What A Weekend!

          I can't believe that it's been more than a month since the damn play's been over with.  It's like a bad taste that lingers in the mouth long after you've spit the offending food out.  Wren's probably out of our lives for good -- after the crap that she pulled, I doubt she's going to invite us back into her little after-school group.  I wonder if she's even going to continue on with that.  Aunt Lina seems to feel that it was a ruse -- that either political clout or money was involved, because there'as no other reason for this woman's attitude to turn on a dime like Wren's did.  
          Whatever.  I'm just glad it's over.  It will be a pleasure never seeing her again.   On with the funness of Summer!


          Remember “Cheers Not Tears—Just Smile!”—that play about teen depression that my friends and I have been working on since…oh, FOREVER?  Well, hopefully, this is the last post about it.

          I have been talking about this play, practicing for this play, drawing posters for this play, helping with costumes….AND I’M NOT SMILING ANYMORE.  And people wonder why kids turn to drugs and alcohol – it’s because of the stupid adults around them who can’t figure out which end is up!

          Now remember, we started this whole thing back in January and it’s now June.  We’ve had date changes, cast changes, venue changes…This play has been more problematic than “Spiderman--Turn Off The Dark”! For those of you who are in the dark (pun intended) to that reference, it’s a play that took forever to open on Broadway, that has been through falling cast members, malfunctioning machinery, cast changes, script changes, song changes, villain changes, director changes…it’s practically “Cheers Not Tears—Just Smile!” without as much drama!

           Wren finally found a place with a stage – the old Frost Spring Men’s Club building behind the historical Frost Spring United Methodist Church.  Their cemetery there has graves from before the Revolutionary War, and several Revolutionary War Soldiers are buried in that churchyard.  The Men’s Club Building is like 100 years old; the stage lights make the stage really hot, but there’s plenty of room to set up chairs for the audience.  She also decided to call it for the second weekend in June.

          Wren has been pretending to be nice to Mrs. R ever since that time with the rehearsal “misunderstanding”, but Ruby, Dor and Amelia say she glares at Amelia’s mom behind her back.  I smell Wren’s fear and rage, both about the play and Mrs. R.  Amelia’s Mom is terrific – she plays two roles, the Mom and a Guidance Counselor, and thinks nothing of slipping into and out of costumes around us backstage – although she did get upset when the light & sound guy’s little daughter opened a stage door as she was changing.  Mrs. R slammed the door shut and it made the kid cry.  She was standing there in her bra and jeans, & just reacted as any female would have! 

          The light & sound guy is the uncle of one of the Madisons.  Now I understand why these mediocre chicklets got all of the good parts – cronyism.  It’s a vocabulary test word that means giving jobs to friends or relatives as favors.  This guy’s time & equipment was traded for Madison’s chance to perform.  Plus, “Uncle Light-&-Sound’s” kids suddenly got added to the cast, too!  They play background, with Ruby, Dor, Amelia and me.  Suddenly, the after school group that Wren formed to do good works is being overshadowed by this play. 

          You know, the biggest insult was that our bios weren’t in the playbill!  But Madison, Madison, Heather, Brittany and Tom’s were there.  One of the Madisons even thanked her agent by name!  I swear, the trip that our good works group is supposed to get out of this had better be something terrific.  You know, pizza and bowling is not gonna cut it.

          So the rehearsal Friday night was tense.  As soon as we got there, Wren pounces on us and tells us to set up rows of chairs for the audience.

          “After all, you are the good works after school club.  Let this be your good deed for today.”

          As if we haven’t been doing a good deed by just staying in this damn play.

          I notice that no one else from the cast gets this honor.  Wren is really starting to annoy me!  I can feel my spine start to itch – the cat in me wants to pounce all over her.  Set up your own damn chairs, lady.  As if giving up my after school time and weekends for the past six months hasn’t been enough of a good deed.  I can’t wait for this play to be over.

          Uncle Light-&-Sound arrives with his equipment, and he’s brought the kids.  He tells them to leave him alone while he sets-up the equipment, and they run off and start to hang all over Dor.  She’s not too thrilled because we have work to do. They’re not too thrilled that she doesn’t have time to play, like she usually does. Then one of the kids runs across the stage, she trips and falls on a ribbon (from Shirley the Smile Sprite’s costume). You’d think she busted a femur or something! Oy, the yelling!  The only word anyone can make out is Dor’s name.  So they assume it’s her fault.

          Dor had been bringing the costume to Wren because some of the ribbon streamers were falling off….Long story short, Heather and the Madisons are claiming that Dor’s to blame, and Uncle Light-&-Sound’s Madison tries to  punch Dor!  Thank God Tom and Ron spoke up to say Dor was nowhere near the kid when it happened!  When Mrs. R heard that Madison had threaten Dor, she was ready to drive us all home and let Antonio and Wren find another “Depressed Mom,” “Guidance Counselor” and quartet of background kids to yell “Turn that frown upside down!”  Mrs. R was not exactly turning that frown around.

          Antonio calmed her down, but Wren’s no longer hiding her malice toward Amelia’s mom. On the ride home, Mrs. R turned the radio up loud, but we could still her muttering ‘One more day…one more f#$%ing day” over and over as she drove.

          Saturday at three we had a full dress rehearsal, and Uncle Light-&-Sound filmed the whole thing, “because he’s recorded plays so many times before”.  All of the main characters are given microphones, and when Uncle Light-&-Sound tests them out, they all work.  Even Brittany’s.  She’s the one who’s playing Shirley the Smile Sprite.  The best mike was supposed to be for Tom who’s playing the main character Johnny. Somehow, Madison gets that one (surprise surprise).

          Suddenly, its curtain time and we start to play what we’ve just been rehearsing for over 5 months.  And it’s going great.  Brittany’s awesome as Shirley the Smile Sprite.  Madison’s character, Crabby Kryssi, is tepid at best and it is so obvious.  God, what I could have done with a part like that – I’d have hammed it up and been super-surly and nasty.  Madison just whined her lines, and the contrast between her and Brittany was so obvious…then it was time for “Shirley’s” big number. 

          The music started for “Grinners Are Winners,” and Brittany opened her mouth to sing.

          And the mike went dead!

