Me: Okay, Knights, at this point in the song I want a protective stance, so let's have you guys form a circle back-to-back.
The knights make a U-shape.
Me: No, a circle.
The knights make a horseshoe shape.
Me: A circle, guys. An actual circle. Make a circle. I make circle shapes with my hands.
The knights scooch in closer to each other.
Me: No, just close the back part.
They do.
Me: Now face out...
Three of them turn to face in.
Me: No, out. Away from each other.
Those three turn to face out. At the same time, the two in the back step out of the circle to face the audience instead.
Me: Face away from each other, but still in a circle.
They scooch closer together.
Me: Inspiration strikes. Weathertop. Stand like you're on Weathertop.
Knights: Ohhhh!
They immediately form a circle back to back.
Knights: Why didn't you just say that to begin with?
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
"Hamlet" and "Black Odyssey"
The week of "Little Prince" turned out to be a theater- heavy week. On Tuesday I took my students to DCTC to see "Hamlet".
We spent most of January studying that play, and I was really hoping for a good production to cap the unit. Like Rogers and Hammerstein musicals, when a production of "Hamlet" is anything less than great, it's unbearable to watch, if only because they last so very long.
Happily, this was a good production. It's really, really good. Unfortunately though, there was a mentally and physically handicapped student in the audience who choked and coughed and yelped and wheezed and made so much noise that people sitting sections away we're turning around and craning their heads to see who was making so much noise. To my dismay, his caretaker refused to remove him from the theater. I could be more forgiving of this choice if I thought he was getting anything from being there, but it was clear that he could neither see not hear the show. I had to work hard to follow the lines, so I can only imagine how hard it was for my students to pay attention to what was for most of them their first Shakespeare production. Fara and Tammy took some of my extra tickets, and the incident did prompt an interesting discussion for us at intermission about inclusion, but at the end of the day it was a play about the kid making Gollum-noises, and that's really too bad.
A few days later, Fara and I were back at DCTC to see "black odyssey", a new play that sets Homer's poem in the modern era in African-American cultures. It's a clever play (particularly with the name play- Pa Sidon, Athena becomes Auntie T, Odysseus's wife is called Nella P., and Telemachus becomes Malachi) but the script is heavy-handed (they brought up Treyvon Martin at least four seperate times, which made it feel more like an immediate guttural reaction to the event that must have happened as the author was writing the play, rather than a measured reaction tempered by time) and lacks the grace of good story-telling. Fara studied West African mythologies, and she pointed out some of the similarities between that belief system and that of the Ancient Greeks. I am curious to read more about them myself.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Sorry, Can't Blog Now...
... Too busy turning giant stuffed lions into cows:
And sewing costumes out of all of this fabric:
And making Holy Hand Grenades of Antioch:
Two weeks until curtain!
Tuesday, February 04, 2014
"The Little Prince" at Lookingglass Theatre
I saw a production of "The Little Prince" at the Colorado Shakespeare Festival a few years ago. I was not especially impressed, and I ascribed most of the fault to the source material. Like "Alice in Wonderland", it's a story without much of a story - an episodic travel tale.
But Lookingglass pulled off a version of "Alice" that is certainly my favorite version of the story, so I had every faith that if anyone could make a play out of "Prince", they could.
And it was a good production. What I particularly love about Lookingglass is their ability to create spectacle through simplicity - a flock of birds from four people in open white button-down shirts moving in harmony, a universe of stars from a curtain made of dangling small square mirrors, a simple snake puppet dashing across the stage on the end of a puppeteer's stick, a galaxy of planets suggested by bubbles and brightly-colored balls. You know how good dancers make routines look effortless, easy? That's the pleasure (and to some degree the danger) of Lookingglass - I walk away from every production thinking, "I can do that!"
Their use of acrobatics worked well as the Prince traveled to different planets. Each new planet used the idea of an actor and a globe in a different way - the king on his throne in his large robe hung from the ceiling; the accountant likewise descended on the fly system, but he precariously held himself inside a skeletal sphere made of metal hoops, constantly shifting in his cage to assume new positions to type; the lamplighter was lowered above the audience on a globe set on an axis that kept him perpetually running in place above our heads. One of the best moments in the show was a silent planet-dweller who crossed the stage balancing on a large ball while soap bubbles filled the stage, the constantly shifting and adjusting movements required to balance on a loose ball giving her the intended appearance of a drunk stumbling by.
