The Tired Part One

 

   I am writing this down so I don't forget next year.

  Directing shows back to back is exhausting but can be done.

  Directing shows simultaneously is exhausting, and can be done, but not well.

  I can't believe how exhausted I am.

  I suppose I could have done this well at 30, maybe even 40. But I am having all of the "I am too old for this shit" feelings this week. Channeling Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon and understanding every syllable.

  Both shows opened last weekend. I've barely made any progress on the list of Things You Need To Do, kryssi. I can get up at 7 and get a few things done, then it's 90 degrees out, and the-n-dre are no longer deadlines or people expecting me to show up so I'm ...not.sxxxxxd hj''nb9.yu8888,j. And there's a kitten who keeps walking on my keyboard. His name is Pickles. He's very cute.

  I lookew2d back and created a time line for my brain.

 In August I returned to teaching theatre in person for the first time in two years. In a building I had not really been in since being hired two and a half years ago.

   I put up Rumors with a skeleton crew, and a kid who was incapable of learning his lines in October 2021. 

 = I mmmmmmmd09 90222222390 KITTEN I moved the musical to inside the school day, to combat after school issues with rehearsals. It did and did not work for a variety of reasons I sort of tracked, but didn'treeeeeeeeee KITTEN. It was the first fall show in the building since fall of 2019. I arrived in January of 2020.

  The Addams Family Musical made it across the finish line, with in school teasers. We did 30 minutes of songs from the show with intermittent narratives regarding the class itself, how to join, and how the torture wall worked. That was March. At the exact same time, beginning in February, I was also directing Legally Blonde at School of Mines. Which opened in April. Both were the first musicals for those venues in three years.

  Somewhere in there I applied for about 15 other teaching jobs, a few directing gigs, an Executive Director job and auditioned for a show. Ghosted by every one of them until Spark hired me in April to direct Emma, The Pop Musical in Boulder. Of course, that gig crossed with God of Carnage by three weeks. Literally crossed.

  So I had signed myself up to spend every day for three weeks in Boulder with a musical, and then drive to Aurora do direct adults at night. 

  On some level, keeping this busy kept my brain on track. I was not aware how on track until this week, when I have nothing to do, and I cannot remember what kind of phone I have.

   I took the musical for money. Not gonna lie. It's not exactly the two week children's theatre popups I did for several years at PAA. This one has middle and high schoolers, college kids and an adult. It was a nice change. Really nice company, beautiful space, good people. And I failed miserably. I was hired because I am a strong director, and I just couldn't muster it. After Mines, I realized I'm not great outside of high school. If it's not my company, I don't push people they way they need it. I don't dig in my heels with choreo and music they way I need to, demanding equal time for acting.

   This year took a toll on me that I'm still trying to assess.

   I feel like I have decided I don't want to be in charge any more. I can't revive a dead department in a building where there is no support. My numbers dropped so low that I'm barely full time. So something in my brain said "That's fine, go direct somewhere else where people WANT to be and there is support, it'll be better." But it wasn't. It wasn't better, because I am not in charge of everything.  UGH. Set designers and costumers and music directors and choreographers are all younger and enthusiastic and not always right, but because it wasn't my company, I shrugged and allowed a set design that I would never let fly in my building for safety purposes. That was Mines. Spark is great, safe, no concerns, and they communicate in a way that I love : Overly Communicative. But I couldn't manage the choreographer and didn't have the energy to dig in my heels, so I failed. And I have to live with that. It doesn't look like one of my shows. The moments are blown through, the characters are thin and the light designer told the actors to face out because I wasn't doing it. I didn't do my job. I feel like garbage, and it's causing ennui. Or a malaise. Some sort of disease that makes me forget where I'm going when I get in the car, and return to bed at 2 pm to watch 30 Rock reruns over and over and over and over and over....

   Here's a fun example of my frazzled brain. I had to make a phone call to unlock a Zelle transfer, and after an hour of trying to get through because it was Monday, I guess, and their phone system was too jammed for the call to go through, I finally got someone who then disappeared because either their phone system or my cell phone cut out. Another 30 minutes and I was able to get through, again, and then be transferred twice to someone who could help me. He asked what kind of phone the transfer was made on. I blanked. Phone? I'm talking to you on my phone, how can I tell you what kind of phone it is? It's the one I'm talking on, can't you see it?  I said "Not an Android....the other one?" He laughed and said "iPhone?" He then had to ask me the exact same question five times before he got the answer he needed. I just could not comprehend "How much money is in the account that you are using?"