          I was in the wings with most of the cast.  We looked over at the sound and light console.  Uncle Light-&-Sound had a half-smile on his face.  He wasn’t even attempting to “fix” the “problem.”  I have to give Brittany credit; she just kept singing, even though only Tom on stage could really hear her.  But from the audience and the wings, her performance looked like a bad pantomime.

          After the song, Brittany ran off the stage and started crying.  Mrs. R was trying to comfort her, and almost missed her cue for the next scene. 

          Finally it was all over.  Wren & Antonio were upset about the mishap with the mike during the play’s big song-and-dance number.  Uncle Light-&-Sound said he didn’t know what had gone wrong, and promised he’d tape Brittany in the actual performance and dub her in. Somehow, I doubt that’s gonna happen.

          We had a quick bite to eat, then our audience begins to arrive.  Antonio’s bustling about because these people from some local theater awards committee are attending.  Wren’s fussing with everyone’s make-up, and we barely got a glimpse of Carl and Sal, who came with Mr. R, before she starts poufing powder all over our faces.  After we got our make-up on, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Koludis, and the Morgans and Aunt Lina.  Everyone had come out!

          The play went so much smoother than the rehearsal.  Brittany’s mike didn’t fail and the applause at the end of the “Grinners Are Winners” scene was thundering.  I noticed that Uncle Light-&-Sound never bothered to turn on the camera during the actual play.  So Brittany’s spectacular performance couldn’t be “edited in”.  We’re all supposed to get CD’s of the performance – poor Brittany will have footage of that mike failure to watch for the rest of her life.

          All too soon the play was over.  After one last shout of “Turn that frown upside down!” we took our bows.  Uncle Light-&-Sound gave his niece a dozen roses – orange with red edges.  Sal came up to the stage to give me a single yellow rose.  It was so sweet!  Then we got off the stage and it was over.

          It was finally over! 

          But then the real drama began.

          I wanted to give Mr. Morgan a kiss.  Right in front of Wren, on purpose, he says to Ruby, “Honey, you were great, but if this is what you’ve been practicing for all of this time, I’d rather see you in a school play next year.  When I think of all of the weekend family trips we postponed, I think your time was worth more than a bit part like this.”

          Wren’s face was purple.  Aunt Lina, who had heard about all of the problems Mrs. R had with Wren, snorted, then turned it into a cough.

          All of us received flowers from Mr. Morgan, even Mrs. R.  He’s so nice. 

          We collected our props and said goodbye to Ron, Brittany, Heather, Tom and the Madisons.  Antonio and Wren were fussing around them, and Dor stood to one side, trying to avoid being near the punching Madison, who still thought that Dor had made her little cousin trip on purpose. 

I gave Brittany a hug, and said “See you around,” figuring that in reality I’d probably not.  She’d been the nicest of the group.

          “Aren’t you going to be at the cast party tomorrow?”

          For what seemed like a small eternity, there was silence as Wren’s face drained of all color, then turned beet red.  Before I could respond with “What cast party?” she began to babble about how there would be a cast party Sunday afternoon at four, at her brother Philippe’s restaurant.  Ruby had been there for the Christmas party; it was a place called Robyn’s Nest, because it was above a furniture store on Frost Spring Ave. 

          “It’s just a little get-together to celebrate.  You know, if you have something scheduled or can’t make it, I’ll understand.” 

          The punching Madison was livid.  It was obvious to everyone there except Antonio that our little group hadn’t been told about the party on purpose.  I think Brittany suspected sabotage on the part of Uncle Light-&-Sound, and Wren hadn’t been too sympathetic, so she felt justified in spilling the beans to us.  My initial feeling was to forget about it.  I don’t need to go where I’m not wanted,  but I could see that Ruby and Dor wanted the recognition that a cast party would give.  And Mrs. R put the cap on it.

          “After all of the work that these kids have done, they deserve a party. “ She turned to the Mr. Koludis, and the Morgans, and smiled.  “If it’s OK with everyone’s parents, I’ll pick the kids up tomorrow a little before  four so we can celebrate with the rest of the cast.”

          Grinning broadly, Mrs. R turned to Wren, whose eyes had narrowed at those words.  “It’s so sweet of you to host the entire cast at your brother’s restaurant, Wren.  This little after school group you started really has blossomed.  These kids can’t wait to hear what their end-of-the-year trip is going to be.  It’s all they’ve been talking about for months now, anticipating something really fun.  Well, Amelia and I are quite tired, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

          Wren was so stunned that her mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish out of water.  Before she could come to grips with the situation, Mrs. R had spun around on her heels and walked away. Her exit was better than her performance on stage (which had been quite good, actually). 

          That’s how the play ended.  But not the weekend, so I guess this isn’t the last you’ll hear about the play.  I’ll have more to say about that tomorrow.

          Until my next post…..

          Randi

As The Days Lengthen

          Ok so I wrote all of this over a month ago -- like in late May/early June.  I want to include it because I meant to post it, but I had a little computer trouble, then I was busy with the play, exams and then it was finally Summer.  VACATION!  Of course I want to forget all about the crud I've dealt with this school year, but I do want to keep the flow of this blog going, in case somebody's actually following the story of my life here. So, this was me during the end months of the school year.

       

   I’ve been walking in the Horseneck Nature Sanctuary on weekend mornings and weekday evenings, looking at the birds.  With a field guide in hand, I’ve been able to identify tons of the little warblers that have passed through this spring.  It was a rainy May, so I managed to get pretty muddy on my walks.  But if I had let the weather keep me in, I’d be as snippy and nasty as most of my classmates (and teachers). 

          I know that some of it is my fault, but I enjoy walking home – in any weather.  I don’t want anyone’s pity, nor do I want a ride from some well-meaning, overly-made-up SUV driving suburban hausfrau.  These clueless women don’t even realize that their daughter (or son) hates me and my friends.  On the days I don’t have play practice, I prefer to walk, even if it is pouring out.  I’m not immune to colds because I’m a shape-shifter, mind you, but I do dress sensibly, with rain gear and an umbrella. 