Like the story itself, I find my memories of this production consist of moments and characters. The choice to have the Aviator draw on the set itself (a large curving white plane that worked as both dunes and paper) worked, and the actress playing the fox did an outstanding job with the character despite her using a terrible (and unnecessary) French accent. The scene where the Prince tamed the fox was simple and lovely and much more interesting than the requisite Christ-figure ending of the story. It was the best version of "The Little Prince" I can imagine, and I'm glad I had the chance to see it.
Monday, February 03, 2014
Chicago - Sunday
Thanks to a kerfuffle from American Airlines, my parents wound up switching to a flight leaving at almost the same time as Jason's. While I was glad they found a way home, it meant that I wound up with a morning to myself in Chicago.
We had breakfast together, said our good-byes, and I leisurely got myself ready for the day. Once I was bundled up, I headed out in search of shopping and second breakfast.
The store I had in mind didn't open until 11, so I wandered around until I suddenly came upon a building I recognized:
Eataly. I saw an article about this indoor Italian marketplace/eatery last fall when it first opened. I had time to kill and freezing cold cheeks, so I headed inside.
They had fresh produce, kitchenware, a coffee shop, and the noises of a restaurant upstairs; but I found myself drawn to a counter on the right:
About two bites in, I realized that I lacked milk. Fortunately:
they were all too eager to supply me with "the best American milk." In cute little pints, nonetheless:
I managed to eat just one slice before the sweetness overpowered me, so I tossed the other, licked off my gooey fingers, and headed out to a nearby French-styled miscellany shop.
My intentions were to browse, but then I remembered that I lacked a proper egg cup. I have never cooked a soft-boiled egg in my life, but I want a proper egg cup, you see, because I dream of having a leisurely breakfast of dipping toast into a soft-boiled egg while reading a long novel in a cottage in France.
I usually dream of such things while I'm scarfing down a banana between classes.
And so I needed a proper egg cup, and I suspected this may be a good place to find one. So it was! I picked out a charming ceramic one painted with brown and yellow designs. Definitely something I could get home in my carry-on.
And then I saw the bowls.
Knowing that ceramics make packing a bit trickier, I tried to talk myself out of them. I did a terrible job. After all,
a) I really liked the designs,
b) new dishware makes me excited to eat at home,
c) since they are Especially For Me bowls, I can get away with only one in each size, and
d) I had already decided exactly what each one was for, which is practically like naming them; and therefore I was getting them, bag restrictions be damned.
I had just enough time for some traditional vacation grocery shopping at:
I picked up a few cartons of my favorite almonds and a chicken wrap for lunch:
I also bought a reusable bag, since I figured it would hold more than my travel purse and yet still count as only a "personal item." After swinging back by the hotel to pick up my suitcase and squeeze the almonds in amongst my clothes, I tied the Trader Joe's bag to my suitcase and headed out to the train station.
After a few blocks I came upon this memorial. It looked so much more appropriate covered in snow than how I usually see it, I stopped to take a photo:
An older gentleman with white hair, an enormous furry hat, and wire spectacles came up to me as I pulled out my cell phone. In a perfect German accent he said, "You know if you tie the bag the other way, it will not drag on the ground and cause you problems."
I realized he thought I had stopped out of luggage frustration. I tried to explain that the bag actually keeps slipping around when I position them the way he was suggesting and that my method was working just fine, but he brushed off my explanations, "You see, the way you do it may make it rub on the ground and wear out."
I gave up trying to explain and just thanked him. He nodded, smiled at me, and turned to go. I took the picture and as I lowered my phone, I realized he was at my side again. "I am an engineer you see," he said. "I can't help but think about these things." And then he walked away a second time.
"Of course you are an engineer," I thought as I resumed my walk without changing my bag tying system. With that look and accent, he could have stepped right out of this movie:
We had breakfast together, said our good-byes, and I leisurely got myself ready for the day. Once I was bundled up, I headed out in search of shopping and second breakfast.
