Vi-va Nervosa

Originally Posted Jan. 31, 2009 @ lifeinatown.wordpress.com

Vi landed a part in the local high school musical. She’s just a fourth-grader, but the show calls for two kids, and Vi was recommended as a ham-who-can-sing by some of her teachers at the elementary school. She can sing, too—while our precious Pearl (ahem) “sings” like her Papa, Vi stood in the theater director’s living room and performed “The Star Spangled Banner” with such confidence and precision that I practically burst with pride.

There were no formal auditions. The director sought suggestions, interviewed the children, and chose the ones he needed. So it all came about in private—until this week, when Vi had to attend her first full-cast sing-through of the show. I picked her up at the end of the school day, rather than having her ride the bus home. Then I walked her from the elementary school over to the Big-Bad-H.S., site of many happy memories as well as angst-filled moments in my own adolescence. It smells the same—the school. I’ve noticed that all three schools retain the same predominant aroma as when I hallowed their halls 17-30 years ago: elementary (Tempera paint), middle (chlorine from the pool), and high school (unidentified source—pheromones, probably pheromones).

My pulse rose slightly as we checked in at the office and made our way to the music wing. We wove through a few small groups of teenagers. (Why did I feel intimidated? Am I not twice their age—or more? I wondered if my hair looked okay. I hoped my jeans were long enough. Had I remembered to tweeze my eyebrows that morning?) We arrived at the rehearsal room—chock full of musical teens, plus the director and choreographer. I felt daunted by the scene. I wondered how my 9-year-old daughter would manage the pressure awaiting her in the next two hours. But I didn’t hover. I handed her a brown paper bag with some snacks in it, and I left the room, the hall, the school—briskly.

At exactly six o’clock, I returned to collect my girl. She reported that when it came her turn to sing her solo, she “felt hot and wanted to puke.” Flashback! I remembered the feeling.

Original Comments:

1. I feel exactly the same way… but about people my own age on down to teens.
Comment by SeekingPlumb — February 1, 2009 @ 12:47 am