Dear Matt Smith,
I feel that there should be a bit said on the subject of Friday. (Not just any Friday, of course, but yesterday.)
Working with children -- and yesterday I did work with kindergarteners, most of which can actually be defined as children -- can be a real pickle. A big, bumpy, sat-too-long-in-the-brine kind of pickle. Kids say the darndest things, don't they? (Thanks, Mr. Cosby.) But there's no "How To" book on responding to their darndest things. A bloody shame, if you ask me. A real bloody shame.
And so, as my laundry dries in the dryer and my clothes wash in the washer and my music plays on the music-er, I'll tell you a few things I heard these darn kids say yesterday. Your job is to think to yourself, "How WOULD I have responded to that?" Yep. It's a toughy.
The Darndest Things Ever
Topic: Self-Control
Q: How might you feel if someone told you that you had to clean your room, and that you couldn't watch your favorite TV show?
A: "Sad."
A: "Mad."
A: "Bad."
A: "Very sad."
A: "Very, very sad."
A: "Very, very, VERY sad."
A: "Sad, and a little mad."
A: "Bad, and a little sad."
A: "Mad, and a little sad."
A: "Happy!"
A: "Ferocious."
Q: What might you WANT to do, even if you knew you were supposed to turn off the TV and clean your room?
A: "Turn the TV back on."
A: "I HAVE a TV in MY room."
A: "Play with my dolls."
A: "Play Playstation."
A: "Play XBox."
A: "Clean my room... and THEN watch TV."
A: "Take a blowtorch to all the things in my room."
A: "Punch myself in my head."
A: "Cry."
A: "Kill myself."
Here's one of my favorite dialogues:
AE (Actor-Educator): How might you use your self-control at school?
(child raises his hand)
AE: Yes? How would you do that at school?
Child: You can use your Star Power.
(after a pause)
AE: Can you explain Star Power to me a bit more?
Child: You can control the devil any time you want to.
(AE stutters a bit. Child continues.)
Child: You use your star power to control the devil and --
AE (quickly cutting Child off): By the "devil," do you mean the bad things that people do?
(Child pauses again... for a while.)
Child: Yes.
(Audible sigh of relief from both AEs.)
At any rate, you see what I mean, yes?
Life's weird when you're a kid.
Or even when you just spend time with them.
Love,
Meredith
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Parking Lot Nostalgia
Hey Matt Smith.
I was coming back from a performance site yesterday -- my first day of teaching -- and we were driving right behind a truck whose mud flaps were manufactured in Goshen, Indiana. And, inevitably, I thought of you. Not because you're the only person I know who's from Goshen, but because I suddenly thought that maybe you're actually the only person who's EVER come from Goshen. You're really the only person who lives there, aren't you? When you're away at school, the town pretty much shuts down 'cause there's no one there, right? Just checking.
A few things I should let you in on:
1) I have unpacked. And a few of your assumptions do indeed hold true. There are quite a few boxes in my room -- although I think they'd more rightly be called crates -- but all of them are empty and now have other purposes than they originally did. One is a bookshelf, one is a shelf that holds photos and such, and another holds a bunch of candles. None of them hold up a television, because, as one may have gathered, I no longer own a television. Nor do I own a VCR. I have left all of my countless videotapes with my sister, and I miss them (and my sister) greatly.
2) I have left Matt, Emma, and Me, Too at home in Pittsburgh. Emma lives with Lori (but Marty lives with Matt, so look out Jane Street) and Me, Too lives with my sister. She loves him. Or she should. Because I'm not there to. And I can't bring him here, the poor kitten, for assorted reasons... so I'll have to send Kitty Support Checks and let my friends and family love him until I get back.
3) I do have bouts of nostalgia and the gas prices do fluctuate. It's funny you should mention both of those things. For one, I have the bouts of nostalgia at the most random times. Today, I had one while walking through a grocery store parking lot. It was sad. (Which is horrible because I don't think I'm allowed to be sad or lonely here. The natives just won't put up with it.) And also, the gas prices are STRANGE. There's a gas station at the end of the street that I live on, and I swear, the gas price changes twice daily. It's one price when I go out early in the morning, and by the time I come home in the evening, it's changed. One day it changed four times. I've seen it go from $1.70 to $1.86 and back down again during the course of a day. Spooky, yes?
