Today I taught at Westview, home of the Wildcats and my Alma mater. Being back at Westview is odd enough. Add to it the railings which have finally been relieved of the Sunset purple paint and dressed in navy, red & grey or the sixteen new classrooms, which in no way match the rest of the school’s interior. Standing in for someone whom I’ve always looked up to is altogether different.
Today I started like any other day. I got up, showered, dressed, packed my lunch and left the house. I drove to work and greeted the secretary, this time someone I’ve known since I was 14. I went to CJ’s office, got my plans for the day and headed to my classroom. After getting all settled and ready for periods 1 & 3 I looked around the table I was sitting at and spotted the Westview Prowl. The Prowl is the school’s newspaper and I’m sure it went by another name in another time. I picked up a copy and started reading. I read about 50 student math classes and 19 student AP Art classes. About a lack luster weight room, the end of a coaching dynasty and how sagging pants are the most irritating fashion at Westview. I also read about CJ’s adventure with “The Three Musketeers” and new theatre design teacher. Sadly I got to read about the Sunset Vandal who defaced Westview property heading into their spirit week. I then turned the page and once more and was hurled back in time four years. The school paper had decided to run a spread about how the war has cast a shadow over Westview. They focused on various students past and present who had dedicated themselves to their country. One of the articles was about the start of it all and included a review of the story about Marcus Nettles. As I was reading this I was taken right back to the day that they reported him duty station whereabouts unknown. Flash forward and I’m at the state fair where there’s a display up and Papa’s helping me to find Marcus’ name on the wall. Just knowing that if anyone really understood what I was feeling it was him. Flash forward and I’m sitting at a table reading a newspaper article about a guy who today’s students see as just a soldier. Not the amazingly nice guy who never judged a person by what crowd they fit in with. Not a brother, son and husband.
The rest of my day continued, nothing but one memory after another. Especially once I got started with Acting I, formally known as Intro to Theatre. The students were working on performing their monologues. I could instantly picture myself sitting on that very stage reciting my monologue from my freshman year. It was about a girl who had had enough of her family and decided that she’s going to hide out in the attic. This seems to go on forever as she rants about how horrible she has it until finally she gets hungry and has to go down to the kitchen for food. Yes that was from my freshman year of high school and I still remember the gist of what it was about.
The kicker to this blog entry? I wrote 90% of it by hand while I was working, and typed it on my laptop while the rest of my family slept so that I could post it the next day!
