A series of texts from my inebriated friend:
She: Consider yourself drunk dialed.
Me: Thanks, I will save the message forever.
She: I wish you were here like Incubus.
Me: What does that even mean?
She: The sekrit is in the vine.
Me: So you’re feeling pretty good?
She: I love u en la biblioteca con un gato.
❤
Another middle school today. This one all around much better than the last one. I think I’m sort of getting the hang of just NOT being the students’ friend. I like it, in a way. It gives me an outlet. No worrying about making a great first impression, or being charming or funny. Just no-nonsense, sit down, shut up, take out your lang arts book. Love it.
I always notice the one smart, bookish, no-fuss kid. The one who rarely says anything (I’m not talking about the raising-her-hand, I’ve-got-all-the-answers kid). Just the regular kid who is going through middle school.
Last week there was a kid who finished his worksheet, turned it in, put his pencil away, and then pulled out a book and started reading – all silently. Love that kid. Loved him even more when I saw he was reading Stephen King’s Misery. I kind of wanted to say something to him (like, “Have you read it before? Do you love it??”) but he was still near the beginning, and I didn’t want to be a total creeper.
There was a kid this morning who also silently started the worksheet. When I said they could work QUIETLY in pairs, he raised his hand and said, “Do we have to work in pairs?” No, no you don’t – I hated group work also. Much easier to just do it and get it done.
In my sixth/seventh period today there was a kid who looked annoyed/fed up with his classmates’ antics (and there were a lot of them). At one point he said, “Can I talk to you?” and I said, “Yeah, what’s up?” and he said, “Can you make a list of all the names of the kids who were being good?” I guess he could foresee the mediocre report I gave the teacher about that class. Then he said, “I finished the reading questions.”
“Did you finish the worksheet too?” He nodded, face in hands and elbows on desk. “Both sides?” Another nod.
Then he said, “I’m bored.”
All I could say (and no one else was listening, so I felt it was safe) was, “I know you are, I know how you feel. I promise you it will all pay off one day. Don’t let it discourage you.”
He just nodded some more, looking resigned.
Oh, smart kids. Please don’t let the monotony of middle school (or high school, or life) get you down. Eventually you get a chance to stretch out and grow.
And then in college you’ll learn the joys of skipping class. So work it while you’ve got it.
To all the new teachers, substitute teachers, doctor’s office receptionists, and potential employers that I have had in my lifetime:
I just want to say that I’m empathetic of your struggle and I identify with you. That moment scanning the roll sheet or the sign-in sheet or my email application, and you scroll past the Jessicas and the Tanyas and the Aarons of the world, and then your eye stops on my name, and you think, Poor guy. Or girl?
In middle school and high school, I grew used to that pause after Goselin or Green, when I knew Hamilton was next and that poor teacher was in denial that, whatever they tried, whatever ethnic spin they put on it…they were about to go down in flames. As often as possible I preempted the carnage, and just called my name out. Because I’m a nice person like that.
And I’m not a shy person, generally speaking. When someone asks me a question I will give them the answer, clear and enunciated. None of this bs I keep running into with high school students, where the answer is mumbled and quiet and completely unhelpful. (After two different students named Estefani, I still have no idea how to pronounce it.)
I didn’t choose my name. I like it, and I can’t imagine being named anything else. But given the opportunity to name new people (say, children), I would have to think long and hard before saddling them with something that no one will ever be able to spell or pronounce without practice.
Oh, also, I’d save them the conversation of, “That’s different! I’ve never heard that before! Where is that from?” I have given the full story as I know it (Dutch wedge of family pie; 7 and 9 generations back; we have no idea how it was pronounced originally; possibly a Dutch equivalent of Cynthia?), but I have also, when particularly flustered/in a hurry/irritated, just said, “Yeah, my parents made it up.” (If I’ve ever given you that bit, I’m sure it wasn’t personal, I was probably just having an “off” day.)