          It’s kind of ironic that these kids who buy overpriced outwear with the name on the back shoulder only use it to run from the school door to mom’s SUV.  I guess it’s the rugged image they buy into, not the actual activity.  And let’s not forget the fabulous footwear! The girls don’t want their fleecy Ugg(ly) boots to get wet.  I even saw one chicklet run barefoot in the rain (cold rain, mind you!) to her mother’s waiting minivan, with her boots in a bag.  And the mom commented “Good thinking!” to her daughter; I swear it wasn’t sarcastic. Ridiculous.  The sad thing is, if some stupid fashionista would declare the boots “out”, they’d hit the trash-pile faster than a falcon could dive.  And falcons are fast.

          Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked here--back to my walks home.  On drizzly or cloudy days, I’ve seen more wildlife than you can imagine. On White Cedars suburban streets, in backyards and empty lots I’ve seen fox, deer, opossum, chipmunks, rabbits…once I even saw a really cute black-furred squirrel.  The grey ones are just tree-rats, but this one was sleek and pretty.  I’ve seen geese and ducks (another suburban blight), turkey, red-tail hawks soaring overhead, turkey vultures spreading their wings on the old firehouse roof, and even a bald eagle!  It sounds impossible, but the white head & tail are too distinctive to make a mistake.  I almost walked into traffic when I watched that magnificent scavenger soar. 

          That’s why (when I don’t have too much stupid busywork from school) I try to do most of my bird watching in the mornings and evenings.  It’s when birds are most active, too.   Someone has a beehive set up in one of the fields at Horseneck Sanctuary.  In the evenings, as the worker bees push out the dead and dying bees (except for the queen, drones, and an over-wintering hive, bees live about six to eight weeks!), birds swoop in from the trees edging the field, then they crunch on the bees that have been pushed off the landing pad part of the hive.  It’s so cool to watch.  And the few local kids that walk the paths of Horseneck mostly avoid this field because they’re afraid of getting stung. 

          I’ve not met the beekeeper yet, but I have noticed that he’s put a cage-like box over the entrance lately…. it’s to keep them from swarming.  Spring is when the hive produces new queens and there can only be one queen in a hive at a time, so the hive divides and bees swarm.

          I’ve also noticed that the hive was originally two boxes tall, but since March there are four boxes above the “brood chamber” for honey collection.  This year should bring in a good yield.

          We had a neighbor in PA who used to keep bees.  He’d put a hive or two into our fields.  I remember one year when he didn’t come right away to extract the honey when the hives were full.  Aunt Lina was getting irritated about it, calling Hank and warning him that she was worried a bear might decide to take some.  She called him three times.  And then, one night, a bear knocked over the hive and messed up the frames and stuff getting at the honey. 

          Suddenly Aunt Lina wasn’t so tense.  She helped Hank put his hive to rights, re-stacking the boxes and all.  Got a few beestings doing that, but it disguised the swellings that I’d noticed on her neck and arms the morning that we discovered the upset hive.  Aunt Lina doesn’t swell up as much as the average person would from a beesting.  But she had been stung.  That’s what happens to a bear when it steals honey…

It’s peaceful watching the birds come and go.  I’ve met a few nice people who hike in the area, some who just nod hello, and others who stop and chat.  I even saw that rust-and-chocolate dachshund – you know, the one who ate that rabbit that I accidentally killed that one night…

          His owner is a nice gent in his fifties who was very surprised when “Boris” practically dragged him over to me one evening.  The owner’s name was Victor, and his other dog, a fawn-colored dachshund named “Bela” (“Named for Lugosi, and not that damned Twilight character.”) kept barking and pulling away from me at first.  I’m glad to know that Boris has a home and a loving owner.  I didn’t say anything to Victor about his dog’s misadventure; Boris and I will just keep that night our secret.

          It’s nice to know that my new hometown has some normal people in it (besides Ruby, Dor, Amelia, Carl and their families).  I suppose I’m beginning to think of White Cedars, NJ as my home.  I still miss PA.  But I can’t have everything the way I want it. 

          Now if there were only some way that the other girls at DSW Middle School could learn that lesson. 

          Until my next post…..

          Randi

I Wish I Was In College & The Choir Trip

          I found yet another reason to hate school – you have to stay there until June!  And because White Cedars had that blackout in October & all, we have to make up for the “snow days” that we used up during the days without electricity).  So while the towns around us get out in a less than two weeks, we have to go to school until almost the end of the month.  Yuck.

          I suppose it wouldn’t bother me, but Lizzie & Ronnie –oh, excuse me, it’s just plain Liz now—anyway, my cousins have been hanging around, using our house as a “crash pad” to sleep and hang out at after they spend an evening in NYC at a club of a play….

          And I’m jealous, because I used to be allowed to tag along, as long as my schoolwork was done to Aunt Lina’s liking.  But now I’m in Public School and I have to go, no matter how stupid it is.  Plus there’s play rehearsal – it’s gotten to the point where I forgot why the heck I even started with that in the first place!

          I’d really rather be with Ronnie & Liz, shopping in the Village or Williamsburg.  They’re even planning to go to Coney Island on the next sunny Tuesday.  I’m so unhappy that the bitchy side of me is glad that it’s been rainy.  I should be happy for them, but I’m so miserable in my White Cedars prison. 

          They told me about this new band they saw, at a “private invite birthday party” (Lizzie won tickets) at the Hard Rock for Little Steven (Van Zandt of Springsteen fame – I like his radio show), and about the pseudo-Biblical epic that some famous “drag legend” did at a small East Village theater.  They are having so much fun, while I’m stuck sitting at a desk re-learning stuff with a bunch of dullards.  Well, with a few exceptions, like Ruby, Dor, Amelia & Carl.  If it weren’t for our “crew” I’d be so lost!

          Aunt Lina knows how hard it’s been for me – we’ve talked about it, & she reminds me how I’ll have many years ahead of me for having the same kind of fun that my cousins are having now.  As old as she is, she must remember the weirdness of being a teenager, because she’s been so nice, especially when the cousins call to ask if they can sleep over.  One night a couple of weeks ago she even made her famous lobster Newburg when the supermarket had a sale on lobsters.  And she’s let me have first crack at the peas growing in the yard –I can’t believe how early they’ve begun to produce!  Sugar snap peas are so sweet and delicious – I want to put them in a salad, but somehow they just make it into my mouth.  You can eat them pod and all.  Later, when the crop gets bigger, I’ll shell them for dinner & fry up the pods in butter for lunch – yum.

