Preparing for Annaleigh

Annaleigh Ashford (left) in WICKED

"What would you do if a green person walked into the room?"

The first and second graders had an immediate reaction.

"I'd run!"

"I'd hide!"

"I'd scream!"

"I'd cry."

"Hold on" I say, "What if this person was smiling?" 

That would be even worse. They've seen too many scary clown movies. This green person wouldn't stand a chance because green is different and different is scary. 

"What if the green person walked in with me? What if I introduced her to you and told you her name was Elphaba? What if I was holding her hand and told you she was my friend? And what if you got the chance to know her and you realized she wasn't scary at all?" 

The tension in the room started to settle and small chuckles of relief replaced it. The children started to see that maybe they could give this Elphaba a chance. With that, I began to tell them Elphaba's story as told in the Broadway musical WICKED. How she was born green and rejected by her family. How everyone she met ran away, or hid, or screamed, or cried, or wanted to hurt her. How she was just someone who was different on the outside, but had feelings like the rest of us. How a small kindness is healing and empathy is important. 

I asked them again, now that they had this new information, "What would you do if Elphaba walked into the room?" Their answers reflected goodwill and compassion. Of course, this was the lesson. We should try to avoid judging someone on their outward appearance and get to know them first. If we do and it turns out we don't like them, at least we made an informed decision. 

This is how I introduced the children to the work of Tony Award Winner Annaleigh Ashford for my Broadway Books First Class program. Annaleigh played Glinda in national tour of WICKED and later recreated it on Broadway. I'd found my hook! And I found a theme. 

This theme of not discounting others based on appearance was also evident in Annaleigh's 2007 Broadway debut in a little show called LEGALLY BLONDE. In that show, based on the wildly popular movie starring Reese Witherspoon, a perky blonde girl obsessed with all things pink wants to become a lawyer. She is ridiculed, mocked, and dismissed because she doesn't fit the expectations ascribed to a serious law student. However, her unconventional viewpoint proves to be the very thing that  wins cases. 

Annaleigh Ashford (in white) as Margot in LEGALLY BLONDE

Judgement and dismissal are painful to experience, yet they come so naturally to us. We can do better. 

At around the same time Annaleigh was performing in these shows, I had a student who the doctors believed had a rare disease called Proteus Syndrome. His appearance was disfigured by benign tumors causing abnormal tissue growth of bones and skin. He resembled John Merrick "The Elephant Man" and the disease left him breathing through a tracheotomy tube. He was also a talented artist who loved to create pictures. He was a typical first grader...inside. 

This small boy had to endure so much and one thing he didn't need were the stares of shocked onlookers. I'd take the class out to a show or to the museum and people would literally gasp or, even worse, scream when they saw him. This happened again and again. This was a guttural response, not premeditated or planned. Yet, the onslaught of negative reactions took its toll on him. How could it not? And how do you walk that reaction back? 

I'm proud to say that in our class he became just another student. His condition became secondary to who he was. My mom always told me the most beautiful woman can become ugly or the homeliest person could become beautiful depending on their personality and how they treat others. That's what happened. We all saw this boy in a different light once we got to know him. His humor, his laugh, his determination, all took center stage. 

I thought of him as we prepared for Annaleigh's visit. I wondered how I could impart this lesson of seeing beyond the surface to the person underneath. We had interesting discussions. The children changed their minds about Elphaba. They would give the green witch a chance after all. These life lessons must be revisited time and time again.

Each Broadway Books First Class guest artist visit centers on a children's book that supports a theme. We uncover themes as we study the work of each guest artist. For Annaleigh, this one theme was clear. So, I chose the Caldecott Honor Book KNIGHT OWL by Christopher Denise for her to read aloud.

Annaleigh Ashford reads KNIGHT OWL

This children's book is about a little owl who dreams of becoming a knight! Who could ever imagine this tiny feathered creature could succeed? Whoo? Whoo? But this determined lad has his parents blessing and works had to pass knight school. In fact, his owley disposition works in his favor! He can stay up nights when the other knights fall asleep. And he bonded over shared traits with the dragon that threatened the kingdom. In the end, this little owl became an unexpected hero. See, you never know. 

