Theater Mom to Soccer Mom

There is an underground society of sportmania that has eluded me for years. They live among us. A friend suggested that is ME who was living in an underground society of theater. No, that couldn’t be true.

I have two amazing daughters (Serena 19 and Violet 10) whose extra curricular activities have always been composed of reading, art, and acting. Neither one has ever played a sport, until this year.

Well, Serena took ballet when she was three, but during the recital she ran and hid in the corner. Oh and there was the time Serena was obsessed with social science fairs. She won first place with her Women in the Military project and placed third on her Audrey Hepburn Humanitarian project. (This project inspired her to dress as Audrey Hepburn for Halloween, and to her dismay no one knew who she was.)  She even won trophies for reading a lot of books.  My all time favorite was Serena trying out for talent show in elementary school. She did a little jig to, “I’m Holding Out for a Hero”. Yes, a third grader gyrating to Bonnie Tyler.

Her non-sport winning streak continued to high school drama. I am very proud that she won “Best Stage Kiss” in her senior year. I think that would be hard to do. The practice involved in preparing for such an award would be exhausting. I am just laying the foundation of my personal experiences with my kids competing and winning stuff. Oh…maybe just Serena competing and winning stuff.

Violet considered competing in Battle of the Books. (This sounds like a warrior like battle where the adversaries pelt each other with books of various sizes.) But, it is where kids read an assigned list of books then they compete in a game show like finale. She declined because she didn’t want people telling her what to read. And the list was long. And there were boring books on the list. And there were too many deadlines.

I heard of these alleged weekend games and weekday practices. There were rumors of children being picked for various teams, bladeedahh. I never listened, because thank goodness, none of it applied to me. Those sports words would float into oblivion. I was more worried about whether or not one of my daughters memorized her lines, or had her costume  for the upcoming production. I have spent the last few years in theaters, not soccer fields. So when my youngest daughter decided to play soccer, I was perplexed. My neighbors (Kate and Jay) helped me through the process. I’m sure their conversation when something like this,

“Geeze, she is clueless.”

“How many times did you have to  send her address to register?”

“Does she know Violet will need turf shoes and shin guards?”

“Does she know what turf shoes and shin guards are?”

I didn’t know there was a difference between cleats and turf shoes. Honestly, I had never heard of turf shoes until Jay took me to Target to get Violet her soccer gear. Did you know that soccer balls come in different sizes? I sure didn’t. Then there are shin guards that are attached to the socks, and some that are not. What to do?

So, we go to the first soccer rehearsal, I mean practice, and I stand by the goal to watch. I look around and I’m the only parent standing there. I walked back to my car to see the multitude of family vehicles illuminated with ipads, Kindles, iPods, and phones. Ahh! This is the secret, soccer parent society.

You cannot win or lose in a play-well you can suck to high heaven and we pretend it didn’t happen, or you can be all Sally Field where everyone loves you. During a production, theater moms don’t scream:

“Good job! Get in there! Say those lines!”

“I believe you are the character!”

“Change the director! Bad blocking!”

There has to be some clandestine book of sport mom rules somewhere. I was unaware of the gear I needed to fulfill my soccer mom duties. I didn’t have a stadium chair the first couple of games. Then I needed to look into purchasing a visor cap-not a visor and not a baseball cap.

I just learned that there is a soccer scrap-book club.I thought I could give $30 and have it done for me, but these people wanted me to actually cut out stuff and glue it in a book. Then there is the meeting new people thing, and having to be social thing, and having a quasi-sensible conversation thing. I have already blogged about my social ineptness. I am fully aware of my weaknesses, and I know that my attention span couldn’t withstand such scrapbook tedium. I fully appreciate the scrapbook aficionado, in fact I envy their focus. I digress.

Violet finally gets her soccer costume, I mean uniform. She is number 14.

One evening, I decided to be that cool mom in the front yard, kicking soccer balls with my daughter. Cool huh? Well, the thing is that I don’t play soccer. In fact, I ran track and cross country throughout high school, and I avoided any sport involving balls, sticks, or rackets.  Violet kicks the ball to me. I run toward her. I kick the ball. Slow motion timing ensues, it really did.  SMAaaaacccckkkkkCK  (that is the word in slow motion).  The size four ball pummelled her in the face. Yes, I am responsible for her first soccer injury half way through the first season. I am happy to report that the swelling has diminished considerably.