The store I had in mind didn't open until 11, so I wandered around until I suddenly came upon a building I recognized:
Eataly. I saw an article about this indoor Italian marketplace/eatery last fall when it first opened. I had time to kill and freezing cold cheeks, so I headed inside.
They had fresh produce, kitchenware, a coffee shop, and the noises of a restaurant upstairs; but I found myself drawn to a counter on the right:
A Nutella bar! I almost passed it up, but then I recalled that I am my father's daughter and that I am out of town and therefore allowed to eat hazelnut-chocolate gooey bread. So I did.
About two bites in, I realized that I lacked milk. Fortunately:
they were all too eager to supply me with "the best American milk." In cute little pints, nonetheless:
I managed to eat just one slice before the sweetness overpowered me, so I tossed the other, licked off my gooey fingers, and headed out to a nearby French-styled miscellany shop.
My intentions were to browse, but then I remembered that I lacked a proper egg cup. I have never cooked a soft-boiled egg in my life, but I want a proper egg cup, you see, because I dream of having a leisurely breakfast of dipping toast into a soft-boiled egg while reading a long novel in a cottage in France.
I usually dream of such things while I'm scarfing down a banana between classes.
And so I needed a proper egg cup, and I suspected this may be a good place to find one. So it was! I picked out a charming ceramic one painted with brown and yellow designs. Definitely something I could get home in my carry-on.
And then I saw the bowls.
Knowing that ceramics make packing a bit trickier, I tried to talk myself out of them. I did a terrible job. After all,
a) I really liked the designs,
b) new dishware makes me excited to eat at home,
c) since they are Especially For Me bowls, I can get away with only one in each size, and
d) I had already decided exactly what each one was for, which is practically like naming them; and therefore I was getting them, bag restrictions be damned.
 |
| For soup, for salad, for dreamy breakfast eggs, and for yogurt with dark chocolate almonds and blueberries. |
I had just enough time for some traditional vacation grocery shopping at:
 |
| Trader Joe's |
I picked up a few cartons of my favorite almonds and a chicken wrap for lunch:
 |
After a few blocks I came upon this memorial. It looked so much more appropriate covered in snow than how I usually see it, I stopped to take a photo:
An older gentleman with white hair, an enormous furry hat, and wire spectacles came up to me as I pulled out my cell phone. In a perfect German accent he said, "You know if you tie the bag the other way, it will not drag on the ground and cause you problems."
I realized he thought I had stopped out of luggage frustration. I tried to explain that the bag actually keeps slipping around when I position them the way he was suggesting and that my method was working just fine, but he brushed off my explanations, "You see, the way you do it may make it rub on the ground and wear out."
I gave up trying to explain and just thanked him. He nodded, smiled at me, and turned to go. I took the picture and as I lowered my phone, I realized he was at my side again. "I am an engineer you see," he said. "I can't help but think about these things." And then he walked away a second time.
"Of course you are an engineer," I thought as I resumed my walk without changing my bag tying system. With that look and accent, he could have stepped right out of this movie:
It was a cold walk, but the skies were clear and I paused to admire the effect of the snowstorm on river, a city made of glass and ice:
Then it was back on the train, back on a plane, and back to an airport filled with orange and blue fans who would soon be severely disappointed.
P.S. I know I skipped the show review. I only had time tonight for one entry, and I picked the easier one to write. Hopefully tomorrow I can wrap up the trip.
Sunday, February 02, 2014
Chicago - Saturday
we planned indoor activities. First stop: the Art Institute:
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| Rather Narnian, don't you think? |
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| Icicles in the courtyard |
They had a special exhibition on about the influence of the Greeks on the art of Ancient Egypt. The changes made to their mythology was fascinating, and I enjoyed seeing side-by-side comparisons like the one below,
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The next exhibition we saw was a series of winter scenes from the Japanese wood block artist Hiroshige. Appropriate, given the weather outside and upcoming summer travel plans.
Jason and I needed to leave to meet friends for lunch, but we had just enough time to see Chagall's America Windows.
A series of scenes depicting the arts, they were created for the Bicentennial. I loved the look of fields of blue glass.