          And there are some fun things going on at school.  Like the band and choir’s yearly trip.  It’s actually a competition between schools from all over the state, and White Cedars has such a good reputation for music that DSW competes against some High Schoolers!  They are mostly freshmen, but still!  Some of us Middle Schoolers are not quite teens!

          My first choir competition was very interesting.  We got up at 5a.m. to go to school, got on busses with teachers and parent chaperones, and set off for southern NJ.  Our band and choir performed in a school auditorium, in front of judges, and we were whisked out before the next busload of school kids came.  We never got to hear any of our competitors!  Instead, when all of the groups had performed (we have a jazz band, a learners band and the “green pride” band of more proficient musicians, as well as our chorus) The bus took us to the amusement park. 

          “Welcome to The NJ Adventure Park Experience” the huge sign over the gates proclaimed.  But reading that sign was all we could do for several hours (besides complain – there was a LOT of that going on!), because the grey storm clouds that had hung low in the sky all morning decided to let loose. Downpour! 

          By the time the storm had passed, we were sick of being on the bus (especially those in the back seats, near the bathroom).  Only a few of the rides and attractions were open, so people mostly huddled in souvenir shops, restaurants and food stands.  We didn’t get to ride on a roller coaster, and we didn’t have to ride on the splashdown to get wet. Good times. 

          Finally somebody with half a brain decided to give out the awards an hour earlier than scheduled.  We won second place for our band, and third for our choir, with a first place for our soloist from the 8^th grade.  He had a great voice.  Then we were back on the bus for our ride home.  I fell asleep on the return trip.  I wonder if I’ll go next year – this was nothing like Dor and Carl had said, but I guess it was mostly the weather that made it stink.  That and the over-used bus bathroom.

          Until my next post…..

          Randi

Mother’s Day Without A Mom

          It was Mother’s Day last month (I know, my postings are so far behind!), & I got cards for all of my friend’s moms, as well as a card for Aunt Lena.  Yes, Hallmark has a card for everything.  Unfortunately, I think that instead of making some women I like feel happy, I made them uncomfortable.  I’m happy that my friends have great moms.  I mean, some people I know have awful moms & my friends are fortunate.

          And I guess I didn’t think that Dor’s mom would cry when she got my card.  Carl said his mom got misty-eyed too.  Ruby’s mom called to thank me & we talked for a little – she wanted to make sure I was OK & I told her I was.  Mrs. R invited Aunt Lina and me to their family barbecue & she told me she felt bad for me, not having my mom around.  Then I felt awkward.   I guess I can’t miss what I never had, and Aunt Lina is the only “parent” I’ve ever known.

          Aunt Lina isn’t my “real” aunt – she’s my legal guardian.  No heavy blood connection, although tribe means family, the way I see it.  It was all set up legally as far as the US government was concerned.  The Seneca understanding is that Aunt Lina was chosen to raise me, and so they let her.

          Let me explain. You see, I don’t talk much about my mom, because it’s a biological situation.   My mother was a member of the Seneca Nation; she had been raped, and pregnancy was the result.

          I know, it sounds like one of those theoretical examples that pro-abortion people come up with as a reason to kill an embryo.  Well, I was an embryo, once.  My mother didn’t want to raise me, but realized that the Spirit had created me for a reason.  She gave me to the tribe. 

          Really.  My birth certificate lists my mother as “Jane D.” for Jane Doe, the name Americans give to unidentified females.  I was born on a reservation to a midwife who filled out the paperwork.  According to the official report, Jane D. gave birth in a home on the rez, and when the midwife had her back turned, Jane ran away.  According to Aunt Lina, this was the story the tribe gave out officially.  The real story was that my mother gave me up to the tribe, choosing Lina from the tribal elders to be my caregiver.  She felt that Lina would be able to convince me not to go looking for her when I was older. 

          She was right.  I’ve understood about sex since I was six, when I read a textbook about anatomy, physiology, and organ system functions.  I was eight when Aunt Lina fully explained about the rape and all.  This poor woman – according to Aunt Lina she wasn’t much more than a girl – had been violated once.  Why would I want to violate her again?

          Aunt Lina could have adopted me, called herself my mother and never let me know the truth at all.  But elders don’t do that.  The truth was the only way for Aunt Lina to handle things.

          Aunt Lina believes that the Spirits and the Saints were guiding my mother in her choice – my mother was not a shifter, although there may have been shifters in her family in the past.  Not much was known about the man who raped my mother.  Aunt Lina said that my mother refused to talk about the ordeal, and that she really did leave the reservation as soon as I was born.  Aunt Lina also explained that many people grow up not knowing much about their biological parents and that some choose to fill the void with people they know and love.  My aunt knows that I consider her as more than a mother – she’s my mentor, my friend, and my guide in the way of shifters.  Although she appears to be in her mid-to-late forties, I’ve seen evidence that Aunt Lina is much older than that.  I suppose that being a shifter gives her the ability to appear young(er).  Even when I was younger I knew…Aunt Lina sometimes let things slip – like she remembered when cars and telephones were new technology.  She says I’m lucky not to have to deal with the prejudices that were around when she was young.

          So we went over to Amelia’s and I had some delicious grilled burgers and Italian sausages.  I got to play with her younger siblings and met her older brother, Salvatore.  He’s a couple of years older than us, but goes to a private school, because he’s autistic or Asperger’s or something.  He told me that he used to go to school in town, but because he was “different” he’d been teased.  His nickname, “Sal” made for a lot of trouble, too – on the playground, he was called “Sally” and was accused of being gay.  One day he just turned around and punched his tormenter in the nose.  It turns out that his tormentor was Jack Green, whose dad is the mayor, as well as the best friend of Principal Knarf.  They expelled Sal for “excessive violence.”  A lawyer friend of their family told Mrs. R that she could go after the Greens and the school for allowing a “hate crime” to happen.  You see, even though Sal’s not gay, it’s still a hate crime to pick on someone for their perceived sexual orientation.  Way to turn the tables on the situation!

          Now Sal goes by bus to a school in another county, where he’s happy.  He’s a math whiz and he plays the saxophone.  He played some pieces for us; he’s quite talented.  Amelia doesn’t often talk about Sal, but I’d seen older kids at school tease her about having a “retarded” brother.  Sometimes she ignores it & sometimes she throws a put-down right back at the bully.   Funny thing is, Sal’s probably a lot smarter than the kids calling him retarded.

