Romeo and Juliet

Last night, I went to a newly rennovated theater downtown and watched the Aquilla acting company's version of Romeo and Juliet. It was wonderful, the theater and the performance both.

The theater is a part of a downtown rennovation project. The Grand Opera House was built just before the turn of the last century, and in its heyday, it was one of the premiere entertainment destinations in the southeast. It fell into disrepair, was closed down, and because it was on the second floor, also suffered the indignity of having a shoe store put in what was once its lobby. I remember going with my mom to the department store of which the opera house was a part. It was such an old-fashioned building that the elevators still required an operator to run them. While Mom shopped, I rode the elevator, and the kindly lady who worked it would tell me stories of the opera house. I always dreamed of going to a performance in it.

I saw it briefly in high school. A local theater company had reopened it and was trying to use it for amateur performances. It was in very bad shape, though, and I wondered then if anything would ever be done to save it. About five years ago, Mississippi State University and a local group of philanthropists bought the property and started massive rennovations. They have combined the old department store and the theater into one large center. The department store became a conference center, and the theater was restored to its full late Victorian glory. It was absolutley wonderful. I was so proud to see the care that had been taken to preserve what was already there and the additions that will allow it to be useful for professional performances. I don't think this town has ever had anything like it, or at least, not since the opera house was open in its original incarnation.

Romeo and Juliet was different again. The company consisted of six actors, and to figure out which roles they'd be playing, the actors went to the audience and had them draw roles out of a sack. We managed to wind up with a male Romeo and a female Juliet, but some nights, depending on the luck of the draw, they don't. The costumes and sets were stark and simple, but the wonderful language had the same power. I really enjoyed it. The character who played the Nurse as one of his three roles was a riot. He milked every innuendo and seemed to be having a good time with it.

Overall, it was a night of what I needed. I desperately needed something that wasn't teaching or taking classes, something with beauty and art. I am looking forward to more performances at our new theater.

Phantoms

I just saw the most recent film version of The Phantom of the Opera, and I know I'm going to be singing various parts of it for days. I had put off watching it for awhile even though I've had the disc for some time now. I was afraid it wouldn't be as good as I had hoped it would be, but it was even better, I think.

I love this story. I first read Phantom in junior high school, and it became one of those stories I revisit every year or so. Sometime in high school, I read Susan Kay's novel Phantom, which added a tremendous back story about why the Phantom was the way he was. I have almost worn that copy out with rereads. I don't know if it's even still in print, but if you enjoy this story and haven't read it, you might check Amazon for it. It's universally wonderful.

The next stage of my great love for this story came when I saw the 1929 silent version presented in a local historic movie palace. Even though the building had long since become a performing arts center, they lowered the original "silver screen", dusted off the projector, and showed Lon Chaney version for Halloween one year. They had also just finished the restoration of the world-class theater organ this theater is fortunate enough to house, and a master organist was invited in to show off that powerful instrument's range. Even though the seats in this wonderful old building are tiny, having been sized for bodies in the 1920s, I was absolutely spellbound by the thundering organ and the pathos of the creature suffering and striking out in pain. That film version is one of my all-time favorite versions of the story, and I added it to my personal collection earlier this year.

This newest version satisfied a long-standing desire to see the Andrew Lloyd Weber version. I know the film and the stage production are going to vary, but I have had the original cast soundtrack since college and have spent many a long road trip and flight wondering what images went with the music. Now, at least, I have some idea of how things go together. A lot of it is as I imagined it, but the costuming and the performances were so gloriously ornate. It was perfect.

The story of the Phantom is just another example of how I always empathize with the "monster". There is not one solitary doubt in my mind that had I found myself in Christine Daae's position, I would have dumped the milquetoast Vicount de Chagny and stayed with the Dark Angel of Music. Of course, this is probably indicative of all sorts of reasons why I always fall for guys who are inappropriate or imaginary.