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|
Jason and I split off at this point to hunt for a cab to Wicker Park. Vanessa, a friend from Jason's study abroad program in France, and her husband Stephen met us for lunch at a new restaurant, the Carriage House.
The food was not spectacular, but the company was nice and we once again lingered at the table talking long after the rest of the crowds departed.
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| Fried chicken, biscuit, potatoes, and sausage gravy with pimento cheese |
Vanessa mentioned that a nearby bakery sells kronuts, so we walked over there after lunch to fulfill Jason's mother's command that he participate in the recent food fad. The bakery only had one left, filled with strawberry jam and topped with marzipan frosting.
 |
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| Vanessa, Jason, and me |
We couldn't spend a whole 48 hours in a Michelin-city and not eat Michelin, so I made pre-theater dinner reservations at Everest. True to form, we had a difficult time finding the actual restaurant. Once we found the entrance to the Stock Exchange building in which it's located, we had to be buzzed in by a security guard and take two different elevators up to the 40th floor.
The service was attentive; the staff was eager to please and eager to ensure that we made our show in time; the views were very good and improved as the meal went on and the fog lifted:
And, finally, the food was delicious. The stand-out of the night was Dad's oysters, but all of the appetizers and desserts were stellar. I was not as impressed with my main course, but the foie gras that melted in my mouth made up for it.
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| Amuse-boches, from left to right: Salmon floating in sauce, purred artichoke, a savory pastry, and onion emulsion with bacon and bread crumbs |
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| Closeup of the pastry - look at the wee caper topper! |
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Composition of Winter Garden Greens |
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Sautéed New York State Foie Gras, Confit Persimmon, Picon Jus |
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Filet of Wild Sturgeon Wrapped in Prosciutto, Marinated Cabbage, Pinot Noir |
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Alsace Vacherin: Bartlett Pear and Chocolate Glacé, Vanilla Bean Coulis |
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| Hot Chocolate "hand crafted by Jacques Torres from the finest cocoa beans in the Dominican Republic" with fruit gelatin, chocolate-covered cinnamon marshmallow, and petite anise cookie |
Just as we began sipping our deliciously-bitter hot chocolate, our waitress (played by Jane Lynch) appeared to remind us that we had a show to see. We hurried to polish off the remaining sweets, bid farewell to the entire restaurant staff who turned out to see us off in a Hello, Dolly kind-of way, retrieved our coats, and descended to find a cab to get to the Lookingglass Theatre:
However, my description of the show (and Sunday) will have to wait until tomorrow night. I have school tomorrow, it's past my bedtime, and, as you may have surmised, the last two night, while fun, were not sleep-filled.
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| Their sign looks more ice than glass in this weather. |
Weekend in Chicago - Friday
Unsurprisingly, a snow day is a wonderful way to begin a weekend trip. Not only did I have ample time to sleep and finish packing, but I also had time to take care of some housekeeping tasks and adult chores (car registration, ordering contact lenses, etc.). I also had ample time to make my trek to the airport while avoiding rush hour. It wasn't snowing, but the roads were incredibly slushy and my car is an icy, muddy mess.
DIA was crowded, but the flight to Chicago was smooth. I arrived at Midway and took the train into town. The hotel was a little under a mile away from the metro stop, so I pulled on my gloves and scarf and set out to enjoy the sights of Chicago in winter. There were ice chunks floating on the river:
so it seemed appropriate that some people still had Christmas lights out:
Mom and Dad arrived at the hotel just minutes after I walked in, and Jason was only 30 minutes behind; so once we all rendezvoused, we headed out to dinner at the nearby Weber grill:
The food was tasty and they let us linger at our table long after finishing the meal, which gave us a pleasant and warm place to catch up and swap stories.
DIA was crowded, but the flight to Chicago was smooth. I arrived at Midway and took the train into town. The hotel was a little under a mile away from the metro stop, so I pulled on my gloves and scarf and set out to enjoy the sights of Chicago in winter. There were ice chunks floating on the river:
so it seemed appropriate that some people still had Christmas lights out:
Mom and Dad arrived at the hotel just minutes after I walked in, and Jason was only 30 minutes behind; so once we all rendezvoused, we headed out to dinner at the nearby Weber grill:
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| (No, it did not get lighter - I took this picture this morning.) |
The food was tasty and they let us linger at our table long after finishing the meal, which gave us a pleasant and warm place to catch up and swap stories.
