Who Do You Think You Are? A Breakfast Club Essay Staring Down The Barrel Of 60

 

            You will write an essay telling me who you think you are. And I mean an essay,  not one word written a thousand times.

            Ok. So I assume I am writing a thousand words.

            First, I wish I had done this at 18. For all I know I did, and the motorcycle accident concussions, teaching trauma and current Country On Fire Circus have wiped it from memory. Who I think I am is a difficult question, as I feel I'm still trying to figure that out myself. But I can authoritatively write about the roles I have played and how they inform identity: wife, mother, teacher.

            I am not someone who ever wanted to get married. I did not wear toilet paper veils or design bedsheet wedding dresses as a child. I liked horses, I wanted a horse, I learned about horses and never got a horse. I attempted to perform at a talent show in third grade only to bail at curtain because I had not prepared anything. With no understanding of performance outside of choir class, where the songs are given to you and rehearsed in class, I foolishly believed I could show up and just do something. Natalie Last Name Forgotten took ballet, and she performed before me at the talent show. 

        And I did not.

        First lesson in rehearsing, planning and commitment. And also realized I was on my own, nobody was going to help me or enroll me in ballet or piano. I have vague memories of asking but those additional classes cost money. The closest I came was a "Tumbling and Trampoline" class at the rec center, where I epically failed at executing a simple cartwheel. In third grade, however, my great good friend Debbie Rice and I did short skits for Mr. Weisheit's class. He was a great Oak tree hippie of a man who fostered our creative needs.

        I got married because Jim asked, and I didn't know what else to do. I loved him, and he seemed like he had a plan for his life. I loved theatre in high school, but the idea of New York scared the crap out of me. I'm not a great wife---I don't cook, I'm not particularly sexy or can even stand to be touched and I hate sports. Because of his influence, I went to college, kept myself employed and learned what support actually is.  Like Forrest, that's all I have to say about that.

        I never wanted children. I was quite vocal about this fact. I had not had a nurturing childhood so to me, kids were something you had because you were supposed to, and the baseline was to raise them by guilt and keep them alive. I had no interest in repeating a family cyclecurse. But Jim pushed the issue a bit, and I relented. I am not a great mom. Many of my poor decisions were based on listening to voice of my own mother in my head because I have no idea how to parent. I have a lot of regrets, and no feeling of success. My children are amazing despite how I raised them.

       I started teaching because I failed at theatre. Since "Those who can't do, teach" is a common quote I have heard, it seemed a logical progression to follow. I gave up time with my family, missed warning signs with my children's mental health and flirted with alcoholism in the name of running a strong department. Whether I was successful is highly subjective, and depends on who you ask. I failed first at Littleton, run out because I could not keep my mouth shut about the inequitable and racist choices the principal was making, only to fail again at Hinkley after four years through Covid. I am now at Kennedy, building a baseline for the next person to succeed. 

      Proofreading these 557 words, I realize I could have written one word a thousand times and had the same impact: failure.

      I bet if I had done this at 18 it would have been infinitely more positive, had more passion or fire. Anger. Frustration. Something. Anything. I identified with Bender in Breakfast Club,even though I was likely more Allison in hiding myself in fear. I did such an impressive job, I cannot even answer the question "Who do you think you are?"

      Sigh.

    

Redirecting Distraction Distraction Discombobulated

 

    24 April

        Disco should be short for discombobulated. Discotheque is stupid. 

        Yesterday I attempted tap with my five regularly attending sixth period kiddos.

        They are: A Cheerleader, A Football player, an ROTC kid, Band Kid and Landon. So pretty much The Breakfast Club. They are goofy, using any reason to get off task but not rude, or refusing to participate. Just loosey goosey and while they're not much interested in theatre, they like learning most of The Things. ROTC and Band love tech. Cheerleader is afraid of heights.  Football and Landon are always partners, and usually one will be the girl in the scene.