PRODUCTION TIME! No, I mean, GAME TIME! Thank goodness I didn’t yell break a leg to the team. I’m sure that the line of parents sitting in chairs would have shunned me.

There she is, wearing her three sizes too big shorts,  running, kicking (sometimes losing focus and twirling her hair) and playing SOCCER!!!!

It took me a while to figure out which goal was our team’s. Then as soon as I get used to our side of the field, they switch sides after half time.

I was pleased to watch my stepmom and 82-year old father bring deck chairs (from their deck) to Violet’s soccer game. At this point, I even  know that I am supposed to have one of those foldy stadium chairs. Geeze.

DECK CHAIRS

After soccer, other sports creep their way in. My boyfriend’s daughter plays softball and half way through the first softball game (I had EVER attended) he realized I had no idea what was happening. Their costumes, oh uniforms, were awfully cute and color coordinated, but there are so many rules, and apparently there is an illegal way to pitch. I learned this from the softball hecklers.

Then last night, I went to a SPORTS BAR and watched the MMA fights. I was totally engrossed in the smack downs. What has happened to me? I watched soccer, softball, and MMA all in one day. I even have a favorite fighter, Roy (Big Country) Nelson. This was more than my theater DNA could handle.

After my day of sports, I felt as if I was neglecting the theater. But this week, we are preparing for our productions for drama club. I have to paint sets, coordinate costumes, schedule extra rehearsals, direct, produce, and not end up twitching and hiding in my classroom bathroom. I wonder how I’m ever going to get through these production, and make sure the kids have good experiences on stage?

Saturday, I saw one of my drama club students (who plays Peter Quince in Midsummer Night’s Dream) playing soccer. Her soccer and theater worlds seem to blend very well. She was also in The Battle of the Books last Thursday.

It is the end of another school year, and I can check off year thirteen in education. As I watch these kids prepare for various events, productions, and games, I can only be inspired by their drive and ability to seamlessly meld their extra-curricular worlds.

Here’s to theater, soccer, and an occasional smack down.

K

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A Midsummer in Oz at the Chocolate Factory-and a Lonely Goat

This week, we are auditioning 85 kids for three plays: Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Wizard of Oz, and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. This is our third year of drama club, and like a distant memory or a faint dream, I can’t quite place the moment it all became real.

Over twenty kids are auditioning for Midsummer Night’s Dream. I am thrilled that there is such interest with fourth and fifth graders. Of course, I’m sure there is hope for a sword fight, a chase, and a few fairies causing havoc. (The boys are bent on a sword fight.) Then there is the bizarre fascination with the donkey head.

I went to the Leaf Festival in Asheville. While the Moody Blues inspired parade passed me, I had costume inspirations for Midsummer. I can’t use stilts, and I’m still a little bitter about that. That was the my first inkling of my  mild theater obsession. You see, graduate school is over soon, and I must fill my time with another endeavor that will encompass me, completely.

The Wizard of Oz has been done so many times; I am driven to do it a little differently. I could have them set in the future, like that Julius Caesar play I saw in high school. Dorothy is wearing space boots, and the Wicked Witch needs them to find her space voyager monkeys. Glenda is tired of green witch’s shenanigans, and she sends her off in a space shuttle-for eternity. I’m not sure what to do with the munchkins in the space scenario.

This story has always been a metaphor to me. I mean, Dorothy-searching for The WIZARD of OZ? And for crying out loud, he was such a let down.

Her real world is black and white, which could mean a myriad of things that only Dorothy could discuss with the right therapist. Her colorful world could illustrate her awareness of her issues. Her best friends need a heart, courage, and a brain.  We have all been there. Wouldn’t it be lovely to always be courageous, intelligent, and full of love and compassion?  But, it usually comes down to our friends shaking us apart, and telling us to scrape up the last bits of courage from the remnants of the day. I hate when they do that.

The Wicked Witch is a sad little green thing. I can’t imagine being allergic to water. No wonder she was neurotic and a shoe obsessed.

I sat with Shannon, doing drama club paper work, and we sang “I wish I had a Brain” over and over. Sometimes we don’t have brains, and that is really okay.

