Outside/Inside

 

        To the five people who read my blather: you're sweet. Thanks. I assume I'm saying something with which you identify. 

        I have been contemplating my coffee travel mug.

        It is metal. It is pink, but the paint is peeling off, so the metal is flaking through.

        It was left behind by a student at Hinkley who never reclaimed it.

        It has a handle. 

        It features a rainbow straw that I received for free at Starbucks  before I stopped going to Starbucks---so maybe a year ago? I do not think she was supposed to give me the free straw, but it's perfect.

        If you have No Idea Who I Am, you would look at this pink flaky rainbow combo and possibly determine that the owner is...gay. Probably a gay man.

        Or a child. Possibly a child. A Child who drinks coffee.

        Or a proud female who loves pink and is an LGBTQ ally.

        None of these are accurate. You've met me. 

        I'm cheap and lazy.

        The mug and straw were free.

        This contributes to the confusion regarding 'Who I Am".

        A woman with short hair like mine told me that currently female students---who are growing their hair very long, waist length in many cases-- said they prefer long hair because short hair means you went through trauma. You went through something and cut your hair off.

        My response was simple. The long haired girls have no trauma because they don't have to clean their own shower drains. That's some trauma, and a reason for short hair.

        Nothing is what it appears. Stop trying to attach a reason that fits your narrative to why I look and live the way I do.

        I have only seven students in my Theatre 1 class. Ridiculously small. We meet at the table on stage at the beginning of class to chat about the day's plan. Some days something has happened in the world that I can see is effecting them. Or me. So we talk. I asked if this bothered them, if they'd rather "just do theatre", knowing that what I'm teaching is Theatre Is Everything----society, politics, religion, history. But I always check. I usually get a silent moment letting me know we're all good. The week before last, they said "Actually, kmart, we appreciate you. You're the only teacher who tells us the truth."

        I gotta say, that hit me. Since leaving Littleton I've had a lot of work to do on myself. Part of what got me in trouble there was being too passive aggressive. Writing a blog instead of stanidng toe to toe with the bullies. I don't play that any more. I speak truth. 

        Weirdly ( or not), one of my Hink kids who attended Mamma Mia said I look and sound so much happier. I answered---within earshot of the AP who hired me---that I love Kennedy. I don't have a target on my back. The student replied "You speak truth to power. It's about time you're somewhere safe and supported." There are an insane amount of factors against this building, but none of them are against me personally. I told my former student it's a "good" fight, because it's wrong and corrupt, but I'm with others who are standing up, not the one being targeted. 

        Since Littleton I have lived Atticus Finch's words "I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what."

        I did not have real courage at Littleton. I was buillied and panicked, making horirble choices along the way out of fear. I regret every moment after Amy Oaks arrived.

        I had real courage at Hinkley. That's where I found it. I was targeted for reasons beyond my own control, I faced admin and the district in person and toe to toe, even though I knew I was not going to win. I spoke the truth and I held against complete corruption. I was even called a racist and I went to HR and the union. Nothing was resolved, naturally, but I did not write a blog about it: I faced it. In person. And I was told to my face in front of witnesses that nothing was going to happen, because the admin-- a young man of color---who made the accusation, did so becuase he has a "fear of white women".

        OK. I calmly replied that I have a fear of unhinged administrators throwing incidiary false accusations at me, and of men who are several feet taller and louder than myself. I spoke my truth. It did not matter. Though I did get a different evaluator---one month before the end of the year. The issue happend the last week of January. What admin hoped was going to throw me further under the bus backfired, as the admin who took over had been my evaluator the year before, and herself had issues with her colleague. I was in the clear.

     The issue above occured because this particularly large and loud administrator had bullied his way into my face after an outreach event at the middle school, and made inapprorpriate jokes that I "laughed" at. Anyone with any social awareness knew what was acutally going on, I just wanted to be out of the situation. He later tried to claim I agreed with him in that moment because I laughed, and I pointed out that he was my admin and signifuciantly louder and larger than myself, and I was trying to get away. I said "I'm a theatre teacher, and as such I tell kids constnatly that what they are doing and what they think they are doing do not always match." That is when he stood up, slammed his laptop shut and called the three of us present---all white women---racists.

