A Snarky Native Coloradan Answers the Top Ten Questions You Have

 

23 Feb 2021 Top Questions Asked By Those Eyeing a Move To My State And My Personal Responses Which I Intend to Be Funny And If They Are Not Then You Aren't Reading Them Right.

Casa Bonita -We dunno. It is like it's always been there, and every native Coloradan worked there in their youth. They may be closed forever now. Wouldn't matter to us, just one less place we  have to take visitors. We think it's closed forever. Don't move here.

How Bad Is Traffic?Know how bad it is where you live now? It's 17,0000 times worse here and 100 degrees and on fire in the summer, and solid sheeets of ice in the winter. Don't move here. Danger.

We hear the skiing is world class.  We can't get up there, I70 is a shit show on the weekends.  The natives have invented an eighth day of the week, called "Blursday" and nobody but us knows where it is located in the week. Skiing is best on Blursday, there is no traffic. Don't move here.

Where is Aurora?East of Denver. You 're welcome to move there. Go ahead.

You Guys Have A Ton Of Brew Pubs. Now they have to serve food to stay open, and people bring their children, and the ones who pivoted and switched to making hand sanitizer are now in trouble with the FDA for helping out their fellow man. Also people bring their dogs as well as their children. Allergens everywhere. Very dangerous. Don't move here.

Cars and Dogs. State law dictates you must be kind to animals. We import them from other states like Kansas because we will adopt them. However, not all Coloradans have a Subaru and a Labrador Retriever. Some have a Jeep and a Husky. Some have cats and a Volvo. It's furry and crowded and everybody eats granola. Allergens everywhere. Danger. Don't move here.

Excellent Health Care- We're a state, not a country. It's the same  shitty health care here. Don't move here.

World Renown Hiking. Not really any more. The trails have been trashed by incoming Ass Gnomes, and many are closed. If they are open, you have to park three miles down the canyon and hike uphill to the trail. The trail back to your car is also uphill. Also everythig is always on fire. Danger.Don't move here.

Do You Have A Gay Governor? Yes. The state unform is a pink tube top, roller skates and Bonnie Bell Lip Smacker. Private Party. Don't move here.

Isn't It Cultural Appropriaton For You To Call Yourself A "Native"? Probably. Don't move here.

Square State Teacher: Walk In My Shoes

 

   Admittedly, I have been remiss in recording the hell of the last year. This is in part due to the plethora of memes flooding social media, and many blogs that are much more thoughtful than mine, as well as journalists who are trained to tell stories. I felt like my voice was just adding to the shouting.

   I did write a few pieces that I'm proud of, that I think gave a glimpse into how very difficult this has been for educators, without shouting at parents or administrators or politicians. If you'd like to read those instead, please do so. They are "That Time kryssi was Forced to Use Technology", "The Janus Masks Have Two Sides", and "Forward Is The Only Direction".  Those are nice windows into the specific hell of remote teaching without any of the yelling or accusations that may happen here. You've been warned.

   We do not live in a civil society any more. We seem to believe that shouting is the only way to be heard, but when everyone does it, the system overloads. Not everyone can talk at once on a Google or Zoom meet, it gets overwhelmed and nobody is heard. In theatre, you must mute your mike unless you are speaking or singing, because you interfere with the central message of the performance. It's not your turn to talk, so your mike is muted.

    Nobody seems to know that these days. Nobody Cares. Just yell. It's fine.

   Teachers were heroes for about ten minutes in May of 2020 when it became clear nobody was going back to their buildings. Parents understood they had to parent and teach, with the help of the remote teacher---let me repeat that: no parents were being asked to homeschool their kid with no outside help. We were there, with you in the kitchen, at the dining room table, in your makeshift classroom/ playroom. We were working. At that time, it seemed that was understood: teaching from home is still teaching, we're still working. 

    When August rolled around and districts began to struggle with how to safely open schools with no guidelines, parents began to grouse. "I have to go to work, so should you, you lazy ass teacher."

   First, I am working. Thanks.

   Second, I am sorry that you have to leave your house to go to work, that is not my fault. I did not make that decision for your company.

  My "company" told me I have to stay home and teach from home. I did not make that choice.

  So step off, please. 