Before the reading, a child asked Annaleigh if she could read the book in a British accent. They knew she could do this accent because of her work in KINKY BOOTS and SWEENEY TODD. She countered with, "How about I use a British accent for the owl?" And she did. And it was brilliant. Another layer, another way to truly see someone - not for what they appear to be, but for who they truly are. 

Each student took home a copy of KNIGHT OWL 

It's All One

Photo: Judy Petrozzini-Declement

Educators in NYC are preparing to return to work on Tuesday. The vibe I'm getting is that there is a distinct line between summer vacation and going back to work. I've felt this delineation in the past too. Although lately, my perspective has changed due to the words of my friend, Lynnette. 

We were talking about self-care in the midst of the demands of being a caregiver. She told me to make time for myself by taking a walk or stepping away once in a while. I questioned the possibility of doing that because I didn't want to be away from the person I love in their time of need. 

Lynnette told me there is no separation. It is all part of the same thing. It's all one. These divisions we create for ourselves are of our own making. In reality, our time, our movements, and our experiences are all part of the same picture.

This was the message I needed to hear. It seems so simple, but it packs a wallop. It is very freeing to make this shift in thinking - to see our lives as continuous rather than as a series of starts and stops. There is no beginning or end.

This perspective encourages us (or me anyway) to live in the moment and be grateful. What is the benefit of those thoughts that tell us we can do this or that when (fill in the blank) or counting down the days until (fill in the blank). 

Stop and realize it's all part of the same thing. Everything is important and everything is connected. 

Bonnie

One of the first pictures I took of Bonnie in September 1996

I was radiating sunshine on the morning of my very first day of my very first year of teaching. Everything excited me.

I had a mailbox in the main office! 

I had my own classroom - Room 108!

I had made it. The dream I worked so hard for was about to begin!

Teachers were told to report to the cafeteria to get a class roster and meet their students. I was eager to read the names of my kindergarten children, but when I was handed my class list there were no students on it. I immediately panicked. They hired me by mistake. There aren't enough kids and I will be shown the door. I quietly sidled up to my fellow kindergarten teacher, Bonnie, to show her the paper. 

Bonnie was a veteran teacher who knew how things worked. She was funny, animated, often irritated, and did not suffer fools gladly. I adored her. 

"Bonnie, look at this. I have no students. They are going to send me home."

She took one look and told me not to worry about it. At that time, our school admitted only deaf and hard of hearing students and classes were built as the year went on. Class sizes consisted of a maximum of 6 students.

"Stick with me" Bonnie said, "We can teach together until you get students."

And I did. Bonnie knew how to get things done in the school. She knew everybody. She had all the intel (gossip) and knew where all the bodies were buried. She also had a short fuse, a raspy smoker's voice, a working knowledge of ASL, and one foot out the door. I was energetic but green. We were a fantastic pair. 

All of my shortcomings were covered by her experience. I'd come up with ideas for lessons and she'd skillfully know how to execute them. We complimented one another perfectly. She easily went along with my plans and appeared happy to teach beside me without having to take on the burden of writing out excessively detailed lesson plans. I learned a great deal from Bonnie.

Once my class list grew, we still taught together. She'd bring her students to my room and we'd spend many happy days teaching and enjoying one another's company. 

We became friends outside of work too. Bonnie would sometimes drive us out to Atlantic City after school on Fridays. She enjoyed Bally's casino and we'd take advantage of her high-roller status with a free room, meal vouchers, and show tickets. Our weekends in A.C. flew by as we played the slots, ate, and laughed. In those days, I had very little money and would marvel at how easily she fed the machines. She once put $100 into a slot machine as an "experiment" just to see how few times it would hit. Meanwhile, I'd get depressed over losing $20 and rationalize it by thinking I got a room, a show, and meals for free at least. I'd spend a lot of time just watching her play and listening to her talk. Bonnie was talkative, opinionated, and could get herself comically worked up about things. I loved it. She delighted and amused me.

Bonnie retired a few years after after I started teaching but our trips to A.C. or to each other's homes continued. However, at some point we lost touch. I called her a few years ago and we had a great time catching up. She sold her place in Brooklyn and was spending her time at her home in Halcottsville, NY. It was a cozy house in a charming village. 