     There. I blogged about it. That was....three years ago? I dunno. Time has no meaning.

     Young actors frequently argue with me when I tell them they cannot be heard, or understood, or are not communicating their intentions. It is a laborious process to retrain them into understanding that what they think they are doing/ saying and what it appears that they are doing/saying does not match. The sucessful ones understand, and work to be more clear on stage and off. It works in real life too. Shocking, I know.

     Those who do not take the direction fail at theatre and continue to be misunderstood in life. That's not on me. 

    As a Liberal White Gen X Woman With Resting Bitch Face, I know what I'm talking about.

    Unless I'm truly paying attenion, my outside does not match my inside. Particulary as I get older and give no shits about what anyone thinks about me.

    So my coffee mug is/is not me. It was free. It is beaten up and the pink paint is chipping. The rainbow straw was free. I am an LGBTQ ally.

     Scene.     

Liberal White Woman

        4 April 2025

     I unfriended a family member today.

    That is not like me, but much about me seems to be up for whatever definition fits your perception.

    I have now twice been accused by someone I went to high school with of bullying them. one said I hissed at her.

    I did no such thing. But ever since, I have wondered if I was the bully. Like Liz Lemon discovered when she went to her high school reunion.

    Because of course it's my fault. That's how I was raised. I must have misunderstood the exchange. It's about me without actually being about me.

    I was in a PLT meeting a few weeks ago; performing arts, two art teachers and the AP. Somehow the topic of smoking pot came up---specifically making bongs out of soda cans. Please refer to the list of people in this meeting before wondering how the heck the conversation traveled to that point. I laughed along as one does, however I never made a bong in my life. I never even used one. I smoked pot once and it didn't go well, so I have abstained, claiming the Punk Creed to stay sober and angry at Reagan.

    Everyone in the room went quiet and looked at me. Unsure of what was happening, I merely looked back. One of the art teachers started laughing, and said "I'm sure kmart knows."

    I'm a white Gen X kid, raised on guilt. I'm a white Gen X teacher with PTSD after being attacked for speaking up. So I looked back at them...for exactly one second.

    I did not raise my voice. It was clear and precise-

    "I'm so tired of being blamed for shit I didn't do just becuase you think my demeanor suggests that I did. I don't smoke pot--I don't like it. I don't appreciate the assumption based on my age or mohawk."       

    The current regime has me  pulling out all stops. Speaking up like that is pretty new for me, espeically in a building I just joined a year ago. However, I yell on Facebook. I protest. I speak up in departmnt meetings. I email the district. I email the school board. I left a toxic building---one I ran to because I was bullied out for speaking up--because I was Fed Up.

    I had Had It. It was what I had had and what I had had was IT.

    I've been unraveling slowly ever since.

    Then ...well...you know. Look at the date.

    My first reaction was to see the doctor about the brain fog, anxiety and general unrelenting anger. I did. I have vitamins now and a therapist.

    Part of my therapy is to use facebook to yell. It's a canyon, most people who still engage on FB are friends and think like me. We rarely comment on one another's posts, we're just using the platform for the Eternal Shriek. The Primevel Shout. And to post news about art shows.

    I do have a few lingering conservative types who do not engage with my posts, and I do not engage with theirs. If we want to talk, we can get a glass of wine. But I won't start a fight on a freaking social media platform. All but one of these folks are female.

    The male, a cousin by marriage, stepped over the line.

    I have ignored his pro immigration posts, his misled allegeince to money and belief that Iran had a nuclear warhead pointed at the US.

    He chose to respond to this post of mine:

          "Guys, why are we still having these conversations?
          Converstion therapy is wrong. Forcing people to  ignore their true selves to be something you think is 'right' is abuse.

          Refusing healthcare to a human due to their social econmic status or gender is criminal. AKA wrong.

         Blocking voting rights to an entire gender because you know they won't vote for you is wrong.

        Invoking the name of Jesus to justify war is wrong."

    The cousin commented "I hope you aren't talking about all conservatives."

