4 October
Well, that was a week.
I love mandatory PD's that have nothing to do with my content in the first place, and cannot be adapted to be shoved, square peg/round holed style into my content in the second place.
Leading us to the third place, where I have no filters or interest in even sitting quietly and pretending to play along.
I looked the teacher running this particularly dumb PD in the eye and said "Just tell me what to do to check the box." Her reply set me off: "You're creative, you figure it out."
No.
Nope.
Nyet.
No thank you.
If you're gonna call me stupid----which is what "you're creative, figure it out" is code for, then you could have spared me the last two hours of my life and sent me the email. Which I would have read, assessed as "stupid" and moved along, without having to face another teacher and dug in my heels and be told by a 35 year old math teacher I have never exchanged more than four words with that I am stupid.
"You're creative, figure it out."
UGH.
That was Thursday.
My classes are fine, honestly I can adapt to just about anything---low numbers, spotty attendance, disinterest, behaviors---it's the BS that flattens my spirit.
I was supposed to be observed this week---again, it's weekly now---but the practice lock down and fire drill during the same period over two days blocked that opportunity. That was nice, I liked not having to do a dog and pony show this week. It sucked for third period, who are Stagecraft and were finishing their models, to have two classes interrupted. But we persevered. It Is What We Do.
Stagecraft did their model presentations, Theatre 1 cemented their future fate as a "Theatre History and Lit" class, Theatre 2 &3 are a joy and I found myself sharing stories about former students with them, and Peer to Peer could probably spend another week on Thriller and actually learn all the choreography. I just adapted four eight counts for them to use at the end of their Halloween play. It's their favorite part of the play.
The rights came in for the musical. God Bless Us Every One, the social studies teacher who helps out with tech wants to do a whole REVEAL thing. I don't just "not care" I DO NOT THE FUCK CARE. So I'll let her do it.
So tomorrow I get to train Yet Another Assistant Principal on How To Pay For Show Rights, and explain exhaustively that yes, it's expensive and no, you can't do it online because as humanly inaccessible as MTI is, and as relentlessly insistant as they are about doing everything online, they do not have a pay option on line. In fact, the PDF contract they emailed me had already been signed by another person, so I have to print it out and find some white out----like, where do you even find white out?---and sign it myself after writing the PCard number on a piece of paper that will go into the US Mail and by the Grace Of Dionysus and Saint Cecilia will be received by MTI.
I honestly think I sent last year's contract as registered mail, just to insure they received it. If they don't get their money, I don't get the librettos and they're not going to follow up if they don't get the money...so...neat.
I don't give a hoot if someone snatches the mail and steals the AP's P card number, that is not a me problem. But the rights not being paid IS a me problem.
Once again proving that directors solve problems nobody else even knew existed.
Whoot.
I did get out today to grab a few "commedia" masks for our performance next week. We'll also use them when we do our outreach at Fletcher Miller on Thursday. I love going to Disguises because they are local and family owned and they accept my tax exempt number so I can get reimbursed! YAS! Bonus.
Don't mock me, it's the only perk I get.
"Commedia" is in quotes because they're actually Mardi Gras masks but we don't have time to build our own, and the ones I have that are "real" from Italy are not masks I wish to have schlepped around.
Oh, ya, I'll be 61 next Saturday.
Huh.
I feel like that's all the news that's fit to print this week. Boring, but I swore I'd do this all year. Lucky for you, my blatherings are not required reading.
Scene.
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