          Amelia says that when Sal was little he had difficulty communicating and sitting still.  Now he prefers to sit quietly and talk with adults rather than kids his own age.  He’s great with the little ones and they adore him.  He gave me an awkward hug when Aunt Lina and I left.  Aunt Lina thinks he may have a crush on me.  She also believes that the Spirits guide Sal, and he’s going to have an interesting life because of it.  She says he’s got a presence about him, more than just your average Joe with a guardian angel.  I kinda get what she means.

          We didn’t stay out too late at Amelia’s, because Aunt Lina wanted go up to Horseneck Sanctuary with me once the sun went down.  So we ran together, bear and cat.  Aunt Lina hasn’t been out too much lately, so when we shifted, she was very cub-like in her antics.  It was fun to see her rolling in the grass, and scratching her back against a tall rock.  Sometimes I forget that NJ is different for her too.

          She’s not shifted in a few weeks, because it’s mating season for bears.  She doesn’t want to leave her scent around for males to find.  Male bears travel far and wide searching for a mate in the spring – especially younger bears.  That’s why there are news articles every spring about bears being found in suburban areas, wandering where they really wouldn’t go, otherwise.  There had been a male tranquilized in Fallsview, which is two towns over, just last spring!  And last winter, a female had been found under the deck in a suburban backyard in Wayne!

          We had a few hours of fun, in the nature preserve.  We startled a few turkeys, and I even scented a pheasant, although she was hiding well.  There were geese in a field, and there were streams running down the rocky hills, making pools for the cricket frogs, toads and salamanders to lay eggs in.  Aunt Lina munched on skunk cabbage roots in her bear form – it’s a delicacy for bears, apparently.   

          All too soon we had to shift back and go home. I did have school on Monday, and needed my sleep.  As Aunt Lina and I walked back to the house, a passing cop car slowed down to check us out.  The patrolman rolled down his window and asked if everything was OK.

          “Everything’s fine, officer.  My niece is just having a little insomnia, so I figured we’d just take a little walk,” explained Aunt Lina.

          The car rolled on, and we got home a few minutes later, at 12:30.  And so Mother’s Day 2012 ended.  I hope that the moms who celebrated had a wonderful day.  And my hope for those whose path to motherhood was painful is blessed forgetfulness.  I don’t want my mother to remember me if it causes her pain.  I’m just blessed that she decided to have me at all.

          Until my next post…..

          Randi

A Student’s Lament (Aye Aye Aye!!)

          I can’t tell you how much I hate school!!!!

          I used to get up (or come in after a nice run in the woods), hit the books or computer, do a few assignments before breakfast, then finish the rest after I ate.  I’d be done before noon (sometimes before 10!), and have the rest of the day to read, listen to music, help with dinner, take a walk, watch a DVD, or nap, if I’d been out running that morning.  I didn’t mind keeping up with my studies in the summer, because Aunt Lina allowed me to pursue any topic I wanted until I felt I’d exhausted my interest. 

          That’s how my research on mummies morphed into learning about archeology, mythology and folktales of foreign lands.  My fascination with one shell I picked up on a visit to Wildwood, when I was seven, lead me to learning all about univalves, bivalves, mollusks, shore life and the importance of water systems.  Every time I found something interesting, I looked up more about it.

          Then the move to New Jersey and this go-to-public-school routine…

          Suddenly I have a full day, every day, with mandatory schedules that allow me no time to do things that really matter to my life!  I have idiot teachers that make reading, writing, and learning the most boring, time-sapping task.  They don’t like it when I already know the material, especially if I know more about it than they do. 

          Let me give you a prime example :The “Aye Aye” dynasty of Russia (as I like to call it).

          We were learning about Russia in Social Studies, and how there was “this revolution” as the teacher called it, where they took the Tsar out of power.  The teacher, Mrs. Raschall, talked about Tsar Nicholas, and asked the class a question about him.  Of course, no one’s hand went up.  So after twenty seconds, I raised mine and answered her question, referring to the Tsar as Nicholas Romanov.  The teacher said I was wrong.

          HUH??

          She said I was wrong because it was Nicholas “Aye Aye,” not Nicholas Romanov.  She even pointed it out in the book and had the nerve to ask me if I’d read my Social Studies book.  I swear this is true – ask anyone in my class.  Ruby did a face-palm gesture.  Carl was laughing so hard he had his elbow across his face, to make like he was coughing!  I tried to explain that Nicholas the second and Nicholas Romanov were the same guy.  She couldn’t believe it & asked me how I knew that.  After all, it wasn’t in the book. 

          Louise, one of the quietest girls in the grade, came to my defense.

          “Did you ever see the movie ‘Anastasia’?  It begins with the Russian Revolution!  And it’s all about the Romanov dynasty.”

          Mrs. Raschall still insisted on calling him Nicholas “Aye Aye”.  Thank God she teaches Social Studies and not Shakespeare!  Imagine learning about Richard “Aye Aye Aye”.  It’s a fine example of NJ tax dollars at work -- a teacher who is barely literate.

          It scares me --the cost-per-pupil in NJ is one of the highest in the country, and there will be kids graduating without the basic knowledge of how to pronounce Roman numerals after a name.  A kid like that could become your boss someday!  I’d sure hate to work for someone who was dumber than me!

          I told Aunt Lina about Mrs. Raschall and the “aye aye” incident, & she discussed it with a neighbor, Amy Coddington, whose daughter, Daphne, is a freshman at White Cedars High School. There was a similar problem at the High School last week. Apparently the stupidity isn’t only limited to teachers at the D.S.W. Middle School. 

          It seems that freshman students at WCHS have to take a class called Freshman Community Skills, where they learn basic internet proficiency, financial literacy, how to fill in a job application and how to research a given topic.  According to Daphne, the kids call the class “Freshskills” (because it sounds like Freshkills, a former NY trash dump, & the class, like the old dump, stinks!).  Well, the other day in “Freshskills” the teacher told the class that in less than 10 years, all of them would probably need to apply for some form of insurance. Her assignment was to use the computer to get some sort of insurance quote.  Sounds simple, right?

