A (Very) Late Realization

When I was in 6th grade, my friends Pam, John, Joan and I tried out for the elementary school talent show. We did a lip sync/pantomime to the song The Streak, by Ray Stevens. You can Google that, it’s a cute little song about a silly little fad in the 70’s. You know…when I was in elementary school.

We were good.

We made it into the talent show….and then we got kicked out of the talent show. We were told by the music teacher that she just didn’t think that what we were doing was that much of a talent. I was extremely upset, as were my fellow performers, and I went home, probably crying, to my mother. Mom, being the amazing mom that she is, called the school and talked to the teacher. The teacher apologized, but didn’t give any more information. When we went to see the talent show, our act had been replaced. By a girl doing a lip sync/pantomime to a song called Tan Shoes With Pink Shoelaces.

I’ve gotten over the hurt. I’ve gotten past the anger. But I’ve never forgotten the injustice of it.

Last night, I was chatting via text with my long-time friend Pam. I’ve know Pam since I was 4 and we moved in next door to her. We have had our ups and downs, and spent quite a lot of time being out of touch. But my folks still live in that same place, and Pam owns the house where her mother used to live, so we see each other from time to time. I like talking to her. She reminds me of a simpler, more innocent time. And, she is part of my life story in a way no one else can be. Don’t you just love old friends? Anyhow. Last night I was chatting with Pam and this story of The Streak came up. She said that she was surprised that Miss Deane, our principal, let us do that skit.

See, Miss Deane was strict and conservative and fair and kind. She didn’t even get too mad at me when I got called to the principal’s office for kicking Robbie Brandstetter in the shin—that he had just gotten removed from a cast. (In my defense, he pushed me into the parallel bars in gym class that were being used at the time, and I came within inches of being kicked in the face.) She calmly and kindly explained that there are better ways of handling conflict. She was right about that. One year, the elementary school choir had been rehearsing Rocky Mountain High by John Denver for an upcoming concert. Miss Deane felt that it was about people getting high, and was therefore inappropriate for an elementary school concert.

Of course, I vehemently disagreed. I was sure that it was not about smoking pot, but rather that amazing feeling you get when you go high up into the Rocky Mountains, and about Denver being the Rocky Mountain High City, and the beauty of the Rocky Mountains.

In retrospect, Miss Deane was probably right about that, too. I mean, I also thought that the song Afternoon Delight was about a really tasty lunch.

After all these years. Could it be? Could it be true that Miss Deane nixed our act? Probably. That is most likely exactly what happened. I can’t believe that never occurred to me. Not once. The realization almost left me breathless. Why wouldn’t that teacher, whose name I don’t even remember, not just have told us that? Wouldn’t it be better to hear “it isn’t appropriate” as opposed to “its not that much of a talent?” Because, what I heard was you’re not that talented. Especially when the exact same type of act was allowed in the show.

I’ve said it before. Words matter. Honesty matters. Justice matters. Fairness matters. Even if you have the best of intentions. As Stephen Sondheim said….

”Careful the things you say. Children will listen.”

Peace,

Kat