     Well, dear, that sounds like a confession to me. And, as a teacher, it is my job to take this apart so you can think about it. I did NOT say "You are responding to a MORAL post with a POLITICAL answer you moron." I just stated that if you are for any of the above policies, you need to check your moral compass.

     Nothing good happened after that exchange. 

    I pointed out that I was referencing a Moral Compass, not "conservative" or anything political. Harp chimed in to tell him "Nobody is judging you" when he started blubbering about his age and his right to like some things but not all things about the regime...and I just...snapped. I won't argue on social media, so I deleted his comments. He commented again. I deleted again and unfriended him.

    He is a 75 year old white rich Texan. 

    Not all 75 year old white rich Texans are without a moral compass.

    But all Liberal White Women are done listening to it.

    I found this label on a Tik Tok collage featuring white men and white women screaming that the PROBLEM WITH THIS COUNTRY IS LIBERAL WHITE WOMEN.

    Who are organizing protests?

    Who are showing up at protests?

    Who are posting news updates on social media?

    Who are the Mama Bears, the teachers, the doctors and nurses, assited living caregivers, paraprofessionals...you know, the ones holding this shit show together with what energy we have left because we are compassionate.

    We're the Liberal White Women.

    And this LWW is done allowing 75 year old rich men mansplain how it's completely moral to accept some things about the Trump administration while disagreeing about other things becuase that's politics dear.

    Nope. 

    This regime has jack bannana shit to do with politics. 

    It's 100% about repression, greed and control. No politics. No Moral Compass.

    But---fun fact--several deadly sins!

    Nice segue, kryssi.

    They didn't invite the Catholics to the Pentagon Easter celebration, because the Pope  is behaving like a Liberal White Woman, and openly states that war is wrong, rounding up immigrants is wrong and greed is wrong. "Wrong" meaning "Without A Moral Compass or Compassion."

    I have a list of reasons to disagree with the Catholic Church, but I will say outloud to anyone interested that I Like This Pope.

    Fun to be a Liberal White Woman who agrees with the Pope.

    Compassion makes strange allies.

    

Unpopular But Accurate

 

    Anyone teaching in a big suburban school is not teaching. They're coaching, they're shining up what already exists. Those teaching in Title 1 schools are the real teachers. They have to teach from the ground up, often knowing there is zero support at home, and tomorrow they'll have to do the same thing all over again. 

    Not all republicans are MAGA, like not all men are rapists. But MAGA are republicans and rapists are men.

    I am in no way prepared for the coming shit show. I do not have a generator, let alone a hand held water purifier, any money in savings, jewels stashed in a safe deposit box, munitions stacked in my basement,years of water standing at attention or a bunker. I don't even have enough DayQuil to make it through to the end of this eternal illness that will not stop because it never got cold enough to snap the germs but climate change is a hoax.

    The democrats are no better than the republicans. They are flipping seats but people are still being kidnapped at an alarming  rate and my adult children cannot afford the rising costs to continue to live reasonably without assistance from me.

    Those who voted for Trump should be forced to wear a scarlet letter identifying themselves. Many took down their flags out of shame. Not out of fear, because we aren't attacking them or destroying their property. Like Inglorious Basterds they should be marked so we all know. They don't get to hide. Shame. SHAME.

    Schools aren't failing, parenting is. You can see it in any school, regardless of the district or name on the building, it just looks different. Charters are now overcrowded just like public schools were, because parents thought it was the school that was failing. But the behaviors are now out of control in charters just like they were in publics. The common denominators are the kids and the parents. Fun fact: it wasn't the school your kid was enrolled in that was the problem, it was you and your kid.

    As above, entitled schools have kids and paretns who are expected to score well on tests and go to college, even it it means fudging a grade or using Chat GPT. This is still a behavior, just not one we choose to acknowledge as such. These kids cheat instead of flipping tables. They bully instead of vape in the bathroom. Same root, different behavior.

    As above, buidlings no longer have any control because parents didn't instill respect, manners or consequences in their children. So when an educator says "no" and the child acts out, there is no consequence for the child that can stick. They do not care about grades, and they know there is nothing beyond an "F" or an in school suspension that can be inflicted on them. Parents did this to their children, and then pulled their chlidren out of the school because teachers are not equipped for this situation. These are the same parents who refuse to answer the phone when the school calls, and who yell at administrators when they attempt to hold their child accountable.