Regardless, there is such power in this story. What would Erik have been able to accomplish without the prejudice against his appearance? Would he have become a killer without the cruelty of others? Can anyone, when told he or she is monstrous from infancy by even one's family, find a way not to become a monster?

In many of the stories, the Phantom is given some reprieve at the end. The version I saw tonight made it clear he lived on. Susan Kay's version gives a gentle and beautiful finality to it. I think that's what we are all rooting for in the end, the idea that the Angel of Music can find a way to mend his broken wings and soar out of the endless night in which he has both been confined and confined himself.

By the Way

The blood work came back, and I finally got a surly nurse to tell me what the results were. Fortunately, there doesn't seem to be any problem with anything they tested. I suppose the headaches are a combination of stress, allergies, and other factors about which nothing can be done. I am just so happy that my blood sugar was okay. That's one less crisis to have to deal with.

Screaming with a Smile

There are things about school that sometimes make me want to throw my Shakespeare bobble head in a tote bag and go home before lunch. Often lately as I've been working with my classes, I've had the urge to close my book with the delicacy one would use in handling bone china, gently place the wooden stool I use with my speaker's stand in its place, blow out my candle, and pull the door soundlessly shut behind me. This softness would be the last mask before the true frustration emerges. It would be necessary because if it disappeared, all that would be left would be something that I couldn't live with.

It's the time of the year and the fact that I have three preps this year. Honestly, I love my kids. Some days, though, most days recently, they're treading on very thin ice. I get little sleep, have great stress, and get mortally weary of saying the same stupid things over and over. I am tired of student who strain at gnats and swallow camels. Apathy, after a very short time, becomes a physical pressure in the room.

This is a late-October teacher cry. Tomorrow, I'll go back to work, screaming with a smile.

Great Quote

Today's quote of the day, "Only the educated are free" by Epictetus, is one of my favorite quotes. How much truth is wrapped up in that one small statement? Ignorance is slavery of heart, soul, and mind. Only by learning about ourselves, each other, and the wonderful world around us can we grow the wings we need to fly over the walls of the prison that holds us. Great quote. Really, really great quote.

Dill Pickle Potato Chips

I have become addicted to Dill Pickle Potato Chips. Before I tasted them, the very thought of a chip flavored with pickle made me shudder. I had tried salt and vinegar chips, and they made my stomach curdle. Somehow, though, I was persuaded to taste one, and now I want them all the time.

Golden Flake's are the best. They are so tart that after eating them, it feels like my tongue has wrinkled up. Yum. They make an exceptional accompaniment to sandwiches, and also a really nice "this-day-sucks" food, too.

They can't possibly be good for me, and I freely acknowledge that. However, sometimes, you just gotta have a dill pickle potato chip. I refuse to apologize for it. I have to have some cheap thrills, after all.

Spoon River Anthology

I had said that I was going to write about something good that happened, and now I'm keeping to it.

Last Wednesday, I took my honors and AP students through Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology. It's one of my favorite collections of poems, especially American poetry, and I was so glad to get to share it. I made some very ugly tombstone cut-outs from black foam core and adhered a poem from the collection on it. We had six tombstones in our little graveyard.

The students walked around the room, read the poems, and wrote comments on pieces of paper near them. I had Mozart's Requiem going in the background. It was so wonderful to watch the students get into the poems. I love it when that happens, especially when it's a work or set of works that I myself am passionate about.

We had excellent discussion in all three classes, and I heard several students say they wanted to read more of them. That was a very good day. I don't know if any of them went and read more of the poems or not, but just the fact that they had that interest, even if it was only for 55 minutes, made me feel like I had accomplished something. If I can continue to give them those moments, maybe I can do something that lasts.

BTW, if you've never read Spoon River Anthology, check it out here.

Bad Attitudes

The natives are restless...

