Yesterday I read a review of a play about a group of very smart, working class British high school students called "History Boys". The reviewer wrote that "Like all of us who went to school...the boys are (to quote one of their teachers) 'magnificently unprepared for the littleness of life'."
I recall a conversation I had with my childhood companion and frequent whatjailislike.com/ correspondent Anna Zbilut a few years ago in which we noted the oddity of how our kindergarten/first/second grade teachers all seemed to be under the impression that mastery of paper mache products would be the foundation of all significant knowledge in our lives. We scoffed at this notion, for it seemed an odd notion indeed. We had this conversation in the spring of 2002, which was the end of my scholastic career. Since then I've come to realize that our grade school teachers were right. In terms of the things I've done to earn a living in the last four years, primary school learning has come into play far more than high school or college. Performing minor office functions as I so often do, I realize that I'm constantly employing scissors and glue, implements I've always disliked, but I'm certainly doing that more than discussing the anti-democratic themes of Milton and whatnot.
I've heard this argument all my life from stupid and largely worthless adults, that the humanities are useless because they do not earn you money (the most important thing in the world)
It was rot then and it's rot now. Milton's going to be around long after those hungry sacks of flesh are dust and the transitory concerns of my employers are forgotten, and their scissors have long since dulled...
I'm not only unprepared for the littleness of life, I'm utterly unwilling to accept it. I refuse to ever allow my life to be little, and I think that refusal *is* pretty magnificent...
Yes, I do dislike being called too dramatic-It's hardly accurate. I meet every situation with exactly the calm and reasonable demeanor that situation requires and always have.
I had male friends as a little kid, but not really anyone from school. Just the 'hood, and we of course had fairly complicated love/hate relationships with the Verdon boy, and that Taliban insurgent we used to hang out with. My best, best, best, best friend pre-kindergarten (as was described at the time) was the son of one of my mother's friends, Christopher Patrick O'Toole. Wonder whatever happened to him.
Gerald's car was called the Deathmobile because of the condition of the driver as well as the vehicle.
I don't really get why women engage in oral sex. It makes very little sense to me. Seriously, why would you put that there? But then I don't really understand why women want to have sex with men at all. I am simultaneously a man who finds other men attractive in an abstract, empirical sense but am also absolutely baffled by both male homosexuality and female heterosexuality. Not that I don't appreciate both those things and think there should be a lot more of both.
You don't like Death of a Salesman? I now have a grand vision of "Death of a Sith Lord" inspired by Lucas's explanation of how disappointed Palpatine was in Vader after he fell into the lava pit, greatly reducing his potential, but Palpatine still had twisted paternal feelings for him.
"Lord Vader was liked...but not well liked..."
I apologize to any of your readers who can't stand this blog.
Yes, but you *hated* it when I called you dramatic. Even went so far as to deny you were acting as such.
Of course blogging is self-indulgent... I think our national addiction to blogging has been created out of necessity; to quote Adam Ant: "you don't drink, don't smoke, what do you do?" The answer is: Blog.
Let's be honest now -- your whole family drove "Deathmobiles" -- some just more dangerous than others. My mom always told me to buckle up, but for the life of me I can't remember ever finding a complete seat belt; it was always one half hanging flaccidly behind the passenger seat or the other end standing upright, just begging for an insertion. Much like you when you twiddle. (I couldn't resist.)
Incidentally, I find it disturbing that the majority of my childhood memories include you. We were fairly inseparable, but there were times I had to go be a girl with other girls, yet I don't much remember those prior to 3rd grade when I spent a lot of time in Kelly Joyce's kitchen laughing so hard milk and Oreos would rocket from my nostrils. (And there was that one time Maggie and I slept over at Heather's house farting and giggling all night while playing "Shoot the duck.") So either you were an incredible influence OR little girls are insipid creatures playing with make-up and watching MTV and whatnot. However, who knew I'd grew up to be such a girly-girl? (Hmm... last time I saw Kelly I think she was getting married.)
RE: penis sucking ~ I think it was something us girls regarded as the most disgusting thing ever, without any knowledge that we'd later be asked routinely to perform such an act as part of a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. I'd still rather yell GOOSE! and run screaming from the room.
I don't believe we had sides in the Luke/Vader argument as I think it was more discussion than anything else. We spent a lot of time agreeing with each other, but throwing out different points to agree upon.
If Willy Loman had the power & personality that Vader had, maybe Salesman would've actually touched me.