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| Roasted beets, goat cheese, and pecans - my favorite! |
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| Pulled pork, ribs, blue cheese coleslaw, and cornbread |
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| Berries and cream for dessert |
When the waitress nicely asked if we needed anything else before she went home for the night, we took that as our cue to leave. After a brisk walk back to the hotel, we bade good night to my parents and indulged in our traditional cram-four-months-of-conversation-into-the-first-night ritual. It was disrupted a bit by a round of very-unhappy GI problems on my part (which I blame on the sandwich I had for lunch at DIA), and I made a midnight dash to the hotel lobby to purchase some Pepto Bismal (the only choice available). It was enough to allow us to keep the conversation going until we finally called it quits a little before 4 AM.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Run Away!
Tomorrow I'm flying to Chicago.
It's a quick weekend trip - out Friday, back Sunday. I'm meeting Jason (naturally) and my parents (yay!) to see Lookingglass' new adaptation of The Little Prince (a book whose adaptability is still uncertain to me; but if anyone can get it right, Lookingglass can). We'll also be eating delicious food and catching up and generally enjoying running away from home and work for slightly under 48 hours.
Granted, Chicago is perhaps not the first destination that springs to one's mind when one thinks about a mid-winter getaway. It's snowing in Denver right now; it's supposed to snow in Chicago tomorrow and Saturday. Since our planned itinerary minimizes outdoor exposure (i.e. the distance from building door to cab door), I'm not too concerned. Rather, this trip has been the light at the end of the Speech season tunnel, and my eyes have been fixed on it for a long while now.
To make it even more shiny, just moments ago I got a call from MTHS. I answered, expecting a delayed start. Nope! They're closing the district tomorrow! Snow day!
The moment I hung up I was on Frontier's website looking for earlier flights. Well, first I checked my school email because I always panic that such phone calls aren't real and that I won't show up for a day of school that should have been. Once I confirmed that school is indeed closed tomorrow, I booked myself an earlier flight.
I'm pretty stoked that not only do I get a weekend away; I get a weekend away without rushing to the airport after rehearsal AND after getting a good night's sleep. Such luxury!
It's a quick weekend trip - out Friday, back Sunday. I'm meeting Jason (naturally) and my parents (yay!) to see Lookingglass' new adaptation of The Little Prince (a book whose adaptability is still uncertain to me; but if anyone can get it right, Lookingglass can). We'll also be eating delicious food and catching up and generally enjoying running away from home and work for slightly under 48 hours.
Granted, Chicago is perhaps not the first destination that springs to one's mind when one thinks about a mid-winter getaway. It's snowing in Denver right now; it's supposed to snow in Chicago tomorrow and Saturday. Since our planned itinerary minimizes outdoor exposure (i.e. the distance from building door to cab door), I'm not too concerned. Rather, this trip has been the light at the end of the Speech season tunnel, and my eyes have been fixed on it for a long while now.
To make it even more shiny, just moments ago I got a call from MTHS. I answered, expecting a delayed start. Nope! They're closing the district tomorrow! Snow day!
The moment I hung up I was on Frontier's website looking for earlier flights. Well, first I checked my school email because I always panic that such phone calls aren't real and that I won't show up for a day of school that should have been. Once I confirmed that school is indeed closed tomorrow, I booked myself an earlier flight.
I'm pretty stoked that not only do I get a weekend away; I get a weekend away without rushing to the airport after rehearsal AND after getting a good night's sleep. Such luxury!
Sunday, January 26, 2014
5 Seasons
Another speech season is over! Well, mostly. We do still have to do the banquet (which is one of those sports things I only understand enough to know that it's important that I do it), but when I spoke with the seniors about it a few weeks ago they were in consensus that they want to wait until after the musical to deal with it. Which is fine by me.
The last three weekends of meets have been bearable aside from the fact that I can't quite stand up straight. The bus rides are not so good for my back (straight-backed seats + narrow leg room that forces me to sit at an angle + no shocks).