Oh, I could tell you why The ocean’s near the shore.
I could think of things I never thunk before.
And then I’d sit, and think some more.
I would not be just a nothin’ my head all full of stuffin’
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry,
If I only had a brain.

I tell you, life can be a ding-a-derry. Whatever that means.

My friends, Margarita and Victor, who have kept our community theater afloat for the past couple of years, posted this on my FB timeline:

Dancing Goat Theater

As I am becoming embroiled in our school theater productions, I am saddened by the fact that this wonderful theater is close to shutting down. This is where we saw, The Taming of the Shrew, Hamlet, A Thousand Paper Cranes, Macbeth, Macbeth Junior, The Holiday Hootenany, Ensler’s monologues, and so many more amazing performances. This is where I performed with my daughter, for the first and last time.

When I think of this theater, I think of some of my dearest friends; Daniel chewing wood while directing Shrew, Margarita encouraging me to have the Macbeth narrators dance to Liza Minelli’s All that Jazz, avoiding the giant MACBETH boulder in the middle of the theater, and most of all-laughing through our creative spirits.

I think of my personal growth as an educator, because I saw the need for theater arts in our elementary school. We have 85 drama club members, within two grade levels. That means something. That is huge. Sometimes, that is overlooked.

I think of how quickly hours of work can become a wrinkle in time, because the cause is so very worth every single, tiny, moment spent, working with these kids. I think of our volunteers, who came together from diverse backgrounds, to keep the heart of performing arts beating in the theater.

My hope is that by some miracle, Oz is real-somewhere. Maybe, in our little theater? Maybe, in the hearts of our performers? Maybe in our audiences? Our community? Because without them, we have no theater.

GLENDA WHERE ARE YOU?

“Now I know I’ve got a heart because it is breaking.

– Tin Man”
― L. Frank BaumThe Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Here’s to theater.

K

Tales from Summer Break

Summer Break. Those two words have held different meanings for me. As a kid, that meant I could play from morning until dark, and only go inside for food or a bathroom break. As a teenager, that meant sleeping until 1:00, then finally deciding to get a job. As an adult, working in the corporate world, it meant sweating in office wear, and wishing I was one of those teachers who has the summers off.

Well, I’m one of those teachers who has the summer off. Except, that I don’t. It is all my fault. I over book myself with things I love to do. Because, God forbid, I sit still-just for a moment.

I am teaching drama camp at my elementary school. I am also directing Macbeth (for kids) at our local theater. I am taking three electives in grad school, so that I can finally finish the degree.

Drama camp. Within one week, we write a play, learn it, and perform it. Well, the play-writing part is my favorite. Our Gods vs. Monsters play includes a slow motion volleyball tournament to the Rocky soundtrack, Zeus getting miffed at Poseidon for posting cat videos on his INSTAGREEK wall, and a sinister Barbie who is the root of all of the evil in the world, thus inadvertently creating an alliance between the Gods and Monsters. My friend, and drama partner-in-crime (Shannon) decided it would be fun to have the kids mouth the words to Wilson Phillips’ hit song, Hold On. Our inspiration?

Image

Makes perfect sense, right?

Macbeth Jr. Some may say that things have gone a bit far, but no one stopped me. My friends just keep encouraging my errant behavior. So the kids wanted to have a Star Wars theme. There is a light-saber fight. Lady Macbeth  wears the Princess Leia buns, and she has a full-on tantrum, on the floor, in a tiara and prom dress, when Macbeth begins to waver in his decision to kill King Duncan. The witches play cards, knit, play Sorry, have mini lady Macbeth Barbies (with mini Lady Macbeth tiaras) watch when Duncan becomes a ghost (who, by the way, is wearing a sheet with the eyes cut out). There are narrators who have morphed into the Godfather and his sidekicks. Somehow, the Godfather makes sense in Macbeth. We are Family is the curtain call music. I stopped there-I promise.

Young Adult Literature Class. I have to read 24 books by July 11th. I love to read, but somehow now that someone is telling me to, I am having a difficult time sitting still. I get up and vacuum. Sit down and read. Get up and organize the garage. Sit down and read. Get up and have a snack. Sit down and read. Run on the tread mill. Sit down and read. This is another eye-opening moment for me, since I have spent the last eleven years telling kids to read, with good intentions. But the pressure-oh the pressure!