   It wasn't even 11 am yet when I hug up, and I went back to bed, exhausted.

   Oh ya, in addition to everything, we've been working on a HELOC since April. Everything was supposed to be done, then JUST KIDDING here's another thing, then it was done and we closed and JUST KIDDING here's another thing, then everything is online which is going to go swimmingly for me, friends, based on my stellar history with everything electronic, ever. It was very similar to my adventure with the CDE. So tomorrow I have to call and ask if they intended to mail us checks for this account, because there is no way I can make this work entirely online. Because I'm 80 and lost without a checkbook. I can barely manage my debit card.

   To the six who read this, you also recall it took from April 21 to June 15 for me to get a second endorsement on my license, because they didn't have my fingerprints anymore from 20 years ago.

   Dude. This school year will be my 20th year. It turns out the year I subbed before teaching full time counts, so I'm at 20. And that means nothing in PERA other than you're stuck, suckah.  It's not enough years to retire, and too many to walk away and now I'm too old for anyone to want me for any other job. 

   But 20 years, two of which cover the pandemic, and the previous five consisted of being bullied by admin, feels like 40. I should be able to retire now, at full salary. 

     Scene.

   

A Bit Of Weird Fiction

 

    The morning news had always been a bright spot in his morning routine. Make coffee, feed the dogs, watch the news team chat about traffic and viral videos that are interesting and brush up briefly against any real controversy, then back off with a human touch of humor. Usually the kind of humor that overcomes. The kind of "grit" or "can do attitude" news channels crave. The morning news team likes stories of people and animals that "overcome" some social or economic road block with apparent ease. "We all know it's crap", Mike mumbled to the dogs, " we watch it anyway." Nobody wants to hear about how it's actually going in the Ukraine at 6 am. Or what law SCOTUS overturned today that crept closer to impacting the viewer this time.

    He sat on the edge of his kitchen stool, dabbing half and half in the coffee when that morning's video appeared. It was cell phone footage. Someone took footage of a woman at a gas station-one that looked very much like one in  his in his own neighborhood--washing her entire car with the gas station provided window squeegee. She did not seem in distress, in fact she seemed to be enjoying herself. She was not in a hurry, nor was she dressed as if she was on her way to an office to work. The car was a new 2022 Honda, one of the little SUV types.

   Diane and Steve, the anchors, watched and chatted.

    "My goodness, I have certainly felt like that on some mornings," she smiled into the camera and darted her eyes at Steve, who sat motionless. She then continued "I don't know that she's going to get everything off of her wheel wells that way." She continued to smile. She looked at Steve again. "Steve?"

    Steve seemed to snap out of his stupor for a moment. It was time for Mike to leave for work, but something about the awkwardness on the screen made him pour a bit more coffee into this cup.

    "Diane, I am sorry, I was just thinking that I've felt like that at times. In fact, last week I wondered if I drove my car into the breakdown lane and stopped, got out and started screaming, if anyone would notice."

     Diane looked behind Steve, Mike assumed she was being signaled by a producer. "Steve, yes, you told me that when it happened, Steve, " she shook her head at whoever was signaling her, and made the symbol to keep rolling with her finger. "We've talked about the day that the veneer finally slips, and we speak our internal monologues instead of spewing the written news. It appears it has happened." She tried to laugh, but there was no humor in her tone.

     Then Steve started talking.

      "You know I've been diagnosed as borderline personality and bipolar, Diane. One is a behavior and one is a mental diagnoses. The first cannot be treated with meds, the treatment must be in person, but my insurance covers treatment classes that happen during this broadcast. A second opinion last week suggested I do not, in fact, have BPD, just bipolar.  I am thirty and at my age and being male I'm not supposed to have BPD, but to be fair, the Covid lockdowns---we're not supposed to call them lockdowns, are we, Diane?---screwed up even the most sane people. But I don't think anyone was sane in the first place, have you been listening to the news we actually report the last few years? The station won't give me the three weeks off I'd need to wrestle this,  not unless they can lie and say I'm in rehab for an addiction, mental health issues are embarrassing, so I  continue to come here and someone does my hair and makeup, and I wear clothes from wardrobe and read words someone else wrote about what is going on in the world.  It's going well doing it this way I think, " Steve then picked up his coffee cup from the desk, and hurled it at the camera.

    The TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES sign replaced the studio.