My mother-in-law named her kids Lance and Drew. This way, there’s no nickname for either one, there’s no lengthier versions, and no one will ever have problems understanding/spelling/pronouncing their names. I love it. I’m into nicknames, but it’s frustrating meeting that person who sometimes goes by Michael and sometimes goes by Mike, and you’re like, what do you want to be called?
I recently found out the guy I’ve been calling Harold for a month actually prefers Hank. But no one ever told me that. So I’ll make the switch now. Awkward!
In fifth grade, a family friend suggested I change the spelling of my name to Sysha. Which might have been helpful. But I could never really convince myself that I wanted to give up like that.
I recently read an article that said that given two resumes with an equal level of experience, equally good references, etc, the employer will call the one with the “Americanized” name. (I guess this depends greatly on the employer.) They sent out equally matched resumes to a bunch of employers, one with “Rachel Miller” on the top and one with “Nikshanta Uluave.” (Or whatever.) And guess who got called in to interview? I have definitely thought more than once, over the last year, about just sticking my middle name up there to make me more accessible to American (and xenophobic?) potential employers.
When Drew first started work at The Lion King and would mention his girlfriend Syche, everyone thought he was dating a black girl. They were apparently kind of disappointed when they finally saw pictures and I’m just a plain boring white girl with brown hair.
In the end though, there’s more to a name than Juliet thinks, right? I feel like my name has shaped me in a way that going through life answering to Shannon might not have.
So, strangers who are seeing or hearing my name for the first time, I appreciate your patience and your perseverance. Please call me in for an interview, I am totally not intimidating at all.
And to the Yazans, Timmurs, Salevis, Siales, Anayelys, and Estefanis of the world (or even just the Bay Area): I really am trying to say it correctly. It’ll help me out so much if you say it clearly if I get it wrong.
And don’t look at me like that, we’re in the exact same boat.
PS. My favorite name today was a guy named Orange. And I’ve seen a lot of overly-complicated spellings of regular names, like Raychell and DeNiece. (I’m not making these up.)
Recently I teetered on the edge of a disaster – having to go all day without my cell phone. Luckily, I found it in Michelle’s car and all was well. But maybe it was all just foreshadowing.
Last Thursday I checked my Verizon online account and noticed that I was getting perilously close to going over both my minutes AND my texts. It’s bad enough I was close to my minutes: but I spent a lot of time on the phone this month for the teaching stuff, and then with our insurance trying to ask questions about our plan. So I accept that. But 1500 texts this month? I try to make it sound less bad by saying it’s sent and received texts, but I know the truth: I just text too much. I feel slightly ashamed.
That was Thursday. So I’ve just been limiting my phone usage, and over the weekend I could use it to make calls to my heart’s delight, but I’m finding this whole thing restrictive, overall. NO tweeting, NO Facebook status updates, and NO FEWER pointless texts to Drew (“Hi! What are you doing?” etc). It also means no texting things to my email, which I do all the time, either pictures or reminders of things I have to do.
Either I don’t always realize, or I purposely block out, how much I rely on texting to keep me entertained. I text so much at work, disregarding all rules, although I did refrain from that while in the classroom, my mom would be happy to know. I’m one of those people texting while walking, while eating dinner, texting without looking at the phone. Texting while talking. I have truly embraced texting.
There are many useful things about it, especially in terms of my job. It’s a great quick form of communication, instant and no pressure. “Can you please turn over the laundry?” “Are we still good to carpool?” Things like this don’t require a phone call and who has constant access to their email? (I know, I know: people with smartphones, that’s who.) I don’t like some of the texting abbreviations (UR, nite, C U L8R), and I struggle to maintain grammar and punctuation, although sometimes I have to sacrifice those for 160-character limits. But I do find myself using LOL, bc, and np on a regular basis. So who knows, maybe it’s just a matter of time.