Physical Science for Teachers. This is a great class, but I am the only non-science specialist elementary teacher in the class. On the first day of class, I just happened to be wearing my DRAMA CLUB shirt. I couldn’t have been more out of my element. Spoutings of ions, surface tension, and Newton’s laws pelted me. One classmate had a physics book handy for reference. I went to my happy place.

Environmental Science. Okay. This is one of the weirdest classes I have ever taken. Our professor is an entomologist. He is particularly interested in the mating habits of bugs. Did you know that some people have pet cockoaches….and they name them? We only have ONE written assignment for the class. We have to CONVINCE our professor that we read a book and visited a landfill and a water treatment plant. If I were in high school, I might feign my way through. But, somehow-I believe he would know. Then there is the inevitable guilt that would follow. So, I will drag my younger daughter a landfill next week. This jaunt will be under the guise of a ‘fun summer field trip’.

This summer also brings bitter-sweet feelings about the passing of time, and of the way a life can swiftly change and become something entirely different.

In a few weeks, my daughter will be moving on and going away to college. There will be a new silence in the house. Her unfilled space will be palpable. I’ll miss her irrational rants, and her incessant foraging in my closet. I’ll miss her odd obsession with baking cupcakes. It was five minutes ago when she was three years old, wearing a princess costume, and holding a magic wand.

So, as my summer passes, like the tesseract, I’ll attempt to see what is in front of me, and enjoy what I can-even if it is in a landfill.

K

Giant Peaches and Toilet Plunger Daggers

My opening thought is about PINTEREST. I didn’t want to be on Pinterest until the Pinterest people put me on a waiting list. Then I HAD to be accepted. So, I asked my friend to invite me. I soon realized that it was the same as cutting out pictures of magazines and taping them to my walls in the 80’s. I had the perfect house and John Taylor (from Duran Duran) was smiling from our sunroom. I had collages of my favorite clothes and shoes. I even wrote poetry to accompany my re-assembled life created from magazine pictures. Now, within a matter of seconds, my collage life can be validated with re-pins and likes.

In my Advanced Curriculum and Instruction class, we are studying research-based instructional practices. One of my favorite activities is  making analogies out of math terms. For example circumference is to perimeter as __________ is to__________.

Pinterest is to Drama Club as creating imagery is to imagining creativity. See? I’m still in my existential mode.

I haven’t blogged about drama club lately. Partially, because the year has escaped me. But mostly, because when I think of what needs to be done by May, I shudder in fear.

We are performing Sleeping Beauty, the musical, James and the Giant Peach, and a kids version of Macbeth. I am directing James and Macbeth. One thing we did better this year is to have each play rehearsal on a different day of the week. This way, we can use the pretend stage for blocking. It is hilarious what happens when small people step on stage. They suddenly become animated, their voices change, and the see an imaginary audience sitting in government-issued blue school chairs.

I have blogged before about why teachers continue to show up at work. Today, as I was watching my James and the Giant Peach cast rehearse, I felt incredibly thankful. First of all, Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker make me laugh. I don’t mean giggle. They are hysterical and one hundred percent invested. We were in the gym today because the fake stage is prepared for a chorus concert. So, the cast and I were sitting on the floor, leaning against the walls. The girl next to me, put her head on my should for a moment while she read over her script. I looked at the rest of the cast, and they were reading along as the actors were performing. It was just one of those moments that brands itself somewhere in the spirit.

Many children rehearsed without scripts today. If you don’t know this play, it is verbose and lengthy. So, the thought of being of book by the fourth rehearsal is unheard of. But, a couple of the cast were memorized. Unbelievable. These kids are in fourth and fifth grade.

The earthworm will be wearing a crash helmet and clutching a first aid kit. The spider randomly tap-dances. Silk worm is a bit of a narcaleptic and wears a snuggie and a sleeping eye mask. The little old man who brings the magic is played by a remarkable boy. When he rehearsed today, we were silent and amazed. When he finished, the cast clapped.

Now, a giant peach needs to be constructed. The top of it. The outside of it. The inside of it. Maybe, I’ll have a flash of lucid brilliance in the middle of the night.