   I have not worked so hard since my first year teaching, and I'm 18 years in. I had to reinvent everything I do on a dime for a content area that is strictly in person and relies on performances in person. I invite you to come spend a week doing what I do. I will happily switch jobs with you. I would love to leave the house and go to work and see other adult humans, that'd be great. Better, I'd like to see my students again in person.

    "If grocery workers have to work, so should teachers." Again, I refer you to my introductory theme and remind you that we are working. I get that you're mad, but grocery workers are the ones who should be striking because they are not paid enough to risk their lives to do their job. If that's your theme, please join their union and put pressure on the corporations who are forcing them to work for under minimum wage in a pandemic.

    I will not beleaguer my point with more examples, you get it. If you're mad because you have to work, then go on strike, work from home, quit your job--all suggestions that have been shouted at teachers via social media--- but stop suggesting that teachers are not working. 

    Speaking of striking, things really got ugly in Chicago, and here in Colorado, when it became clear that the districts were sending us back into our buildings with full classrooms before we were all vaccinated. Mathematically, the grocery worker comes in to contact with more people than teachers do daily, but they can control how close they get to them, and limit their time with each customer. Teachers are trapped in a sealed room with 30 kids for anywhere from an hour to three hours, depending on how jacked up their Covid schedule is. Regarding  the  number of people that you choose to come into contact with---please note, grocery store clerks have plastic shields between themselves and the patrons checking out--vs forced, long term exposure in a closed room. Both suck, but one sucks more. Guess which one?

   Teachers have been abused for years. I knew that when I signed up. Yet,I wanted to teach kids. I wanted to teach kids in person and ignite a love of theatre. I did not sign up for this online BS. 

  I also did not start Covid -19. It's not my fault we're in a pandemic. Nor is it on me to fix the problems that ensued. I'm just trying to hold my classes and my department together long enough for everyone to get vaccinated.

   I'm exhausted. Emotionally and physically.

   Please do not yell at me, none of this is my fault.

   Teachers did not start the pandemic. Why are we expected to fix the fallout?

   But if you keep yelling at us, we're going to do as you suggest: "You don't want to go back to work, then quit."

    Best Wishes, Warmest Regards to y'all when half of the teachers leave at the end of this year. You think you have it rough remote learning from home now?

    

   

    

Square State Human: Mattress Protectors

 

     I think there is a short series here, analyzing why a show became an obsession for me for six months. I tried watching something else after binging the entire show, but couldn't. Every time I sat down, or worked out, or laid down to go to bed, "Netflix, Schitt's Creek" is what I said. Then the connections start and I am able to relax.

     The episode when David wets the bed, as a thirty year old man nervous about his wedding, is today's topic. Patrick covers the matterss with a mattress protector and David insists it go away. I have a mattress protector because I have animals. Matresses are expensive, and I thought it was pretty much common practice, even if you weren't a pet owner. People eat and drink in bed as well as have sex, which if you're doing it right produces body fluids that could stain a mattress. There's the whole menstration thang and many women don't wear tampons, but pads that can leak, also your tampon can fail. Even men know that, they've seen the commercials. Or they've had females in their bed. 

    I am in a constant state of washing laundry due to the animals. It is not always because they pee. The elderly rescuse dog who we think was never house broken in the first place, is too stubby to get onto the bed, so he focuses on the corner on the floor. The other dog, who is some kind of Pug/Chihuahua/Jack Russell mix only refuses to go outside if it's cold, and is smart enough to not pee where he sleeps. Besides, he has been dubbed "The Mad Pooper" on cold days, not "The Mad Peer". No, I'm constantly doing laundry because the animals shed. As much as I love them, and the cats bathe themselves, and we groom and brush and spray, the bed still smells like dog at the end of the week. The mattress protector is slippery, so my cheaper sheets are not snug on the edges, so in the middle of the night, I'll roll over and get plastic protector in my face instead of jersey sheet. The plastic gets cat fur on it and needs to be cleaned as well.

   And that is Part One of how Schitt's Creek kept me sane this last year. Every single episode was human, and had something in it I could relate to, and sent me into my own mind clattering around with a purpose: plastic mattress protectors this time. This is a much safer way to ping around my brain, at least there is a topic I am searching to connect to. In general, being removed from both theatre and students, believing I was being given this time to write but I could not write, I just wanted to sleep, was dangerous for my psyche. Now I realize, for the same reason that I clung to Hedwig and the Angry Inch for two horrible, bullied, years, I held on to Schitt's Creek. At least there were themes and plots that I could connect to.