I always know absolutely no one is reading these self indulgent comments but this whole blogging thing is intrinsically self indulgent.
Mmm, yes, that always was your adjective of choice for me. What you should have caught onto by now is that most of the time I'm "dramatic" I'm really going for "comic". Miss Gabel in kindegarten is cause for some shuddering.
1. Sitting outside in the hall while Miss Miller asked the rest of the class about my positive traits so she could write them down on my cardboard star when it was my turn to be "Star of the Week." Apparently, I played nicely with others and I was smart.
I remember "Star of the Week" but I don't much remember my turn.
2. Mr. Rosinkski making us do this finger wiggling exercise in gym class in order to "strengthen our writing muscles."
You know, you left after fifth grade but Mr. Ro remained gym teacher years after I graduated...He was the one thing that was constant as the northern star.
3. You and I both winning the Walk-A-Thon, having the most pledges, and you choosing a day off of school as your prize while I got $5.
I remember that one, to this day I value leisure time more than cash...
4. Walking down to the Fire Engine Park and seeing who could jump farthest off a swing in motion while you trailed the fence, twiddling. (Joey recently asked if you still twiddled; I said probably when you were alone.)
Er yes, when I'm alone...
5. Sheena John always falling asleep at naptime and staying asleep for an hour after we woke up.
Heh, kind of remember that too.
6. Having to tell my mom that I accidentally fell asleep at naptime and Mom rolling her eyes, knowing that I'd be up way past my bedtime as a result.
I never slept for a minute of naptime.
7. Walking on a city sidewalk one very sunny late afternoon holding your dad's hand as he took us to see The Jungle Book.
My dad's the man to take you round the city.
8. Brian McGovern telling all of us that his grandfather went up to heaven and came back down (as interested in the paranormal as I am, even I thought that little snot was full of it).
Brian McGovern was okay. He really disappered into the great bland backround at Loyola Academy...
9. Your grandparents picking us up at the end of the year (it was warm because I was wearing a dress) and my Mom completely freaking out when we met up at home because she thought I got kidnapped since your grandparents were just supposed to get you. We had to sit in the back of their station wagon where there were no seats and I remember both of us totally rolling over as your Grandpa took turns, which emabarassed me because the whole world could see my underpants.
Oh my God, that station wagon! They must have stopped driving that in 1985 at the latest! It's AMAZING that you remember that!
I do feel like you were in Gerald's car at one point, (or maybe it was Tariq, my memory's much inferior) Back when Gerald could semi-legally drive. My dad always called it "The Deathmobile".
10. Miss Miller's sister, Lois, coming in and playing guitar for us.
Yeah, she was an identical twin.
11. Your 6th birthday party where we watched the Secret of NIMH and I was traumatized for life. I think your Mom actually stopped the movie because we were all being traumatized and she had no idea how traumatizing the film was when she rented it. Trauma.
Haven't seen that since, I may have been traumatized by it at the time, but I play what little I can remember of it in my head a lot and it's awesome.
12. Playing the Catholic school girl version of "duck duck goose" with Katie, Maura, Marissa, Debbie, and Maggie. Instead of the boring "duck" we'd color it up with phrases like "Mr. T sucking his p*nis" and "the president eating his own poo."
WHOA. You were working pretty blue there, you always did, but penis sucking in Kindergarten?
13. Piling out of your mom's 2-door with Stacy Verdon, arguing whether or not Luke Skywalker truly hated Vader.
Stacy so wasn't nerdy enough to be even listening to that conversation, I now feel sorry for her.
What respective sides were we taking in that argument?
Obviously, the true answer, as we can now see is hardly an either/or position. This is one of the most tense father/son relationships of all time. Luke clearly hates what Vader represents but his fundamental love for his father is the heart of the entire saga.
If Biff Loman showed half the filial piety that Luke does, "Death of a Salesman" would have been a much better play...
Yes, you are depressing sometimes. You're also very dramatic.
You may not receive any prizes for effort, but you'll have built some character, which is more than kids who got everything easy can say.
The world needs more teachers like Miss Miller; teachers who don't punish their non-conformist students for not coloring in the lines. Can you imagine what life would've been like if we had Miss Gabel for kindergarten? I bet you would've gotten fed up more than just once and decided to walk home in the middle of the day!