          Daphne decided to look into car insurance.  The problem was that she had no car (yet).  The teacher told her to pretend she was insuring her Dad’s car, go on the computer & get a quote.  Daphne hesitated.  They were asking for the type of information that the teacher, in an earlier lesson, had told them NOT to give out.  Like her date-of-birth….driver’s license number (which she didn’t have anyway)….phone number and address…..but an assignment is an assignment, so she went ahead, filling in a phony license number & birth date.  Apparently she wasn’t the only one who figured that such a tactic would fulfill the assignment.

          The result?  More than half the freshman class was getting phone calls and e-mails that night from insurance salespeople, who were thinking of them as possible clients!  Daphne was called twice after school, and once after dinner; she kept telling the guy that it had been a classroom assignment, but he didn’t believe her.  On the fourth attempt, Amy Coddington handed the phone to her husband, who cursed at the guy and hung up.   Stuff like this was going on all across town, because the teacher hadn’t fully thought out the consequences of her assignment.  And this teacher’s supposed to be showing kids how to avoid making stupid mistakes while using a computer, right?

          Why am I wasting my life trapped with idiots?

          That’s not to say that all teachers are idiots.  I was at a college graduation party this past weekend, where I met a young teacher named Zara who obviously cared deeply for her first graders.  She teaches in Connecticut, and talked about how she adores her class, even the most rambunctious of them, and how hard it was when she sees some kids struggle to understand the lessons.  It just makes her look at other ways of approaching the lesson, like using pennies to teach math.  But even she had a bad teacher story!

          She told some of the adults at the party (I just happened to listen in) about a student-teacher whose reason for becoming a teacher was simply to “have the same hours as my kids, and the same days off.”  It galled Zara that this woman seemed to think that papers graded themselves and lesson plans magically appeared from thin air!  And the student-teacher even called the regular classroom teacher, who was supposed to grade her efforts, and gave the real teacher an argument because she didn’t exactly write her a glowing recommendation!

          It’s sad that the bad teachers are so bad that they overshadow the good ones.  But it’s like that with everything, I suppose.  If something good happens, you may tell ten, twenty or even thirty people.  But if something bad happens, you’ll complain about it to everyone you meet, even strangers.

          Looking at what I’ve written, I guess that I’m a prime example of that!  I’ve just complained about 3 bad teachers, to the wide world of the interwebs.  But what else can be done? 

           Aunt Lina asked Zara what, if anything, she would recommend that she do as my guardian, because this teacher is obviously lees than qualified.  And Sara said that if my Social Studies teacher isn’t tenured (and she isn’t – it’s her first year), to tell the administrators or the board about her BEFORE she makes that tenured status.

          Otherwise, White Cedars will be stuck with this teacher until she decides to retire.  Yes, stuck with an educator who can’t pronounce Roman numerals properly.  But after all, it’s not as if she teaches Math or anything….

          Aye aye aye!!!!  (And I don’t mean three!)

          Until my next post…..

          Randi

Playing Catch-Up

          I have been so busy at school that April passed me by.  I didn’t get a chance to write about the unusual spring (everything bloomed so fast, because of the warm weather in March).  April seemed chilly, because March had been so warm.  And now May’s here.  School still sucks, the play’s still annoying, and we miss Carl so much.   The Madisons have become overbearing, and Wren’s become very sharp with those of us in the original afterschool group.  Mrs. R. is getting frustrated with bringing us to rehearsals where we just sit around and get yelled at for being “too loud”.  I mean, what are we supposed to do?  There was one practice that we never even did anything, but Wren insisted on us being there.  What a joke.  I think Mrs. R. was really ticked off because she’d finished her novel & had NOTHING to do but wait.  At least we kids had homework to do.
            April 15^th was Pascha.  I can eat meat again, and Dor’s no longer being teased at lunch.  The Tuesday after Pascha (she was off that Monday to go to church) Carl brought in a smallish layer cake, all chocolate with fudge frosting, which he’d made to celebrate Dor’s breaking of the fast.  She shared it with our group at lunch.  Carl had cleverly decorated it with M&Ms and Oreos.  Everyone in the cafeteria saw it, and some kids even asked for a slice. 

            Dor handled it magnificently.  Whenever anyone asked for a taste, she solemnly said that she couldn’t give them one, for “religious reasons.”  When Terri, from the popular girls group asked Dor what that meant, Dor opened her eyes all wide and innocent-like, and said “According to my beliefs, I can’t break bread with people I don’t trust.”

            Nina, who was standing behind Terri, said the most ridiculous thing after that.

            “But it’s not bread, it’s cake!”

            Yeah, it was classic.  It just goes to show how great an education she’s managing to get at D. S. Whitstone Middle School.  Now I know why snobby prep school kids in TV sitcoms ridicule public school.  Perhaps they have a point. 

For the rest of the day, if any of us met up in the hall, that was our greeting.  “But it’s not bread, it’s cake!”  The other kids looked at us as if we were crazy, but we’re used to that.

            The very last week of April we got our Easter Break.  Except they don’t call it Easter Break, like we did in PA.  They call it “Spring Break” as if we were in college.  I guess it’s another way my new home-state is trying to sanitize Christianity from its reality.  They did give us (Western) Good Friday off, but that’s probably only because the teacher’s union wouldn’t allow them to take a day off away from the workers!

            In the few days before “Spring Break”, the teachers seemed to have gone totally nuts.  It’s like they’ve suddenly realized that the end school close, and they have to step it up in order to get as much of the curriculum in as their original lesson plans said they would.  They began giving out assignments galore to do on our vacation.  We all planned to do some of the work together, and doing it at my house was preferred, because Aunt Lina was at home. 

          Ruby, Amelia and Carl all have Miss Joilee (remember her from testing?) for homeroom or “Language Arts” (which used to be known as Grammar and Literature in Pennsylvania).  They came by with Dor, on the first day of vacation, and Carl was complaining about an assignment he’d been given.

          “She says she wants us to be creative, but then when I am, she sucks all of the fun and creativity out of any assignment I write, with her damned purple pen.”

          “I know!” exclaimed Amelia, as she grabbed another cookie off of the platter Aunt Lina had set out.  “I hate that purple pen.  It’s made me hate reading my little brother’s favorite story to him anymore!”