Square State Teacher: When The World Went Full Tech, I Went Analog

 

       I'm so bored being bashed for "not working", yet I've been  knocking myself silly to teach theatre remotely. Stop posting hate about teachers not working, you're an ass. My colleagues scream and they're not wrong THEY'RE NOT WRONG  it's worthy of a full throated shout. We Didn't Cause This, Stop Attacking Us Because We Cannot Fix It. I was lending my voice for a time, but I just can't anymore. Nobody Cares and I'm hoarse. My last contribution to the online fray regarding the "I have to work,go to work teachers!" inaccurate, uninformed mantra was "Ignorance +Anger =America's Favorite Cocktail".

    We've decided to do a "Hybrid Cabaret" on 11 March, the anniversary of our shut down. The adults will be on stage, the kids will get on google meet and perform both live on stage and on google meet: social commentary. Hybrid building, hybrid cabaret. And twice the work of a live show. 

     I told the kids the theme was "It's Been A Year" but I don't want pieces that whine or yell. I want to see what they've been doing this year. I want songs that feed their souls, poetry that inspires them and original work that reflects the  journey.

    I was delighted when one girl said she and a few others had found something akin to a Minecraft fan fiction, stories written about the characters. She's been playing a lot of Minecraft this year, and decided they could build a scene around this.

   YES. Do That.

   I told them I was writing a slam poem, but it was not going to add to the white noise. It's a slam about how I overcame my tech fear by learning what I could, embracing my passion and looking backward to theatre's roots to inspire my students.

   I can write about it now, because it worked.  No need to go into the history of my previous building and my new district. Irrelevant. 

  All that matters is that my building chose to keep all electives ( you heard me, all electives) remote for the entire year. That means theatre, choir, band, art....all remote. 

     Remember how I teach theatre? 

     In a blind panic, I decided to first cling inexplicably to my IB status, and teach history.

     History is necessary and a personal chocolate for me.

     To three sections of Intro, largely freshmen. 

     Ummm....sure...?

      I'm also up against a district that dictated that we break each of the classes (I have six) into 20 day sessions. OH,  there are only two classes a day in each session. And they're three hours long.

   I had to teach an entire fall semester in 20 days in August. Then when they returned in January, hope they remembered and teach some more.

    So much for IB and Theatre history.

    I am surrounded by colleagues spending money on blue screens and cameras. By others who can see their kids in person for rehearsals. This is where I reiterate that I was cut off. Cut Off. Soccer and tennis and football were fine to practice and play, but performing arts were cut off. The Theatre Is Dark. I'm writing this on 3 Feb 2021 and I have not seen a student in person since 12 March 2020. 

     For Real.

    So here is what I decided: The Muppet Show worked.  Mr. Rogers worked. We Don't Need No Stinkin' Stage. (WRONG WE NEED A STINKIN' STAGE!)

    History. Yes. Lectures and Crash Coruses for fun. NO PEAR DECKS EVER. Some google doc quizzes and connecting various histories to movies and video games in meet. A few demonstrations in combat and mime that went poorly. But the kids were so patient and wonderful, and none of it was sticking. 

    They need to learn to read a script. That's a thing that can be done on google meet. My personal Intro fave is The Odd Couple by Neil Simon. But in August, I had no capacity to create break rooms ( neither did Google Suite), so...I decided each student had to choose one scene and create a puppet show for that scene. Only their little selves, some sock puppets and their district Chrome book. They would become actors and prop masters and get to figure out camera angles. Sounded like a stretch, but I needed something to engage them in theatre, not film.

   I gave them work time and instructions for the puppets: buy nothing. They must be sock puppets you build from whatever you found around the house. I stayed in the meet while they searched, helped them figure out eyes ( is it a marker or a button you stitch on?) and camera angles. We had done a costume history unit, so several were interested in created costume pieces for their puppets.

   They at it up. 

   I was gobsmacked.

   Really?

   Yes, really. One "Murray" had a police hat. Several "Felix's" had ties. Oscar's had stubble, and one kid gave both his Oscar and his Felix his own hair: a fro. There were stripey socks with hair, and socks with full costumes "sitting" around a table of stuffed animals for the poker scene. They used dialects. They loved on each other in the chat. They laughed and cheered each other on.