         Landon was only willing to learn tap after he and Football created every letter of the alphabet with their bodies, assisted by a bit of coaching from the Cheerleader and Band Kid laughing and making suggestions. That's pretty much how that class runs. ROTC had to leave early for testing.

        So tap was a stretch. Landon is well over six feet tall and has boat sized feet, so no tap shoes could be found to fit him. I made him tap in his socks as his thick rubber soled shoes would be useless. But he did it -ish, and broke into noodle dancing only twice. He literally looks like the inflatable tube dancer outside the new European Market and Deli on Alameda and Kipling.

        So while searching for tap shoes, Cheerleader found a pair, but one was missing laces. I told her she had to cannibalize a different shoe. She did not know how to unlace the ties. So I did it. Then she stared at the shoelace in her one hand and the empty eyed shoe in the other, paused and said "I don't know how to do this".  While I quizzed her on other weird things she cannot do, Football started reading the quotes stenciled on the fitting room wall, out loud. As one does. He asked me who the quotes were from. I pointed out each one was cited: Shakespeare, play titles, student quotes and David Bowie. 

        "Who is David Bowie?" he asked loudly.

        I did not answer. We are used to each other now, and communicate telepathically.

        "Wait, Miss, I know I know hold on hold on...he's the guy who paints himself, right?"

        I shrug "Sure, sometimes."

        "I know WAIT I got it, hold on...he's the guy with the ...the -" he starts waving one hand across his face " the lightning bolt on his face! YES! Yes, that's it  right?" His excitement is not unlike spiking a football after a touch down.

        Once they very -ish learned a time step and shuffle off to Buffalo, Band Kid chose Metallica as their choreography music. Specifically, bass boosted "Orion".

        So I have that to look forward to on Friday.

        Discombobulated. Distracted. Dismount

        It's almost over. 

        I have worked in three schools in two districts this year, and managed to miss conferences in every building.

        I also did not direct a musical this year, for the first time in 21 years.

        Discombobulated and ready to dismount. It's almost over.

        Brain fog frog dog slog log smog schlog CITYONFIRE I hear the singing of the Beggar Woman who's actually Sweeney's wife screaming and nobody hears, every time I click on Facebook. How Is This Happening?! What Can I Do?

        Too much. Discombobulated one thing at a time. Do one thing.

        Teach tap to the Breakfast Club. Check.

        I also led 17 Special Ed students through their performance of a short play. First time on stage for all of them. Six are completely non verbal. Two in wheelchairs, one in a walker. No special ed teacher, just me and five paras and the nurse for the kid with CP. Which is not a concern of RFK's, many of them will never write poetry, or pay taxes, either, due to a tragically short life span but it's the autistic kids he's mad about. But Elon is self diagnosed as autistic, aren't they all on the same team? WAIT-WAIT Elon does NOT PAY TAXES!!! I SEE THE CONNECTION I GET IT I GET. I feel like Football finally connecting David Bowie to a lighting bolt, jolt of lighting AH HA!!!

            Discotheque  should be discoteck. Why is it spelled with a British "que"? Because they dance in lines? Do The Hustle!

            It's all good. I'm fine.

            Almost time to dismount.

            Disembark.

            Titanic.

                                            Scene

        

And That's How That's Going

          This is a moment in: BUILDNG A THEATRE PROGRAM IN A SMALL TITLE ONE SCHOOL.

          Four weeks ago, I wrestled 10 kids into agreeing to perform in a small "Showcase"- simply an evening demonstrating what they've learned since January. They don't even need to memorize anything new,  just revisit a piece or skill they did in class and perform for friends and parents. Low Risk.

         Ten. I had to cajole and beg half of them. The other half were gung ho and ready to go.

         The Showcase is this Friday, 25 April

         Yesterday, 21 April, the following happened.