I have a friend who doesn’t text. She says she could get a text plan on her phone for $10/month, or she could save that $120 every year. And texting isn’t worth that $120/year to her. I wish she texted, I’d love to have her just a “how’s your day going?” message away, but I’m not going to drop her just because I have to make a little more effort to talk to her. (Dare I say I appreciate our conversations more because they don’t get watered down?)
I have just about made it through the end of my billing cycle (an hour and 25 minutes to go!) with 11 texts and 14 minutes to spare! Tomorrow I can text and talk to my heart’s delight. And my phone will no longer be just a calculator/timekeeper. Glory be to God for dappled things and electronic communication!
Update: It’s after midnight! Time to email myself some of the pictures you’ve been missing out on.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single young man, between the ages of 4 and 14, in possession of a good fortune, must be into singing Justin Beiber songs.
Or so I’ve learned over the last four days, when I have been in a preschool (on Friday) and a middle school (today) and both times have been faced with boys singing “Baby” and “Never Say Never.” This is surprising to me because in my world, Justin Beiber is low on the radar: I don’t really hear his music on the stations I listen to, and I don’t really pay attention to him except when he pops up in front of my face somewhere. In my head he’s like an 8-year-old boy, even though I know in real life he’s like 16 and probably doing all kinds of things with girls (yuck). In my world we don’t really acknowledge Justin Beiber, and we would probably make fun of anyone singing his songs (even though we might get them stuck in our heads sometimes, because they’re adorably catchy, but not in a way that makes them art, or anything).
On Friday this little boy was singing “Baby” while we were walking them over to breakfast, and I thought that was cute. It was a little weird, but I thought, Eh, he’s four years old. The rowdy 12-year-old this morning was a different story – I kind of wanted to ask if it was cool of him to be singing those songs. But whatever.
Other than (and even including) Beiber, the preschoolers were cute. Here are some stand out moments from the day:
-This little girl (we’ll call her “M”) deciding we were besties, and spending most of the morning cutting out paper hearts for me.
-M holding my hand while walking back from breakfast, and then pointing at this other little girl (who, unfortunately, had flaky skin all over her face and hands, and looked like she needed to be bathed in cortizone-10 or something), and saying
M: Her says bad words.
Me: Does she?
Flaky girl: *looks up at me with big brown eyes* My mommy teaches them to me.
-This super cute little round-faced boy with big nerdy glasses goes, “Everyone says I look like Denzel Washington.” (I’m thinking, “Not likely.”)
Me: What’s your name?
Kid: Denzel.
Me: …Ah.
-All the kids were dancing to some song where you put your beanbag on your head and dance around! on your shoulder and dance around! on your elbow and dance around! etc. And this one kid was sitting at the table all slumpy, and I said, “Don’t you want to dance?” and he said, “I wanted to dance, but this song is driving me CRAZY.” Touché, kid, me too.
-The most memorable thing for me about the day (as of right now) is that they got me SICK. Which I guess I kind of expected, everyone told me it’s a job hazard, whatever. On Saturday my throat started hurting and then it’s kind of devolved from there. I think it’s a sinus thing now. On Sunday morning I used cough syrup to swallow cough pills. I’m hitting this thing hard.
I even ran around with them at recess, playing tag and hide and seek. The next day I questioned whether getting that involved was the right choice: sure it’s good if you’re a babysitter, but should a teacher be playing like that? I’m not sure which way I lean on this. The older teachers didn’t play, but the younger ones seemed more willing. So maybe I’m just right in the middle. A friend of mine (who has a 4-year-old) says playing with kids is always good, because you’re fostering the right things in them, so I should never be concerned about that.
After my day with the little kids I kept thinking, High school can’t be harder than this. But I forgot to account for middle schoolers, the Grendel of the education system. I was at a middle school today and these are the lessons I learned:
-Middle schoolers are bitches.
-Don’t give them the benefit of the doubt. Just be strict from the very beginning. And through the middle. And then at the end.
