My stepdaughter Ashley was blessed with a beautiful voice. Naturally, she's been an active participant in the school choir for as long as I've known her. She loves being on stage, learning new songs, being with her friends, and knowing that her family is there in the audience watching her.
One of the most memorable performances occurred her 8th grade year, when she was 14. It was an outdoor, springtime, student-organized event. She had literally been talking about it for months ahead of time. What she failed to mention, was the length of the event. They handed me the program when we arrived, and after I got over the shock, I counted the number of acts ahead of us. There were 27! Of which she sang with the chorus, in the back row for two. 27 - 2 = 25 acts, in which she sat in the bleachers and goofed around with her friends. We sat and watched. I remember it well. I prayed for rain. "Please God, let those dark clouds bring rain." They didn't.
Three and a half hours, one teenaged magician, several extremely uncomfortable solos, duets, group songs, an interpretative dance, a line dance, and did I mention the magician... we were able to leave. It didn't take me long to realized that we were in fact held hostage, along with all the other parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and siblings... all because of common courtesy. Something I thought we were all born with.
Because no matter how badly you want to get up and leave after your child has performed, it would be considered rude in modern society to do so. So, we sat, covered our ears at times, and avoided making any eye contact or loud comments within earshot of one of the proud parents surrounding us. I left there feeling a great sense of empathy and camaraderie with my community. We had survived.
Of course, once Ashley made it to High School, she continued her study of music, and joined the choir. I arrived for her first performance her freshman year, and was pleasantly surprised that it was held in the auditorium, not a gymnasium, cafeteria or courtyard. The auditorium was beautiful, comfortable and professional. I was stoked.
Everyone took there seats, the lights dimmed and the show began. Here we go again, parents and family members banding together to muscle through another season, video cameras in one hand, and a bag of peanuts in the other? What? Seriously, the couple sitting beside us, literally pulled out a bag of peanuts. The man took a hand full, and placed them on his very large stomach to use as a table. The munching and crackling began.
I was suddenly grateful that it was a Tuesday night and my kids, who are deathly allergic to peanuts were with their dad. I became angry. Not only were these people breaking the clearly stated rules stating "No Food or Drink Allowed" posted at each entrance to the auditorium. They felt the need to add their own sound track to the music. A sound track of whispers, crackles, crunches and chewing.
Ashley is now a junior, and we've attended 2-3 performances annually. Each year, "the people" in the audience become more rude, inconsiderate, self-centered and brazen. What happened to the warm, gooey, camaraderie I had felt during the three and a half hours of torture we had shared years before? Don't these people want to support their children? Why can't they just shut up? Didn't their parents teach them manners?
Although I tried to get out of attending the Fall Concert just a few weeks ago, Ashley insisted that I be there. She's in show choir now, and had been putting in a lot of hours, and energy into following her dream. I did really want to be there for her, even if I really didn't want to deal with the people. So we went. I knew that the performances would be light years better than what we witnessed in Middle School, but I also knew that the people in the audience were the most inconsiderate, thoughtless people I've had the pleasure to share a zip code with.
I had given up anyone following the clearly posted rules at the door, and decided if they weren't going to, then why should I? So although my conscience plagued me, I brought my large sweet tea in with me, and carefully stowed it under my chair. I had run into Ashley and her friend in the hall outside the auditorium as I was trying to finish my tea before I went in. She suggested that I just bring it in with me. She told me a local urban legend that had been passed around the show choir for the last several years. Legend was, a family brought in an actual bucket of fried chicken and passed it up and down the aisle during the performances. The entire auditorium reeked of the Colonel's secret recipe. So I figured, a sweet tea is pretty harmless compared to chicken legs and greasy fingers.
Again, the lights dimmed, students took the stage, and immediately, the talking behind us began. The most incredible example of white trash the south side of Indy could produce was sitting earshot right behind us. The man looked as if he just finished beating up 6th graders for their lunch money, and he picked up some new teeth for his wife from the dumpster in the back on the way in. At least he sure smelled like it. I tried to ignore them, and their smell. I made it about 4 songs.
I turned around several times and glared. This normally works with my children, and was sadly disappointed when they seemed not to get the hint and shut up. I even raised my eyebrow, giving them "the look". Prior to Ashley taking the stage, there may have been heated words exchanged. At this point, I'm fuming angry that we couldn't just sit and enjoy Ashley's stellar singing and dancing. Suddenly I also wished that the school had metal detectors at the door. We were indeed encountering the thug life.
I keep thinking, "These people are raising children!", "These people are raising children?". What kind of example is being provided for our future leaders and citizens? When the parents don't have the ability to recognize the need for the greater good, and are constantly put their own selfish needs before others, where does that leave their kids?
When did we become a society and that no longer cares about the most basic considerations for others? More importantly, is there anyway to course correct and regain the common ground we once used to share. I have to believe that the individual desires, hopes and dreams that we all share for our children's future becomes the bond and the goal we all reach towards, even if it's unknowingly.
