Yeah, once in a while I come clean to my fiends. Like here and here, today’s post will feature truth-telling from the depths of my black, shriveled soul.
- I am bitter about a 9-year-old issue. Truth. My local school levy (for which many of my colleagues and I put in hours and hours of work and personal time and creativity) failed, 70%-30%. It would have included a 500-seat theater, complete with stage rigging, a scene shop, dressing rooms, acoustical treatments, draperies, pit, the works. I took the failure quite personally, and after seeing the plans for my local school district’s new high school performing arts wing, my bitterness burns anew. I know there was not much I could do about it; heck, I couldn’t even vote for the levy, as I don’t live in the school district where I teach. But I’m still mad. And jealous. Jealous and mad. Madly jealous. It’s not fair to my kids. Oh, well. Whining and $4…
- I hate the idea of getting dressed up and going somewhere. No joke — I can’t count how many times I’ve looked at the clock and thought, I suppose I could just cancel… But once I’m there, I usually enjoy the experience a great deal. I am a lazy n’er-do-well when I want to be.
- Although I have, in essence, cried “Wolf!” in the past regarding rehearsals for an upcoming show, I must confess that the recent spate of snow days, coupled with myriad rescheduled athletic events and basketball tournament games, is cutting too deeply into my rehearsal schedule. I fear cuts of the musical kind. At least I have that option, which I wouldn’t so much with a standard Broadway musical. Revues can be a bit more flexible, but one still has to give the customer what he pays for. Ah, first-world problems…
Confession: good for the lungs, heart, digestion and general constitution. I hope my three-hour rehearsal this afternoon will yield the same results with regard to preparedness. Oy.
FO
These are your confessions…pathetic, you should see my list, just me sitting in the confessional causes spontaneous combustion!
Liz’s daughter, a thirteen year teaching veteran was instrumental in working on a Bond issue this past Fall. Like you, she poured herself, her time and her all her energy into making this understandable and attractive. The Bond would have upgraded the then existing dinosaurs disguised as computers for the classrooms, fixed leaking roofs and raised their Library facilities from amongst the dead. The Bond would have also given teachers a measly 3% COLA pay increase; it should be noted that the teachers in PUSD have not had ANY raise of ANY kind in nine, count em nine years!
The Bond failed…not even close! I knew it would be tough, many pensioners up here in the High Country, but I thought most intelligent people could see the value of Libraries, technology and non-leaking roofs. Man I was wrong! The Letters to the Editor for weeks after were idiotic blaming “greedy teachers, who should be happy they have a job.” By the way the BOnd would have impacted households to the whopping amount equivalent to the cost of two large Frito Lays potato chip bags a year.
Needless to say, Liz’s daughter is/was devastated and is looking to change careers as I type. She has adopted me has her surrogate Pops and I have spent much time encouraging her to let go of that bitterness…hard to do but crucial! I do so cause I love her…I love you as well, so let it go my Sister, let it go! Fight the next fight, that one is over for now.
Ugh…tragic story. And it’s people like her (the “best and brightest”) that we’re losing in this profession every single day. The hemorrhage has to stop somewhere, but with public ed in the state it’s in right now, who can blame young people like her for not wanting to dive into an early grave?
I know I need to let this go. I should have said that it was all brought to the fore because of my going to the high school musical last night, and hearing them talk about their “brand new auditorium,” coming in 2015. So, the big fat green monster reared its ugly head, and I thought, dangit — my kids deserve this, too.
But, to everything there is a season; a proper time. That the season/proper time may not come for a decent theater space during my tenure at my school may just be the reality. It’s OK. I’m intensely proud of the kids for what they accomplish on that ridiculously small, artistically insulting cafeteria stage. They continue to rise above their circumstances, and for that, I am grateful.
Fink, lookin’ for the next fight
You are simply…the Best!