    Human beings are a failed experiment.

    Children raised with opportunites and not taught that opportunity is to be respected will grow up to work for whatever the next Trump administration is.

    Everybody acting surprised at what is happening right now ignored the central themes in every 80's movie from Karate Kid to Terminator.

    Every single member of DOGE and MAGA should be tried and convicted and held to a real consequence. They should be stripped of their wealth and it should be returned to health care organizations. Real health care. Not insurance companies.

    Insurance companies need to be shattered and rebuilt by and for the people, not for profit.

    Cruelty is where the stupid go to hide. Give me an example of an intellectual bully. You say  "Musk!" or "Zukerberg!" and I counter: I said "intellectual", which includes phisophical thought, synthesization of history and compassion. Not just memorizing facts and numbers to appear bright. I cite the brilliant A Fish Called Wanda: "Apes don't read philosophy."  

    "Yes they do, Otto, they just don't understand it."

    And now I have to watch that movie again, I'm out.

Post Musical Pop Ups

                                                    23 March 2026

    Reflecting the best that I can, with balance.

    Let's all hope.

    The first fall play in seven years was The Odd Couple in November of 2025.  11 months after walking in the door, I had a show up. The count includes summer. It was really eight months.

    It was hell. 

    The cast was supposed to be from my class, but one kid dipped from the building and one wanted to do tech. So I had to nab kids from choir to get it up and running.

    And nobody can rehearse after school. Hence the class.

    But we had no choice.

    When I had to rehearse after school, it was without cast members.

    It was so bad three weeks out that I actually had to have a Come To Jesus. Essentially: How Is This Show Going Up Wihout You?

    I pulled a social studies teacher in as tech, but only 4-6 kids were showing up to build the set. She brought her fiance and let her help and I had to be a dick: the kids want this, or they don't. Do Not do this for them.

    We managed, with our little skeleton crew and a couple of choir kids to get the show mounted. It was a solid show for what we went through. Only one line glitch which taught me the stage manager could not be shaken. I was pretty proud of him. Everything he knew he had learned since August.

    Then the musical ramped up.

    Three choir classes first, second and third period. My sixth period Theatre 2 had tech and three leads in it.  Kade (social studies) recruited kids from her SBOE class, and yet we still had under ten kids on Saturday builds, had to add Weds after school and toward the end, Fridays. Just to break even and get it done.

    To lay it out. We rehearsed starting in January: first, period with many leads and ensemble, second period with one lead and mostly ensemble, third period all ensemble and sixth period, two leads and tech, and Thursdays 1.30-3.30 "full cast" ---which it never, ever was. Tech on weds 3-5 and combined tech and choreo --again with that fantasy "full cast" Saturdays from 10-3.

  Because in a building of 675 kids this is going to happen. Not all 675 students are interested in theatre, choir, band, or tech, and those who are have already committed to sports, clubs, jobs, community service, ROTC...you name it. So ultimately, of the fortyish kids we had, thirty of them were doing another thing that interfered with rehearsing after school, and occasionally during school, taking them out of class/reherasal. We had two leads who were not engaged with other school activities, and they had personal/home trauma that impacted their attendance. There were seven ensemble without extracuriculars but one had a job, two had serious hisotric attendance issues and the other four had home issues. I had one lead who made it to every rehearsal, every class. He even came to class during his off period. And believe me, it showed. He owned Mamma Mia.

    And there you are. The math maths.

    I have worked in three buildings in three districts. It matters not what your population is: 1500 or 675---only 30% of the kids in the buidling are interested in extracurriculars. So no matter where you are, you're fighting every other club, class or community service for The Same Kids. It's a fact.

    Let's  just say we made some grumpy enemies with ROTC and tennis. Funny, as the tennis coach is 100% on our side and worked with us for scheduling, and the girls still tried to miss final dress for tennis, knowing they were not allowed to do so. 

    It wasn't just the adults who were pissy.

   I have never---in 23 years---put up a show without a full cast.

    We literally were missing ensemble kids both performance nights.