State wrapped up yesterday. The Festival Committee asked me to run the judges' table, which meant I was the one fielding questions, distributing ballots, and checking said ballots after every round for errors, missing information, rule violations, suspicious judging, etc. The meet director said she specifically put me there because when I worked that position at her meet I was "on top of it and kept the judges in line and accountable." Which means 1) I read fast and accurately, 2) I'm a stickler for rules, 3) I'm not afraid to ask people to fix things or confront issues, and 4) I'm actually pretty good at doing those things politely. Enough so that at the State meet Friday night the head dude from CHSAA (the state activities/athletics governing board) watched me power through questions and issues with six or seven people in less than a minute all the while maintaining a cheery. professional demeanor (or what I think of as my "Relief Society President Voice"), then shook his head when things calmed down and said, "Wow. You're really good at that."
My students did well. We had 19 competing, and 16 broke semi-finals or finals. We took Best in State in two events (out of 11). The Duet Drama scene was a cutting from Sarah Ruhl's Eurydice, one of the top plays on my "never-seen-but-really-want-to" list. It was performed by a sophomore boy and a senior girl, and they really do a good job with it. We worked in a lot of creepy voicework and dance-y moves, which always go over well with the drama judges. The same sophomore boy also took Best in State for his Poetry performance of three songs from "Flight of the Concordes." It was a risk to have him run with humorous poems, and there were times this season when more traditional judges really didn't like them; but it paid off in the end, especially given that Poetry was this year's hot event with over 40 competitors in the category.
We also had a slew of 2-6 places (1-6= "Finals") in all of the categories in which we competed, and only one teary breakdown. A senior girl who took Best in State last year in Creative Storytelling wound up getting 4th this year. She took it pretty hard, and while she kept it together on stage she broke down weeping once she was off. I was surprised - she's usually more poised than that, but I imagine it's hard to go from 1st to 4th. The lovely part of it was watching my team in action. The nearest teammate to her immediately pulled her into a hug and let her cry on his shoulder for a few minutes, despite him being a socially awkward sophomore boy who really doesn't run in her circle of friends. She needed someone, though, and he was there for her even though he had gotten 8th in the category (also a disappointment to him, I'm sure) until her senior friends could take over. I watched them from my seat in the auditorium and wondered what I could say to help her feel better. I knew what she needed was the comfort of her friends and a night to take the sting out of it.
She apologized to me at the end of the evening though, saying that she was sorry she "let me down by crying in front of everyone." I was pleased that she recognized that I do expect my students to maintain the poise and showmanship, even though I rarely mention it to them; but I hugged her. "You didn't let me down," I told her. "I'm as proud of you as ever; and more than that, I like you an awful lot."
We went to dinner at a nearby mall. I handed out the ballots and did my usual post-meet jobs - translating judges' handwriting, defining words they don't know ("self-deprecating" and "meta" this time), pointing out and celebrating their victories for them ("You got first in a round! At STATE! That's terrific for your first speech season!"). They need time to process, they always need time to process, but in the meanwhile I'm there to say over and over again that they did well, that I'm proud of what they accomplished, that I like them an awful lot.
They did, I am, and I do.
The last three weekends of meets have been bearable aside from the fact that I can't quite stand up straight. The bus rides are not so good for my back (straight-backed seats + narrow leg room that forces me to sit at an angle + no shocks).
State wrapped up yesterday. The Festival Committee asked me to run the judges' table, which meant I was the one fielding questions, distributing ballots, and checking said ballots after every round for errors, missing information, rule violations, suspicious judging, etc. The meet director said she specifically put me there because when I worked that position at her meet I was "on top of it and kept the judges in line and accountable." Which means 1) I read fast and accurately, 2) I'm a stickler for rules, 3) I'm not afraid to ask people to fix things or confront issues, and 4) I'm actually pretty good at doing those things politely. Enough so that at the State meet Friday night the head dude from CHSAA (the state activities/athletics governing board) watched me power through questions and issues with six or seven people in less than a minute all the while maintaining a cheery. professional demeanor (or what I think of as my "Relief Society President Voice"), then shook his head when things calmed down and said, "Wow. You're really good at that."