Oh, and 4) The menorah's not mine. It's Melissa's.
Work's pretty okay. Yes, being a troll all week has its advantages, but I often find myself slipping into Troll Speak (which sounds a lot like Dave Katzin's Transylvanian Portugese accent, but I never intended it to) at the oddest points in my day. Never try talking to a check-out girl that way. She just won't know what to do. Trust me.
Yes, being a troll and a pirate and a goat actually are teaching strategies with the company I'm in. So far, so good. I think the message is getting across (today I taught self-control -- yes, con-TROLL -- to kindergarteners) and it's uncanny how comfortable I am doing what I'm doing. I might even say I was good at it.
But that's the only time you'll hear me say it.
Love,
Meredith
I was coming back from a performance site yesterday -- my first day of teaching -- and we were driving right behind a truck whose mud flaps were manufactured in Goshen, Indiana. And, inevitably, I thought of you. Not because you're the only person I know who's from Goshen, but because I suddenly thought that maybe you're actually the only person who's EVER come from Goshen. You're really the only person who lives there, aren't you? When you're away at school, the town pretty much shuts down 'cause there's no one there, right? Just checking.
A few things I should let you in on:
1) I have unpacked. And a few of your assumptions do indeed hold true. There are quite a few boxes in my room -- although I think they'd more rightly be called crates -- but all of them are empty and now have other purposes than they originally did. One is a bookshelf, one is a shelf that holds photos and such, and another holds a bunch of candles. None of them hold up a television, because, as one may have gathered, I no longer own a television. Nor do I own a VCR. I have left all of my countless videotapes with my sister, and I miss them (and my sister) greatly.
2) I have left Matt, Emma, and Me, Too at home in Pittsburgh. Emma lives with Lori (but Marty lives with Matt, so look out Jane Street) and Me, Too lives with my sister. She loves him. Or she should. Because I'm not there to. And I can't bring him here, the poor kitten, for assorted reasons... so I'll have to send Kitty Support Checks and let my friends and family love him until I get back.
3) I do have bouts of nostalgia and the gas prices do fluctuate. It's funny you should mention both of those things. For one, I have the bouts of nostalgia at the most random times. Today, I had one while walking through a grocery store parking lot. It was sad. (Which is horrible because I don't think I'm allowed to be sad or lonely here. The natives just won't put up with it.) And also, the gas prices are STRANGE. There's a gas station at the end of the street that I live on, and I swear, the gas price changes twice daily. It's one price when I go out early in the morning, and by the time I come home in the evening, it's changed. One day it changed four times. I've seen it go from $1.70 to $1.86 and back down again during the course of a day. Spooky, yes?
Oh, and 4) The menorah's not mine. It's Melissa's.
Work's pretty okay. Yes, being a troll all week has its advantages, but I often find myself slipping into Troll Speak (which sounds a lot like Dave Katzin's Transylvanian Portugese accent, but I never intended it to) at the oddest points in my day. Never try talking to a check-out girl that way. She just won't know what to do. Trust me.
Yes, being a troll and a pirate and a goat actually are teaching strategies with the company I'm in. So far, so good. I think the message is getting across (today I taught self-control -- yes, con-TROLL -- to kindergarteners) and it's uncanny how comfortable I am doing what I'm doing. I might even say I was good at it.
But that's the only time you'll hear me say it.
Love,
Meredith
Saturday, September 18, 2004
The Great Great Room is Great
Matt Smith,
It's very loud.
Often I have to take a moment and take stock of my new work environment. For instance, right now, there's a goat and a troll rehearsing outside of the office. I have no shoes on. At one point today, I was even wearing a gas mask.
It's a fun job... once you're able to step back and look at the scene as if you're not in it. If you can't do that, well... you're just going to end up being a very sad, sad person. Or goat. Or troll. Or whatever.
My apartment still has no phone service, but it does have what I like to call the "Great Room." Great because there's next to nothing in it. Sure, we've got a futon now, but there's still a lot of room to do just about anything. It's great for line dancing, or seances, or Twister. It's Great for a lot of things.
Monday is my first day as an Actor-Educator. Yes, to answer your inevitable question, it is silly when I answer the question, "What do you do?" I get to say, "I'm an Actor-Educator." (Yes. AE. I'm an AE. Which is either the stupidest abbreviation or a non-descript vowel sound.) I got to tell the people at the bank that the other day when I opened my new account, and the girl -- who wasn't all that swift to begin with -- looked at me like I had a poodle on my head.