    Mike shook his head, unsure if he had really just viewed what looked like a meltdown. By an adult. On camera. On a news program.

    He scratched Boomer, his beloved blood hound, on the head and turned off the TV. By the time he was in the car, he'd forgotten all about the morning's broadcast.

Now what

26 June 2022. 

 What now? 

 And what is with this font? 

 Roe V Wade reversed. Struck Down. Like Pharaoh striking Moses' name from the records. Because that will go well, historically such behavior favors the oppressor. But There's no evidence Moses' name was ever IN the records and therefore you can't PROVE it was ever there in the first place. Will history question the existence of Roe V. Wade? Like in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy when time machines became accessible and people starting mucking about time doing whatever pleased them and chopping down forests before they grew....something like that, I read it 150 years ago, but that sounds right. And Arthur Dent passing out not because earth was destroyed, but because there were no more McDonald's.

  Ok, I need to read this book again.

   In other news, I need a space, a performance space to read Lysistrata and Keely and Du.  NOTHING THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK IS OK.

    I am 56 years old. I was raised with body autonomy regarding reproduction. To Be Fair, it was a shit show of anorexia and bulimia in the 80's, which honestly was just patriarchal backlash for the pill and Roe V Wade 'cause they needed to control us somehow, and that was what they had: Be Skinnier To Attract Men. 

    UGH.

    Fuck You.

    Nonetheless, I went on the pill at 16 and felt completely in control of my own body.  And I knew, if the pill failed, I had a back up. I live in Colorado, and even THEN I knew, If I Had To, abortion was an option. Not a GREAT option, but at least it was an option.

    Wow. Talk about privilege. 

    To live in a state that had the fucking respect to say "Not my body, not my domain."

    And that's a privilege?

    I am honestly flummoxed. I have not idea how this was allowed to happen. How do you strike down a 50 year old precedent?

    Everyone should be afraid. And anyone who said I was overreacting in 2016 is welcome to fuck off.

    I am not chattel. And I will not be treated as such,

    And the Fuck Twats that are treating me as such...have no idea what that word means. They will have to look up "chattel" if they are even interested enough. But they are not. Clearly.

    So here we are, at the corner of "What Just Happened" and "You Are Not  A Person".

    We haven't the time to be shooketh. We need to act.

   

How Voice To Text Is Ruining Me As A Writer But Helping My Mental Health

 

   24 June 2022

  Let's be clear, I SIGNED UP to direct two shows simultaneously. So this is just a blast of fun for the whole family.

    I was struggle bussing with one show or another, driving 45 minutes north west to Boulder to direct 10-4, then driving an hour south east to Aurora to direct 6-10 for three weeks running.

    It sounded TOTALLY FINE when I signed on in April. "I Like Money", I kept saying. And I DESPERATELY wanted to direct adults, an opportunity that is rare in this cliqued up town. So I DID IT. Not well, in either case, but I did it. Carnage opened last night and Emma the Pop Musical opens tomorrow.

    Here is a transcript of my lunacy last week as I discovered that I could babble an email to myself, via voice to text, while driving. No punctuation, as you have to say "Period" or "comma" and it's annoying.

