RENT Part One

 

    20 December 2022

Key: AP is Assistant Principal Initials differentiate which AP

APA: Advanced Performing Arts

    We auditioned for RENT in October. The class is set up to perform both the fall show and the musical, so that's what we do. It's a "No Cut" show, which means not everybody can sing and everyone is cast or tech (they choose). The juniors and seniors were in the class last year, and worked hard to become better vocalists. "Better" than singing off pitch or off beat, but not all perfect. There's still a lot of work.

    I cast the best that I could with what I had, and it was not terrible. My Roger was a senior who is also in the top choir. He was not in class last year, and actually dropped out of school sophomore year, but has a lot of talent. He is failing other classes, but we are a class, so we need not worry about other classes. We simply remind them that they are students first and support them however we can. Which is how it worked last year when we started the class. AP RP told us on two occasions last year not to worry about student's other grades because we are a class. We are curricular. They have to perform to receive a good grade.

The first thing that happened.

The student in question, who we will call "Roger" per the role he was cast in, was not enrolled in Advanced Performing Arts in the fall. He is in the top vocal choir, but could not be in sixth period due to a Civics class he was retaking. He is also in what the building calls "Enginuity" classes, one during sixth period. I have to say, I've never understood these classes scheduled during a regular class, as it seems students attend irregularly and it is largely online. We had something like it at Littleton, I've forgotten the name. Kids would sit in the counseling office during an off period, and take "make up" classes online. I never agreed with the practice, as answering ten questions about Of Mice and Men should not give one a semester of credit for LA 9, but I'm not running things. Anyway. Based on past experience and what I was observing, it did not appear students needed to be enrolled during a class period for this. I think the civics class was a real class, and he had to attend. 

    So "Roger" was around the fall show Your Silence, Our Voices  on Saturday tech and performance nights, but not enrolled in sixth period APA. He showed up to audition for RENT, saying he had permission from his civics teacher. He was supposed to join sixth period for second quarter at best, third quarter in January at worst (should he fail Civics) Full disclosure, the kid had four F's and was failing everything but his choir class. Again, we are also a class, and we were told last year that students could still do the musical because it's a class, regardless of how  many F's they had.

    Turn Around

    I step in here to mention that our building is in turnaround. One way to get into turn around is to have an absurdly low graduation rate. One way to get your graduation rate up is to run kids who are failing out of the building and force them to take the GED. You're probably already ahead of me, but I will continue.

    The next thing that happened.

    On a day I was out of the building, our registrar who helps us with the vocals on the show and is the Thespian sponsor, took "Roger" to counseling to have his third quarter schedule changed. He had passed Civics, and was in other enginuity classes, and nobody had enrolled him in APA yet. So they went to his counselor to figure it out. The counselor walked "Roger" to AP TF. Whatever happened in that meeting blew the musical apart.

    That Friday I received an email from AP TF informing me that the student could not be in the musical due to his failing grades and his disrespectful behavior. She also said he can't go on the New York trip over spring break, which told me she was unhinged. I don't care how badly someone is failing out of high school, you don't get to tell them what they can or cannot do over spring break.

    So on Monday, the music teacher and I met with AP TF to try and untangle what happened.

    We entered the office simply to gather information. We were beyond confused, as it appeared "Roger" had been added and then removed and then added to the class. We had no agenda or attitude, we were just seeking information. 

    To say we were belittled and attacked is accurate. It was suggested that we were idiots for not knowing why "Roger" was being pulled from the class. We explained what I was told last year (the music teacher is new this year), only to be blasted again as stupid, with the word "EXTRA curricular" hurled at us. But...we're a class, how are we extra curricular. She yelled again. I stopped talking. We were compared to football and weight lifting class. According to  AP TF, if he remained in the class, he could rehearse in class but cannot rehearse or perform in the show after school. I explained that was insane and made no sense and received a football analagy as a response. We asked how that was supposed to work with choir classes. Were we kicking kids out of choir who had more than two F's? She had no answer, just repeated the words "Extra curricular" and the football analgy.We asked when she was going to tell him he was kicked out of the show. She spit "That's your problem kmart, you tell him." We quietly exited the office. 

    I looked at my colleague and said "Damn, what'd he do to her?"

    I never see an admin without recording on my phone. This time, however, because I was with a colleague and thought I was just getting information, I did not record the conversation.

    We asked the registrar, who was not in either meeting, and she said that as she understood it  "Roger" was rude, cocky, smirked and was disrespectful in the meeting with his counselor and AP TF. Left to our own conclusions, we put together that he had pissed off the wrong AP.

    Later that day, during conferences when I had a parent sitting in front of me, AP TW came into my room to report on meeting with "Roger's" parents. I politely held up my hand, indicated the parent in front of me and said "Can I finish with this parent first, please?" I was informed that his parents were horrified that he was flunking out of high school, they had no idea (this is where I really start to question so many things) and she said that his parents could tell him he couldn't do the musical.

    I stopped.

    Wait, so he's in the class, and can do the show if his parents say it's OK? I thought it was extracurricular.

    Immediately she said his parents would not allow him to do the show, they are on her side, she is right, he's a disrespectful jerk...waving her arms she exited my room.

    My next stop was counseling. I needed to know what he had said or done. And my colleague and I  worried how he would react to the news that he was kicked out. And why are we doing it, we're not kicking him out, admin is.

    The department chair of counseling immediately indicated several things:

    -There are other complaints against AP TF. In fact, four math teachers are quitting before December because of her.

    -The class we are currently teaching existed previously in the building and this rule was never a problem.

    -Kids who come to school for PA are at least coming to school.

    She looked up the wording of our class in the district curriculum guide. The wording states that the class includes after school rehearsals and performances and is curricular. She printed the wording and walked me to the activities director. When we walked in, he knew what it was about. He's the guy who told me I was fine last year, that the class was curricular. Before we even spoke he said "I told her it's a curricular class, she can't do this. You guys do concerts and shows as part of your class. It's not like football. I told her." He then said he'd take the next step to talk with her, as I made it clear I will never be in her office again without a union representative.

    A day later, AP TF spit back an email stating that she had gone to the legal department at the district, who said the wording states the student has to attend concerts and performances to pass, but that has nothing to do with him being told he can't attend by a parent or AP. She has the right to say he can't do it, and we can't fail him. It only applies if the student chooses not to attend.

    What?

    I sent an email to the district electives guy, who said the words is unclear and I'm on a slippery slope. Great.

    So I went to our union rep. At this point I was so confused, I needed to know if there was help at the district level beyond electives guy. She said it's extra curricular because I get a stiped and there is more than one performance. She said she played this game with the previous theatre teacher years ago, and it's extra curricular.

    I sent her answer to the district electives guy and a 30 year veteran choir teacher leader. The teacher leader showed up in my classroom the next day to state unequivocally that he's  never heard of any issue with this type of class. They had a version in their building as well. He indicated the entire issue sounded personal, and he was going to bring it up at their music district meeting, as it is a concern for all performing arts teachers.

    Ok. Where am I? To say this nonsense consumed me is an understatement. As soon as I thought I had an answer, someone else tells me it's not the answer. The counseling department chair swung around again to see what answers had emerged, and shook her head violently. "This is wrong. This is so wrong. You can't punish a kid like this. I know M and A (previous choir and theatre teachers who retired in 2012 after 25 years) had to fight this at some point. They won. I can't find it in writing anywhere, but they won. Call her."

    Amidst this, I spoke with another counselor. It turns out, according to the counselor who was in the room with AP TF and "Roger", he was not disrespectful at all. He did not raise his voice. In her words "He stood up for himself and called her on her game." Which is to run failing kids out to help graduation rates. Go "Roger". Wish he went to class more regularly, 'cause I like him more and more and I'd love to fight for him.

    So...I called M, the previous choir teacher. We had met when she used the theatre for an alumni concert in November. I have never met A, the previous theatre teacher. So. I am now on Christmas break, and I spent the first day of break texting M, trying to figure out how they made the class work, what the rules were with CHASSA, etc. Here are the facts:

    -The class is curricular. CHASSA rules do not apply.

    - If a kid was eligible when they auditioned but then started to struggle, that did not effect their role in the show (fact: Roger was barely eligible when he auditioned, barely).

    - The eligibility decision was made by the directing team, not admin.

    The domino effect

    Now, we have a second senior who has failed three classes during second quarter. He was eligible when he auditioned. He is not in danger of not graduating, he's just a big flake. Because we removed "Roger" from the show, we now have to remove "Tom" in the name of equity. I'd rather put "Roger" back in as ensemble and support "Tom" in getting his grades up. If I cut him,  I'm out of understudies. So if I do that, I have to find a kid in the wild, or, M has offered her 22 year old son who was an All State Choir kid, and has done RENT before.  So a ringer. The role would go to a non student. Which I hate but in all honesty, the kid I'll pull off of basketball to do the show is not capable of doing "Tom".

  The impact on my mental health and well being.

    I am not crazy about all of this punitive shit. I've lost the trust of "Roger" and "Tom", and I need support somewhere in admin to get this show across the finish line. I'm exhausted. This whole situation has triggered my anger again, and I do not like that. I do not want to be angry at kids. Traumatized kids. Who honestly, yes, are failing epically in many aspects, but have been holding onto performing arts as a safe space. This has ruined that for them, and for me. Now I have anxiety whenever I talk to "Roger" or "Tom".  I asked M, the previous choir teacher, what will they actually do to me if I put the kids in the show? No answer. Because the right thing is to let these kids have their senior show and support their tiny successes. 'Roger" isn't going to graduate, but he passed Civics. He's not helping his case (nor is "Tom") by ditching classes constantly. To the tune of 46 days. It's not fair at all to let "Tom" stay when "Roger" was removed. It's not fair to let "Tom" stay when "Angel" had three F's before the end of second quarter and he worked his butt off to fix it so he can stay. What is "right" seems punitive, and punitive is not what trauma needs.     