But for now, the goat, the troll, the AE, the Great Room and I (and possibly the poodle) are going to go rehearse a little thing I like to call, "Calming My Nerves," or "Working It Down From A Four."
Because I'm a four, Matt Smith. I'm a four.
-- Meredith
It's very loud.
Often I have to take a moment and take stock of my new work environment. For instance, right now, there's a goat and a troll rehearsing outside of the office. I have no shoes on. At one point today, I was even wearing a gas mask.
It's a fun job... once you're able to step back and look at the scene as if you're not in it. If you can't do that, well... you're just going to end up being a very sad, sad person. Or goat. Or troll. Or whatever.
My apartment still has no phone service, but it does have what I like to call the "Great Room." Great because there's next to nothing in it. Sure, we've got a futon now, but there's still a lot of room to do just about anything. It's great for line dancing, or seances, or Twister. It's Great for a lot of things.
Monday is my first day as an Actor-Educator. Yes, to answer your inevitable question, it is silly when I answer the question, "What do you do?" I get to say, "I'm an Actor-Educator." (Yes. AE. I'm an AE. Which is either the stupidest abbreviation or a non-descript vowel sound.) I got to tell the people at the bank that the other day when I opened my new account, and the girl -- who wasn't all that swift to begin with -- looked at me like I had a poodle on my head.
But for now, the goat, the troll, the AE, the Great Room and I (and possibly the poodle) are going to go rehearse a little thing I like to call, "Calming My Nerves," or "Working It Down From A Four."
Because I'm a four, Matt Smith. I'm a four.
-- Meredith
Thursday, September 16, 2004
A Girl's Got to Have Her Juice (or, AGGHJ)
Hey right back, Matt Smith:
Sometimes it's okay to not feel entertaining. For example, it's okay that I do not feel entertaining now. I feel far from entertaining. (That's one of the many phrases I'd like to be able to work onto my business card -- in some capacity. Another one is, "Meredith: Pretty Far From Bob." It turns out there's a lot of things I'm "far from.")
I'm far from home right now, actually. I'm breaking all the rules in the CLIMB, Inc. Artistic Staff Office by bringing my cranberry juice in here and using the computer for personal e-mail. (But, a girl's got to drink juice. That's how I see it.) The Artistic Staff Office is more commonly referred to as the ASO (read: A-S-O. not "ass-o," which is how I pronounced it the first time I saw it). Folks around CLIMB (that's "Creative Learning Ideas for Mind and Body") have an annoying habit of creating nonsensical acronyms (a word where every letter of the word stands for a different word, or "WWELWSDW") for every part of the office (EPO), and even things that occur in everyday life (TTOEL). Yes, Matt, it's as if I've stepped into another dimension. (I knew you were wondering.)
So, there you have it. I'm spending my days in a bad Saturday Night Live skit during a writers' strike.
But, it's not so bad.
At least I have a nice apartment. (No worries, Anne.)
Love,
Meredith
Sometimes it's okay to not feel entertaining. For example, it's okay that I do not feel entertaining now. I feel far from entertaining. (That's one of the many phrases I'd like to be able to work onto my business card -- in some capacity. Another one is, "Meredith: Pretty Far From Bob." It turns out there's a lot of things I'm "far from.")
I'm far from home right now, actually. I'm breaking all the rules in the CLIMB, Inc. Artistic Staff Office by bringing my cranberry juice in here and using the computer for personal e-mail. (But, a girl's got to drink juice. That's how I see it.) The Artistic Staff Office is more commonly referred to as the ASO (read: A-S-O. not "ass-o," which is how I pronounced it the first time I saw it). Folks around CLIMB (that's "Creative Learning Ideas for Mind and Body") have an annoying habit of creating nonsensical acronyms (a word where every letter of the word stands for a different word, or "WWELWSDW") for every part of the office (EPO), and even things that occur in everyday life (TTOEL). Yes, Matt, it's as if I've stepped into another dimension. (I knew you were wondering.)
So, there you have it. I'm spending my days in a bad Saturday Night Live skit during a writers' strike.
But, it's not so bad.
At least I have a nice apartment. (No worries, Anne.)
Love,
Meredith
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