         2nd period, the two girls doing their Odd Couple scene for the showcase,  who have been rehearsing and want to perform (they did Cabaret in February) can no longer do their scene. Kid 1 has family issues that are encroaching on her time, and she will have to attend therapy Friday evening. Kid 2 had her knee surgery in February--we're "cadaver buddies" as we had the same surgery---was in a car accident with her mom this weekend and reinjured her knee, causing new appointments to be scheduled --she cannot rehearse. They were both very upset to have to drop, which I appreciate. It is not their fault. 

        4th period, the SPED kids have their show on Weds during class time, and two of their representatives were slated to "perform" a brief moment from their play on Friday night. One of them, Kid 3, got suspended last week for gang tagging and upon his return has chosen to ignore class attendance. A second student, one of the two gen ed kids enrolled to help out, has said she will not be coming to class, or the show. She just doesn't want to. I have four narrators---two gen ed, two sped---and one on each side just bailed. MONDAY.  The show is WEDNESDAY.  This also impacts Friday night as Kid 3 was supposed to do a short version of this play with his buddy for the Showcase. 

        5th period, the small group is split up, mixing and sharing a devised piece, The Great Dictator monologue by Charlie Chaplain, and  a scene from Mean Girls. I rallied them at the beginning of class to tell them I'd lost three performers and made them all promise to see this through on Friday. They all agreed.

    One of the actors, Kid 4, who we have supported and talked into doing the Mean Girls scene on Friday has done nothing to learn lines or create a character. He clearly has the movie memorized, but does not come to class enough to have improved as a performer. He doesn't understand why we rehearse and speaks in a whisper. 

    So I said as much, and his answer was simply "Why? I'll do it Friday." I patiently explained for the Gozillionth time that this is what rehearsal is, we repeat. I don't know he'll project on Friday because he's never projected in class. I did not say anything about his weak attendance because truly he takes the bus from Arvada and misses class half the time. Nonetheless, this is a performance for an audience and you have to learn your lines and project, at bare minimum. I gave him suggestions and had them do it again. Then he went silent and went to the bathroom, from which he texted his group that he was dropping out of the scene. Not only is it Monday and the scene is Friday night, but it's a performance grade for class on Friday. Sadly, nobody was surprised.

    6th period, Kid 5 is supposed to perform the prologue Friday night with a partner from 6th period. She did not show up for school or class, unexcused. No idea if she intends to show up Friday.

     So of my 10 kids, five have bailed.

    Gratefully, I have two who can step in and the remaining five can shuffle. 

    Seriously? It should not be this hard.

    The kids who are dedicated are left holding this together, which is not fair to them at all. However, that's pretty typical for high school theatre, I just never noticed in a department of 50 kids.

    Man it is noticeable now.

    And I never noticed at Hink because kids wanted to do theatre, they just needed to be trained appropriately. I had No Boys though, and we did have to use a kid who was not ideal when our Roger got pulled out of RENT (due to a sweep for kids who did not have enough credit hours to graduate I have so many opinions about that decision). That sucked, but I had a kid who was willing to step in. Of course by then, I'd been at it for three years. 

    To be fair, I walked in in January of 2020 and there were kids in classes and a musical in rehearsal.  They just didn't have a permanent teacher. It all ended on 12 March 2020, and the next two years were a scramble to rebuild in person with kids who had no interest in being anywhere in person. That was hard, but I did it. I put up seven productions last year, only to be cut back this year. 

    I digress.

    I don't remember having so many bailers, ever. Certainly not at Littleton, we were turning kids away from Cabarets and cutting them from auditions. At Hinkley, they failed A Lot but they showed up. Nobody bailed. Never once did a kid who was given a role in class to perform for an audience say "I'm not doing this".  OK, sure, they wouldn't show up on performance day, but that was for class. You're a gen ed kid assigned to helping sped kids with their show and you're bailing. That's a new level.