    I'm in a building filled with hopelessness. I found out the new "performing arts" magnet is putting pressure on our feeder middle school choir and band teachers to send kids to them. We're already in dire straits, fighting inside the building to get kids involved. Now the district is against us? Which is another fight for another day I suppose. How do you help support kids who are this far gone while still holding them accountable? This is the question admin should be asking.

    What do I do now?

    I do not know.

    Pulling a kid from outside--whether it's M's son or alumni-- is going to upset the registrar. She thinks it should be our kids. But our kids are failing and not helping themselves. Maybe it's a good message to send. It also gives me ammo when I kill the musical next year. I can't do this again. I won't do this again.

    LITERALLY THIS IS A JOURNAL. HOWEVER, text me if you have any ideas...

    

Tchotchkes (29 Dec 2022, original monologue)

    Leigh is at the bar, talking to a friend.

   The first thing I will do is not drink. All of these solipsist heartfelt monologue rantings for women apparently require alcohol or Neil Simon or both. Ever see The Eight Reindeer Monologues? They're all sots, and I'm not British ,nor is the play, but that's a great word. "Sot". I like British words. Like...Bill Murray in Scrooged says "The Jews taught me a great word: Schmuck".  Which is not a British word, but I love those words too. Yiddish words. Like tchotchkes  Which aren't even spelled like they sound, because why would they be? Also, why are they described as "bric a brac"? Is it 1972? Am I standing in front of marbled mirrors with a sunburst clock on the wall? Screw that noise, they're tchotchkes. Even today, in 2022 almost 2023: Tchotchkes. You know what I mean? Little kick knacks...wait, lemme look it up, "Tchotchke: small object that is decorative rather than strictly functional; a trinket". Little ceramic or plastic figurines lined up on a forgotten bookshelf, or behind beveled glass in the china cabinet. Or in the oven. I love that some people use their oven to store such things. I feel like I saw that in a movie once. Maybe not. Wait! I think it was my friend Briggs in Houston. I think she used her oven for tchotchkes, which is where I learned the word. She said they were like knick knacks, but I looked it up. They're cooler.

    I am like those tchotchkes. I'm a teacher, one of thousands, up on shelves, forced to face forward and show ourselves and hide what we really feel. Easily replaced when we break---or melt, clearly someone turned on the oven unaware that it was housing us--OK, but, honestly, though, just the young ones can be replaced. Target has My Little Ponies, but it's difficult to locate a ceramic owl salt shaker your mom made in the class she took to keep from losing her mind when you were a child.--Sorry, did I lose you? What's an example of a tchotchke? Miniature ornate canisters, or teeny tiny tea cups. Like your grandma smuggled from the old country. You get me? Tchotchkes. I lost you again. A knick knack, which should be the same thing, but is not. A knick knack is defined as "worthless". Nicely done. Americans took a lovely Yiddish word for cool, small, things and made them worthless. Why do I care? Are you still listening? I love words.

    Who cares. Now it's a soliloquy. You can stay here or go to the bathroom, but Immma keep talking. I will continue to sit in this public place and speak to an empty bar stool because it is 2022 about to be 2023, I am a 20 year veteran teacher and nobody listens to me, anyway, so I may as well sit here and talk and not drink. We can speak nonsense while completely sober, friends, stick around.

    Carrie Fisher wrote this great line in her book. I love it. I will never forget it. I never understood it until Covid, until I had to teach theatre online. She wrote "Sometimes I feel like something on the bottom of somebody's shoe. And it isn't even anybody interesting." Do you get that? Like, do you get that? I thought you went to the bathroom. Like, did you go the bathroom and I missed it? HI. Welcome back? Or thanks for staying. Like, whatever applies.

    I have no idea where "like" is coming from, I'm a sober adult and I blasted that word out of rotation back when I was still acting. Before I taught. And the word "like" lives on my speech rubrics because Stop Saying 'Like'. Say what you mean. Stop hedging and sighing and demonstrating your fear of being heard. Speak up. Speak Out. You Matter. I yell All Of The Things at students. All of the lies. I tell them they matter. I tell them people care. I tell them to stand up for themselves.

    To be fair, this break I've returned to binging shows. and on The Good Place there was a vendor called "Joannie Loves Tchatchkie" and I feel like I'm the only one who got it. This way I can work that in. Also Timothy Olyphant is on that episode, and I watched Santa Clarita Diet over Thanksgiving break and he's funny. Connections! I'm good at that. 

    You know that meme with the dog and everything is on fire? I think it's a dog. It's a dog. And it is already absurd, as the mustard colored canine is sitting on a kitchen chair. He is wearing a porkpie hat and has a coffee on the table. Absurd. Dogs don't drink coffee. And everything around him is on fire...hmmm, absurd yet I am identifying...and he is saying "This is fine". That meme became The  Meme Of The Covid Debacle. I think everyone identifies with it. I do. That meme should become a tchotchke. I would put it in my china cabinet behind beveled glass, next to the Christmas plate I made in first grade, featuring a very long mustard colored dog, with misspelled "Merry Chirstmas" burned forever in the plastic. And those are my tchotchkes. My knick knack bric a brack paddywacks. Because the definition of "bric a brac" is "small and useless objects of little value". Not as cool as a tchotchke. Not as bad as a knick knack. Words are fun. Am I a trinket or useless? Am I bric a brac that labors under the delusion of a better life as a tchotchke? 

    I teach kids to stand up for themselves and to speak clearly, so that when they are attacked, they can properly defend themselves. It won't matter, we all know that. Nobody Cares. Our world has turned to Beckett's posit: Nothing Happens. Nobody Comes. We are living the absurdist nightmare. Stuck in God's China Cabinet. Welcome to education. For those of us still stuck.

    Those who got out of education-.the very young and those who started young -jelly! I started late. I'm 57 and only 20 years in. They don't tell you when you sign up that you have to put in at least 30 years for PERA to pay off.  We sat quietly at the kitchen table in our porkpie hats, grateful that someone has offered us coffee. Then they lit everything on fire. I may have lost my grip on the metaphor so to be clear: everyone in my situation is trapped. Trapped in the nightmare. But it's fine. I'm fine. I have a job. That's what they tell us. Be happy you have a job. So I am. I have a job.

    Actually...might I have a glass of wine please? I'm fine.

guilty pleaseure submission 2

 

     repeating myself

    There are a lot of opinions among teachers and counselors regarding how each district or building is or is not handling Post Covid public education. All I will comment on here, is that I have had to repeat myself more frequently. Perhaps hearing loss is a side effect of the Covid Lockdowns. In our district, we were online for 18 months. On paper, the students were shuffled through an ineffective "session schedule" that gave way for an A/B "In Person" rotation that left 100% of the students confused. I was supposed to have ten students in person during Session 2/ B rotation and I had one show up every day. Sweet kid. He showed up in class in person, but the rest of the class who were on A rotation were not supposed to be in the building, were online. The B rotation kids numbered at 15, so in theory I should have had 15 students in class. Nice theory. They did not show up. All combined between A and B, I had 15 kids actually click into the meet for class. So I had 15 of the 31 enrolled in class clicking into the google meet, and one in the classroom, who also logged into the video chat while sitting five feet away from me.

    So that's how that went for the 2020-2021 school year. And that's when the repeating became more evident. And that's when I realized I liked the comfort. I would write out the goal on google classroom. Then I would click on the meet,  turn on my camera, and read the goal to the class. Five minutes later, I would have to repeat the goal for a student who logged in late or walked away from their computer .Fifteen minutes into class, I would check on those whose cameras were off, and repeat the goal. At some point, the sweet kid sitting five feet away from me would admit that he was lost, and I would repeat the goal to him in person. I would repeat the same words a minimum of five times within twenty minutes. 

    The comfort I felt was explained later when I saw a post on social media stating that when under severe duress, people tend to retreat into repetition. It was referring to binge watching the same shows during the plague days, which I was also doing, but the explanation rang true for my teaching style. I had become A Repeater. 

    One would think that habit fell away when we returned in person for the 2021-2022 school year. But no. In fact, that year was such horror, that the only constant was knowing I would repeat the same directions five times every twenty minutes. Students had ceased to arrive to class on time, and there was no indication that they cared one way or another about attending at all, let alone attending on time. The only constant that fall, as the restrooms were ripped apart as a Tik Tok challenge and Omicron, was my repetition.

    Things are not nearly as dire this school year, yet I find myself repeating directions, anyway. I am back to teaching my content in a semi normal way, so the assignments are not the same as they were during the plague. We are on our feet more, and instead of repeating every five minutes, or repeating for late comers, I repeat the instructions three times in a row at the beginning of class. If kids are late I make them ask a friend what is going on. Repeating myself three times at the top of class, and watching those who arrive on time look at me and nod, fulfills a tiny section of my cold black heart. I look forward to the beginning of class. I have the music chosen specifically as they enter to set the tone, and at the tardy bell I stand directly in front of the screen. Even if we're moving to the stage that day, I start class in front of the screen. I tried starting class on stage a few times, and found myself unsettled for the rest of the day. It is impossible to repeat this way, the kids are on stage in a circle and those arriving late are much more disruptive. This guilty pleasure may be more than just a pleasure. Or a habit. It may be a need.

    Gross. I don't have room for a need. So let's keep calling it a pleasure.

M Post

  This has been chosen by One Night Stand theatre to be performed in February! Every time they use my work I make them use a psueudonym. Last time I didn't like the fake name, so this time I asked them to use Leigh Rhodes. She's a character in the only real play I wrote. It will be performed as a monologue in February for "Guilty Pleasures". 

  Teachers have all sort of secrets that we do  not share. Not many of them are guilty pleasures. Honestly, most of them are the nightmares that plague us, the gnawing anxiety for those of us who are not going to make it to the magical 33rd year to retire at sustainable salary, the stress of walking into our building and not know if we will be attacked by our evaluator, our principal, a parent or our students. Some have side hustles, even full businesses, that they keep under wraps until the business is ready to either take its place as their next career, or sustainable by other teachers in the building. The businesses are never teaching -adjacent, like  tutoring. They're brew pubs, breakfast restaurants and real estate. I feel like I know a lot of teachers who became realtors. 

    My secret is not one for which I can leave teaching early. It is not separate from teaching. It is not, as you are now wondering, even teaching itself. I am not so lame as to write that intro and then reveal that my secret is that I Love Teaching. Ugh.  

   What I love is logging an "M" for a missed assignment in infinite campus, I hit the "M" key extra hard and I say the kid's name and I make up an excuse for why they missed it to amuse myself. The entire process can take me up to twenty minutes. My colleagues speed through it much more quickly because they do not enjoy it. I want to enjoy it. Reality has no place in my moment. The kids are traumatized and feel hopeless and depressed, there is no tangible excuse for flunking classes. They do not even have the wherewithal to make up an excuse. So I make it up for them  as I plunk an "M" in the grade column. I've hit the letter on my keyboard with so much force, so many times, that it sits unevenly in its place. Soon it will dislodge, I'm sure, but I keep slamming it harder thinking that the force should pop it back in to its retainer clip.

    To ensure I am not caught, giggling and talking to myself, I lock the door to my room and turn the music up loudly. My office is a shared space, and I am not comfortable logging grades where I might be observed or interrupted --or worse---judged.

     Some personal favorite quotes I shout into the classroom come from Steve Martin and When  Harry Met Sally. I say the lines out loud and cackle like a lunatic. Some excuses have included: "I wanted to be in school but I was trapped under a refrigerator" and "I couldn't come to school today because my hair smelled".  When it is the end of the quarter and all hope has been lost, I say "If you aren't enjoying the class so far, you're wrong" as I post the final grade. If they would give real reasons I would likely collapse in a puddle, horrified at their reality, which is why they do not use any excuse. They've just given up. So I choose to enjoy logging the missing grades. If I allow myself to engage realistically, I, too, will lose my sanity. Like so many colleagues who have left the profession. Instead, I choose to enjoy myself. Without anyone knowing, which makes it a guilty pleasure.

     In my district, a 60% equals a grade of B. Yet, students cannot even manage that. We also do not give zeros because that is "bad for their self esteem", so instead we must log an "M" for "Missing" which calculates at a zero, but is somehow better for their psyche that way? Regardless, I have the highest failure rate in the building. I am not a "hard" teacher, my content is not difficult, but it does require showing up to class daily. Students fail because they do not attend. And so, every week when I must put grades in, I sit at my desk with Guns N Roses blaring, and cackle at each "M", and shout excuses into the classroom as I do so. Pure, Hilarious, Joy.

    "My sister was abducted by aliens last night, I didn't get any sleep." Clack.

    "We ran out of toilet paper, I had to sleep at my Aunt's house and the bus doesn't come to her neighborhood." Click.

    "My arm fell off, " pause. "It got better." Clack.

    Clack clack clackity click. Bwaaahhhhh. God I'm funny. Clikity clicky clack. I am so damned funny. The empty classroom bounces my laughter back to me through the music, and my laptop keyboard keys pierce through the music and my glee. Together they become a cacophony of such delight, anyone passing by the door in the hall will believe there is a great jubilation, at a Dr. Seuss caliber, and they will smile as they pass, delighted to know that teaching brings such bliss.

    This is the best time. My favorite day of the week! My very own guilty pleasure! I shout between songs "I don't fail kids, kids fail themselves!!" Click. Post Grade at Save. Click Save. Click. Post Grade at Save. Click Save. Next class. I hear the Dentist in Little Shop of Horrors in my head as I move to the next screen, period three. "I want to enjoy this. I need some nitrous oxide." This quote sends me into orgasmic rapture. My eyes are tearing up. I can barely see third period's spreadsheet. I slide to the first empty box, hungrily awaiting its weekly feeding of the letter "M". As I tap the letter, a bit more forcefully than ten minutes ago, I whisper "It was raining. I can't go out in the rain" and a single tear rolls down my check.

    If only grades had to be entered every day! I'd never leave the building.

NYC An Irish Pub On Every Block

 

         We drank our way through Manhattan.

         It's a good way to see Manhattan.

         Take pictures though, cause you'll be drunk and won't remember much.

        Coming in from the airport, we spotted several Irish pubs. We were pointing them out until it became redundant and we realized we were in New York, there are A Lot of Irish pubs. The World Cup was also happening, so many of them looked packed. There is at least one pub on every block. They're all walk ups, narrow staircases, crowded and have but one single seater, m/f/unicorn who cares bathroom. In my mind, they were built before indoor plumbing. Before fire codes. Before wheelchairs and walkers and obesity and sidewalks. And they haven't changed. And I love them. The bartenders are all from Queens, or Queens, or Brooklyn or Queens. A lot of bartenders are from Queens, I'm just sayin'.  OH, except the one in Hell's Kitchen. He was from Hell's Kitchen. 

        In addition, there are the lovely local small restaurants that somehow manage in the insanity of Broadway shows. The Glass House Tavern, a fine example, was next to the Edison hotel and a few steps down from an Irish Pub.  Both are situated to bookend the giant purple neon SIX  shouting at 47th street from the Lena Horne theatre. We discovered the Irish Pub  becomes an annoying dance club after eight pm. I blame this on Six playing next door. Suddenly everyone is En Vogue, and they all want to huddle and drink on their feet after the show. Ugh. We knew something was up when there was a doorman checking ID's at The Mean Fiddler Irish Pub. We could tell from the door it was not behaving as an Irish Pub should, it was jammed with humans swaying to TLC (we discovered the same music choice across the street at the Brooklyn Chop House, but with different results) and waving mixed drinks in their hands. Three warning signs Jim and I will not stay in a pub: They are playing dance music of any kind. People are standing with mixed drinks. We can't get to the bar. All three critera were met, so we walked a circle around the bar to confirm the situation, and walked out. The door man nodded as we left. He knew when we entered we wouldn't stay. He could tell. So we stepped away from The Mean Fiddler to The Glass House Tavern. Which was narrow and looked friendlier. There were tall tables, but no body was standing without a table. Check. There was no music. Check. There were seats at the bar. Check. Weirdly, I noted it looked inaccessible by wheelchair (this became a thing with me in New York, I'm not in a wheelchair, but I became hyper aware that if I were, I would not get in anywhere)- but one night I saw a wheelchair in the corner of the bar, so they could get in- and had a limited menu, and seats at the bar. We do love empty seats at a bar. I may have repeated that a few times. So in this case, the regular bar won over the pub. The Glass House, with its trendy young bartenders and tight space, could easily have chosen to give in to the En Vogue hurricane that hit The Mean Fiddler.  But The Glass House Tavern chose to maintain her dignity and remain a quiet, trendy supper bar without selling her soul. The Mean Fiddler was not so much a mean fiddler, as true mean fiddler woulda told those 90's loving R&B soul funk new jack swing pop hip hop dance goobers to go get a goofy drink next door, this is a pub. 

    We were "regulars" at The Glass House, deliberately shunning the mad rush of girl band fans "dancing" at the alleged Irish pub. We got to know Skye the young bartender who was at the waiter station end of the bar. A bar this close to Broadway is forced to offer what a bartender friend of mine called "Goofy Drinks", meaning a lot of stupid named mixes of juice and flavored vodka and fruit. I swear I saw cranberries on a drink. With names like:  Sparkling Peach Martini, or Jalapeno Cilantro Martini or Gary's Place--which is essentially pineapple flavored everything with pineapple--are exactly the kinds of drinks audiences at SIX would like. Again I wonder why the IRISH PUB is the place playing the girl group music, and The Glass Tavern is where I could get a beer. There were clearly patrons who wanted the Goofy Drinks, as Skye was very busy and quite adept and mixing them effortlessly. Jim and I just watched him dance with the drinks while we chatted and people peeped and occasionally checked to see what was on the bar televisions.

      For several years, I worked at a bar in Denver with a bartender from Hell's Kitchen. He did not tend bar in Hell's Kitchen, he was from Hell's Kitchen. He'd had some success in stocks or trading or delivering the Wall Street Journal, and retired to a penthouse in Denver. Three days a week, he would leave and come tend bar as a hobby. He was my favorite. He still had his NY Take No Shit accent and attitude. I thought of him a lot on this trip, as I watched bartenders in pubs talk loudly about whomever or whatever was on their minds while drawing beer and occasionally mixing a martini. Even though he was not a bartender in New York, I believe that all New Yorkers are the same type of bartender: You'll drink what they bring you. 

    And I loved every, single second in every, single pub and bar and even the purple and sultry Brooklyn Chop House, which had me looking for Eddie Murphy in a corner booth. That bartender was Caribbean, and her partner who tended the waiters at the other end of the bar was definitely a born and bred New Yorker, moving quickly and having no time for your personal issue of needing a dumpling without cauliflower.  Do you see cauliflower anywhere in the ingredients? Nope. 'cause there is no cauliflower in the dumpling, ma'am. Next. This is why she was assigned the waiters and not the patrons at the bar. I don't know why she chose that moment to go rogue, but I had a good time watching it. Drinks and a show! We ended up at the Chop House on Monday, as weirdly the Glass House was closed. So we sat at the Chop House bar looking out the window at the closed Glass House and judging the Chop House. They had more space than any other restaurant besides Friedman's that we encountered, they had two stories of tables and generous bar space. It was very much a steak house, the kind I remember from the 1980's. Lotta wood, everything is dark, music playing low. Booths. That was the day we walked to Central Park and back, so we were hungry and ordered dumplings. They had french onion soup dumplings. The menu was weird, but the dumplings were great. So we went ahead and ventured to order a $86 steak cooked medium. We think it was a language issue with the bartender, the steak was well well shoe leather well done. We ate it because we were hungry, and we did not complain because what good would it have done? Everyone's still struggling to staff their restaurants, even on 47th. The next day the Glass Tavern was open again, so we did not return to the Chop House. But Jim did buy a baseball cap there. I am unsure as to why.

    My friend Pete took us to a pub in his 'hood- Hell's Kitchen- called Gossip. We also went to the Playwright Celtic Pub which had a doorman, but his job seemed to be to sort people between the upstairs bar and the restaurant downstairs. Bartender from Queens braying about something he did not care for that recently occurred. They had a few original brews, the Jack's amber was great. They also still had their big plastic tents out front, a few places kept those. I suppose it does help with seating, as I said, nothing is wheelchair accessible. There was also Arriba, Arriba in Hell's Kitchen, whose margaritas knocked me flat and I had to be walked back to the hotel between Pete and Jim. We ventured to Sardis because you have to go to Sardis, and confirmed my hatred of martinis. But we saw Neil Diamond enter on the red carpet for opening night of his show A Beautiful Noise, it was like we were peeping Toms from above. I took a napkin 'cause they say "Sardis" on them, just like it's still 1952.

    And so, all in all, to sum up, in conclusion, there are a lot of bars in Manhattan. We did not make it to every one of them. That'd be a fun trip...hmmm.

    Scene.

New York 2022: The Hell With The Tiny Seats?

 

          During the shut down, many theatres took the opportunity to renovate. 

         This is what I was told by my lovely seat neighbor, as we were crammed together in the Neil Simon theatre to see MJ the Musical. I cannot find any information on how many houses actually renovated during that time, or if any did at all, so I have to take her word for it. She was a lovely woman, a native New Yorker raised in the city who had relocated to Pennsylvania, but returned frequently for shows. I asked her about the small seats. As I looked around and witnessed: 

    * A woman in a wheelchair, relegated to the very back row where her view could easily be obstructed by anyone tall seated in front of her.

    * A man of over 6 ' tall, whom I tried to follow back to his seat after intermission to see if he had a collapsible skeleton, but got distracted by my need to relieve my bladder and the impossibly long but fast moving ladies room line. How in The Hell he got into a seat, I still wonder.

    *My seat neighbor, a woman about 5' 5" tall and not skinny, who eloquently wedged herself into her seat where she remained during the entire show.

       My new friend said "I'll try not to brush thighs with you too much," to which I smiled and told her to relax. We're human sized. These seats are for Smurfs. I said as much to her.

        "Yes, when they renovated the theatres during Covid, they just recovered the seats. They did nothing about actually renovating them so people can fit comfortably."

        " Right? I'm only 5'7" and I'm wedged in here. How does anyone survive these seats?"

        "It's really disappointing," she continued "As a native New Yorker, I know these seats haven't changed since I was a kid. It seems rude not to accommodate real people. Can you imagine, spending $200 a ticket, flying out here from where ever and not being able to even be seated?" She shook her head. "I almost just got a wheelchair seat, " she indicated the free floating chairs in the back row. "But if you're coming from out of town, you don't know those are there. So disappointing."

    "I'm pretty well wedged in here," I laughed. Not just my height, which exceeds the Neil Simon theatre's recommended apogee of 5'2", but my weight  which is north of 200 and therefore above the recommended 120 pounds for comfort. "Not sure I'm getting up at intermission."

    I did manage to un chock block myself at intermission, but I had to wait for the man in front of me to get up, as I needed to use the back of his seat for leverage. My friend remained seated and chatted up the others around her.

      We had encountered a similar issue at the Westside theatre for Little Shop Of Horrors, but because it is clearly a much older theatre with no renovations, we just accepted our lot. It was not unlike sitting in the Mayan in Denver. A person with legs that only hinge with one set of knees is challenged to sit, it's  much more like a perch. But the real killer is how low the seats are: your entire lower half goes to sleep. It's like that 30 Rock episode when Jack makes such terrible couches that they are sold to the CIA as torture devises. Then there is the lack of width... we were seated in a row with two gentlemen who were both large men: over six feet tall, and over 200 pounds, they were crammed into the tiny seats, right next to one another, and next to us. During the show, I noted two empty seats two rows down from us. At intermission I asked the house crew if we could move so the gentlemen in our row could spread out and be comfortable, as they clearly were not. Remember, The Westside has a mask mandate as well. She graciously let us move, and the gentlemen also expressed their appreciation. And I think it took Jim by surprise that I had no reservations about asking house crew if we could move so that these gentlemen could at least enjoy Act 2 without discomfort.

    The Winter Garden was no better, but we somehow scored tickets in the balcony, first row, so we had leg room between us and the railing. Broadway tip: Do That.

    The most comfortable seats were at Radio City Music Hall, but the house management was struggling to get all 6,000 of us through security before curtain. They failed. That was the only theatre that required an airportesque security check. The other theatres just had signs out front that said "Please don't bring in a weapon. Thank you."

    When I win the lottery and open my Broadway House, I will do so For Everyone. Wheelchairs down front. Seats reasonably wide and not so low that only children can comfortably  watch the show. I do not need to make so much money that I make people feel uncomfortable by insisting they fit into cookie cutter seats. It's bad enough that the airlines have crammed so many seats in each row that the bathrooms are now standing room only--great for you men, but for us it's a challenge. Can we stop being so greedy that we make human beings feel bad about themselves?  Or is there a conspiracy to starve us all, and the by product is that we'll all fit in the airline seats and Broadway houses...that we can no longer afford. Which is why we're skinny: grocery prices skyrocketed...

    Before I go off in another direction, this is my Broadway Seat Report.

    Respectfully submitted 13 December, 2022.

    Douglas C. Neidermeyer

New York 2022:There Are Loose Planks On The Brooklyn Bridge

 

    There is nothing more to be said.

New York 2022 Sutton Foster, Lena Hall

     When we made reservations for The Music Man with Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster, my friends immediately began to hate on it. We are, we three, fans of Sutton's. But weirdly they said "She can't sing it",  and dismissed the whole thing and I was like...ummmm...yes, yes she can. She's Sutton Foster. What do you mean she can't sing it? Explain she can't sing it. It was an off color hater moment, and I sat while they snarked and listened to the non sequitur in my head, which was Nathan Lane screaming "He's chewing gum while I'm singing, he's not supposed to chew gum while I'm singing."

    As I sat in the Winter Garden Theatre on Wednesday, I realized my friends were both right and wrong. Sutton Foster is not a trained "legit" soprano. She is not an opera singer. She is a musical theatre singer with an impressive belt, innate comedic timing and a killer time step. We call that a Triple Threat, friends. There's a difference between that and a legit soprano. No, she does not sound like Shirley Jones, Shirley Jones sounds like Shirley Jones.  She is not Barbara Cook. Barbara Cook is Barbara Cook. Both of those women were trained differently for their voice types. Sutton Foster is a Triple Threat. A true TT is going to have a different voice, one that is adapted to dancing and singing, not just pulling off a park and bark. Marion the Librarian is written as a park and bark. Usually you cast the voice who cannot really dance in the role. I can't tell you why the producers chose Sutton Foster. She is a different choice for sure. Her "Goodnight My Someone" and "There Were Bells" were lovely, and heartfelt and there was nothing wrong with her pitch. If you say someone can't sing something, I assume you are referring to them finding or holding the pitch. Clearly, you cannot be suggesting that Sutton Foster struggles with pitch.  So what are you talking about? Explain "she can't sing it".

     I figured it out while watching the show: It's the quality of her voice. That's what you're talking about. She is not a legit soprano. She is not a park and bark performer. My friends were referring to how they'd prefer the role to be presented, or how they are used to the songs being sung. It's not about her being unable to sing it, it's about my friends preferring other voices. Sutton can sing it and she can act it, but no, she's not Barbara Cook. Or Shirley Jones. And that's fine. Stop saying "She can't sing it" because she can. You just don't like the casting choice. Use your vocabulary,  you're in theatre, friends. Sutton is not Barbara Cook. Or Shirley Jones.

    And they are not Sutton Foster. Neither of them would have been able to pull off Thoroughly Modern Millie or Anything Goes. It goes both ways.

    Sutton Foster's interpretation of Marion was also starkly different. As trained sopranos who had been playing roles that are "wholesome", neither  Barbara or Shirley gave Marion much spunk outside of her moment with the traveling salesman in search of Professor Harold Hill. They were pretty, and they sang pretty, and they responded appropriately to Hill's advances under the guise of "peaches and cream". But in the hands of Sutton Foster, Marion is much more wordly. She actually is "the sadder but wiser gal" that Hill sings of, bringing that song  home on a level I've never seen before, and I sat in the audience believing she has a personality of her own. The way she would say "Ugh", or "Yeech", every single time she saw Hill communicated her deep disgust of him. Simple moments, like the ones between Marion and Amaryllis, where she's clearly not as patient as her predecessors, were a welcome change. There is not a lot of wiggle room in the libretto for character exploration, but she found a few cracks where her comedic timing was useful, and pried them from Meredith Wilson's cold, dead grip.

     Then I saw Lena Hall as "Audrey" in Little Shop of Horrors at the Westside theatre. I loved this theatre. It reminded me of our smaller houses here in Denver; the Off Broadway theatre is upstairs, and the lobbies featured additional alien esque plants throughout. The direction was astounding, driven home by the fact that they opened in 2019 right before Covid, closed, reopened, switched casts and I saw an understudy for Seymour, with other swings abounding. It is clear they've struggled with Covid, as they're the only theatre we attended with a mask mandate in place, and open gratitude for their understudies. The show has to be tightly directed to survive a revolving door of Seymours and Audreys. The sign at the stage door read "Due to Covid  we will not be signing programs".  Clearly, this is a production that has been beleaguered by plague yet relentlessly moves forward. However, due to the sign, I was worried I wouldn't get to see Lena. I figured everyone else in the cast had been sick, it was probably her turn. Of course she'd be sick the night I was there and I wouldn't get to see her.

     But I did.

     Her Audrey is not a dumb blonde. She's a streetwise New Yorker with red hair who is wounded in other ways. She is not stupid, she's tired. She's betrayed. She believes she deserves Skid Row. Because Ellen Green set the standard that everyone followed, it took a few minutes for me to adjust. If you remove the dumb blonde approach, the humor shifts to something more heart wrenching. The pain of the human condition is allowed to wail without the mask of a stereotype to mute it. The show becomes something more authentic with this direction.

     "Suddenly Seymour" is the greatest love song ever written, I don't think you can mess it up. Lena  doesn't belt it the same way that Ellen did, but her soul is belting her pain in a way that communicates straight to the heart. The structure of the note and chord progressions are going to elicit all of the feels, anyway. But in the hands of an actor who can sing it and understand the core of humanity's hunger for understanding, crying is your only option when the notes reach you in the house.

    I think a lot gets lost in our craft when actors and directors simply imitate previous performances. This is why I don't like to see tours, they're limiting. The actors literally mimic the Broadway performances, and were cast for their ability to do so and fit the costume. What's great about what we do is the craft itself, and our deep connection with the ridonculous human condition with which we are universally saddled. I see no reason to hate on one performer for doing their job, and making the role their own. They should be celebrated. We should all be celebrating the fact that Broadway shows returned, and everyone is back at work doing what they love. 

                Scene

  

New York 2022 INTRO

 

     Today is Tuesday, we arrived Saturday about noon. Last night, Jim ventured out for his first trip to a bodega. He returned stating "I hate New York. But I love New York."
    It took him four days. Hmmm

    In twenty years of teaching, I've always been a rule follower. At Littleton, we had "Blackout" days, days we were not allowed to take off. Even though we are adults. Even though we have four personal days for any reason that no one is supposed to question. Even though most of us have over 12 sick days we'll never use. Regardless, we could not be out the Friday or Monday around any break. The week of finals, fall or spring. I scheduled Dublin two weeks before spring break just to avoid the hassle, and still: I was hassled.

     A couple of years ago, Jim started making noise about New York at Christmas. Much as I balked at Moab at Thanksgiving, I balked more at New York at Christmas. It's a madhouse. The only time I can travel is over the break, and I dug in my heels and said I will absolutely not travel those two weeks. I would consider coming out the week between Christmas and New Year, but that was all. Nope. Jim wasn't having any. He's always been a guy for whom Christmas is over on the 25th. No Christmas movies after that. Nothing. Over. So. Not An Option to come out then.

    Covid year we had actually started looking at dates. I was no longer at Littleton, and Hinkley didn't seem nearly as wound up about babysitting teachers. So we decided we could make it work the week before finals the next year. But of course, Dec of 2021 was still rough so we put it off. Again. 

    We're here now. I am shocked at how many shows Jim wanted to book, I assumed we'd be doing other stuff. But he signed us up for four shows. Which turns out to be a good thing, as it's expensive to eat here. And drink. We're "sleeping in " this morning, my feet are killing me. We've two more days and two more shows. I swear I'm going to make us leave three hours early for the airport, maybe four. Traffic is insane and the airport is gonna be slammed. Probably not with people leaving, but who knows. 

    Imma break this up, post bit by bit. Our topics will include garbage, bellhops, hotels, shows we saw and a smattering of Why IS Everything Small And Crowded.

The Bellhop

I got stuck behind a bell hop in the ridiculously narrow entry way. He and his lovely eastern block accent were chatting with the young women-maybe in their late 20's or early 30's- whose luggage he was moving. I over heard the following.   

    "Where are you from?" He asked nicely

    "Manchester."

    'Oh, yes! England. You're funny. Benny Hill."
    

    Blink. Blink.

    "He is funny. Do you like Benny Hill?" He repeated himself, being polite because maybe they didn't hear him over the luggage mover.

    Blink, Smile.

    "Really? He is British. He is very funny. You would like him." His smile never waivered.

    Me: Blink. Blink.

  The man knew what he was talking about, and it's impressive that he knows Benny Hill. During our trip we discovered many Ukrainian folks working as bellhops and pedi cab drivers. We concluded they must have four TV channels that they grew up with, and one played old BBC comedies, and the other ran Home Alone 2 Lost in New York on a loop every holiday. We heard those references more than once. And it ends a conversation, once you find out they are Ukrainian, you can't really keep asking stupid questions about why they moved to New York..."Home Alone 2: Lost In New York is a very popular movie in my country. I've watched it a lot" is a show stopper. There's no where to go after that.

16 November 2022

 

       In addition to everything else I'm about to lay out, the building is doing nothing to mark the one year anniversary of the shooting. Just ignore it. It'll go away. Counselors just came into 6th period yesterday to ask for ideas to mark the day. Yesterday. Nobody planned anything and now counseling is like...um....we should do something? They said there is a chance admin won't approve any of their ideas, anyway, which why would they, they've no time to plan. UGH.

                                            Curricular vs. Extracurricular

        In twenty years, nobody has ever questioned that choir classes are where you rehearse your choir concerts, which are  then performed at night and are part of the class. Or band. Or theatre. They are curricular, all one entity as class. But suddenly, because a kid is literally failing out of school and won't graduate, it's being separated. He can be in class but he cannot perform. The AP's logic: Because in football, they take strength and conditioning as a class, which is curricular, then the team is separate after school: extra curricular. We're just like football. Performing arts are just like football. These are words that were said to me. Wish I was kidding.

     Now, I'm not going to bore you with board policy, district policy or building policy. They all state that performing arts classes are curricular, and the expectation for students is that they attend after school rehearsals and performances, which are part of the class, not extra curricular.

      Or it was...until you have a kid in the musical class who is so epically failing out of high school -you may question how nobody noticed until now, so let's pause. It's November of his senior year. He only comes to his choir classes. That's it. He's enrolled in APA--the class that does the musical and is curricular.  He was not enrolled in quarter one because he had to take civics for credit recovery. We knew he had to take credit recovery and would join us quarter two. We knew he wasn't going to graduate, because we talked to counseling before casting the show. They said he has "no chance", and he only comes to school for performing arts. Since he's passing our classes, we shrugged and figured we could cast him as Roger in RENT. He comes to our classes, it's not our fault he isn't graduating. And it seemed to us that everybody knew that, and nobody cared he had a lead in the show. In fact, at least it gets him in the building and he gets his senior musical. Right? That's what we thought. Never assume that anybody knows anything.

        The AP over seniors pulled him and "discovered" he is not on track to graduate. This discovery was made the week of a choir concert. I'm guessing she didn't know that he was so far off track. He's not "off track", it's like he looked at the track and bundled his knapsack on his shoulder and marched in the opposite direction. And now that she knows, it's suddenly a problem for him to be in the show, because it's "extra curricular". And students who are flunking out cannot play football or do any other extracurricular activities. So he can't do the musical, which is a class, because the performance is extra curricular.

      Um, no, it is not. Please read the words from district, building and board that I unearthed with the help of counseling and sent to you in rebuttal. We learn, see, the AP really really wants him out as we are in turnaround and it effects us less if he goes the GED route. So instead of putting him in recovery classes and leaving him in his PA classes and making him double triple quadruple  up on recovery, the hammer came down and he can be in the class, just not perform. Which is incorrect, as it's a class,  and I'm beginning to feel a little bit insane. So the AP went to legal to define the words from district, building and board, and legal backed her up by saying "In this case the policy means if the student doesn't attend a concert or play, it can impact their grade, but if admin says he can't, then he can't and it won't effect his grade."

    Huh?

    Either it's a policy or it is not. Either we are curricular or we are not. 

    So right now we're trying to understand why our admin is trying to kill the performing arts. We are the reason these kids come to school. If you start booting them out of our concerts because they have F's in other classes, there's no reason for them to be in our class, and we're dead.

     This has all been an exercise anyway, as the student had a contract with us stating he would attend his classes and not receive any F's to remain in the show. Which he did not do and did do, so he can't do the show anyway, still I take umbrage with your posit that performing arts classes are curricular but our performances are extra curricular. By this example, any kid failing more than two classes who is enrolled in PA cannot perform at the concert they've just spent the semester preparing for. Which will cause them to fail the class. Not to mention it's an exercise in insanity to have a student learn a vocal part, or lines, or other instrumental music, as part of an ensemble in class, only to know they cannot perform with the group at an extracurricular concert.

        Do I need to reiterate their equally insane football scenario? Strength and conditioning is a class taken by football players, a class that football players take, but they cannot play football, which is extra curricular, if they are failing classes. So if a player has two F's they can still take strength and conditioning, which is curricular. But they can't play football, which is extracurricular They are not practicing football during strength and conditioning, so this makes sense. We are practicing performance during class. Do you see how this makes a person nutso?

    So that was my entire day yesterday.

                                    Behaviors Through The Roof

     The shooting was a year ago this week. We had a secure perimeter Monday, and I'm shocked we haven't had more, at least one a day. The fights are out of control. The AP (the one who has decided I'm extracurricular) got knocked down during a fight last week, it's all over social media. I just had a girl tell me to fuck off when I redirected her away from students who were trying to work.

     The musical is disintegrating in front of me. I had to move the kid playing Mark to Roger, and an ensemble to Mark. Then yesterday we discovered Tom Collins--also a senior--is flunking four classes. By the newly reinterpreted policy, he can't do the show now, and we're out of boys. Literally. So if he can't pull it out in a week, we're looking at Tom being played by a female. Great. At what point do I have any dignity left? Do we keep making these changes to drag this show over the finish line? Why? For the three kids who actually care and will be devastated not to have a musical?

    This is happening because these kids' needs are not being met on a basic level. You cannot function if you do not feel safe. See the graph.

    Based on the Berkley graph of needs, we have kids whose base is missing sleep and homeostasis, based on the fact that they survived a shooting, which has caused them anxiety and stress and made it impossible to maintain a healthy psychological base line. Then the next brick is safety. Okay...go: families are transient and homeless, unhealthy, and when the students attend school they see fights, hear about fights, fear secure perimeters and lockdowns. I am not a counselor, nor do I play one on TV, but I feel like anyone reading this has the sense to understand what is happening.

    Now, consider the teachers are in the same predicament. We feel unsafe, lose sleep, fear being bullied by admin, caught in literal crossfire and are unsafe. Did I mention school shootings effect teachers as well? 

      And then you're going to tell these damaged kids, whose only lifeline is a performing arts class, that they cannot perform with the class because they are failing at school, and they are failing at school because their needs are not being met.

    And the band played on...

YSOV ADDENDUM!!!

 

   I neglected to mention a few elements of the play Your Silence, Our Voices.

  One was that a student wrote a song about the shooting called "Little White Truck". She sang it at the end of the shows.

   The School Board invites us to send our kids to them to perform at their meetings. Most schools send a singer everyone will coo over "such talent in our district" etc. making very feel good choices.

    So...you see where this is going and are aware of my mohawk...who did I send? And what did she sing?

    We both figured we'd be in trouble, as the superintendent has been clear that we are not to talk about the shooting. This week is the year anniversary, the show just closed, we had to do it. Had. To.

    She just emailed me.

    The board thanked her. Shook her hand. Told their own stories. While the superintendent sat silently, staring at her.

     Well, we're not in trouble yet. But we've managed to now impact our audiences in our own theatre, and the School Board.

        

    

The State Of Education

 

             Not Great.

            Not Even Good.

            Scene.

Flames...Flames From the Side Of My Face

 

    OK, first not complaining. I had to decline the role of Mrs. Peacock in CLUE due to a conflict with one performance. I have tickets to see Richard Thomas in To Kill A Mockingbird. The show is sold out, and it's a limited run the same weeks as the play, so even if I could switch tickets, they'd still be during the show.

    HARUMPH.

    Honestly, acting for free while getting the musical up here would have been a bit much. Last year I directed two musicals simultaneously, but was paid. That makes it a bit better. 

    But my anger today is pretty palpable. See, when I have a sub, I do not adjust performance dates. Curtain UP. The End. So, if you're supposed to perform on a sub day, you perform. Twice now a sub has said they "didn't have access to the theatre". Which is unbelieveable to me, as they are adults and there are two other performing arts teachers with keys to the theatre. So. My third period intro chose instead to make sandwiches. Which was part of their scene, but since the sub "didn't have access" to the theatre, the kids assumed they didn't have scenes even though they were told last week AND I wrote it in the sub plan, so they just made sandwiches. They will be receiving  zeros and it's gonna suck. 

    My Acting 1 class, who are supposed to be Better Than That, did not do their quarter two written assignment. We read Glass Menagerie in class. I did a lecture. We watched the movie. All they had to do was turn in notes on themes and symbolism. They did not. ONE kid turned it in. So everyone but that one kid has an F. After that I clearly stated they were to READ A PLAY from the bookshelf, fill out the document about the play and present it. Two of them did the document, nobody presented. I'm not letting up. They do not get to do scenes until they FUCKING READ A PLAY ON THEIR OWN.

    And that is why there are flames, FLAMES from the side of my face...

    Also the building they have decided is the district's "performing arts school" is the same one I've had to loan actors to because she can't get kids to do shows, she needed a techie (I didn't have any kids who wanted to do it) and now needs lavaliers. Really? You're the Performing Arts hub but you're using my kids AND my equipment? 

    And the band played on...

Your Silence, Our Voices: Process Buckle Up, This Is Long.

 

          Buckle Up Friends, It's A Long One. And not so much funny. I think this falls under "instruction". 

      I have been trying to get these kids to write their own stories for two years. Existing plays do not feed them the way they did in Littleton, and they want to tell their story, they just don't want to talk about it. They hide and won't get on stage, afraid to be seen, yet won't stop talking or get off their phones. It's a vexxing dynamic, and I still don't know how to deal with it. So. When it came to Advanced Performing Arts class, I decided to just bully forward and Do Theatre, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

      So I came in this year like a wrecking ball and said "We're writing. It may not work, and if it doesn't we'll do Our Town." I wasn't kidding, I figured it was easy to stage without a set and they read it last year. But after the shooting last year and the shit show that the entire school year bestowed upon us, I yelled "I can't believe you don't want to discuss this, but I know you want to discuss this. So we're gonna. Start writing."

         Exposition      

      Two years ago when we were online, Jovan Mays did a very impactful workshop with these kids when they were sophomores and freshmen. That same year, we had a computer media teacher who had her kids write monologues, and asked my kids to perform them on video. Then last spring my Innovative IB kids (we rechristened the class when 13 AUT/SSN kids were added)  wrote and performed a piece of theatre inspired by Theatre of the Oppressed. The writer of that piece, who was not even enrolled in the class, is an APA kid who just loves theatre. She was the driving force behind it. I knew instantly that they were ready to write.

      Now, they don't want to talk about the shooting. Which is fine. So Step One was to assure them that we were writing Jovan's prompts to get them juiced up and used to telling stories in general. We kept the lockdown as the location, as the kids from last year fell in love with Come From Away, which we watched at the end of the year. So my proposition was this: you can write about the shooting without writing about the shooting. Is The Breakfast Club about detention? Is Come From Away about 9/11? Let your voice be heard without fear. That unlocked 20 free writes beginning "When they find me...." from 23 enrolled students. Step one complete.

          I assigned the head writer, Gen, who was the writer on TOP in IIB last year, with a new underclassman as her cowriter. Without the experience, he quickly became overwhelmed and I asked him to be the copy editor, which he did-ish. He's easily overwhelmed, so I wrote the structure and scenes as necessary. I said loudly "We are not doing an hour of monologues, friends, the audience will hate us." So I had Gen distill all the stories into 'categories'.

          They boiled down to: sexism and sexual assault with a dating addendum, racism, family issues, anxiety/stress, homophobia, and the fact that the shooting itself was largely ignored by admin and the district. Kids were left with "Get help if you need it, but go to class and Do The Things", and there was nothing polarizing event or mindset in the building to bring them together as a community after the shooting. It was also clear that nobody was going to talk about it, or take steps to keep our kids safe from those who choose to drive here with guns. They just locked us in the building under the guise of "closed campus". So. Step two complete. They were writing.

         Gen then combined monologues into similar stories, creating characters as she went.  Two students took the dating idea, which came out of a very serious sexual assault story, and turned it into something less traumatizing, and more  "teenagery". The two students wrote their scene and back story, then I took over mixing in the monologues and adding the lockdown location. Their story ended up exploring homophobia and anger, which may or may not have been their intention.  We put them in the science classroom, where I added a teacher and two other characters for comic relief and logic. Science classroom: just the facts

         Gen placed the sexual assault stories in the girls' bathroom. They were all still just monologues, so I encouraged her to add some kind of activity. We're limited in a lockdown, but I told her that last year, Rosie and I heard there were tunnels under the school, and decided that was a great way to explore getting the actors on their feet and focused on something. I worked with her to break up the monologues into dialogue, and she finished it out. It's the heart of the play. Girls' bathroom: all of the feelings.

      We decided the third location would be the stage. Since several of the students in class were on stage for the lockdown with me, it made sense. It also gave us a release, a place for actors to move and play, breaking up the intensity in the other rooms. The actors in this scene improv'd a structure I gave them, and came up with the ideas we used. Because one of the "when they find me" pieces was purely fiction, based on a girl being interrogated for a crime she did not commit, we struggled to find a place for it. We decided it fit in the theatre, because they were creating pieces to act out, anyway, to distract themselves from the lockdown. This is the scene were the kids and the characters are most closely aligned, since they wrote the scene after  the "When They Find Me" writing exercise. It allows them to play off of each other, but challenges them to create a character that is not themselves, exactly, but self adjacent.    

            Step 3: check.

         Now we have a structure and characters. We went through and adjusted the scene order, then sent the script to admin and counseling. I had informed the principal on the first day of school that we were writing an original piece, and counseling had reached out. So, I sent everyone the script and we started rehearsing.

            I opened a relationship with Ovation Players in Evergreen last spring. We borrowed costumes for Addams Family from Center Stage, and when I returned them, the costumer invited us to come perform on their stage. It's a long drive, and I put her off, not intending to follow through. Then at a Thespian  meeting, I mentioned the opportunity, and they pushed me to get in touch with CS. We didn't have a product at the time, but we were working on this original piece about the shooting...and they signed us up. 2 October we brought scenes from the show, our top choir "One Voice"  and our drag queen for a performance. We drove up at 11 a.m. so the kids could explore Evergreen and our drag queen could get ready. We had no idea how many people to expect, or what their reaction would be, but damn, they were excited. They all wore their rehearsal blacks and had a great time. They trundled to downtown evergreen and found a pumpkin patch. I made sandwiches and bought pizza. Super Cute.

        After the Evergreen performance, the kids listened to audience members in the lobby. We had about 40 people in attendance. Maybe 15 were from Hinkley. The rest were from the neighborhood in Evergreen, or patrons of CS. Here's what we heard repeated: 

        "I can't believe how willing these kids are to share their stories."

        "These kids are so talented."

        "Wish we had this kind of diversity up here."

        "I love that you have a drag queen and she's 'yours'."

        "Thank you for coming up here. When is your show? I want to come see it."

       Turns out, this was a much needed and unexpected Step 4. Getting them in front of an audience was everything. Do I need to mention that the Evergreen audience was 100% white and the mean age about 60? The only people of color were our people from Aurora.

       Ok.

        Amid all of this, we had to audition for RENT, the spring musical, so we can start rehearsals as soon as this show comes down. (Which at the time, did not have a name). The cast list caused an unfortunate issue and we lost a class member. So the bathroom scene had to be recast, and we discovered we actually didn't have the actors who were cast at every rehearsal. Due to volleyball, family obligations, etc, we had been "rolling through" class members in almost every role at rehearsals. Without realizing it, we were creating a community of people who could step in and do any role. It helped that cell phones are part of the blocking, so anyone subbing in a role they've not done before, can be on book and nobody really notices. 

        HMMM. Interesting. Not ideal for a polished final production, but, is that what we're going for?

        Before Evergreen, I was called into the principal's office. This is not a good look for me, but as it turns out, it is a regular one- the principal didn't understand that in August, when I told her what we were doing, we were going to do it. She was expecting me to check in before we wrote the script. Her central concern was that this play would show the school in a "bad light".  She indicated that I had withheld information, and even suggested that I had gone "rogue". Because this is not my first rodeo, I recorded the conversation and stayed calm. I only mention it here, because this is when I found out we almost lost the show. She was going to shut us down, but didn't. Not because of me. Not because I put up the 'hawk and fought. We have a show because of counseling.

        Our counseling department circled us like a wagon train. They are why we have a show.

        One of our counselors even attended Evergreen and took notes, reporting back to the other counselors. In support. She wasn't spying: she was there on our side.

        Gobsmacked doesn't even begin to express my feelings.

        The Added Step 5 was to give class over to counseling for a day. They reassured the kids that their voices are valid, and they should be heard. The AP came with them and sat in the circle. The kids explained their process, their feelings. Counseling listened and shared their own issues surrounding the shooting. It was awesome. 

        We were told by the AP that they want to invite the mayor of Aurora and the superintendent to attend the show. That's how important they think it is.

        Ummm...breathe...

        A Nasty Unexpected Turn

    We also had auditions for RENT in the middle of this, as I mentioned, and lost a class member. Since the class does the musical and the fall show, we audition really early to give time to teach. It's a bit stressful, but what in theatre is not? I've been doing this for 20 years-not the class doing the show part, but the teaching and directing part. All kids have been taught to be respectful with a cast list, and behave professionally. We had the talk in class and of course it's different when it's your class and not just after school.  A student did not get a lead. To be fair, the seniors all wanted leads in RENT but they all can't sing. They're getting better, but if you are out sung at an audition it doesn't matter how far you've come, you've been out sung. She reacted poorly, aided by painkillers for a recent surgery. Like I said, in 20 years I've never had this happen. It was unfortunate.

    She returned to school the following Monday.

    She has not been seen since. 

    She dropped the entire class.

     Scene.

        Step 6 is to finish the set...

        We are two weeks out of production. The set is incomplete but so what. We're putting the audience on stage and building "classroom walls" around them so they feel immersed. We're closing the house. These ideas came from the set designer, the only other adult around the show. The kids embraced the idea with such enthusiasm that ten of them showed up for tech on Saturday. 

        We have no budget at all. We're reusing flats for which I am grateful. It took weeks to build those flats and braces with Zach last year, and now they're useful! We're making walls out of the leftover foam from Addams Family , we have no ladder or table saw and I had to buy screws and glue, but OK. We can do this. We always do. I always do. We always do.

        Also the district is rewiring the wireless fire alarms, and have chosen now to rip everything out of the theatre. One day I had no sound. Another, no lights. Long, long story as I spent my day fixing issues I did not cause, and talking to every administrator to ask permission to contact a professional, because A) Nobody is in charge of our theatre and B)Nobody is in charge of our theatre, yet I'm the one using it. Between the alarms, the botched renovation in 2019 and rewiring the wireless network, nothing has consistently worked since I arrived in January of 2020.

        The design includes putting the audience on stage instead of in the house, creating both an immersive and 'trapped' feeling, and limiting seating. We weren't going to sell more than fifty seats a night, anyway, their projection is hideous  and it feeds the themes of the show to do it. So against my instincts, I leaned into the building mantra "Meet the kids where they are" and said, OK, fine, we're on stage. Thematically we can make it work, but you still need to project, the set is upstage and enclosed at the apron but the booth is still at the back of the house. Dude. Project.

      AND THEN YESTERDAY I got an email from the AP asking for curtain time because the mayor of Aurora has confirmed he will be there...so I added a performance Thursday, because if he's coming, others will follow and we'll need the additional performance. I'm trying to push kids' families into the Thursday, that way it's still like a preview.

        I'm panicking. Should we have added a weekend since we have  limited seating? Will we still only have ten people show up each night? Why isn't the superintendent coming? Will I get in trouble if the mayor comes and not the superintendent? AND the mayor wants to do a talk with the kids after the show during the school day, in class. What...what?....what.

       Monday 24 October

    Well, so much for panic. four actors are missing today for various BS reasons. So we're running hell week with the student director playing three roles. They don't deserve the attention this show is going to get. Grumpy.

       Tuesday 25 October

    The sound board is dead. Yesterday we discovered that when they rewired the fire alarm, they did so using the same portal as the sound board. So we can get the board on, but it does nothing, the speakers don't work. They also left wires hanging out. And stomped around the cats so we have to refocus the lights. It's fine, we don't have anything else to do, it's fine, let us clean up after you. We're putting the audience on stage, and need to mike two of the rooms for light changes, as he can't hear all the way back in the booth because they have decided not to project. So that'll be cool if we can't mike it. Guess the lights will change when he guesses they should. Even if these kids could project well, it'd be a struggle to hear them from so far upstage. But they do not project, so the SM can't hear anything, he doesn't even know if they're talking. So that's super cool too. I love that they do as they are asked when we do warmups and I tell them to project, and then don't when we rehearse. 

    Since nobody is in charge of the theatre and it seems to be falling down, clearly someone was in here over fall break, I emailed all the AP's, the principal's secretary and the building tech guy:

            "Good morning. Our sound column has been moved and unplugged. We put it back,         plugged it in and reconnected power to the sound board. We now cannot get any sound         through the speakers. It's clear the fire alarm guys were here over break, as we have             sawdust on the stage and exposed wires in the house and the proscenium. Please advise."

     In response I received this from the principal's secretary:

            "I will look a the camera video and see who was in the theatre."

     I shrug. Nobody was in the theatre but the fire alarm guys, but enjoy yourself.

     An hour later I received a call in my room. This the exchange between myself and the principal's secretary. She called my classroom halfway through my planning period.

    "Hi there, so I have Chris on the phone from Equalizer (the guys who fixed the sound install from the renovation) he says he sees this a lot with the fire alarms, he can fix it over the phone. Can you go to the booth and talk to him on the phone and he'll walk you through it?"

    "No."

     Silence. She is not used to me saying no. I feel compelled to explain.

    "This is my planning period. And I'm not the TD. We don't have a TD. Remember that I've been complaining about that since January of 2020? So no."

    "Ok, I'll see if (building tech guy) can do it." It should be noted that "The Building Tech Guy" deals with IT and Chromebooks. He is not a theatre technician, a sound technician or a person with a theatre back ground. Yet he's the boss of the movie screen and the projector in the theatre, and turns on mikes for faculty meetings. And by that I mean he turns on the board, and when the mikes don't work he walks away, and I go up there and fix it. Or I did. Once. Not my problem, I make the AP do it now.

    "Good, " I say, trying not to sound like a dick, "Do that. 'Bye."
    

    To be fair, I am usually very nice to this person, and I know she just wants to help. She knows nobody's in charge, nor will they let me be in charge. But...I'm not an electrician or sound technician, and it's my planning period, and I'm done with this situation. 

    Two hours later, I enter the theatre to find our building tech guy in the theatre with Chris from Equalizer Productions.

    Clearly nothing got fixed over the phone. The building guy looked at me and said "It's the wireless and the fire alarm." 

    Which is what I said when I sent the email. Sayin'. Fun Fact: the day we returned to the building in August, the lights and board were dead. I spent two days trying to get someone out to look at it. Once the professionals arrived, they spent hours unable to diagnose the issue, and finally determined that the fire alarm wireless install, plus reinstalling the wireless network, was interfering with our transmitter. He said they're seeing it a lot in schools who are rewiring their fire alarms. 

    A conversation I've been having with myself since leaving Littleton goes like this: I hate high school theatre, why do I do this? I should've just finished my masters and did community college. It wouldn't have paid well, but I wouldn't have known because I would not have ever been a high school teacher and learned about pay scales.

        26 October

     I have been playing email tag with the teacher, parents and student who I've invited to do the show with us. He is in AUT and was in IIB last year. I literally had to hunt him down, as he is not in any of my classes this year. It's been weeks of labored exchanges, and he will finally be at rehearsal today. 

     Counseling stopped into class today to check in. Nobody wanted to talk, so I sent a student to chat with them so they didn't feel like it was a wasted visit. On stage we threw verbs, learned how to mark beats and revisited acting, as they've decided in addition to not projecting, they will not be acting, either. Just saying lines. Trauma. Likely that's it. That's my current theory. Of course if I had a full cast, ever, at rehearsals, we could work on this stuff together.

    Some rando with a beard and tattooed neck showed up about 5 pm during tech. He introduced himself as the foreman doing the fire alarm installation. I told him he screwed up both my lights and sound (accurate) and he proceeded to tell me that he told them how it worked and he knew "My guy installed it backwards"  and I was thinking "You told who? Nobody told me." Instead I pointed out that I had no idea  that "his guy" installed it incorrectly, and because it was a sound issue, we called the sound guy and had to pay him to come out and untangle it. Wouldn't it have been good for me to have the name and number of the district guy who is in charge of the fire alarm install, the one who knows what's going on, since he works for the district and did the work? Hmmm. Told him to leave his card in the booth so I could contact him. He did not leave his card in the booth. So. I got that going for me. I think he said his name was Ted. All I know for sure is that he has neck tattoos and a beard.

        27 October

    Well, whatever they did with the fire alarm last night did not effect our lights. There are still wires hanging out of the house walls and the proscenium, so that's cool. 

    Our autism friend who we call "Our Friend Emmanuel" because there is another Emmanuel on the show, was such a great addition to the show last night. He knows his lines. The kids welcomed him into their stage scene, included him, made sure he has a costume...All Of the Things. I'm not crying you're crying.

        28 October

    Today's shit show opened with an administrator telling me I have to strike my set for class meetings. Here is how I replied after "no".

    * This play has been on the calendar since May. I was here first.

    *The set is drilled into the stage.

    * This is my classroom, nobody asked me if they could use it. I had to find out by accident earlier this week.

    * You scheduled your meeting a week before opening night, why would the stage be clear?

    *I talked directly to the teacher actually running the meeting, who knows about the set and can work around it.

    * All of this boils down to "Your inability to plan ahead is not cause for me to panic".        

          Scene.

        31 October

        Welcome back.

        This morning the stage manager informed me that one of the actors cannot Do the show Wednesday or Saturday. Due to her work schedule. She's had this calendar since August, and has missed fully half of rehearsals for volleyball. So I suppose it's no surprise she cannot do the show. Which has a preview Wednesday and closes Saturday.

        Good thing I've been subbing people in her role for three weeks, huh?

        This, this is why these people cannot support a theatre program.

        There are two other actors who won't be here today or tomorrow, final dress rehearsals. Final. Dress. Rehearsals. Can't Be Here. Know who can? Our Friend Emmanuel. And everyone else who have been rehearsing for a month.

        I am writing this down, as I am going to quit. I dragged both shows last year across the finish line. Kids who were in them learned, and are not a problem on this show. But I can't retrain this deeply every single year.

        How do you not know you have a show?
        How did you sign a contract promising that the show takes priority?

        Nobody wants to work to build a program. 

        I am not a kid who gives up easily, but I don’t think anyone would blame me for throwing in the towel. I'm sick to death of people celebrating that we endure these shit shows in education. Nobody should have to, and we should stop. If we all quit, the schools would close. The millennials are saying "enough, and opting to focus on themselves and they can, because we're still running things. They aren't wrong, stop shitting on them for wanting a better life. You're just pissed that they had the guts do stand up and you continue as a microscopic cog in a catastrophic plan. I love that line... If we stopped as well, things might actually change. But we are not like that. We're latchkey kids with a crippling sense of responsibility to others.

                1 November

          Without hesitation, I will share that I shamed the above mentioned actor into doing the show Wednesday and Friday. She honestly does not understand how shows work, and I again question what is actually in the water in Aurora.

          I walked my Acting 1 class through the set choices just now. They know about the show, and it's never a bad day to have themes and symbols explained in a set design. They're coming tomorrow for the free preview. Hoping it works out. One of them admitted to being "Low key excited" to see the show. EDIT only one of the Acting 1 kids attended, and did so because her sister works for the City of Aurora. I told you they were all coming, right?

         I had to get off of Facebook, which didn't help. Thescon sent me an update and a Littleton kid is in the opening number. Looking at the schools the kids came from, none are Aurora or DPS other than DSA. One or two up north. Mostly Cherry Creek, all white. Sigh. Immmma go with no Aurora kid actually auditioned for the opening number. It takes nothing to torpedo me. The last three years are really weighing on me. Literally, I weigh 230 pounds, the most I've ever weighed and I can't seem to shake it.- I need a Genie. Or Jeannie. Crystal ball. Something to direct me, 'cause I am lost as lost can be.

                2 November

    So remember how I may have neglected to mention that the district is rewiring all the fire alarms, and doing such has caused my lights and sound to fail at different times? Well, they showed up yesterday at 4 pm while I was getting ready for a final dress rehearsal. They just bullied in with all their equipment. I stopped the foreman with the neck tattoo and asked why he was here during a final dress. I met him last week and he knows we have a show. He bragged about being a Thespian in high school.

    He acted like he didn't know we had a show. There was an impasse. I realized he didn't fully remember talking to me last week. He reintroduces himself. He is not Ted as I thought. He is Tony. Tony again promises to leave a card. Again. Then he informed me that they are doing the work according to the state and district directive, and if I had any issues I would be told to "fuck off" by the state of Colorado. His exact words. There was another impasse. While they were working--in the catwalks, messing up the light focus which we have to now redo, leaving sawdust which we have to sweep and leaving the ladder up without striking it, but that's OK, we'll do it--the projectors and screen all came on. We did not touch them. In fact, I don't go near the screen, as there is a long story of me getting blamed for the previous screen's demise. The thing cost ten grand to replace and I will be charged if anything happens to it. 

    Yet, I was in the booth with a student and another teacher, touching nothing, when the screen began to descend. Had our set been a few feet farther downstage, the screen would have crashed into it. I yelled into the cats and it magically ascended back into the flies. And again, I'm left aghast, again, that we get yelled at by the superintendent for not renting out our theatre, yet I can't manage to get a small fall show up without the sky falling. You want to rent our theatre? Pay a technical director to run it. Why was the alarm rewiring scheduled the week of my show? Because nobody checked our calendar. So. You wanna rent it? Hire someone to run it. And you're welcome for my being here to stop the screen from crashing. Scene.

                    3 November

    Alllrighty friends. We lived through the preview last night, no fire alarms, no mikes popping, no cast missing. I'm exhausted and watching  "No Day But Today", the Jonathan Larson/RENT biography, slamming coffee and ignoring my classes. I've had enough show openings to know not to plan any direct instruction on show week. :)

     Five of the fifteen in the audience last night were counselors. They kept me after the show to express how speechless they are. There are a lot of words when people are speechless. But it was great. I was not great. I am tired. I was grumpy. Yes, the kids '"wrote" it but the bulk of the work was on me, and I'm over it. They want to tell the world how great the show is. We invited the superintendent and his assistant---crickets. But the mayor is coming. They suggested I invite our interim principal's boss, who I do not know and it didn't occur to me to invite her. Sent her an email just now. I can't get my hands on any Genesius medallions, I thought I'd be clever and change the tradition and use Janus masks. But the ones I ordered, that arrived last night, are teeny tiny flimsy charms, not pendants. So shit. I'll call the Catholic store in Wheatridge and see if they have 30 medallions. If so I guess I'll schlep out there before call. Whoot.It's not hilarious that after 20 years I still can't manage to get medallions before the show. I was able to get some in bulk online early for Rumors, but I can't get any of the catholic websites to work for me. So. I assumed Genesius was over, and figured I could do Janus...but nope.     

    I tried to order from three different Catholic stores online for a week. For some reason the websites wouldn't work. Just now I got one to work. So they'll get their medallions in 10 days. Great. I'm doing great. How're you?

     Fun fact, I've eaten an entire bag of Payday candy bars over the last two days. Snack size.

        4 November

     The show opened last night. All kinds of problems with the house, but whatever. My favorite part was being given notes by a parent who couldn't see well due to the student not opening the curtain fully. It happens, friend. The show isn't  perfect.  We're not playing the Shubert, friend.

    But I'm exhausted. I had to direct, and write and play, produce and teach and it was more than I've done in a minute. Turns out I'm actually pretty lazy. I don't like having to work this hard.

    And now we're sold out...I have to try and figure out a way to shove more chairs on stage, as I am not the boss of my own box office. So the ticketspigot did not get shut down, and she sold 36 tickets, while I have 10 comps on the books and 40 seats. UGH. A good problem to have, but one I would not have if I was the boss of my own box office. UGH.

    The AP just came in to encourage me to contact a mom's against gun violence group but we're sold out so I dunno what good that would do. Why am I contacting them? To tell them we're doing a play and we're sold out? I'm so tired. I wonder if what she was saying made sense. She brought yellow roses and orange ribbons (they are for protesting gun violence I guess, who knew) for the kids. Cool. Pretty.

                5 November

    Well shit, that was a lot of preparation for nothing. We oversold the house since I'm not the boss of the tickets, panicked, crammed 56 chairs in there, and had 6 people not show up. So I looked pretty stupid.

       Counseling wanted us to extend, but there is no way. Half the kids took time off of their jobs to do this and must return next week. The others need to do their homework. FAIR. So tonight is closing. Hope it's a real sell out, not like last night. UGH. Though the Mayor is coming tonight, so that's a whole thing. 

        I'm creepily writing as the show is going on. 46 in the  house tonight, it's comfortable since we set for 56. The principal showed up but is leaning against the proskene wall. The thespian president is coming apart, he's been struggling the last two nights, something is NOT OK in his life and he is not handling it, he's missing lines all over the place. It could also be his entire family PLUS the mayor of Aurora is here. I hear he wants to come back next week to talk to the kids during class, but maybe he won't after seeing it.

    I'm going to end this.

    I hope you feel informed and maybe a little entertained. And I hope you opened a bottle of wine and read it in chunks.

        Thank you.