Until then, we'll be there in the audience to cheer on Ashley through the rest of her show choir career. She's definitely worth it.
One of the most memorable performances occurred her 8th grade year, when she was 14. It was an outdoor, springtime, student-organized event. She had literally been talking about it for months ahead of time. What she failed to mention, was the length of the event. They handed me the program when we arrived, and after I got over the shock, I counted the number of acts ahead of us. There were 27! Of which she sang with the chorus, in the back row for two. 27 - 2 = 25 acts, in which she sat in the bleachers and goofed around with her friends. We sat and watched. I remember it well. I prayed for rain. "Please God, let those dark clouds bring rain." They didn't.
Three and a half hours, one teenaged magician, several extremely uncomfortable solos, duets, group songs, an interpretative dance, a line dance, and did I mention the magician... we were able to leave. It didn't take me long to realized that we were in fact held hostage, along with all the other parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and siblings... all because of common courtesy. Something I thought we were all born with.
Because no matter how badly you want to get up and leave after your child has performed, it would be considered rude in modern society to do so. So, we sat, covered our ears at times, and avoided making any eye contact or loud comments within earshot of one of the proud parents surrounding us. I left there feeling a great sense of empathy and camaraderie with my community. We had survived.
Of course, once Ashley made it to High School, she continued her study of music, and joined the choir. I arrived for her first performance her freshman year, and was pleasantly surprised that it was held in the auditorium, not a gymnasium, cafeteria or courtyard. The auditorium was beautiful, comfortable and professional. I was stoked.
Everyone took there seats, the lights dimmed and the show began. Here we go again, parents and family members banding together to muscle through another season, video cameras in one hand, and a bag of peanuts in the other? What? Seriously, the couple sitting beside us, literally pulled out a bag of peanuts. The man took a hand full, and placed them on his very large stomach to use as a table. The munching and crackling began.
I was suddenly grateful that it was a Tuesday night and my kids, who are deathly allergic to peanuts were with their dad. I became angry. Not only were these people breaking the clearly stated rules stating "No Food or Drink Allowed" posted at each entrance to the auditorium. They felt the need to add their own sound track to the music. A sound track of whispers, crackles, crunches and chewing.
Ashley is now a junior, and we've attended 2-3 performances annually. Each year, "the people" in the audience become more rude, inconsiderate, self-centered and brazen. What happened to the warm, gooey, camaraderie I had felt during the three and a half hours of torture we had shared years before? Don't these people want to support their children? Why can't they just shut up? Didn't their parents teach them manners?
Although I tried to get out of attending the Fall Concert just a few weeks ago, Ashley insisted that I be there. She's in show choir now, and had been putting in a lot of hours, and energy into following her dream. I did really want to be there for her, even if I really didn't want to deal with the people. So we went. I knew that the performances would be light years better than what we witnessed in Middle School, but I also knew that the people in the audience were the most inconsiderate, thoughtless people I've had the pleasure to share a zip code with.
I had given up anyone following the clearly posted rules at the door, and decided if they weren't going to, then why should I? So although my conscience plagued me, I brought my large sweet tea in with me, and carefully stowed it under my chair. I had run into Ashley and her friend in the hall outside the auditorium as I was trying to finish my tea before I went in. She suggested that I just bring it in with me. She told me a local urban legend that had been passed around the show choir for the last several years. Legend was, a family brought in an actual bucket of fried chicken and passed it up and down the aisle during the performances. The entire auditorium reeked of the Colonel's secret recipe. So I figured, a sweet tea is pretty harmless compared to chicken legs and greasy fingers.
Again, the lights dimmed, students took the stage, and immediately, the talking behind us began. The most incredible example of white trash the south side of Indy could produce was sitting earshot right behind us. The man looked as if he just finished beating up 6th graders for their lunch money, and he picked up some new teeth for his wife from the dumpster in the back on the way in. At least he sure smelled like it. I tried to ignore them, and their smell. I made it about 4 songs.
I turned around several times and glared. This normally works with my children, and was sadly disappointed when they seemed not to get the hint and shut up. I even raised my eyebrow, giving them "the look". Prior to Ashley taking the stage, there may have been heated words exchanged. At this point, I'm fuming angry that we couldn't just sit and enjoy Ashley's stellar singing and dancing. Suddenly I also wished that the school had metal detectors at the door. We were indeed encountering the thug life.
I keep thinking, "These people are raising children!", "These people are raising children?". What kind of example is being provided for our future leaders and citizens? When the parents don't have the ability to recognize the need for the greater good, and are constantly put their own selfish needs before others, where does that leave their kids?
When did we become a society and that no longer cares about the most basic considerations for others? More importantly, is there anyway to course correct and regain the common ground we once used to share. I have to believe that the individual desires, hopes and dreams that we all share for our children's future becomes the bond and the goal we all reach towards, even if it's unknowingly.
Until then, we'll be there in the audience to cheer on Ashley through the rest of her show choir career. She's definitely worth it.