-Don’t trust them. They don’t really have to go to the bathroom. They’re just going to wander around for 15 minutes and then come back and claim they had “a problem.”
I have to give them a little break, because in two of the Social Studies classes we watched a video on the Silk Road. It was exactly what you’d expect from an oldschool video that a sub would show; and bonus points on the references to the USSR! I felt bad that they were supposed to take notes, because even I wasn’t sure what I’d write down, but when one of the kids started complaining super loudly I was like, “This is my second time watching it, how do you think I feel?”
The best teacher today was the young Chinese woman who ruled that class with an iron fist. They called her evil; I called her magnificent.
But I figured out why HR said that a lot of subs don’t want to go to the preschool: it’s 7:00-3:00: 8 hours, minus lunch. But I was only at the middle school from 8:30 to 2:30: 6 hours minus lunch! Sweet! Still, middle schoolers suck.
However, I had a really good time both days, and I am making great strides in learning. Just trying to keep track of everything I’m learning. I’m in two high schools this week and then on Friday I get a break (unless I get a call). Life hasn’t been boring lately, that’s for sure.
So this is what’s going on right now, just because I know that sometimes a “this is what’s up” post is necessary.
Seagull goes on, 8 or 9 shows a week.
Meanwhile I’m trying (and failing) to keep up my hours at the Opera.
Meanwhile meanwhile, I have been working on paperwork etc to start substitute teaching for two of the Peninsula school districts. So I finished that on Tuesday (it was a super busy day, with me at 3 different school locations between 8:30-11:30, and then heading to Redwood City to see my friend Sam while she’s still pregnant). Tuesday is yesterday. So this morning at like 8:30, the HR person from one of the districts calls to tell me that my prints cleared and she’s lined up 3 jobs for me.
Wait, wait, though. Because this is how our interactions have gone so far.
(December)
Me: Hi, I want to sub for you guys.
HR: We don’t really have work right now, maybe after the New Year.
(January)
Me: Hi, I still want to sub.
HR: Great, I’ll call you this week to bring you in.
(Later in January)
Me: Hi, are you going to call me?
HR: Well, we don’t really have a lot of work right now, but I said I’d bring you in, so okay, I guess.
Me: *doesn’t respond to email for a couple days because that doesn’t sound promising*
HR: Are you going to call me or what?
Me: Okay…
(Today)
HR: Hi, I lined up 3 jobs for you next week.
(Later today)
HR: Hi, also for this Friday, at a preschool.
(A little later today, on the phone)
HR: Hi, are you busy now? Want to go on a job?
Me: I’m at work already!
Anyway, that’s that. So hopefully this is what she means by “not a lot of work” and I can get work at least 3-4 days a week. Fingers crossed majorly.
So work plus Seagull equals I haven’t been to the gym in a week and I haven’t seen anyone besides Drew or people I work with in almost three weeks. They just asked me if I want to do this same job on the next show and I’m praying that I won’t have to do that. But…you know, I’m grateful the opportunity is there. That’s really, really nice to know.
Other activities in my life:
-Reading Oliver Twist, which is taking so much longer than I’d anticipated. Maybe because I keep cheating with other books.
-Watching Dexter (we’re only on Season 2 and are creeping through it at a snail’s pace. But if I had a whole day I think I would tear it up. It took me about half the first season, but I’m interested now).
-Still attempting to write, which I can totally do backstage on paper. And today my producer (!) and I submitted 2 short plays to the Samuel French Off-Off-Broadway Play Festival, which is in July. So, you know, fingers crossed on that too.
All in all though, I’d say I’m pretty happy with 2011 so far.
Drew: *makes a sound that is either a laugh or a whimper*
Me: Are you okay?
Drew: Ears are never anything normal.
Me: …
Drew: You’re holding an ear.
Me: I’m holding a what?
Drew: …Ear of corn.