    That said, I invited two of my star Peer to Peer---those are MI/S or SSN (Sped) kids---to join us in the show. One had family trauma and could not participate. The other, "M", showed up at preview and joined everyone like she'd been rehearsing from day one. She performed in all three shows. And you couldn't tell she didn't actually know the choreography.

    The kids were interviewed by ChalkBeat. The thrust is that Kennedy is on the short list for "closure" due to our low SAT scores (more on that later), yet here we are Doing A Full Musical For The FIRST TIME IN TEN YEARS. The article was picked up by the Denver Post and made the front page. We now have 40 copies of the physical paper paper on stage for kids to grab.

    While I hated the intention, the ChakBeat article got some traction, and the paper paper pulled in the community and old, old alum. We had people in their seventies who were from the first graduating class -1969-come to the show. I put that in the WIN column.

    I had a crew of Hinkley kids and former colleagues show up and make me feel wonderful and loved.

    And on closing night we had three---three ---kids in sobbing meltdowns. Not after the show at candle --during the show! One was in the parking lot on her hands and knees. Why? She was tired and has never worked so hard and her tooth hurt. She's a sophomore. One had an Aunt in lung surgery ---which is twelve hours and had only just begun---and couldn't function. She's a senior. I don't even know what the other one was. And a fourth went down after the show---face down on the dressing room floor, sobbing uncontrollably, saying it "was just too much" for her. A Junior.

    Dude. Who raised you?

    AH...that's another blog.

    And today, after striking and painting the stage in preparation for the band concert, I caught two boys backstage. Just dicking around. No vandalism, mostly squirrely freshmen types, but they knew they were not supposed to be back there. And they know the building doesn't hold them accountable anyway. I ran them out. They probably flushed their vapes down the toilet. 

        So. "School closure".

    Which brings me to "closure". It doesn't mean closed. It means "reimagined" which is code for turning the building into a Charter school. Which means they fire all admin, all teachers have to reapply and they magically find engaged, high scoring students to fill the classes.

    If you know anything about this approach, you know it does not work. Smart kids aren't going to magically choose your school because it's now a "charter". 

    Charters and school choice are what caused this mess. As soon as you told kids they could enroll anywhere their parents could drive them, the parents who could, did, and schools with strong sports programs got stronger while other schools had no choice but to wave good bye. After years of school choice, we have strangled public schools who are being held to the same testing score standard as buildings whose populations have two working and engaged parents to make sure homework is done, dinner is hot and rides to additional tutoring, piano lessons and sports practice are plentiful. These buildings have higher scores because the students have the privilege of support at home. Funding goes to the higher scoring schools, starving out the ones who need it to support their population and give them equal opportunities. Which they cannot, becuase their funding dried up and there's no auto shop, no culinary arts, no marching band and no hope.

    Side note--I know people teaching in charters. They're now what public schools used to be. Same issues. Disengaged and exhausted parents. Behaviors --even table flippers. Over crowded classes. 

    So glad we siphoned the kids out of public schools for charters. That worked out well for everyone.

    And then some kid pees on your cyc, draws penises in the shop and even a swastica. They smash the dressing room window, throw fake blood everywhere and chuck their vapes down the toilet and you wonder who is raising these people?

    Scene.

    

    

    

 

 

You Don't Have To Read This: 2025

 

                                                     Postcards 29 December 2025

        In August of 2024, I entered Hinkley high school with a new choir teacher---the third since I arrived in 2020---and said "Nope, I'm done." Partly because he was clearly incompetent. Partly because I was the department chair and was not invited to the interview. Partly because I had built a strong program that admin cared not a whit about, and I was done being disrespected.

        I had been applying and even interviewed, but my age or mohawk were preventing me from getting out. I decided instead that in May of 2025 I was going to simply retire. It was not what I necessarily wanted to do, and certainly not what I could afford to do. But after putting up four mainstage shows, a showcase, a collage and  two full cabarets with no admin support the previous year, I just couldn't. Remember, the year before (2023) I was called racist by an AP. Nope.

        A former Hink AP is the principal at Kennedy, and Hink's former Athletic director/AP was also at Kennedy. In September, I was morosely sitting in the Hinkely parking lot at 6.45 am when the later human texted me. 