          “Harold and the Purple Crayon is your brother’s favorite book?” asked Aunt Lina, looking up from her computer.  “I love the artwork!  I was sad when Randi grew tired of picture-books.  Some of the best American art is in picture-books.  Like the late Maurice Sendak, may he rest in peace.  I loved his illustrations ever since I read Chicken Soup With Rice. ”

          “I know,” said Dor, smiling.  “I still have this miniature set of Sendak’s…in a little box. It was my Mother’s, and she got it from my Godmother, Aunt Polly.  My favorite story is Pierre, the boy who would only say “NO!”

          “Mine too!” laughed Aunt Lina.

          We were all sitting in the kitchen, and Aunt Lina was on a stool at the counter, drinking tea and typing.  Usually she’s in her studio painting or crafting, but today she was playing the responsible adult, so she had on jeans without paint stains, and was at the computer, sometimes listening in our griping.

          “So what kind of assignments does this teacher give, Carl, and what does she consider “wrong” with your work?"

          "It’s not just my work that she finds wrong, it’s the fact that I’m a male.  I guess she thinks that boys can’t be as imaginative as girls.  I swear if a boy and a girl submitted the exact same essay, she’d automatically grade the boy lower!  And that makes it hard for me to even care about her assignments any more, if I can’t get a high grade anyway."

          “Well, that’s not nice!  I’m really surprised at how much school has changed since….well, since I went.  Is this an honors class? According to some of the mothers I’ve spoken to, taking an “honors” class means your child will not get an A because teachers can’t give A’s for honors classes.  It would boost a kid’s GPA too much. So even if a child is capable of earning a grade, they can’t earn it, because it won’t be given. Ridiculous, if true….ooh! My friend Tom Patrickson is a writer – you may have heard of him.  He’s online right now & I sort-of wrote to him about your teacher complaint, as we were talking…”

          “Whoa!” exclaimed Ruby, “You don’t mean the Thomas Patrickson, author of Shoot or Die, and Redskin in Red Square, do you?”

          “Yes, that’s Tom.”

          “Cool!” said Ruby. 

          “No way!” put in Carl.

          “Well, Tom’s kinda having writer’s block, and just told me he’d love to only have to worry about what some stupid teacher thought.  Why don’t we give him one of your assignments from Miss Joilee?  It could be amusing,” she said, clicking at the keys on her laptop.

          “You’re kidding, right?” asked Carl.  “Joilee hates guys – no male in any of her classed has ever gotten higher than a B-.  She’ll purple pen him!”

          “Then you will have proven your point, right?” asked Aunt Lina.  “This is a real life lesson, not a school lesson.  Think of it like a science lab.  How can you prove your theory to be right?  Let’s devise an experiment.  If Tom agrees, let him do two papers, of the same assignment.  Write one essay as a girl, and one as a boy.  Let’s see what the grade is.”

          Aunt Lena was typing furiously.  My friends and I were chuckling at the thought of fooling a teacher.  Aunt Lina hit one last key, then sat back and sighed.

          “Let’s see if he’ll do it.”

          We didn’t anticipate an immediate answer, and so we just kept on working on our homework.  We had expected to be practicing for the play, but Wren had sent us e-mails saying the practice time had changed from 3:30 to 7, and Mrs. Z. called to tell us that she would pick us all (except Carl) up after dinner for the late rehearsal.

          Then Aunt Lina let out a “Whoo-hoo” that made us all jump.

          “Tom’s up for it, guys!  He’ll do an essay for your teacher, just to see how he’d be graded.  I’ve got to e-mail him the info, and he’ll send me two essays.  He’s going to work on it tonight, and he’ll use different fonts and spacing on each assignment so it will look legit.  But you have to promise not to tell anyone.  If you do, he’ll deny any involvement.  Plus it makes me look bad.   Is that OK?”

          Of course, we all agreed.

          So Carl sat down at Aunt Lina’s computer & asked a NY Times bestselling author to help conduct an experiment….

          Dor and Ruby were helping Amelia with her math, and discussing the upcoming choir competition at a South Jersey amusement park. I hadn’t been involved in much of the group’s fundraising, and had been wondering if it was worth attending.

          “After we’re done singing, we have the rest of the day to go on the rides, and in the late afternoon, they announce the trophy winners.  It’s so cool; they’ve got the best coasters, and last year it was so hot that we went on the splashdown ride & were dry in less than a half-hour,” said Carl.

          “I want to go on Odin’s Thunderbolt.  It’s the biggest looping rollercoaster on the East Coast!” declared Ruby.

          The rest of the afternoon we goofed off in the backyard, listening to music.  We had an early dinner, after my friends left, because of the play rehearsal.  Mrs. R came by at 6:30. And we got to a local church basement (yes, another site for practice) in time to see everyone coming out of the building.  Was it a fire drill?

          No, we were informed rehearsal was OVER.

          Huh?

          Wren was even asking us why we had ignored her e-mail.

          First of all, let me tell you about that e-mail from Wren about rehearsal times changing.  Apparently, what she had meant to say was that rehearsal time had changed from the usual 4:00-to-6:00 time to a 3:30–to-7 rehearsal.  So when Mrs. R drove us over at 7, the rehearsal was ending!  And all because Wren had not used proper English, or taken the time to clarify her meaning,  or even read over her e-mail before hitting “send”.

          The funny thing is, the misunderstanding seemed limited to those of us from White Cedars.  All of us agreed that the e-mail was unclear.  Saying the time had “changed from 3:30 to 7” implied that rehearsal time used to be 3:30 but now was 7. Amelia’s mom, Aunt Lina and the other parents all agreed.  But Wren said (in her nasty little voice that meant she was right, and you were, obviously, stupid) that it should have been clear that the rehearsal, which usually started at 4, was changed to 3:30. 

          Except the non-stars weren’t always supposed to show up at 4!  We extras were always given different times to show up, so that Antonio, the director, could work with the singers & dancers separately. 

Mrs. R was livid when Wren treated her like an idiot for misreading her poorly composed e-mail.  She was so mad that she asked Wren if she understood the fundamentals of the English language.  How else could ALL of the White Cedars parents & kids understand her e-mail to mean the same thing …a three-and-a-half-hour change in the start of rehearsal?  Wren insisted her e-mail was perfectly clear, because all of her stars had shown up on time.  Mrs. R told us to get back in the car, and drove us home.  During the whole trip home, she kept saying that if we hadn’t invested several months of our time in this damn play, she’d pull Amelia out & advise everyone else to do the same.  She was so upset! 