    Voice to text turns out to be this really cool stream of consciousness thing, the issue become I forget that I did it and then I can't go pipe (sic) it in my email. (* I have  no idea why this happens in voice to text, but it does. The words are wrong and hilarious). So my thoughts, I want to write something about the learning curve for these shows is it because i'm old, I want to hit on everything I did wrong with Addams Family Legally Blonde Carnage and Emma and even all the way back to Rumors we don't talk about rumors (*I was singing to the tune of "we don't talk about bruno) but we should talk about rumors I think. I said something last night to the carnage cast it was weird I my brain is not a firing and i really wanted to start getting things in writing before i lose before I lose it I really think I'm starting to lose it and I know what I mean sometimes I used to be so eloquent and so passionate but now people just look at me with some sort of combination of horror and pity I said  there's something wrong with casts now and it's not just high school because I sought at mines and i'm seeing it with carnage, and i supposed there's a possibility it's me not the casts right if one person says 10 people are assholes and 10 people say one person is an asshole then that one person is an asshole so it's possible it is me I cannot cut I can't connect with a cast, i can't connect to the show i can't connect to the story i feel like i do i do all the research on carnage i did so much text analysis  understanding themes and the symbolism and helping the actors understand the  text and then bringing in Bogart and Suzuki and Stanislavski and Meisner but they're not committing fully toit and connecting fully to it because it's not my theatre company and i've noticed that these last three shows that, if i'm not the boss of everything I'm just not invested. Like I'm literally coming up here to direct Emma and I have an I have straight up not done my job there's no question everybody knows it and that's not like me it's a musical so the choreographer and music director get more time that's how it works but working with the actors and getting them to be more connected and giving them i just do it i just i just didn't do it i didn't make time for it i didn't put it in the schedule i just Buckingham care. i didn't do the same thing with carnage I was very invested I thought with carnage what happened there was one of the actors just dug in her heels and cannot be taught anything new she's fine she's got a resume and I do not so she will not need my assistance or be vulnerable or authentic or honest so the story doesn't work that way because the other three are doing it they're vulnerable and doing their job so she's throwing the show out of whack for ego or fear or whatever and emerges as the winner of the playground feud which is wrong nobody wins that's what the playwright intended. and I am not fighting pushing her the way i would a student because i don't know her and it's not my company and i dont' want to break an adult then what do i do our understudy's kids are sick so that's not going to work out so i let her bully me i let her fucking bully me and that is not like me at all i am not like that i will break anyone in the way of telling the story the way it needs to be done what is wrong with me who am i why do i even do this nobody cares i'm not good at it i'm just willing to direct kids i'm convenient everyone else is younger and i have nothing left i know it i felt it on legally blonde 

I have five voice texts like this. And they all echo the same themes: I suck at this when I'm not the boss, and I am not OK.

And while it's nothing more than a journal entry, useless navel gazing, I'm going to go ahead and hit "publish". Because maybe one of you six readers feels the same and need to know that we're all struggling. And maybe try journaling voice to text. I feel much better.

The Universe Vexes Me

 

    I wrote "two endorsements, no jobs" last week.

    Then today I got an automated reply from my district regarding my application to switch from theatre to language arts. It said "NO THANK YOU". Won't even interview me.

    Lost the Humanities opportunity in the "your prints were pulled in an audit" debacle. Got ghosted by Alameda after the interview.

    All I want to do is CHANGE. Anything, buildings, content areas, anything.

    Ghosted after the first interview with a mountain theatre company that I applied to as Executive Director.

     Ghosted after being told I was called back for a performance opportunity. Which was a lot of fun "We want to call you back, we'll send you call back info". That was...April? Nada.

     And so, here we are. The end of my directing streak and staring the same commute to the same struggle bus for another year dead in its black, depressed, shell shocked face.

     Whatcha up to, universe?

    There are no more job openings in education. There are no more directing gigs opening. 

    It is difficult to grasp that I am supposed to continue to fail at saving a department that cannot be saved, in a building that does not want it to be saved. WTF?

    Yep I'm whining. I get it: I have a job. The choir teacher and her boyfriend both got new gigs in new buildings, bought a house and are spending the summer traveling and living their best lives. I will be the first person to tell my actors to stay in their own lane and stop comparing themselves to others, that way is not healthy. 

     Everything back in April felt like there was a change coming. I wanted to believe there was something better to look forward to in August. Now I'm just depressed again. Also I'm fat, and that is completely under my control and starting Monday Immma fix it. Turns out you can work out for free at 24 Hour fitness if you're a high school teacher. Which I cannot prove, as the district makes us return our badges and keys for the summer but...where there's a will, there's a way. Never Give Up, Never Surrender.

    That's such bullshit. I've been peddling that for years. I give up. I honestly give up. 

    OH ALSO, Roe V Wade just went away. Maybe THAT'S WHAT'S ACTUALLY DEPRESSING ME RIGHT NOW.

                         Scene.

Two Endorsements, No Jobs

 

  Again, or still, I am flummoxed at the lack of job listings

  19 June and there's ONE lang arts opening at Pomona in Jeffco. As someone on the inside of this teacher crisis, I question its authenticity. Based on the jobs that have been posted, there were really no more listings than in past years.

   So. Since I work and worked with people who are actively looking to get out of either the building or of teaching, who quit, I can say that my research suggests there are not any jobs being posted.

   Option 1: The jobs being vacated are not being filled due to the budget cuts. Teachers inside the building are then picking up additional classes to cover the gap.  Or, the position is being cut and those classes are no longer offered .This is going to cause more teachers to leave, as their class sizes will increase, as well as their work load.

   Option 2: The vacated jobs were filled with student teachers who were already in the building.