        "Hey, do you have any interest in coming to Kennedy and doing what you did at Hinkley? Rebuild the theatre?"

        There were a few bumps, and I had to finish directing Steel Magnolias, but by 20 Dec 2024 I was at Kennedy digging out the storage closet to make it my office.

     I took at $10K a year pay cut because teaching is like being an indentured servant, and they punish you if you move districts. They do not honor your years. So as a 21 year veteran I was hired on the pay ladder at Year Ten. Total bullshit, but I wanted out and money no longer mattered. When I am In Charge Of Everything, that practice will be the first thing to go.

        I got two cabarets, a Peer to Peer show and a showcase up in the spring at Kennedy. Also my dad died on our first cabaret on 28 February 2025. 

        I got six kids to pledge Thespians---there's not been a troupe at Kennedy in 20 years. One was a senior, but hey, it's a start.

          How Long It's Been Since A Show Happened is under debate; some folks say eight years, other five. Either way, I got The Female Odd Couple up, with a set and everything, in November 2025. Two Peer to Peer shows and one small Christmas Cabaret Next up: Mamma Mia in March 2026. Oy Vey.

        2025 has been so horrible in so many ways it feels redundant to even mention. On the other hand, they want us to shut up and comply.

        The husky is underweight and the pug thing and muppet are fat. 

        Also the black cat is pretty chunky. I don't overfeed so much as they steal each other's food.

        Togo's chicken foot is healing. She had cancer on her toe and had to have it removed, so her three toed, furless back leg looks like a chicken foot.

        No traveling this year, or in our future, based on the above mentioned  "horrible". Sigh.

        My friends from Canada visited, which was truly awesome. Jim finished the spare room renovation so they could be comfortable. Then in November Harp broke up with Lillith, lost the apartment and moved back in. A friend and colleague of hers is crashing in the orange cat room.  Another friend was here for a few weeks as well while he got back on his feet. At some point when Harp moves out, we'll get to renovating the orange room.

        Harp finished her BA and has been hired as a PT teacher/ PT para at her building, which is a pay raise. Then in the fall she'll be a FT teacher---another pay raise. She lost 100 pounds, is sober and got off all her meds---which were poisoning her, which was great. She won't sue the psych, but would win if she did.

        G left Indigo and moved to Bee Suite which is a fully queer salon in the arts district on Santa Fe. They love it.

        Jim is still at Ready Care, seems fine. Doesn't hate it, doesn't love it. It's a job. He has a salary and insurance.

        On that note DPS is pulling Kaiser out from under 7.5 thousand of us employees and forcing us into United Healthcare. Because somebody's making a lot of money off of this, and nobody cares that there are not enough doctors taking new patients to accommodate such an onslought. But for me to go rogue and keep Kaiser on my own would cost me $800/month! So I hope to get all my health stuff and knee surgeries done, updated and set before I'm kicked off in June and no longer have healthcare that I am paying for. 'merica is GREAT AGAIN.

        Anyone else hearing scuttlebutt about Paris, Tokyo and other cities canceling their NYE celebrations? Heard there was a "gang" in LA plotting bombs, but only four people were arrested. And it's a gang? So great. Love the way information and news have been destroyed and shattered by deregulating social media and AI guardrails. The truth is difficult to ferret out and requires patience. Tho TBH substackers on Tik Tok are pretty great. I use BBC and Al Jazeera, but they are hardly "breaking" in the moment. Looks like Australia cancelled since it was scheduled on Bondi beach where the shooting was, Tokyo is worried about crowds and public drinking? That one is weird. Paris is worried about a stampede. Everything sounds weird and wrong. The four people caught in the desert with a bomb were caught, so why are cities canceling or scaling back?

        Well, today's the 29th. That wasn't much of a wrap up.

        Happy New Year, y'all. The regime is eating itself from the inside, we just have to be ready to move when it's time.

You Don't Have To Read This: Bullying

 

                You Don't Have To Read This: A Short Series of Personal Reflections

                                                        Bullying

    When I was in second (or third) grade, the following true story happened.