We've had a spate of bad behavior at school lately. I don't know if it's a phase of the moon, the bizzare giddiness of Homecoming, or some sort of hellish voodoo, but I do so hope it goes away soon. I have rarely heard more kids whining, backtalking, and generally being savagely uncouth.

I don't know where they get the idea that it's okay to act like that. Who ever told them that they have the right to show disrespect to one another or to their teachers? I get so tired of having to ask for silence and to try to get them to do what they're supposed to be doing, but I'll tell you the truth: the part that bothers me most isn't my kids' classroom behavior. The part that is killing me is the wild insanity and rudeness in the hall.

I am trying very hard not to focus on it because I can only Type-A my little corner of the world. It's just so discouraging and exhausting to fight the same stupid battles every day with people you're trying to help. It's like trying to pull a drowning wolf from a pond while it claws and bites you.

On another front, I still haven't heard back from Monday's blood work. I called today and left a message, so hopefully I'll have an answer tomorrow. I suppose if they haven't called me by now, nothing too bad can be wrong, right?

I had another splitting headache today, and I'm not sure why. It started on the way to school and neither caffiene nor Tylenol could kill it. I finally got rid of it with an accidental fifteen minute nap while I was waiting for my night class to start. If they could just tell me what to do about them to make the pain stop, I could live with everything else.

There's so much more I want to say. There are so many entries that I start composing in my mind that never make it to the screen. I guess I'm back in the school year blogging mode, which is to say slow, slow, slow...

Last Week

After Monday, there really wasn't a lot of time to blog. Monday afternoon, I had an eye exam and was told that at least one thing on my stupid body is working perfectly. 20/20 vision and a perfectly shaped eye. At least I don't need glasses, and my eyes are the cause of my headaches.

Tuesday afternoon, I went back to the doctor for a recheck since my white blood cell count was high. I was running a slight fever, but upon recheck, my white cell count was lower, and he has just about ruled mono out as the source of my ongoing tiredness. Monday, I'll have some more tests run to see if he can locate what's going on. He's talking now about pre-diabetes. Nothing will be certain until the lab work comes back, and he's talking about some other possibilities, too, so right now, I'm trying as hard as I can to reserve judgement.

I stood with a friend at the funeral of his mother this Wednesday. Funerals are never easy affairs; I always feel the grief like a clinging haze. This one was harder than most because my friend was so grief-stricken. I pray for my friend. I
hope he can find a way to move on.

Thursday is actually a blur. I had stayed up late getting already-overdue grades ready to submit the following morning. I remember very little of it except that I was weary, and it was long. I couldn't have been very coherent in class. I had a midterm in a night class I'm taking, and I probably failed it. After I finished the test, I came home and fell down.

Friday went blissfully fast until seventh period. Seventh period, an assortment of sophomores and juniors got stupid, and there was a shouting match in the hall amongst them that had to be dealt with.

There were some really good things last week, too, but mostly it was a grey fog. I'll write about one of the good things later on because I need to remind myself that the good is always there. Right now, though, my whole life's focus is on finding out what in the world is wrong with me, whether it's diabetes or needing a new multivitamin. Maybe I'll get that answer this week.

Just a Little Scarier Than It Used to Be

There's something wrong with the world today
I don't know what it is
There's something wrong inside...

-- Aerosmith "Livin' on the Edge"

Today's news was full of the North Korean nuclear test. Now a crazy man with delusions of divinity has a weapon capable of starting a war that may be the end of all we know. Once one single person finally pushes that button, I wonder if there will be anybody standing in the end after the preemptive strikes, the retaliatory strikes, and all the other excuses to kill masses of humanity.

Why is life so cheap? How did it get that way? How can any person look at another and be blind to the beauty of that life? We talk about acceptable losses and collateral damage. We entertain ourselves with games full of destruction and movies full of the same. What is it about us that drives this blood thirst?

The leader of North Korea is in charge of a nation with the world's largest standing army and a population that is literally starving to death. There has to be a special place in hell for that sort of thing.