My students did well. We had 19 competing, and 16 broke semi-finals or finals. We took Best in State in two events (out of 11). The Duet Drama scene was a cutting from Sarah Ruhl's Eurydice, one of the top plays on my "never-seen-but-really-want-to" list. It was performed by a sophomore boy and a senior girl, and they really do a good job with it. We worked in a lot of creepy voicework and dance-y moves, which always go over well with the drama judges. The same sophomore boy also took Best in State for his Poetry performance of three songs from "Flight of the Concordes." It was a risk to have him run with humorous poems, and there were times this season when more traditional judges really didn't like them; but it paid off in the end, especially given that Poetry was this year's hot event with over 40 competitors in the category.
We also had a slew of 2-6 places (1-6= "Finals") in all of the categories in which we competed, and only one teary breakdown. A senior girl who took Best in State last year in Creative Storytelling wound up getting 4th this year. She took it pretty hard, and while she kept it together on stage she broke down weeping once she was off. I was surprised - she's usually more poised than that, but I imagine it's hard to go from 1st to 4th. The lovely part of it was watching my team in action. The nearest teammate to her immediately pulled her into a hug and let her cry on his shoulder for a few minutes, despite him being a socially awkward sophomore boy who really doesn't run in her circle of friends. She needed someone, though, and he was there for her even though he had gotten 8th in the category (also a disappointment to him, I'm sure) until her senior friends could take over. I watched them from my seat in the auditorium and wondered what I could say to help her feel better. I knew what she needed was the comfort of her friends and a night to take the sting out of it.
She apologized to me at the end of the evening though, saying that she was sorry she "let me down by crying in front of everyone." I was pleased that she recognized that I do expect my students to maintain the poise and showmanship, even though I rarely mention it to them; but I hugged her. "You didn't let me down," I told her. "I'm as proud of you as ever; and more than that, I like you an awful lot."
We went to dinner at a nearby mall. I handed out the ballots and did my usual post-meet jobs - translating judges' handwriting, defining words they don't know ("self-deprecating" and "meta" this time), pointing out and celebrating their victories for them ("You got first in a round! At STATE! That's terrific for your first speech season!"). They need time to process, they always need time to process, but in the meanwhile I'm there to say over and over again that they did well, that I'm proud of what they accomplished, that I like them an awful lot.
They did, I am, and I do.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Something is Rotten
I was glad when I got sick over winter break because I couldn't imagine how I would cope with an illness during the madness of work in January.
You would think that as someone who enjoys Shakespeare as much as I do, I would know better than to tempt the fates like that.
I wasn't feeling quite right at school yesterday. Not entirely unusual - sometimes getting up early just makes me nauseous.
However, some rumblings down below made for a tense 1st and 2nd period. In fact, I had to scrap my originally-planned activity for the latter half of 2nd period in favor of something that would allow me to stay seated. Once the class ended and my planning period began, I started making far too many dashes to the faculty restroom that is happily close to my classroom. I figured I could make it through the day. I only had two more classes to go and musical rehearsal. Doable, right?
And then I started vomiting.
I briefly considered sticking it out. Vomiting makes you feel better, right?
And then I vomited again. So I threw in the metaphorical towel, called down to the main office (not daring to venture that far from the restroom), and typed up some rapid sub plans for 4th period.
There are exactly four stoplights on my 33 mile drive from school to home. Three of them were red. I almost made it, and I like to believe I would have if the fourth light hadn't turned red on me at the last moment. Fortunately, I was able to open my car door and lean out in time.
My cat was baffled at seeing me during the daylight hours, and even more confused when I ignored her greetings to dash for the bathroom, then shoved her out of her very comfortable spot on my pillow. I spent the rest of the afternoon dozing, making regular dashes to the bathroom to vomit again, and trying my darndest to get warm. According to my parents (yay, long distance diagnostics!), that last part is what makes stomach flu the likely cause instead of my first suspicion of food poisoning. Given my shivering state under three layers of clothes and five layers of blankets, including one electric cranked up to high, they may be right.