          And as we were leaving, I noticed that Wren’s mouth was puckered up like she’d been sucking lemons.  This did not bode well….

          Needless to say, rehearsals have become very tense.  Wren is icily polite to Mrs. R.  And Mrs. R just laughs it off, throwing off comments about the lack of a proper education in Language Arts that some towns have….

          Once our Spring Vacation was over, we went back to DSW Middle school & handed in our assignments....both of Mr. Patrickson’s essays were different, and the guy really did try to think like a girl for one and like a boy for the other.  The experiment was a “success”-- Amelia got an A- and Carl got a C-.  It doesn’t help Carl improve his grade, but it proves that he’s right -- Ms. Joilee is prejudiced against boys. 

          Oh!  And Tom Patrickson asked Aunt Lina to mail him the graded essays.  It seems that our little deception gave him an idea for a non-fiction article, about the state of education in the US today…

          Carl told Aunt Lina that if Mr. Patrickson needed to ask questions of those of us “in the trenches” he’d be very willing to have a conversation on Skype.  Carl still can’t get over the fact that a best-selling author got a C- from Miss Joilee.

          Well, this post is longer than I intended & I still have so much to write about!

          Until my next post…

          Randi

Ghostcat The Next Day…

          The next morning, as I walked to school, I smelled bear.  Aunt Lina.  She had probably gone back to check my kill.  I hope the little dog got enough to eat before she got to the woods, & frightened everything off.  Aunt Lina had been asleep when I left for school, but it was one of my early mornings – I’m in the chorus & they meet in “zero period” – Forty minutes before the first class of the day. 

         What can I say about chorus?  I like to sing, and my friends are in chorus, so I joined too.  Mrs. Beach is so much fun, and we sing cool stuff.  But it’s still a school class, and so stupidity is the name of the game.  I think I’ve already written about the whole “Christmas without Christ” concert before Christmas…

          The Spring Concert has no stupid restrictions, because it’s not tied to any holiday (like Easter or Passover). Mrs. Beach has used gospel spirituals, Broadway show-tunes and pop songs in an attempt to win the “Clash of the Choirs” trophy.  Dor tried out for a solo and will be singing “Frank Mills” from “Hair.”

          Dor is a pretty good singer – that’s why I was so surprised when she didn’t get a singing part in “Cheers Not Tears—Just Smile!”  But…that’s another thing I’ve written about in previous posts, so I won’t waste time rehashing it…

          As I reached the front door of D. S. Whitstone, I saw Carl locking his bike to the parking lot fence.  He wasn’t supposed to do that, but the bike rack was already full.

          “Wait up!” He shouted.

          Ruby’s dad’s van pulled up just as Carl reached the door, so we waited for her.  She grabbed her backpack and lunch out of the van and ran over.

          “Carl, is it true that your mom’s making you quit the play?” Ruby asked breathlessly as we walked into school.

          “Yeah,” Carl said, grinning. “And I’m glad.  I have the chance to play with a real folk band at a benefit for Breast Cancer.  I was recommended by my banjo teacher to play with this group.  It’s all adults & me.  How awesome is that?  Mom thinks that it’s a better opportunity than doing Wren’s play. Who’s gonna come see ‘Cheers Not Tears—Just Smile!’ when we do the single performance Antonio is planning?  Some local do-gooders will see it, but it won’t help me in my musical career.  Pete freakin’ Seeger himself will be at this Breast Cancer Benefit, and I can use this as a ‘resume enhancer’ when I’m trying for a music scholarship.  That’s more important than chanting ‘Turn that frown upside down!’ a few times for Wren.  Although I will come see the play when --I mean IF—it ever happens!”

          “I think it’s what’s best for you,” I said.  “But Dor’s not gonna quit – she still thinks Wren’s gonna come through for us.  Wren did promise us a fantastic end-of-the-year trip out of this.  Maybe we’ll go to Great Adventure or the Museum or NY Aquarium or something.”

          “My mom likes that I’m doing an after school activity so I’m still in,” said Ruby.  “And Amelia’s mom’s been asked to play Jackie’s mother.”

          Carl laughed. “Mrs. R is gonna play the depressed mom, too?  She has the best line in the whole play!  Lucky!”

          “What?” I asked, trying to recall the script.

          “She gets to bang on the table and yell at Shirley the Smile Sprite.  The line is pure schlock. ‘I wouldn’t be so unhappy, if he were a better kid!’  I can’t wait to see that!” Carl crowed.

          Misquoting that line was the joke of the day for us.  Amelia adapted it in Mrs. Farfanella’s math class, when Byron Knight got a problem wrong.  She slammed her book on the desk and said “Byron, Mrs. Farfanella wouldn’t be so unhappy, if you could just learn to add!”  I didn’t have Mrs. F. for Math, but Dor and Carl did, and they reported it to Ruby & me at lunch.  It made Miss F. laugh, and she didn’t even know about the play.

          Then Dor took it up to complain about how her Mom made a lousy sandwich.

          “I wouldn’t be so hungry, if she’d just make my egg salad with extra mayo!”

          We all laughed so hard, that the teachers began to give us weird looks. The kids in our grade already thought we were geeks, so our odd behavior was hardly noticed by anyone else.  But it helped make the day go faster!

          Play practice that afternoon was a disaster.  Wren was frustrated when a few of her “stars” didn’t show (and didn’t bother to show).  Only one of the Madisons showed up, Heather’s threatening to quit, and no one could find Brittany….When she found out about Carl, she nearly blew a fuse.  Antonio was cool about it; Carl’s playground scenes were mostly pantomimed anyway.  He figures one of Wren’s triplets could fill in.

          Oh!  Last week we got a new male lead, Roger.  The girls are all goo-goo eyed over him.  He doesn’t want to be bothered with them, and sometimes hangs around by us, which is making us even less popular with the Madison-Brittany-Heather-Madison clique.  It’s funny, I’m not even sure if they like each other, they just seem to have banded together because of the play, and because they dislike the attention Roger pays us.  Great, like we need more trouble than school gives us.

            I know I’ve said this before, but I cannot wait until this play is over.

            Until my next post…

            Randi