Macbeth. This cast is equally entertaining.  I told ten-year old Lady Macbeth to act as if she is ‘losing it’ when she hears owls and crickets. I soon realized that ten-year olds don’t have background knowledge of ‘crazy’. And it would be inappropriate for me to feign ‘crazy’,  since it might be too realistic.

The kids are convinced that when King Duncan is ‘taken out’ that we need to use ketchup for blood. I will be using red cloth for a stylized elementary school version of his demise. But, they are obsessed with the ketchup. We cannot have swords in the school-even ones for the play. So, Macbeth will kill Duncan with a toilet bowl plunger. Ghost Banquo is going to be a puppet. It just has to happen.

The witches don’t cackle, but I’m extracting maniacal moments, so I’m good.

This year has been very difficult, for many reasons. Being around children who are excited about everything, can only make a bad day (or year) vaporize.

Here’s to amazing children and playing virtual dress-up.

K

All in the Theater

For my tenth birthday, my dad took me to see Annie. I remember loving the play, somewhat for the catchy songs, but mostly because my dad took me. So, when my friend asked me to go to see Annie, I immediately said, yes. We took our girls, made it down town, and waited for the play to begin.

Theater etiquette is important.

Theater Etiquette

I didn’t think about this so vehemently, until tonight. The lights were down, and the play was about to begin. The people in front of us were standing and having a complicated conversation about where to sit. The logistics of the theater seats befuddled them. The teacher in me wanted to help them make a connection between the similarities between movie theater seating and theater seating. They needed context. I could have drawn a nice Venn diagram for a pictorial representation. I guess they were unable to match the numbers on their tickets with the numbers on the seats.

I figured they were a theater troupe planning to perform Annie in their small part of the universe. I won’t elaborate on how ill-advised it is to attempt replicate such a well-known play, because you like the song, The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow. Just sing it in your car or shower like the rest of the world, and save the twelve people in the audience (who are probably family of the actors) huge amounts of pain.

Sally Struthers plays Ms. Hannigan. For those who may not know who she is, she played in Gloria in All in the Family. She was also the spokesperson for “Feed the Children”. Google her if these references don’t ring bells. For whatever crazy reason, I like her. She is one of the 70’s sit com mavens still around. After the signature songs, and a few chuckles in the first act-the audience checked out.

People don’t understand intermission. It doesn’t mean go to Burger King, eat, and leisurely make your way back to the theater. Because that is what I believe happened to roughly twenty percent of the audience. WHILE THE ACTORS WERE PERFORMING the following events took place:

  • 5 people shuffled in front of us (backsides facing us).
  • Someone near us took flash photos. My nine-year old overheard the conversation about the flash not being on, so the person turned on the flash.
  • Cell phones illuminated the theater. People were texting. They spent $70+ to go to the theater, and they text.
  • Another cadre of late-comers bungled their way through the row in front of us. They fell on each other, into the seats, and laughed.
  • The woman behind me (who wasn’t there for the first act) was reprimanding whomever was behind her. She was saying how RUDE he was being. She was acting as if she were at home, in her barcalounger.
You would think people would show some respect. If not for the people around them, or performing arts- at least for Sally Struthers! Or maybe, the thought of the hundreds of hours it took to put the production together would have been enough to refrain from bad audience behavior.

I spend a lot of time in our community theater. When I work box office, I don’t even let audience members bring water into the theater. My friend told me that was militant. I want people to respect our theater. In my mind, banning water is a start. Our smaller audiences are infinitely more respectful than the hoards of people in the Annie audience.  I know, our audiences are comprised of actors, playwrights, board members, or family of the actors. But audiences have to start somewhere? Right?

We work with elementary-aged children. One of the first things we teach in camps is how to be a good audience member. When my friend and I teach our drama club at school, we don’t tolerate students talking while others perform. It isn’t a matter of being trained to be respectful during a performance (or any other like circumstance). It is the simple idea of respect. As a result, our drama club students are supporting one another by listening, and not talking during rehearsals.

I felt, for a passing moment, that my efforts to promote performing arts were futile. If adults can’t sit through Annie, then how am I to get them to come to a play written by a local playwright? I know, Annie isn’t everyone’s favorite play. But it is nostalgic, and that means something. And if you pay to go, it signifies you want to see the play.