Last week, I learned that Bonnie had a heart attack on July 24 and passed away. She was 79 years old. I've been thinking about Bonnie a great deal since I learned the news. Last night in a dream I ran into her. I told her I heard she died and she told me that was nonsense. She was annoyed at the rumor. We were both in a hurry so we said we'd meet again soon. We hugged. I walked away relieved she was okay. Upon waking, I was a bit confused. Reality tells me one thing while my dreams tell me another. Or did it? Perhaps the take away is that she's okay and we will meet again one day. 

Yes, I think I'll go with that.

Year 29!

Clock design by Tibor Kalman for The New Victory Theater

 
In a few weeks, I step into my 29th year as an elementary school teacher of D/deaf, hard of hearing, and hearing children. My joys, frustrations, and reflections on that experience are recorded on this blog (for the past 17 years anyway). It's been quite the ride. It hasn't always been good, but when I look back I feel exceedingly blessed.

I've learned some things along the way.

1. I love teaching young children and I am very good at it.

2. Children thrive under a teacher who believes in them and one who is knowledgable in linguistic, psychosocial, emotional, and educational development.

3. Good teachers retire as teachers. Bad teachers retire as administrators. *

4. Administrators, coaches, politicians, and policy makers rarely add value to what happens in the classroom. In fact, teachers are often only successful when they find ways around this outside interference. It isn't easy to do. The emotional toll expended fighting against the pig-headed bureaucracy has caused a teacher shortage. The structure of our educational system needs to be reimagined allowing for more teacher input. We are the experts. Take heed!

5. There is nothing truly new. Research can be manipulated, like bible quotes, to fit the story one is trying to tell. Education is a money-making machine with a cyclical recycling of ideas containing new labels and catchphrases designed to keep the money rolling in. 

6. Children are amazing and will astound you with their insights.

This year begins on a wing and a prayer. I teach in an ICT classroom and my team teacher is out on maternity leave. Meanwhile, my home life may require me to take time off from work here and there. But even with all of the professional and personal stresses, I am looking forward to Year 29. I suppose that says it all.

*some exceptions apply

Growing Up John-Boy

Writing is my thing. It belongs to me. I say this not because I've been paid to write (although I have), but simply because I have the desire to write. This is evidenced by stacks of journals dating back to my early teen years. I started writing my first book on yellow legal pads when I was in junior high school. It was a murder mystery in the style of Agatha Christie called A Face in the Window. I also wrote short stories, plays, poems, song lyrics, notes, and many, many letters. Later, there was this blog, journal publications, writing for hire, and my dissertation - I am the only person I know who loved the experience of writing their dissertation. 

Of course, the world is full of folks who have a personal connection to writing. I grew up watching The Waltons on TV with my family. The eldest son on the show was an aspiring writer named John-Boy. He had a good heart and strong moral compass. He was deeply loved by his family. He was sensitive and kind and honest. He was also a bit different than the rest of his family because he had an artistic sensibility. He aspired to achieve his dreams, which would take him to places outside his family's purview. John-Boy was strong and sure-footed and a good listener. John-Boy loved his Mama.

My mom used to tell me I was just like John-Boy.

It is one of the best compliments I've ever received. It is one bestowed on me with love and a mother's pride. The feeling of knowing your Mom beams with pride and love when she sees you is a glorious one. I loved being John-Boy in her eyes. 

My mom passed in 2020 and, since then, I haven't been able to watch The Waltons. It's too painful. I also struggle with writing now because I'd grown accustomed to her feedback. I liked sharing my life with her through my writing. It's the reason I started this blog in the first place. 

There is a sadness associated with The Waltons that has to do with growing up and moving on. The show captures a time in our lives when we are surrounded by family and everyone we love is alive and vibrant. As the show went on, characters died and moved away. Life changed. 

Life changes. 

Constantly.

I'm starting to come back to writing now. It's a bit painful sometimes. Is it therapeutic? I'm not sure. Probably.  

I was working on a book project when my mom passed and the desire to continue felt forced afterwards. But, I think I am ready to return to it. I think my mom would be thrilled if I did. It's a way to honor her. I can hear her voice in my head saying once more that I'm just like John-Boy. 

My mom loves me. That's one thing that will never change. No, no, even death can't take that away from me.