Everyone's a Little Bit Racist

Now that I've titled this, the song from Avenue Q will inevitably be stuck in my head for the rest of the evening.

School starts tomorrow.  I am a very organized person when it comes to planning.  Ok, fine, OCD, whatever you want to call it.  I calendar things a year in advance, plan things minutely.  I have learned that I manage my huge work load and stress better when there are limited number of surprises.

Like the surprise I got when I went to school to gear up for this new year.

Every May, at our annual Drama Banquet, with great fanfare, I announce the season for the next school year, and it has become quite a to-do.  I decided, since I have a HUGE amount of senior boys this year, and will probably never have this many males again, I needed guy heavy shows.  Well, wouldn't you know it....my Master's Thesis was Romeo and Juliet! Perfect!

I graduated last summer from Southern Oregon University with a Master's in Theatre Production and Design, and my thesis was my own take on the ol' R&J.  I set my production in Mexico, with the Montagues and Capulets as warring drug families.  I did all of my research, pitched it to my kids, checked for responses, etc.  I really honed in on my Hispanic population, because I wanted their input on the idea, since this wasn't about stereotype, mocking....you get the picture.

The kids were SUPER excited about the show!  Here's a picture of the model of the set design:

So, imagine my surprise when I hear about an incident from a neighboring school that happened in June.  ALLEGEDLY, during senior spirit week, the school had a "Senor/Senorita" day.

Oh, wait, it gets better.  Some of the students ALLEGEDLY came to schools dressed as gardeners, restaurant bus boys, stereotypical cholos, you get the idea.  Two students ALLEGEDLY came wearing "Border Patrol" t-shirts and put handcuffs on their friends who were dressed "gangster."

This clown even put this picture on his public Twitter and Facebook page.

Is anyone surprised that there are rumors of a lawsuit?

Now, fast forward to Monday.  I hear of this and think of my own up-coming production (see set above) and think, "Holy Shit Balls!  Talk about bad timing.  The last thing I need is to be thrown on that bandwagon of possible legal action!"

I spoke with my principal at length, and while we both agree that we can't cower to other instances, I wasn't ready to start a fight.  So, the decision was made to change the play. Hmmmm.....lots of guys, no set (since now there's not adequate time to design it), and something that I actually WANT to do?

AHA!!

So, now I'm excited...again...until I get an email from the company holding the rights for the play. Part of the JOY of living an hour away from Los Angeles is that every time a professional theatre even thinks of doing a play, NO ONE else in the vicinity (and by vicinity, I mean the state) can do the same play.

So, what you're saying is that my lil' ol' high production might pull an audience away from a professional theatre in a different county?  Right, got it.

I was told that it could be four week process to solidify the rights, and I still may not get it.  "Where is the professional production taking place?" I asked.  "I don't know, and they might not even produce it.  I could just be an option," said the representative.  Right, got it.

So, while we wait, and try not to get frustrated, I wonder about the state of our schools and the politics that seem to run it rather than what's in the best interest of kids.

How do I teach a lesson that makes something classic relevant to my students, only to be told that it could be perceived as "racist"?  How can I be told that I have no budget, and that I have to raise my own money, but due to an ACLU lawsuit, I'm not allowed to ask students for any kind of fee? How can I create the creative thinkers and higher-level achievers that our politicians want (No Child Left Behind) when the government isn't willing to fund kid's educations?  How can I properly do my job, one that gets WAY more hours put into it than I am paid for, when at every corner, teachers are depicted as evil, money-grubbing pedophiles?

Maybe I'll just move to Our Town.

Do they have "cholos" there?  We wouldn't want to offend anyone.

Swims With the....I Mean, LIKE the Fishes

This summer has brought a ton of new experiences for the Castiglione clan.  One of the biggest ones has been swim team.

Since May, both kids have been swimming with STOP (Swim Team of Placentia).  Practices are right across the street at Valencia High School, so we walk to practice, which makes me think that I'm getting exercise.  Come on, don't burst my bubble.

I am LOVING being a swim mom.  It's much cooler in the shade than a soccer field, it smells better (I LOVE the smell of chlorine), and I have friends there whose kids are also swimming, so I'm getting a plethora of adult time.

After the start-up costs (which never seemed to stop this summer) the kids are outfitted with swim bags, reflective goggles, buoys, flippers, sunscreen, swim caps, team suits ($$$), and of course, I had to get the team sweatshirt, and my good friend Amy (another swim mom) bought me the most AMAZING bleacher chair with "Team Castiglione" embroidered on the back.

Then, they actually have to swim...now that they have all of the cute stuff.  Sydney has been a champ.  Our first day there, I heard her coach say, "OK!  Warm-ups! 14 laps!" Then, I suffered a small heart attack.  HOLY CRAP!  For warmup???  I'm NEVER going to get her back in the pool after this!!!

We finished the first day, and Sydney proclaims, "Mom!  This is great!  You don't sweat when you swim!  I love this!"

I gleefully rubbed my hands together maniacally...in my head. "Great!"

Dylan of course, being my athletic one, didn't want to get out of the pool.  My plan of wearing him out so he'll stop chucking things off the landing in the house might be working.

The first meet came along, and Sydney was nervous.  Dylan didn't to compete right away, so we got Sydney marked up with her races in Sharpie on her arm.  She had a hard time believing that I, the opponent of ink on arms, would be writing on her with SHARPIE, but hey...gotta be a true swim mom, right?