Sitting through a play can be difficult. There is no touch screen to fast-forward to the next act. There is no playlist that lets you pick the songs you want to hear. There is no device to record the play for a later time. There is no app for any of that.

I think my friend was waiting for me to go all teacher on everyone. I wanted to, but then I would be adding to the demise of the theater. Plus, when Annie came out in the red wig and dress; I was transported to my tenth birthday. So, not much really mattered at that point. One note-they could update the wig.

K

The Endangered Curriculum

I was inspired to write this blog because of a moose mural in my classroom, the Italian Renaissance, and a literacy training I attended. It may all come together at the end. Or it may not.

I have this book called, Endangered Words. It is full of antiquated words that, at one point, were valuable in some vernacular, somewhere. I thought of this book the other day while I was sitting in an eight-hour literacy training.  We began discussing how to teach reading to very little people. The idea that we have the knowledge and ability to teach such a powerful tool, can be overwhelming. Words are broken down into sounds, and then sound-letter correlation is developed. Soon words are recognized and sorted into various structures called sentences. Then, like magic, or some amazing miracle, reading happens. If you have ever had the opportunity to watch a child read his/her first sentence or story (after you have taught the skills) you will experience a lucid moment where you know that you have chosen the right profession. If it does happen to you, keep the memory, because you will need to tap into it for the rest of your teaching career. You may even want to take a picture of the child to post it somewhere in your classroom. So when your project dealing with glitter and liquid glue goes awry, look at the picture and get some perspective.

When I came home from literacy training, I looked through my endangered word book. Some of my favorites are ataraxia “freedom from disturbance of mind or passion; stoical indifference”; bleezed: affected in the eyes as by alcoholic excitement; and logodaedalist: “inventor of words”. I thought of my linguistics classes where I learned about the origin of language and the varied sophistication in vocabulary from language to language. English-speaking people know about 20,000 words, but only use about 2,000. But, who wants to talk to someone who uses words like despiance and kumatage at a dinner party? These are the people from whom you scurry, then run to the corner and secretly Google the words on your Android. Or maybe that’s just me.

So, if words can appear and disappear from our dictionaries and daily usage, so can various components of the curriculum. I knew the world was in a bad place when fishes became an accepted plural form of fish. Just like the word moose-some people actually say meese or mooses. Luckily, I haven’t met a person who has used these irksome, fabricated plurals. But I’ll get back to the moose mural, because it is haunting me. If enough people continuously use a word incorrectly, it becomes part of the lexicon.  Ain’t that something?

During our training, we had a “guess the right answer with a partner” activity. We had moved on to teaching comprehension skills.

The question was:

During a readers’ theater, it is advised to encourage students to bring in props and costumes to enhance their engagement and participation.

Emphatically, YES!  That is a dead give away!  The acceptable response was no. It is not encouraged. Huh? What about our Midsummer Night’s Dream readers’ theater? What about the Macbeth unit we did I just got up, went to the snack table, and got an Almond Joy. The upside of this is that my name was picked twice for the $50 resource books that I REALLY wanted. I didn’t give a shout out to the arts in education, because apparently, it has little to do with reading instruction. And the arts have had no place in the curriculum through time. So why start now? I kept my snarky thoughts to myself, as I am learning they rarely received well in those of situations.  Again, where did the classics go? Did they get buried under the mountain of basal readers? If all it takes is plastic crowns and cardboard castles to encourage kids to show up and read classic works, then why would this be discouraged?

I have discussed how baffled I am that foreign language was taken out of the elementary and schools in our district. There is enough research that supports the efficacy of learning foreign languages for academic purposes. Also, this is crazy, and maybe pushing the envelope a bit, but there are people in the world who speak other languages. Global awareness anyone? I recently read an article, What we Can Learn From Foreign Language Teaching in Other Countries.   Basically, there is an emphasis on language education in other countries. There is also support from the school systems and governments to foster a respect and for language education. The governments also mandate a foreign language curriculum that begins in elementary school; not high school. Of course, this can work its way into how we aren’t globally competitive, since we are a mono-linguistic society. That rant can wait.