    This is not on me, this is not because I'm not engaging or don't have bell ringers or blah blah blah. This is what has happened to kids who have no hope. The gen ed bailer is a drag, but her friend who is also in class involuntarily and has been sketchy with attendance, has had the opposite response. He stepped up. He's taking lines that aren't his, stepping in to help kids keep on track, working on his projection. He knows his blocking and cues.  When these two started in January, he had moved to theatre because he was ditching band. He's a ditcher, don't get me wrong, and when they started he leaned heavily on his friend. He had to be put into her group for scenes. Now, she's bailing and he's finding his own way. The paras commented on it yesterday, they wanted to make sure I had noticed.

    I noticed. And I'm ending on that positive note. All is not lost.

    And this is harder than it needs to be.

    Two things can be true.

                                    Scene

        

Easter 4/20/25

   Easter 4.20.25

 The Brady Bunch is on. I decided Brooklyn Nine-Nine has run its course for my anxiety. I did the same thing with Schitt’s Creek, and I’d probably still be watching 30 Rock if it was on any platform anywhere that I can access with no effort.

I can’t let the fact that it is Easter, 4/ 20, Hitler’s birthday, Columbine, legalizing pot pass without some sort of silly blog. Which at the moment is just me watching The Brady Bunch and remembering how every TV show really wanted all families to be singing families. I think that’s why my mom insisted that we sang. We would sing at church, we sang at nursing homes and she made our costumes. She played the guitar for us. We were never Partridge family level. How could we? We were three girls without David Cassidy.

This is also an experiment in voice to text for a blog. I feel like this will be different than me typing because I am babbling directly into my phone instead of typing and letting it synthesize through my brain first.

I keep asking God how I’m supposed to help what I’m supposed to do. I’m just …being a teacher isn’t enough, but then when I try to think of other things I could do I get overwhelmed. I can’t really drive for meals and wheels because I work during the day. I don’t wanna give money to people on the street corners because it’s very difficult for me to not just tell them to get in my car and bring them home. Make them live with me in my spare room which Jim would absolutely lose his mind if I did something like that. I feel like if everybody did the bare minimum, we wouldn’t be here, but nobody will even do the bare minimum. And I guess that’s where I am. I don’t know where the bare minimum is. So I teach and hope that counts, because otherwise I freeze up.

I’ve cleaned up both costume shops and both buildings given clothes and coats to our immigrant populations and our kids in need. We give money to charitable organizations. We don’t have a lot. It’s not like I’m rich and I can be a philanthropist you know, but is that really rare minimum I feel like if that’s the bare minimum then that’s really sad, but on the other hand if that’s your minimum and everybody did the bare minimum we’d be in a lot better place. Also a kind leadership would be helpful.

The only way this revolution is gonna happen is if we talk to each other and we bond together as a community we just are not having any. We aren’t having any. I don’t know when we became such hobbit hiding, cave dwelling people, but I am the same way I have social anxiety, and I have a hard time talking to people. I have to force myself to communicate with my neighbors just out of safety. You’re fine.

I’m gonna leave that “you’re fine” there  because that was me telling the dogs and they were fine before I let them out. A Thing I do appreciate about this voice to text to Google doc on my phone, instead of voice to text through text, is it’s not picking up the television. I do appreciate that.

OK, so this Brady Bunch episode is reminiscent of a conversation I just had yesterday with Harper. Greg is at a record manager meeting, and these record executives are very hippie ass and hippie tastic because money can be made off of it. But originally the hippies were not about money, they were about walking away from the establishment. And the same thing happened to the punks. Harper and I were talking about punk rock yesterday. Punk rock was anti-establishment anti-Authority, all of these wonderful ideas and then some capitalist got a hold of the fashion ideas and the music ideas and turned it all into a money making machine And now we have Hot Topic.

All right well this is what happens when I do voice to text for a blog. I intended to talk about Easter and how stupid it is that it’s on 4/20. I guess they really couldn’t control that. Harper said there was quite a ruckus down around her apartment building last night, 4/20 does bring out all the crazies and of course for 4/19 last night there was another protest down by the capital so that brings more people down there. But those people are suburban people who have to find parking, those aren’t the 420 bananas that lose their heads in Capitol Hill.

SCENE