   Option 3: After realizing that only experienced (AKA "Expensive") teachers were applying to jobs, the decision was made to simply not post the jobs and implement Option 1.

   Option 4: There is no crisis. Nobody quit teaching this year. Nobody retired. Nobody hopped buildings. It was all an elaborate scheme to scare high school graduates into enrolling in a teacher education program in college.

    To be fair, I have noted a cornucopia of elementary ed jobs, special ed jobs and paraprofessionals. Since you can make $20 an hour at McDonalds and only $17 an hour as a paraprofessional, I can see the issue there. You are not at risk of a student biting you, or punching you at McDonalds. Oh, and by the way, PAY THESE PEOPLE MORE THEY ARE DOING GOD'S WORK WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK !

   For those who do not know (which is one person, of my six readers, five are in education) a paraeducator is a special ed teaching assistant. They are not licensed, which is why districts get away with the crappy pay. They are kind, patient humans, who many times are retired educators, or college students, or folks who just want to freaking help. Their job includes changing adult diapers. They have to be certified to lift students out of wheelchairs. They understand how to teach phonics to kids with down syndrome. They ( and the teachers that they support) get punched, their hair pulled, puked on. They change wet pants. They adapt core class lessons to their student's abilities which range from non verbal CP to higher functioning autism and everything in between. They teach the lessons they've distilled. They create differentiated lesson plans for every student's ability. Did I mention the threat to their physical safety? They also get attached to the students and their parents, write IEP's and have  meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting after meeting...

    Sped teachers and their paras must deal with behaviors on all fronts. These are not students who respond to traditional consequences. When these kids are mainstreamed into core classes without their para, they can lash out verbally---some will hurl obscenities, some will slap or punch. Then they are removed from the core class, and everyone with a functioning brain asks why this is being forced on the student, and the answer is "it's the law". So there's that. Inside their own classes it's also a struggle. One sped teacher is permanently in pain because a student attacked her from a raised walkway as she entered the building. He jumped on her back, slamming her to the ground. She now has permanent disc damage that causes daily pain. Yet, she returned to the job every day for her remaining years and retired last year.

   But I digress.

   I actively applied for every, single posted language arts job (and one humanities) in three districts from March to May of this year. All totaled, I'd say 15 jobs. Not any more than any other year, which is why I don't think the crisis is real, even though I personally know people who are quitting. Something doesn't add up. I was offered an interview for ONE lang arts job and then ghosted. I was summarily rejected based on my application, only, from three of the others. One school, to whom I submitted a LANG ARTS application, called me for a THEATRE interview. That was disheartening, as I did not apply for the THEATRE job. They had to dig my application out of the system, call me to take the morning off, make sub plans, to "interview" for a job that wasn't actually available. They knew who they wanted to hire, but policy says they must interview other candidates. Bull Shit Policy. So my time was wasted. Thank you.  I was not even given consideration for a theatre position in the new PA draw building IN MY OWN DISTRICT for reasons the current theatre teacher cannot understand, either.  I was shunned from a humanities opportunity because my second endorsement was held up by bureaucratic bullshit around my fingerprints, which the CDE has had for twenty years, but sure, feel free to jack me out of the the one real opportunity I had. Thanks.

   And I digress again.

  This isn't fully synthesized, it's mostly vomit, but Imma push "publish" anyway. Only six of you read these, anyway, and I needed to vent.

We Get To Do This

 

The Tony Awards have restored my faith.

I am not grumpy that they're leaning heavily on a political agenda they need not lean on.

I am not grumpy that the musical to win was the least interesting of the shows presented.

I am not grumpy that I am old and everyone else is young.

So I continue to direct a summer pop up musical during the day, and a small theatre adult production, driving an hour  north west for the one and an hour south-east for the other.

Because the alternative is to work summers at Starbucks or Target, to deal with grumpy customers.

I get paid to hang out with people who love theatre.

 I do not labor under the delusion that any will receive a Tony award and thank me.

That's not why I do this.

And I am not grumpy.

CDE In June

 

       In the ten minutes that I have between writing reherasl notes for last night, and leaving for Boulder to rehearse the other show the notes are not for this morning, I wanna complain. It is why you all read this blog, anyway, and I do not wish to disappoint.