The important subjects are those that yield a higher income. Let me paint a fictitious world where the arts are prominent in our curriculum. Let’s just pretend that if someone earns a degree in sculpting or painting, that he or she would earn what is equivalent to um, maybe that of an athlete?  Parents would be signing their kids up for sculpting and painting classes. Instead of, “My child cannot do homework because there is a game”, we would hear, “My child cannot do homework because he/she is completing his sculpture and oil painting to be commissioned for the church down the street.” I’m not saying that sports are not important. I was an active athlete in high school, and I value the talents and determination of gifted athletes. But this is fictitious, like the idea that standardized testing will go away.

How is it that there were so may talented artists back in the time of the Renaissance? I know, only the wealthy families sent their kids to school, and girls got the short end of the education stick  But, artists were vying to be the commissioned artist for whomever, on a whim, needed a sculpture knocked out. My point is that the emphasis was put on ethics, poetry, literature, and art. Therefore, the focus was on refining those skills that were deemed essential and proper. To be a true erudite, one had to be well-versed in all aspects of the arts. I can just imagine the discussions of the mothers of Filippo Brunelleschi and Lorenzo Ghiberti (who competed for the creation Baptistery doors).

“Where do you get your bronze?”

“At the market, it was on sale. You need my coupon?”

“No, we only buy the good stuff.. Maybe that is why Lorenzo, won.”

“Hmph!”

Soccer moms, sculpture moms-tomato, tomato…

This actually brings me to the moose mural. I changed classrooms, and I really like my new room. It has a courtyard (where I plan on planting a garden with my Kindergarten and 1st grade students). There is a large bathroom/closet where I can store drama club paraphernalia. And there is a nook where I can have kids read, work in small groups, and  I can develop my library. I spent a week unpacking boxes and setting up my room. Check-something accomplished.

The nook has a mural. The mural is of a large moose. I decided that I would paint over it. I bought the paint. The day after I bought the paint, my principal called me:

P: “Don’t paint anything yet. We may need to move you to another room.”

Me: “What? I just unpacked. What? I just bought paint.? What? Are you sure? ”

Panic consumed me. Then I realized that I was having an audible break down, over the phone, with my principal. He says I hung up on him. I don’t remember. Maybe I did. He won’t let it go. I went down to the school and he came to my room. He walked into the nook:

P: “That is a cool moose. You really want to paint over it? I can’t believe you want to paint over it. Kids love that moose.”

I realized that I was having a BGI (Blinding Glimpse of Insight). You see, we are reading the book, Sticks & Stones exposed: The Power of our Words, for our leadership book talk at school. The BGI is a stark realization through various modalities that you are, well…wrong about stuff. The book politely says it is a small bit of understanding about ourselves that we don’t like to face. Yah, it’s a moose mural. But it is really the fact that I was the only one who didn’t like the blasted thing. The eyes..  I didn’t think about the fact that it is appealing to some, and to small children, it will be downright adorable. I keep having to remind myself that I am now in the world of kindergarteners and 1st graders. The connection here is that just because something isn’t valuable or doesn’t serve a purpose to some, it is often thrown out, done away with, or replaced. The moose won.

I have these small tent cards that my students use to let me know how they are progressing in the learning process:

After my breakdown, I put the tent card on my desk-on RED. This says it all. Doesn’t it?

The end result is that my principal decided to let me stay in my room, as long as I kept the moose mural.

My tent card changed:

What exactly has been deleted from our curriculum? Why are we doing it? Have we digressed from honoring and encouraging refined artists to teaching brilliant students who fumble over glue sticks? Moderation is a sound concept. Since society doesn’t honor the arts in education, there is little focus on them. Whenever I show artwork to my students, they are fascinated. Two years ago, a colleague and I created an art exhibit project. Students did research reports on famous artists. Then they used any medium of their choice to re-create the art work. Students used leggos, water colors, sculptures, and multi-media representations. We created a museum of the artwork, with student interpretations of the works. Yes, we are weak in science and math, and I am in no way discounting this fact. But, why can’t kids have it all? What about a thematic unit on art and science? Poetry in math? Dramatic reenactments in social studies? Just some thoughts.

By the way, I filled in the blanks to my analogy from the last post:

Politics is to Education as Aliens are to Cowboys. 

I’ll see the movie, alone, since no one will go with me. I’m sure I’ll find some more unintended education references imbedded within the movie.

In the mean time, I’m hoping to change my tent card one more time: