The American Dream

As we get into the thick of tech week, I have always thought it important to have something for the kids to do backstage to keep them busy on the long days.  When I was young, my mother used to buy me shoe boxes full of beads, and elastic thread to keep me and the other child performers busy making bracelets and necklaces for each other and the adult cast mates.

Sydney came home from a party with rubber band bracelets and I immediately needed to get the stuff to make these.  We traipsed to Michaels and, along with another family looking for the same thing, bought two Rainbow Looms, one for each kid.

They brought them to rehearsal, and actually managed to talk one of the other child cast members into getting HER mother to buy her one.  So, a sweatshop-type assembly line began backstage during the sitzprobe.  As the evening went on, I began to see random cast members come out from the wings with the bracelets snaking up their arms.

At the end of the evening, on our way out the door, people who had never given the children a second glance were calling out their goodbyes to them.  They were all mini rock stars.  I asked them about it in the car, and they both excitedly told me that cast members were putting in their color orders.  Then, this conversation happened:

Me: That’s great that you’re making these for everyone.

Sydney: Yup.  Today they’re free.  Tomorrow, they cost a dollar.  Special ones like holiday colors will cost $1.50.

Me: so, what you mean to say is that you are hooking people on these with free samples, and subsequent ones will cost them?

Sydney: Yup.

Me: So….you’re like a meth dealer?

Sydney: Huh?

Me: Never mind.  GREAT entrepreneurship, Syd!  I’m proud of you.

My kid’s a dealer. 

Then, the next evening, I went backstage to check on their growing sweatshop, only to find an adult cast member working on the Rainbow Loom, patiently weaving bracelets. 

Me (to Sydney): How come she's making a bracelet?

Sydney: Outsourcing.

How do you argue with that?

The Verbiage of Ragtime

There are many times that I forget that I am the mother of young children.  My kids interact with adults more than other kids, and as they spend more and more time in a theater, they are exposed to more and more adult concepts and attitudes.  That doesn't both me, and we've had plenty of conversations about the responsibilities that they have as child performers working with older people. 

For example, when we started working on Ragtime, I explained to them that they’ll be working with college students who aren't used to being around younger children, and often they’ll use colorful language that they might not hear at their regular theater studio.

Sydney’s response, “That’s ok, Mom.  We live with you.”

Hmmmm…….

I also forget that at their ages, they haven’t been exposed to the historical significance of the stories in Ragtime.  We are a very liberal family, and our friend and family base is comprised of people of all socio-economic brackets, religions, races, sexual orientations, and whatever else.  It’s never been an issue, it just is what it is.  So, imagine my surprise at the following conversation in the car on the way home from rehearsal one evening:

Me: How did rehearsal go?

Sydney: Good

Dylan: Good.  I was hanging out with the funny Negro guy.

Me: (trying not to drive off the road): WHAT??!!??

Dylan: you know, the funny Negro guy who always makes the jokes.

Me: Ok, let’s talk about this….

Because of the verbiage in the script, the African-American/black characters are referred to as “Negro” since this takes place in 1906.  Since Dylan had never heard this word, and it is thrown around very nonchalantly, imagine his surprise to learn that we don’t use that word, he can’t use that word outside the walls of the theater for this particular show, and that it’s considered a bad word today.

He was so confused.  Then, he got really upset because he didn't want the “funny Negro guy” to think he was being rude.

I assured him that it would be ok.  I guess I should have pre-taught this one a little better.  I’m just glad we caught this one before I got a call from school, or Dylan got a black eye.

I Wish I Could Go Back to College

After the family saw the musical Matilda this summer in New York, both children were completely fired up about their participation in the theatre world.  They decided that they were ready for Broadway.  I, on the other hand, wanted to take smaller steps.  When the audition notice for the local community college, Fullerton College, came out, the kids were overjoyed that their centennial production would be Ragtime.

They figured that since there was a young boy, and a young girl in the show, that would be the parts for them.

Here was my thought…let’s try auditioning for this, since it’s a bigger production, and could possibly be a different experience for them, but I also tried to explain to them that neither of them were right for the parts: Sydney was too grown up for Little Girl and Dylan was too little for Little Boy.  But, they didn’t care, and off we went to the audition.  I was secretly hoping that they would be told “no,” something that they don’t often hear at their studio.  I also kind of wanted their egos to have a bit of a check, and I felt confident that even though they both had nice, solid auditions, they wouldn’t be cast, since the show usually only casts those two particular child roles.

And….they were cast.  As Italian immigrants.  And they both wanted to do the show.

Then the other shoe dropped.  Since it was a college production, they both had to enroll in the musical theatre course (for insurance purposes) at Fullerton.

My 7-year-old son and 11-year-old daughter were going to be college students.  Now perhaps this is the dream of many parents, but let me just tell you what a gigantic pain in the ass it is to register your young children for college in 28 simple steps:

1. You have to hunt down the appropriate paperwork from the college.
2. You can’t fill in the online application that the college requires because they’re both under 13.
3. You have to have paperwork signed by their school principal.
4. The principal happens to sign on the wrong lines.
5. You have to race to admissions after work one day, park in Guam, and schlep to their office on the hottest day of the past two months.
6. When it’s your turn, you are given two paper applications that you have to fill out while being given the stink eye by other students standing in line behind you.
7. With 30 minutes left before the office closes, you have to go to the college counseling office for their signatures.
8. Then, you cross campus to the Fine Arts Building to get the Dean of Fine Arts signature.
9. The dean is gone for the day at 3:30 on a Thursday and will not be in on Friday afternoon when you can get back (which happens to be the last day to register for this class).
10. You cry. Literally.  Then you get mad at yourself for crying and looking like an idiot.
11. The Theatre chair takes your paperwork and promises to get the signature the next day.
12. You run back to the college the next day, park in Guam, and pick up the now signed paperwork.
13. You stand in line again with all of the other poor fools who are also trying to get all of their paperwork done on the last day.
14. You get it turned in and you receive their student ID numbers and their ADD codes.
15. You run home and register them for the class online.
16. The damn system charges you for Dylan’s registration, but doesn't charge you for Sydney’s registration, causing you to have a heart attack thinking that she’s going to be kicked out of the show.
17. You go back to admissions again on Monday, still parking in Guam, only to argue with the clerk that you DO want to pay, that it’s not letting you….PLEASE take my money. They are CLEARLY not used to this side of the argument.
18. You get this straightened out and ask where to pick up the parking permit that you ordered.
19. You are told to go to campus safety, but they will only give it to Sydney (who’s account the pass was ordered on).
20. You try to explain that Sydney is 11 and will clearly not be driving herself.
21. You confuse the shit out of the clerk.
22. You leave to go to campus safety.
23. You park in a different lot, in a different country from where this office is, and walk over, with 5 minutes to spare before they close.
24. You see a 10-minute spot open right in front of the doors of campus safety.
25. You explain your situation to the 16-year-old working the window.
26. They don’t even look at your ID as they hand you your pass.
27. Your children are now students at Fullerton College, receiving a grade and college credit for being in a show.
28. You need a drink and a Band-Aid for the blisters that you got walking all over kingdom come.

Being in college is hard, but being the parent of an under-age college student is grounds for your own sitcom.