A Grade School Opera and My Intimate Relations With a Married Woman

A grade school opera? In the words of my socially awkward Indian-American friend, "That's, um, like, an oxymoron or something."

It is almost um like an oxymoron or something, as a matter of fact. Opera is a sector of drama designated for 300 pound men with little beards and, well, 300 pound women with little beards.

But, in any case, last Thursday I attended the opera HMS Pinafore, presented by the sixth grader's of my old elementary school.

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Remember my prior references to that school? Wonderful school. But also the one where we all held hands and sang Kum Ba Yah in our final year, but then when we all left to go to different schools, half of the grade went on to become total haters. In any case, it's a wonderful school. I was delighted to go back.

An hour before the actual performance, there was a pizza party for alums. That was fun, although everyone kind of wanted to hug everyone. I was assaulted by hugs as though I were attending the Peace at a black Gospel Church. Why do girls even want to hug unattractive nerds?

I remember I was standing next to this one kind of quiet fellow who I never knew very well. I felt like I should say something to him, so I said

"Hey, I saw your school's tent flip over at that track meet."

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He responds, "Yeah, I know that kid who does the flips. He's pretty crazy, right?"

I'm so amused, I just nod and say, "Yeah, he's pretty epic."

Not everyone is blessed with good hearing.

Anyway, the entire event was fun, but the performance was really surprisingly good for a sixth grade play. Arguably, it was better than my grade's play this year. Like I said, they performed HMS Pinafore. The music was dangerously catchy. The set was impressive (and expensive). The choreography was pretty cute. It was all very well, although I couldn't quite keep up with the plot because 1) it was very confusing and 2) one of my friends kept touching my leg and leaning on me.

It's better if you don't ask.
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Now let me abruptly interrupt my story with my

MOST FAVORITEST MOMENT OF TODAY

My art teacher was giving my Advanced Art class a pep talk about how hard it is to be an artist in general, but also how hard we have to work to keep up with our teachers. He phrased it,
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"You sometimes have to work 24/7. You need to be ready to work after hours. You need to be ready to work with me past closing time. You need to be ready to sleep with me. Whoops--I'm sorry. I made that sound inappropriate."

It was hilarious, but actually I was slightly worried for him. He's slightly eccentric, (which is one of the reasons he's my favorite teacher, by the way,) but his weirdness/genius isn't interpreted properly by teenagers. Because the general population doesn't deal well with those who are different--especially teenagers--he's been labelled with the position of the faculty pedophile. So this comment kind of put him on the line with students.

My favorite teachers tend to be the ones that kid like the least. This is a big example. I won't bother you with a ramble about my art teacher today, but I think he's brilliant. The guy looks like a cross between Tim Burton and Gene Wilder.

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I think he's great. I may be all alone on that team.

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I'll talk to all later.

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Keep posted!