    I was playing at Jewell park. There is a little duck lake there with a small playground my siblings and I grew up playing on. One summer day, two older boys were at the pond. One blondeish and one with brown hair. They were chucking rocks at the ducks.

    Without hesitation, I marched my ugly self over there---one moment, let's get a picture. I looked almost exactly like Tatum O'Neal in Paper Moon: more freckles, worse hair cut, some where between her and Opie Taylor. We both grew into beautiful women---Tatum and I, not Ron Howard- so no reason to stop reading or sputter to reverse "You weren't ugly" because I was. It's OK. I'm good and now you have a visual.

    The boys were in fifth or sixth grade at the Patterson Main Building. I was still a tyke at the Patterson Cottages, which housed K-3. In fourth grade I had to schlep to the main building, but at this time, I walked a few blocks to school.

    So I marched over to the bigger boys and shouted at them to stop being dicks to the ducks.

    OK, so maybe I didn't use my teenaged spicy mohawk vocab. I said "Stop throwing rocks at the ducks." I know my demeanor suggests I was shouting "Don't be a dick" in the second grade, but I was not. I did not use foul language.

    Now, they stopped, but not because I told them. They stopped because I was the new target.

    Only a few pebbles were lacklusterly thrown---even a small person is more risky than a duck. So there was little heart in it, they just wanted me to leave. When I didn't move, they tossed another pebble into the pond and moved on.

    This is not the end of the story.

    My walking route to the Cottages took me directly by the blonde boy's house. Daily. I could have walked on the other side of the narrow suburban street but he would have seen me. He stood at his window and waited. Daily. With his buddy. 

    As soon as I came into view, they'd emerge. They wouldn't start yelling until they were on the sidewalk outside of the house--their parents might hear them, I guess? As soon as they were behind me, keeping a distance that was close enough for me to hear but far enough not to touch me, they'd start bellowing. "Duck Lady! Duck Lady!"

    This went on for at least a year. Either their schedule changed or they no longer cared. But at some point, they just stopped. One day I walked past the house and it was quiet, the door shut.  I went on with my life. Which includes my pride at standing up to duck bullies, and persevering their verbal torment on the way to school.

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    The year before, the playground bully Ricky Garcia had started in on me. I had a brown bodysuit and skirt combo I absolutely loved--largely because it was not underwear, it was a BODY SUIT and I could flip on the monkey bars.

    Until Ricky decided it was underwear, and began to bellow that kryssi had BROWN UNDERWEAR!

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    I attended O'Connell Jr High in 7th grade only. Most of my Patterson friends were with me, and I continued choir and band at first. Then the schedule changed and I had to choose. I chose choir.

    I also chose to love Mork and Mindy and the Beatles. My mom bought me Mork suspenders which I wore with Great Glee, accompanied by striped socks. I'd roll up my pant legs and sing "Yellow Submarine" with my friends in the halls. 

    I was not aware that this behavior enraged the popular girls. I was shouldered, pushed into lockers and called names. At one point, they lined up at the end of the hall to block my path. When I told my mom, she contacted the AP,  whose name I recall as being "Mr. Green" who told her I was making it up. When it continued, she scheduled an appointment with him. He wanted names. I didn't know all their names. The ones I passed on through mom apparently "Didn't exist", and besides I was asking for it. I really should just shut up and stop calling attention to myself. That's why I was being bothered, he said. In the same breath that he said I was making it up he said I brought it on myself. I needed to stop being...me.

    Instead, I continued. I participated in the talent show with my friend Karen, performing a silly song, while the popular girls---clad in tight Jordache jeans and scarves, dancing to "Le Chic"---mocked me from the wings. Not just mocked---threatened. They flipped their brown hair and stabbed me with their brown eyes and laughed, pointed, whispered "we're going to get you", etc. I had not seen West Side Story by this time in my life, when I saw it later it would cause PTSD. After the talent show, I was pushed in front of a moving car on my way to the school bus.

    I can't say this is why we sold the house and moved, but mom and dad sold the house and we moved. I did eighth grade at Dunstan, where my weirdness didn't seem to upset anyone.

     I don't have any patience for bullying.

                                Scene.