Okay, okay... I do have an excellent memory (this is why David can never win an argument.) However, it is also a curse. Here are a few other kindergarten memories, though a little more hazy:
1. Sitting outside in the hall while Miss Miller asked the rest of the class about my positive traits so she could write them down on my cardboard star when it was my turn to be "Star of the Week." Apparently, I played nicely with others and I was smart.
2. Mr. Rosinkski making us do this finger wiggling exercise in gym class in order to "strengthen our writing muscles."
3. You and I both winning the Walk-A-Thon, having the most pledges, and you choosing a day off of school as your prize while I got $5.
4. Walking down to the Fire Engine Park and seeing who could jump farthest off a swing in motion while you trailed the fence, twiddling. (Joey recently asked if you still twiddled; I said probably when you were alone.)
5. Sheena John always falling asleep at naptime and staying asleep for an hour after we woke up.
6. Having to tell my mom that I accidentally fell asleep at naptime and Mom rolling her eyes, knowing that I'd be up way past my bedtime as a result.
7. Walking on a city sidewalk one very sunny late afternoon holding your dad's hand as he took us to see The Jungle Book.
8. Brian McGovern telling all of us that his grandfather went up to heaven and came back down (as interested in the paranormal as I am, even I thought that little snot was full of it).
9. Your grandparents picking us up at the end of the year (it was warm because I was wearing a dress) and my Mom completely freaking out when we met up at home because she thought I got kidnapped since your grandparents were just supposed to get you. We had to sit in the back of their station wagon where there were no seats and I remember both of us totally rolling over as your Grandpa took turns, which emabarassed me because the whole world could see my underpants.
10. Miss Miller's sister, Lois, coming in and playing guitar for us.
11. Your 6th birthday party where we watched the Secret of NIMH and I was traumatized for life. I think your Mom actually stopped the movie because we were all being traumatized and she had no idea how traumatizing the film was when she rented it. Trauma.
12. Playing the Catholic school girl version of "duck duck goose" with Katie, Maura, Marissa, Debbie, and Maggie. Instead of the boring "duck" we'd color it up with phrases like "Mr. T sucking his p*nis" and "the president eating his own poo."
13. Piling out of your mom's 2-door with Stacy Verdon, arguing whether or not Luke Skywalker truly hated Vader.
okay, that's enough for now...
I'm depressing sometimes aren't I?
I'm still bedheaded, and only slightly taller than 3 feet.
Some would say you did the right thing by tattling on me, that you were in fact, a whistleblower. After all, Miss Miller was later indicted and imprisoned for her coverup of the infamous Coloring Outside the Lines Scandal of 1983, which was considered a precursor to Iran-Contra a few years later.
In all seriousness, I'm amazed by your memory of the era, I think I have an above average memory of childhood but yours exceeds mine.
Miss Miller was a doll and all but her answer is nothing but muddleheaded liberal crap. I know damn well that trying your best at something hard is nothing but wasted effort that will not reward you in the least. Only the strong survive.
I do remember that solar eclipse...
Now that I've been mentioned by name, I feel I must be the first to comment.
I believe Miss Miller prepared us for the bigness of life by focusing on the little things ~ the Golden Rule, the importance of sharing, how a little newspaper and paste can make you the most creative person in the world, flushing, washing your hands, and to make new friends, but keep the old (because one is silver and the other gold.) I have five very clear kindergarten memories: one is Debbie Slusher introducing herself to me early on and asking if I wanted to be her best friend (and I was for several years); second is Maura Brown and Katie Piggott fighting over who got to be Brooke Shields to my playtime photographer's lens; third is a solar eclipse that forced us inside during recess; fourth is being too shy to ask Mrs. Brizzolara for a tooth envelope when my front tooth fell out without so much as a wiggle (Debbie Slusher asked for me instead); and the fifth memory is sitting with a 3 feet tall Rory Leahy, all bedheaded and milk-mustachioed, at a table while we used crayons to color in our workbooks. You weren't coloring in the lines, and I tattled to Miss Miller. Her response surprised me ~ she glanced at your book and said that sometimes trying your best at something hard is as good as being the best at something easy.
And now that I'm married, I realize the importance of practicing the art of paper mache (or coloring or using scissors)...
It doesn't take much to memorize the order and names of US Presidents or multipication tables, but it takes a lot of patience, effort, and planning to see your dreams come to fruition. And sometimes, that's just what you need to get through another day of work-related banality. Besides, all those years of coloring really helped when it came to college and my career -- who knew highlighting would be so important?