I keep thinking that God should have made us with some sort of fail-safe valve, some sort of mechanism that just blows up if we reach a certain point of evil. Don't talk to me about relativity, either. Don't talk about YOUR values versus MY values. I'm not talking about driving SUVs, leaving lights on when you leave the room, or failing to recycle. I don't mean things you ought or ought not to do. I'm talking about EVIL, all capital letters. I'm talking about the kind of evil that leads to child abuse and genocide, to dictatorships and torture. When you are in charge of a group of people and you use that power to suppress, misinform, torture, and starve them, that valve ought to blow sky high.

So what now? This is my generation's nuclear threat. I don't think we'll be having drills at school where we all slide under our desks and assume the position. What will we do? What about Japan, China, and South Korea sitting so close to the impulsive insanity of a human gone rabid with power and paranoia? I have friends in those places, and now I have to worry for them and for the wonderful nations in which they live as well as for my own land.

And what of the North Koreans? What will happen to them once the political maneuvering is over and the sanctions or worse begins? My one wish is that they as a people would rise up and say, "Too much is enough," and destroy the leadership. If they did that, then maybe they could have a chance at freedom.

Just thinking about all of it is enough to make you want to find a safe, dark place and hide. I don't know how this drama is going to unfold, but I have to say it's frightening. Thanks to the machinations of a madman, the world is just a little bit scarier that it used to be, and God knows, it was scary enough without it.

And One More Thing

One more small thing... I got an antenna to pick up local stations. That means Tuesday I get to see either the enchanting and wonderful Mr. D'Onofrio or the other pair. At least it's a new episode of CI, and I'll also be able to get local news now. It's the little victories, you know.

Medical Mystery

I have to go back to the doctor tomorrow or Tuesday for a recheck. Apparently, my blood count was high. Joy. I'm feeling a lot better, though. I still get tired quite a bit, but I feel better than I've felt in weeks, and the swelling in my neck is completely gone. I'm hoping for good news when I go back.

On the more amusing side of things, some of my student readers were apparently speculating as to how I might have contracted mono, if that's what this turns out to be. I imagine they had some pretty lurid romantic scenarios. It might be funny to find out what they were, but then again...do I really want to go down that road? I think not.

Halloweening

Yesterday, the air was the perfect temperature. The sun was warm but not the brutal and burning type it has been all summer. I decided to put out my Halloween decorations and enjoy the day.

I love Halloween. Christmas is my favorite holiday, but Halloween runs a close second. I love the fun of it. I love the simple, inner-child pleasure of candy and safe thrills. I love putting up the pumpkins around my door, hanging the ghosts in my driveway, and watching parents with their kids in the store deciding whether this year's costume will be the princess or the witch.

Even in our increasingly homogenized world, most cultures have a holiday that deals with fears and concerns about death and grief for those who have departed. Japan has Obon, Mexico has Dia de los Muertos, and we have Halloween. That part of the holiday fascinates me, too. It is so important for us to have that connection to those who are gone, and even though we don't use Halloween in a ceremonial way anymore, the haunted houses, plastic phantoms, and carved pumpkins still represent a way of dealing with the fear of the unknown that comes with death. We learn as children, even in a very softened way, that death doesn't have to be something of which we need be afraid.

I have loved Halloween since I was a child. We used to have the best Halloween carnivals at school. I remember walking through the sixth-grade building's haunted house, riding around the playground on a hay wagon, and winning endless little bags of prizes with my friends. There was nothing fancy about it, but just being there with the costumes and the cooling weather was special.

My mom and I used to hang the same cardboard decorations on the windows every year, and so looked forward to the day when Mom would say it was time to get them out and hang them up. We also bought plastic ghosts and pumpkins and hung them on the trees lining our driveway. Coming home was a thrill as the headlights caught those silly, smiling plastic figures. It was special to me, and it still is.

