(My kid a few years ago, competing as a very Goth Lady Macbeth–with intense sunlight creating a curtain through the open roof)
How's your week been? Good? Has it been good? Good.
Here's how mine's been:
"Guys. Guys. Guys. GUYS! Don't make me go opera on you, people. This is the fourth time. Now listen to me."
"We're listening Mrs. Miller!"
"Okay. Thank you. Now, when you enter Leonato's garden, I want to you do it from stage right. Just for today though, because–"
"Omigosh! Did you hear about that one girl?" "I totally heard it!" "Dude! Look–I'm a commercial for laser eyebrow removal. The Before picture." "No dude! You're a commercial for a lawn mowing service. On your face!" "Haaahahaha!" "I can't be here. I have so much homework to do." "I know! It's like our teachers think we have no lives!" "Totally. Have you seen the new trailer for Twi–"
"PEOPLE! I LOVE YOU! NOW SHUT IT!"
*cricket*
"Thank you. If you would please–"
"Oooh! Is that your costume? It's like Queen Elizabeth meets Madonna!" "I know, right? The Renaissance is so tight!" "Tights? We have to wear tights? Dude! We're dudes!" "Yeah! I ain't wearing no tights." "I'm asking Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Mi–"
*head in my hands* "I like teenagers, I like teenagers, I like teenagers . . . "
This has been my world for the past three weeks. Maybe four. Or fifteen. And the crazy thing? I KNOW these children aren't listening to me. No way do these middle-schoolers have their Shakespeare memorized, their blocking and stage movement down. Because they've been chattering the whole time like a pack of cracked-out squirrels. But the minute they take their places and the lights come up? They've got it. And the scene goes off without a hitch–mostly.
It's amazing, really, how teenagers can multi-task. They can talk, plan a party, do their homework, group hug, discuss a movie, and then get right into character and play a lovely bit of Shakespeare–just like I asked. (With the occasional, "Speak louder please!" "Remember where I told you to go." "Move a little faster." But that's pretty normal.)
I don't know how they do it. I'm worried to death about this Shakespeare competition. But at the same time, I know these kids will pull it off. I can feel it. I can see it. And while the not listening during practice and not being where I just told them to be happens (all the time), and though I have to refrain from launching into my "If you don't learn to do what you're told now, you'll wind up shoveling chewed gum off the movie theater floor for the rest of your life" lecture–somehow these little dudelettes are going to make it. With great enthusiasm and aplomb. It always happens.
So the next time I hear: "Mrs. Miller, are we performing this tomorrow night? Do I have to be in costume?" Instead of collapsing into a quivering pile of nervousbreakdown, I'll just say:
"Like, OMIGOSH! Have you heard what that one girl did?"
And they'll say, "Yeah!"
And that'll, like, take care of it.
Yeah. My one kid likes to study with noise…uh…music or a movie, lying on the couch with her head hanging off it, writing the answers on a piece of scrap paper with scribbles….uh….decorations on the edges. I’m trying to refine her style one point at a time. Clean paper. Head in the upright position. Quieter noise. She goes along with it because she gets more done that way. erg.
Yeah. It’s freaky. We don’t need a spy network in this country. We need teenagers.
I could see all this happening as your wrote it, so very true – you do know teenagers well. Good luck at the competition, I hope you’re having a lot of fun. Thanks for bloggin and writing, it makes my day!
Thanks Kris! 🙂 I’m glad it makes you smile. Thanks for your support!
Hey! I’m in the background of that picture 🙂 long live goth witches!!
I know, babycakes! It’s a great picture. You’d have to gel your hair straight out if you wanted to play your witch again, yeah? 🙂