      Let us not overlook the delightful machine that is the Colorado Department of Education

       In the past, I've only taken umbrage with their unfriendly website, and the fact that they will not, under any circumstance, accept anything through the US Mail. This issue came up when I renewed my license in 2016, when the CDE had made everything electronic in a world that was not. How do teachers from the western slope renew their licenses? They have to have less access to technology than I do! I have no scanner in my home, which is apparently an expectation for all teachers. There was a fax at school, but the CDE would not accept a fax. Nothing I had done in the building for my renewal hours existed on a central site, they were just certificates sent through email, which I then had to download and reload into my renewal paperwork. The point here is that an entire machine, that is supposed to support education, is so far out of touch with the realities of education, that it makes remaining in education more frustrating. I almost didn't renew, I was that angry. I had an IB certificate that was on paper, and had to take a photo of it with my phone, send it to my email, download it onto my laptop, and load it into the paperwork. That was the moment that I called, stayed on the phone pushing buttons until a fucking human being answered, and said "I quit."

    Clearly I did not quit, as I was able to renew in 2021 without any issues. I now work in a district that tracks everything electronically, and uploading it to the renewal "paperwork" caused no anxiety when I renewed last year.

    Then, FOOLISHLY as it turns out, I decided to get my lang arts endorsement in April of 2022. I've been dancing around it for years, and with the building change and Covid, I think I'm done with theatre. At least high school theatre. At least post covid high school theatre. In public education. I feel that was distilled nicely. ANYWHOO, years ago, LittleFun HS cared not a whit that I did not have the endorsement, I just taught lang arts. So I honestly had no idea it even mattered. 

    Until I applied to teach summer school lang arts. 

    I was told on no uncertain terms by my building principal that I would not be allowed to teach summer school language arts to people who failed language arts, in an environment that sounds panicky (I received an email from a summer school principal begging me to finish my application), without the "proper endorsement". (The same summer school principal contacted me a second time, and when I told her my endorsement was in process, she said "Whatever, we'll figure it out." But by then I had accepted the Boulder directing gig and it was no longer a conversation, but I appreciated her acknowledgment that a CERTIFICATION OF SOME KIND is fine for SUMMER SCHOOL.)  A teacher is a teacher, dude. Why are you being such a douche about someone willing to give up their summer to teach people who didn't care enough to pass during the school year? I'm feeling prettty fucking unappreicated, Pal!

    This is where I remind my loyal six readers that, of the 20 years I have been teaching, fully six of them have been language arts. Without the endorsement.

    I also applied to teach Humanities at a new performing arts school, an opportunity I was honestly feeling very positive about. However, when they called to interview me, they wanted the lang arts endorsement. For humanities? By that time, in May, I had already applied for the endorsement, and could prove it. But they would not even interview me without it. OK then. 

    So, I realized that all of those applications for lang arts jobs went unanswered because I don't have the endorsement, and the endorsement is weirdly being held up  "IN Process" at the CDE for reasons unknown. Of course I try to call. Of course it's impossible to reach a human. RE intro sentence "machine". Of course I cannot stay within one tense when I'm this agitated.

     I have now lost a humanities job, a summer school job and the opportunity to switch to LA in my own building, due to this stupid, undefined hold up. So I start my summer directing gigs, and casually check the CDE site every few days. I assume, when it's clear, they'll email me and let me know, but I check anyway.

    Good thing I checked. I received NO notification that my application was being halted due to fingerprinting. Their banner on my application read "Due to an internal audit for fingerprints, yours were selected and you must resubmit your fingerprints."

    Fucking Kidding Me.

    "Internal Audit" my ass. Fingerprints Do Not Change. You've had mine for 20 years. What sort of "audit" dictates that I spend $54 to go get printed again? It's your audit, you pay.

    So now,  I have $80 in for the endorsement I still do not have two months after applying, and $54 in for fingerprints they already have.

     At Colorado Fingerprinting, the lovely young woman explained why she was taking four prints of each finger. She said my prints have worn down over the years---she said "We see this a lot with educators, I don't know why"---and told me they might not be usable.

    Blink. Blink.

    So, for those in the back row, there's a possibility these prints will not be good enough for the CDE to read. At which point I must return to have them redone, this time having moisturized and hydrated the day before, hoping for a better print. And if it doesn't work, I don't know what the next step is, as they no longer do physical prints with ink on your distal phelanges any more.

    Blink. Blink.

    Once again, because I'm beginning to think that I'm the crazy one, My Prints Are Already On File At the CDE and with the CBI. 

    Once again, fingerprints do not change over time. They fade. But they do not change.

    I expect to be back here in a week, updating all of you on my second visit to Colorado Fingerprinting. 

Director's Notes Are Weird

 

    I had the occasion recently to sit down and calculate how many shows I have directed. I'm not bragging, they're 98% high school productions. I was asked to write Director's Notes for a show that I am currently rehearsing, and realized in 150 years and 40 ish shows (I got bored and stopped counting when I got halfway through and went "Oh crap, right, there's that one too" and couldn't decide if I've directed the same show twice, does it count twice?), I've never really written Director's Notes. 

    I know back in the day, when I was playing at running a theatre company, I took a stab at DN for a show or two, but they all boiled down to justifying why I chose the play. That is Not Good. It is Not Good because Who Cares why you chose the show, stop defending yourself. And I've never written a bio, ever, for a high school show. The summer and college shows all ask for a bio, and I usually write "I teach." I read bios full of real accomplishments, and my infantile response to those with more professional experience than myself is to be short and funny. Recently, at Mines, both the choreographer and the music director had real bios and I did the "I teach" thing. It did not go as planned; it appeared to be received as though I think I'm too good for bios and made me feel worse.

   Don't psychoanalyze me, it's fine, I know who I am and I know what I'm good at, I just don't like bios and director's notes.

   Many years ago, there was a young theatre teacher at our sister school, whose bio was the center fold out of her fall play program, and then she had another page of director's notes, all name dropping and self accolades. It was like her Bio Part Two. I shook my head. She's not wrong, I'm not mad at her, it just isn't me. And clearly she knows something I do not, as she left after three years, finished her PhD and is now teaching theatre at a very prestigious university. So...joke's on me I guess.

  I had a parent on our performing arts PTO ask if I wanted to run my headshot (oh ya, Sister School Director included her headshot) with a bio in the musical program and I threw up. The poor woman had no idea how to handle such a response, so I just stopped attending meetings and pretended I didn't like the PA PTO any more. In hindsight this was not the best choice for my survival in that building.

   So when Invictus asked if I'd like to include a bio and director's notes in the program for God of Carnage, I replied as honestly as possible. I said "I have no idea how to do that." They replied that it was traditional to do so. So I wrote two and sent them with the email subject line "Bio and possible DN, they may be garbage".

   I'm not reposting them here. That's worse than having them printed in the first place. It's not about ME, pay attention to the show, and if I have to use my DN to explain the show to you, then I've failed as a director...there's some of that vomit I'm so good at. You're welcome.

   No, the point is, in writing the DN, I deliberately steered away from anything about WHY I chose the show---because I didn't choose the show---or the IMPORTANCE of the show because UGH audiences aren't pleading with us to use the program to remind them that theatre is IMPORTANT. I just sat at the computer and channeled words I heard from Mr. Albee. He recounted an exchange with Arthur Miller regarding the relevance of each of their plays, and I've never forgotten it. The word choice in their exchange has always tickled me, and fed my own love of word play, which Yasmina Reza has recently reawakened. It's easy to lose your love for vocabulary teaching high school after a pandemic to traumatized people addicted to their cell phones and social media short hand. UGH.

    So the DN and bio got written, and were short, but I realized it triggered a need to write more. Directing this play has necessitated the return of Specific Word Choice in my life. That the characters' son goes from being referred to as a "thug" to a "savage" ( determined by his father) and finally a "menace" (the other parents) made my flesh all goose pimply, as I dove back into the text for more verbiage. Using words as weapons is what great writers do. Arguably, Mr. Albee was superior at this game. Having spent time with him in person, this gift was not relegated to just his writing. He cared not what your education was, or if you understood what he was saying. I loved that about him. Just as he never spoke above a growl because if you wanted to hear him, you'd shut up, he did not dumb down his argot. If you didn't know the meaning, you could look it up. Did I mention I loved him?

   Writing a bio and director's notes led me down the silly rabbit hole of navel gazing, questioning why I'm not writing any more....because bullying + job change + Covid + school shootings +teaching during a pandemic = No More Words. Which sounds better when Terri Nunn sings it. I have been stripped of my usual joy for vocab by the day to day reality that none of my students will know what I'm saying, and I'll have to back up and define it, anyway, so why bother. 

   I am not Mr. Albee, and my students are not me. 

   So. All in all, to sum up, in conclusion. I would like to come back to writing, and I would like to use words that are specific and descriptive. So I will.

   Scene.