For the remainders of the month, I will have the same thrill as an adult. Whenever I come home late from school, my plywood copies of those same silly smiles will be there to cheer me. The plastic pumpkins around my schoolroom door will keep me company as I work late to get papers graded and recorded. I will feed that six-year-old who still lives inside me and enjoy it.

Please, Not Mono

I have been feeling so bad lately. I have no energy, and no matter how much I sleep, I always feel tired. Two days ago, my lymph node under my ear became swollen. I've never had that happen in all my many illnesses.

Today, I felt so horrible that I went and braved the overcrowded waiting room at my doctor's walk-in clinic. Once I got to the back, all I wanted to do was lie down on the paper-covered table and sleep until somebody made me better.

When the doctor came in, he checked me over and ordered a blood test. Then he uttered the worst of words...mono. It's not sure yet, and I'm fervently hoping it's just a sinus infection, but if it is, it's a doozy. I'm not really sinusy, but I'm completely wiped out. I won't know for about two weeks whether or not it's mono for about two weeks, but keep your collective fingers crossed for me. It's going to devastate my school year if I have to be out six weeks.

October

October is finally here! It's one of my favorite months. The weather finally starts to cool down, the leaves change, and the holidays start to roll in.

I love to get my Halloween stuff out every year and hang it up or set it out. It brings back memories of childhood and never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Before I left Friday, I redid the bulletin board in the hall outside my room and hung my garland and pumpkin lights. I changed out my "This Day in History" calendar and rewrote the information on my boards in orange and black. These are little things, but I feel better knowing they're done.

I still have to hang up my ghosts outside, but that can wait awhile. I have a lot of school work I need to do today, and I also want to take a nap. Then I can enjoy the rest of my decorating.

Longing

I miss Japan so badly today that it's a physical pain. I don't know if it's the quality of the light or the fact that it's finally turning to autumn here. I don't know if it's because I'm listening to Agatsuma as I'm trying to get school work done, because I received a new catalog from the Japanese American Museum, or because I chose one of my Japanese pottery bowls from which to eat my cereal this morning.

All I know is that if I only had one wish right now, it would be to be back in Toyohashi watching all those lustrous golden ginkgo leaves showering down on the campus of Aidai. I long to be riding my bike, to be on the trains going somewhere, to be walking with my camera and seeing autumn take the countryside in slow waves of color. I crave chestnut sweets and mochi. I want to stop in a noodle shop and enjoy the flavors before a cool evening ride home.

I miss my friends there and all my wonderful, diamond-bright students. Last night while I was copying grammar exercises, my eyes fell on various knickknacks from Japan in my office: my Nohohon collection, a tiny pair of shishi-mai, my Denko-san dragon and shishi, and most wonderful of all, the card my first class of students gave me. I framed it and hung it in my office to help me remember when I have really bad days that somebody somewhere thinks I'm a good teacher.

I want to be walking down the winding pottery path in Tokoname with my camera in hand. I want to be sitting on my ridiculously small green sofa and hearing the absurdly musical chime of the factory across the street. I want grocery store sushi and an egg salad, tuna salad, potato salad sandwich trio from a C-store. I want to go indulge at the 100 yen store.

Here, there is no sumo, no maneki neko, no matcha, and today I feel the loss like a lash across the shoulders. I am starting to get itchy feet and a dreaming mind again, but I have too many obligations that keep me here. I suppose I will just have to satiate the hunger in some other way, but oh how I long for my simple gaijin life in Toyohashi.

Restoring the Balance

Friday was the stupidest day I've had in a long, long time. There was an altercation with a colleague and a blazing headache. I left school early, and I took no work home with me. I deliberately left it sitting on the desk and went home. It was a mutinous, rebellious action, and I refuse to apologize for it.

