love of reading by any stretch, that's compliance in the name of reaching a goal. But their writing is pretty good because they do read, whether they want to or not. It's the wanting to do it that I'm missing. It's not the IEP's or 504's or discipline issues solely, it's that nobody has passion for language arts. And if they did, I killed it with testing and content I'm not passionate about.
And so, all in all, to sum up, I do not believe I am a very good language arts teacher and I miss theatre. I'm not immersed . I really miss being on my feet and changing directions, keeping everyone engaged. I miss the glitching light system, the speed bumps in the wings and watching kids rehearse on stage. I miss introducing tech and getting kids excited about the possibilities. I miss the excitement and frustration when they perform The Odd Couple and two of their group members don't show up, but six other kids in class volunteer to fill in. I miss laughing out loud at their fairy tales and rejoicing as they demonstrate something they can do---that was a fun project, I always got food! I miss teaching them mime and how to be a believable zombie. I miss sitting in the house as they rehearse with my notebook out, planning what is next for Acting II, reviewing calendars, looking over designs or contemplating shows. I miss the look on their faces when they get to learn the light board, and the utter joy they experience when they understand the power they now have. I would always say "And the Lord said let there be light" and they'd turn up the lights. I miss the house, Maris (the stage's name), I miss starting my mornings with yoga. I miss the stupid ever glitching sound system, the terrible light angles, the perpetual fussing at them to go clean the costume shop, why won't you clean the costume shop, I will flunk you if you don't clean the costume shop. I miss how cold it would get in the shop in the winter. I miss walking around Maris with a student designer, trying to troubleshoot. I miss the upperclassmen questions about their future. I miss Absurdism, Manners and Commedia. But mostly, I miss the kids. I miss theatre kids. They're different. And spending fourteen years with them ruined me for lang arts.
I blame the kids.
Scene.
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