   I do not believe, in my entire career, I have thoroughly enjoyed so many scenes. I laughed so loud I disrupted the dog's nap. I told these kids I loved their commitment and their creativity and I meant it.

   For puppets. Not film. Not Pear Deck or Screentastify. Not You Tube editing or Tik Tok.

   For the core of theatre: to tell a story. 

    To Tell A Story.

   You can't tell a story if you are uncomfortable, or your wifi cuts out. Which happens with several kids, daily. 

    You can't tell a story if you're afraid of the camera or if you can't see the final product until it's edited together.

   Theatre is defined by a live audience. A Live Audience. Live Performers. Period.

    Funny, nobody's wifi gave them trouble during their puppet performance.

    Because we were worshipping Dionysus at his base, building puppets from things around the house, learning to create, adapting to the "live" audience awaiting the show behind their own screen.

   So while my colleagues created films, allowed kids to record on flipgrid, taught editing and leaned into the tech...I reached backwards.

   You can keep your tech, y'all. I'll be in the corner with my sock puppets, retelling the story of how much fun it was to tell Neil Simon's story with sock puppets.

Square State Teacher: This Is The Thing That Is Going To Run Me Out Of Teaching

 

    For the last few years, I've become fond of saying, in overwhelmed moments, in angry moments, in many moments: "This is the thing that's going to run me out of teaching". I have identified everything from Lawn Mower parents to bullying administrators to google classroom as The Final Straw.

    I never said it about COVID, specifically remote teaching, or the ensuing tsunami of tech failures that I left in my wake. I supposed it is because, In this case, I am not alone and therefore don't feel the need to say "this will be the thing that runs me out of teaching". Everything that I credit with enough power to run me out feels personal and specific, not general and meandering like a pandemic.

   Today, the thing that is going to run me out of teaching is asking me to do everything remotely and simultaneous. Including teaching my classes, directing shows and taking classes required by the district. And signing up for PD days on yet another platform. And building lesson plans for units I cannot teach until we are in person again. And digitally restructuring lesson plans to be delivered both remotely and in person. And telling me I  must teach remotely from a mostly empty building. And not showing any mercy when my work for the online class the district is making me take is late because this week was supposed to be a google meet instead of written responses, but then I couldn't do the google meet because I'm in the building until 3:30 and the meet started at 4 and I had no interest in remaining in this building and doing things remotely from 7 am until 5 pm, thank you, and the deadline for the written work was BEFORE the google meeting time, which makes exactly and precisely no sense but then what does, what even makes sense anymore? I would like all deadlines to be set before the assignment is posted. I have a time machine, not a problem, lemme just dart around in time to accommodate that. No worries.

  That is the thing that is going to run me out of teaching. Today. No Time Machine.

   Tomorrow, it'll be something else.

Moderna, Moderna, Pfitzer: Like Duck Duck Goose.

        

        I play Duck, Duck, Goose in theatre. It's the best. And you can always bet on the popular kids getting chosen first. As "random" as it is, you know that after several kids "goose" their friends, eventually everyone gets chosen. Even if the teacher has to keep the game going until the bitter end.

      To me, this is how the vaccine was rolled out. They innoculated the politicians, who can work from home easily, first. Goose. I did not agree with that. Then the health care workers, goose, yes please, I agreed with that, and there was not a dosage shortage for either group. Just like the game, the first few rounds went smoothly, as those who were expecting to be chosen, were. Goose, goose , goose.

     Then we came to the eldery population, and things got snarled. Duck...duck...It wasn't that they couldn't run around the circle once chosen, it's that they were being chosen erratically. Duuuuck, duck, duck duck. The VA was unable to take care of their own, duck, duck, doses were short, duck, duck, duck, duck... older Americans were shopping appointments at Walgreens, King Soopers and Safeway when their insurance companies could not accomodate them. Duck duck duck duck DUCK DUCK DUCK. I became convinced then that I would not get the vacccine. As a teacher, were were declared "1 b" after the older population. Based on the opening rounds, I was convinced they were going to run out before getting to me. I still think that: It's in two doses. I received my first dose yesterday, with much gratitude. Goose!

      I feel better today than I have in a year. I slept soundly last night for the first time in a year. My dreams were vivid and positive ...etc etc. As much as I'd like to say the vaccine is a magic serum itself, it is what it represents that caused me to choke up yesterday when I received the shot at Kaiser.