This weekend, I read four pulp fiction novels, made several pots of tea, lay on the couch with Dillon purring supportively in my ears, surfed eBay for vintage Vera scarves and chenille peacock bedspreads, chatted online with two dear friends who are far away, sporadically did laundry, watched The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, cooked Sunday dinner for my parents, and generally focused on feeling less like a dead teacher and more like a "real" person again.

I had reached a point where this was absolutely necessary. I am now behind in several things, but I can't bring myself to worry about it. It will all get done. I may have to stick a cot in the back of the classroom next week, but at least I will start the week rested and refreshed. I know the ridiculous crap with the coworker will probably flare back up at least once next week, and at some point, I will tell that story here, but I think I will be able to deal with it.

Another Sisyphus Day

This week has been crazy. There have been fire drills, personal and professional dramas, preparation for unit tests, fights in the halls, screaming crazies elsewhere, departmental work days, and parent conferences, and I'm worn out with it.

Today has been especially long. A perfectly capable student is trying desperately to get out of my class because it's "too hard." I can't tell you how tired one gets of hearing that, of hearing how hard my class is, how much work I assign, how strict I am. I feel like just saying, "Well heck then, let's all twiddle our thumbs and do nothing. Let's all be the same unimproved, unenlightened people we were when we came in. Let's keep our world view and comprehension from expanding one iota."

It's not that student alone or even mostly that's triggered this. There are other issues going on there, and I know AP is hard. It's supposed to be. I do everyone a disservice if it's not. I don't have a problem there. As the lady who ran our AP seminar this summer tells her students, "Hate me now; love me in May."

It's more that I try so hard to do this. I try so hard to make every single day something that will bring some new facet to the jewel of life. I want my students to understand the power and the humanity, the shared lives and the eon-spanning emotion, we approach every time we open our textbooks. So often, I watch them shut down as the covers open. So often, they refuse, by conditioning, I suppose, to give what we're doing a chance. These things have lasted for a reason. They are, at their bedrock, built on experience we all have.

I try very hard not to teach boring stuff. Even if it's grammar, and God knows, grammar isn't my favorite part of being an English teacher with all its rules and strictures, I make every effort to cut through the crap and get to the meat of it in the most meaningful way. I know not everyone is going to love Beowulf or Pride and Prejudice or 1984, but I would hope that I am at least presenting it in a way that makes it appreciable.

I also believe I make a genuine effort to treat all my students with respect. I don't lie to them or talk down to them. I want them to do well and succeed. I want them to discover the unimaginable possibilities of themselves.

It's just a Sisyphus Day, I guess. The frazzlin' rock has rolled over me, and I feel every bruise. I need to go home, eat supper, and watch something mindless or read an old favorite. Barring the possibility of either kendo or fencing where I could release some of this frustration and sadness by destroying a hapless opponent, I think that looks like the best option.

Sunday House Call?

I was working on getting things cleaned up this morning, and my phone rang. It was a BellSouth repairman asking if he could come out today and take care of the repair issue with my kitchen phone jack. I almost fell over. I had no idea they worked on Sundays.

He came out, and in about 45 min., fixed the wiring problem. Apparently, something (probably a large reddish pit bull or her small golden sidekick) had chewed the wires leading into the house. I am so glad that it's fixed! Not having a phone right there was a terrible inconvenience.

Well, there's not really more to tell. I'm still working on school stuff and watching D'Onofrio, so life goes on. It's nice not to have exciting things to tell, sometimes.

Gnashing of Teeth

I have been on the phone with tech support for the past three hours. My wireless router has apparently gone belly up. I am ready to throw it against a wall. The very nice Mid-Asian BellSouth DSL tech guy who patiently walked me through various fixes is probably ready to throw it, too.

I hate it when things that are supposed to work, don't. I have absolutely no patience with malfunctioning inanimate objects.

I still have to call Linksys and deal with whatever sort of tech support they offer, but I don't think I can stand to do it right now. I think I'm going to get a snack and get away from the darn thing for a few minutes first.