They tried to talk me into calling in sick last night. I protested - I had no plans I could give a sub (the curse of teaching non-textbook-based classes), I had too much to do, so many deadlines, I need to go to school, etc. Plus, I hadn't thrown up in almost two hours. Surely I would be better in the morning.
Not so much. I did consider going in despite an unpleasant wakeup with my alarm, but the thought of exposing my cast and colleagues to this bug led me to haul my laptop back into bed to piece together whatever pitiful plans I could five days into the term. I emailed them off, wrote a couple of notices to try to deal with musical rehearsal and speech practice; and then crawled back into bed for another four hours of sleep.
Happily, I do seem to be on the mend. After a trip to the grocery store that convinced me that not attempting the far longer drive to work was the right choice, this afternoon I successfully ate one Jello-O cup, half a cup of applesauce, and a piece of toast. Whoo!
You would think that as someone who enjoys Shakespeare as much as I do, I would know better than to tempt the fates like that.
I wasn't feeling quite right at school yesterday. Not entirely unusual - sometimes getting up early just makes me nauseous.
However, some rumblings down below made for a tense 1st and 2nd period. In fact, I had to scrap my originally-planned activity for the latter half of 2nd period in favor of something that would allow me to stay seated. Once the class ended and my planning period began, I started making far too many dashes to the faculty restroom that is happily close to my classroom. I figured I could make it through the day. I only had two more classes to go and musical rehearsal. Doable, right?
And then I started vomiting.
I briefly considered sticking it out. Vomiting makes you feel better, right?
And then I vomited again. So I threw in the metaphorical towel, called down to the main office (not daring to venture that far from the restroom), and typed up some rapid sub plans for 4th period.
There are exactly four stoplights on my 33 mile drive from school to home. Three of them were red. I almost made it, and I like to believe I would have if the fourth light hadn't turned red on me at the last moment. Fortunately, I was able to open my car door and lean out in time.
My cat was baffled at seeing me during the daylight hours, and even more confused when I ignored her greetings to dash for the bathroom, then shoved her out of her very comfortable spot on my pillow. I spent the rest of the afternoon dozing, making regular dashes to the bathroom to vomit again, and trying my darndest to get warm. According to my parents (yay, long distance diagnostics!), that last part is what makes stomach flu the likely cause instead of my first suspicion of food poisoning. Given my shivering state under three layers of clothes and five layers of blankets, including one electric cranked up to high, they may be right.
They tried to talk me into calling in sick last night. I protested - I had no plans I could give a sub (the curse of teaching non-textbook-based classes), I had too much to do, so many deadlines, I need to go to school, etc. Plus, I hadn't thrown up in almost two hours. Surely I would be better in the morning.
Not so much. I did consider going in despite an unpleasant wakeup with my alarm, but the thought of exposing my cast and colleagues to this bug led me to haul my laptop back into bed to piece together whatever pitiful plans I could five days into the term. I emailed them off, wrote a couple of notices to try to deal with musical rehearsal and speech practice; and then crawled back into bed for another four hours of sleep.
Happily, I do seem to be on the mend. After a trip to the grocery store that convinced me that not attempting the far longer drive to work was the right choice, this afternoon I successfully ate one Jello-O cup, half a cup of applesauce, and a piece of toast. Whoo!
Monday, January 06, 2014
Gift Tags
Rachel invited me over for an afternoon in early December. I rarely go to her place without bringing a craft, but at that point all of the crafts I was working on were gifts for her/her family. So I decided on a whim to embroider gift tags for everyone this year. I used leftover burlap from crafting with Lisa this summer, and I attached them with spare buttons.
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| A purple crochet hook for Rachel's rag rug |
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| A paw print for Andy's pet triptych |
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| A cashew for Grandma (she got some treats from the Spice Shop) |
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| A Tolkien reference for Samwise's painting |
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| An Eiffel Tower for Mom (I gave her some fun wee art books I got in Paris) |
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| A frosty Apple for Dad (touchscreen gloves and new earbuds) |
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| A tea leaf for Jenn (I picked up part of her very British gift at Harrods's this summer) |
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| A tree for the rope swing I made Jack |
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| And a paint brush for Ben's portrait |
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