On her first race, she dove in for the breast stroke, her goggles slipped off, and she teetered on, bumping into lane lines, and coming in dead last.  The best part?  The coaches screaming her name from the sidelines, encouraging her to go, etc.  I was in tears to watch people who knew my kid for two weeks have her back like that!  She was SO proud of herself!  Sydney and her friend Bella were on their way to being addicted to swim!

Finally, Dylan was also ready to start swimming at meets.  He is in LOVE with his team swimsuit, but was a little upset with me because I ordered the longer "jammers" instead of the short Speedos.  Hmmm.

After three swim meets, the kids were going to be swimming in a Championship Meet against the three teams they had already gone up against.  Early morning, huge pool, tons of kids, and two races each.  Sydney has cut off time each time she swims (and luckily doesn't give a toot about winning the race) and Dylan ended up placing 1st in the 25M Backstroke!

After that, we were having a discussion about the Olympics, to which Dylan said:
D: I'm going to be in the Olympics.
Me: You are?  For what sport?
D: Swimming, obviously.  I mean, I already got first place.
Me: Obviously.
D: When can I go?
Me: In three Olympics, but that means you have to work really hard.
D: I already am.



















Can't argue there, I suppose.  The conversation with Syd went little differently:
S: Do they have Olympics for theatre?
Me: Yup, it's called the Tony Awards.
S: Oh, right, duh.  Yeah, I want one of those.
Me: Obviously.
S: When can I go?
Me: Once you've had enough training in college, but that means you have to work really hard.
S: I already am.

Hmmmm...I feel like I've had that conversation before.

Theme Parks are Torture

I have held a long-time belief that if aliens were to land on our planet, and inadvertently find themselves at a theme park, they would think it was some sort of torture compound.  Here's the breakdown:

Parking Lot Fee: $15
One-day Sea World passes for a party of four: $273
Making your tired, sweaty, over-sugared, under-watered, whiny cause "I-want-an-overpriced-souvenir-that-I'll-never-look-at-once-we're-home"kids traipse around in the sun while threatening them to have a good time- Priceless????

Thomas had to attend a conference for his school in San Diego this past week, and since the school was paying for the hotel, we thought, "Rad!  Free Vacation!"

I learned VERY quickly that I am NOT a good vacation-taker.  Thomas was in his conference the entire time we were there, so it was up to me to entertain the "overtired-because-I'm-sharing-a-room-with-the-whole-family-let-me-kick-my-sibling-in-bed-rather-than-sleep" cherubs that I have sired.

DAY 1

We arrive at Sea World and see a guy in a penguin suit that you can take pictures with.  Now, you know he's cursing inside the furry suit, since at 10:30, it was already getting a bit toasty.  I excitedly tell the kids to pose with him.

Well, after standing in line, it was our turn, and Dylan wouldn't go.  I finally made him get in there, so the smile is more of a pained grimace.  Once we left the sweating Antarctic creature, I asked him what the problem was, to which he replied, "I don't like taking pictures." To which I responded, "We're on vacation, dammit, so you WILL take pictures.  I need to look back on this week in the future and see how much freakin' fun we had.  GOT IT???"

He got it. Sydney tried not to laugh.

Then, we went to Shipwreck Rapids.  Now the name should have clued us in, but I was excited to be having fun, by God, so we climbed aboard.  4 minutes and a waterfall later, we exited, and I realize that I am wearing tan shorts and hot pink underwear (TMI, right?) and since I'm soaked all the way through, I gave people quite a show. There are no pictures of this.  You're welcome.

The kids, however, reveled in their dampness...

...Until we realized that Sydney's hand-painted (well, Sharpied) sneakers (thanks Pinterest) were not so water-resistant.

Suddenly cooled off, Dylan's bi-polar attitude changed as he now wanted pictures of him EVERYWHERE:

Along with his attitude came his raise in volume as he told me, and everyone else in line for Wild Arctic:

"Hey, Mom, my butt crack is REALLY wet."

-Thanks, dude.

We stopped for lunch and watched a brazen seagull take off with an entire bag of chips (it was pretty funny since they weren't mine) and watched a young child have a doozy of a temper tantrum, to which Sydney remarked:

"Jeez kid, can't you see we're trying eat.  How about a little peace and quiet?"

I have NO idea where she gets that attitude.

Thomas met us after his conference at the park, and we stayed for the Shamu Rocks show.  After we talked Dylan out of Shipwreck Rapids again, we managed to get soaked by Shamu, and watched Dylan pitch a fit and cry because he was wet.  WTH????

DAY 2

The next day, we went back.  I know, right?  I think I'm just destined for martyr-hood.  We were walking past the Sea Lion show when we were approached by a trainer and asked if we wanted to meet an otter!  How cool was that?

The kids decided that they would give Manta, the new roller coaster another try.  Yesterday, Sydney cried for 20 minutes after the ride was over, so I was surprised that she wanted to give it another go.  Who's the martyr now?

Well, she lived, and they dragged me back to Shipwreck Rapids, where I spent time in the shade, and they went on the ride FOUR TIMES.

Hot, tired, smelly, and sweaty, we ended Day 2 early, thank God.  I dragged Dylan out of that park kicking and screaming back to the hotel for lunch and swimming, something I am better at doing.

By the end of the torturous few days, we ended up with:
-discolored feet
-soaked clothes than now smelled like the hotel laundry bag
-four new stuffed animals
-a slingshot
-a purse (for Sydney)
-424 of those smooshed pennies that cost 50 cents a pop and will probably spend the next month in my purse jingling around like a gypsy skirt.

-***a cranky, tired Mommy who hasn't had a glass of wine in four days.***

***See my problem?