Me: Well, I guess that makes more sense.
Drew just sang me this song (and no, he wasn’t asleep):
I love the face of your sister
Because she isn’t missing teeth like you are
And a smile is very important to me
So I suggest you see a periodontist
So you can look more like your sister.
I don’t have a sister, nor am I missing teeth, so I’m taking this one with a grain of salt.
OMG, what if he’s trying to tell me he’s discovered that I have a twin sister I never knew about, who was kidnapped at birth, and has been raised somewhere else to be exactly like me, and he knows that it’s time for us to meet??
Maybe I should wait to see what the next verse is.
When I hear people talking about certain things, I have this deep seated yearning to chime in. When the people are my friends or family, I definitely just put my two cents in. But what to do when I overhear conversations between, say, two lower-tier Facebook friends, or the hosts on my favorite morning radio show, or the actors chatting in their dressing room before the show?
Lately I’ve found myself biting my tongue A LOT to keep from piping up with my extensive opinions and feedback on a variety of topics. Here’s an incomplete list:
Black Swan
Trader Joe’s (and Trader Joe’s products)
The Time Traveler’s Wife (the book)
Mormons
the Mill Valley Health Club
crossword puzzles
that “Why Chinese mothers are superior” article
bacon jam, or bacon candy bars, or bacon and chocolate
The Social Network
The King’s Speech
the Oscars in general
The Office
Huck Finn (the new edition)
Ricky Gervais, in particular his performance at the Golden Globes
Real Housewives
The Bridge (the documentary about the Golden Gate Bridge)
TheatreWorks
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (the book)
Megan Mullally
Broadway
Big Love (the TV show)
Biggest Loser
Kelsey Grammer
Jeopardy! (especially that Watson the computer is going up against Ken Jennings and Brad Rutter)
So, if you have any questions about any of these topics, feel free to ask me, as I’m ready and more than willing to address any of them.
This morning I was juggling a bag of gym clothes, a bag of hairspray (for the dressing rooms), my laptop case, my purse, and another bag with food. I was leaving the safe and convenient confines of my car, which has become messier and messier as I continue to live out of it, and striking out for MTC with the other PA, as she lives in Daly City and so it only makes sense to drive up together.
I got out of my car, juggled all my stuff over to her car, slid in, and we drove up 19th Ave to Mill Valley. In the Starbucks parking lot I reached for my phone, because apparently I do that 150 times a day. No phone in my pocket. Check other hoodie pocket. Check jeans pockets. Check purse. Frustrated that I can’t find it, with rising measures of “oh no…”
I remembered texting M, the other PA, to tell her I was outside her place. Then as I unloaded my car into my arms, I had no idea if I picked up my phone off the front seat. Probably not. Ugh.
We had a student matinee this morning at 11am, and a regular show at 8pm. So it’s not even like, Well, I’ll be without my phone for 5 hours. We’re talking 15 hours, people. FIFTEEN HOURS. That’s crazy talk. Just to be sure I had M call me while I was in Starbucks waiting for my decaf latte (because today is the day I picked to quit caffeine). So then I’m all resigned to not having my phone…but wondering if I should get Drew to go drive to my car and make sure my phone is there…but how will I ever update my Facebook status from backstage?
Then as we got out of M’s car in the theatre parking lot, I cast one last desperate glance down between the seat and the center console – and there it was! Singing Alleluia, I fished it out, checked for messages (none, of course), and jauntily made my way into work. Where I could text and Tweet and update Facebook to my heart’s delight.
The only silver lining to not having my phone, that I could see, was going to be a fascinating blog post about the day I spent 15 hours without my connection to the world. But now that I don’t have to suffer through it, I also don’t have anything really interesting to say. Bummer. Because it could have been a great social experiment. So I guess I’ll stick with my other great life experiment, no caffeine. My eyelids are heavy. It could just be from a long day and a late night yesterday.
The Cameraphone Diaries 