      I was invited by two insurance companies to receive the dose, one of which was not even mine. This happened Friday, as I was about to follow a link sent to me by my collegue in which I could shop available appointments at Walgreens in Colorado Springs by zip code. Teachers had taken up the cue left by our elders, and began to suspect they were not going to get the shot unless they shopped outside of the system.   

       I did not have the fun Hunger Games Experience that happened at the Convention Center with Jeffco. Only 200 doses were left unclaimed,so they sent 4,600 emails to all employees inviting them to race to the site of the yearly stock show for 200 doses. Duckduckduckduck hurry, run! The email was sent at 4:45 on a weekend day, teachers had to arrive by 6 pm to receive the dose. DuckduckduckduckDUCKDUCK, Goose You Win! I will leave that story to those who were present, and the news agencies who picked it up,and again leave you to ponder the thought process in that choice.

       I did not shop zip codes to seek a faster vaccine due to my number. Duck. Duck. Even though my building is hybrid, our fractured schedule dictates that I do not see students in person until after spring break. I was not in a hurry, so I wanted to give my collegues in other districts the opportunity to get vaccinated first. I have friends walking back into rooms with 30 kids on Tuesday in other districts. One such friend was on seven waiting lists, as the "district appointments" were filled up. That gave me pause. Math seems to vex these districts, do you not know how many employees you have? So, I was watching the mad race, receiving links to Safeways and Walgreens from colleagues, tracking the panic on Facebook, and resolved to waiting for the 46,199 people to get shot before me, when I received the email invites. One from my insurance company, Kaiser, and one from Not My Insurance Company who was reaching out to all educators in our district. I was flummoxed. Goose...goose? Geese?

     The panic attack that ensued was brief. I first called my mom to find out when her appointment was, as I don't want to get vaccinated weeks before her. Turns out it's only days, and I'm still salty about that. She's in the category ahead of me, why is her vaccine two days after mine? We both have Kaiser. Also,I had heard if you've ever had an anaphlaxic (anaphlatic?) reaction to anything, ever, you could be at risk with the vaccine.That convinced me that I would have a nasty reaction, and then I just sucked it up and drove to Kaiser yesterday. The whole panic attack lasted about two hours, I made a lot of progress. I was proud of myself.

    The parking lot was not packed. There was no line. I walked right in, and was greeted by a lovely woman whose job is to make me stand in front of the scanner (I assume for temperature, but I believe it was judging the symmetricality of my facial features) and asked to walk downstairs. En route, I saw no people: not in line or exiting. I was given my card once it was located. I have discovered I have serious reading comprehension issues and no understanding of time any more. My appointment was for 4:15, I arrived at 3:45, thinking it was at 4. Immma joy. No matter, they happily retrieved my card,and I stood for approximately thirty seconds awating my turn to be jabbed. The lovely nurse had me read three statements and reply out loud, one of which was "Have you ever had anaphlaxia?" I said one time, yes, yes I did, and she said "OK, we'll have you wait 30 minutes instead of 15" and jabbed me. Clearly, there is no real concern about this, it's just a precaution. Her clogs were purpley and wonderful, and she had personally given 500 doses that day. She was one of three nurses, so...math. There was a bank of health workers with lap tops managing logging the vaccines and assigning our second appointments, everyone was chatting and in good spirits with one another. Since I had to wait 30  minutes, I heard a bit more than most, and I noted there was a count going on regarding how many doses they had remaining vs. people showing up for their appointment. It sounded like people who made appointments weren't following through. I wonder if they took the unclaimed doses over to Jeffco Stadium and gave them away.

     I sat there and felt relieved. I got choked up, my body relaxed, I was watching everyone and listening to all of the conversations and I felt present for the first time in...a year, frankly. 

     It's the symbolism of receiving the vaccine that hit me. It's not over, this is never going to be truly over. But the vaccine is real, and some teachers are getting vaccinated. I say "some" not because of those who may be choosing to abstain, but because university professors are not considered "educators", and my friend had to shop appointments because the district appointments were "full".

      Duck, duck, goose.

     I have a lot of opinions. So do you.

     I am not going to share any more of mine. 

     My mind has been eased. I've been in survival mode for two years, it was my norm. That's why I started to write this.

      Duck, duck, goose. If you are invited to play, I recommend doing so. 

     And if you aren't tapped to play, stand up and play, anyway.