Sunday, March 29, 2015

Parallels of Tenacious Youth

I have a deep, dark secret that very few people know.  This secret has grown stronger this week since the secret came to an end.  I will share my secret with you now, but please know it is difficult to do so.  Are you ready?

I love the show "Glee".

Whew, there is freedom in saying that declaration out loud!  It's funny.  I have always loved this show because it blended my love of musical theatre with hysterical satire.  Jane Lynch, as Coach Sue Sylvester, is a masterful comedian and always delivered her droll lines perfectly.  The first season was the best.

There is another character to which I was drawn while watching this show;  Rachel Berry.  If you are not in the know, Rachel was the head geek of the Glee club.  She was a fantastically driven, yet extremely talented member of the Glee club and later in the series emerged to be the head of the Glee club and a Broadway star.  But, why did I like her so much?  I always wondered until this week.  Then, it came to me.....I was Rachel Berry in high school.

Now, before my high school friends say I wasn't, I will reflect on ways I was completely Berry-esque.  

I was not the singing giant Rachel Berry is in the show.  My Berry qualities revolved around journalism.  I was the Editor-in-Chief of our high school newspaper, the CHS Voice.  I loved to write satirical columns as well as hard-hitting articles focusing on social injustice.  For instance, while other students were skipping school to get high, I skipped school one time to interview New York State Governor, Mario Cuomo.  Did I have an appointment with him?  No.  Did I even have any credentials to do such a thing?  No.  But, like Rachel Berry, I was tenacious as hell at 17 years old.  I was going to get that interview.

Governor Cuomo was in town to propose to put a nuclear waste dump in my home county.  As you can imagine, there were protests.  So, I made my own credentials (a press card I made in the art classroom after school one day and laminated it myself).  I masqueraded as one of the protesters, showed my "credentials" to the officials and got into the press conference.  I got a few quotes and asked a question.  I was a full-fledged journalist (in my own mind).

In college, the tenacity to get an interview followed me and I was happy to get access to a number of famous people who came to my college and surrounding colleges to do concerts or speaking engagements.  I dated a fellow "journalist" for a while because I really liked the way he wrote.  He said our relationship was like the movie Reds.  Even my dating life revolved around my quest to be a journalist.  So funny, now that I think back about it....

My Rachel Berry sensibilities followed me on my term abroad in college.  I was not content enough to just take classes while I was in London, but felt that I had to stretch my journalistic skills.  I muscled the director of our program into getting me an internship with the university's public relations department.  This internship served to be a huge disappointment as all the director wanted me to do was get him coffee and fawn over his accomplishments.  I was bored and deflated until I got the offer of a lifetime one night at a dance production.

My friends and I went to a Twyla Tharp dance recital one night.  I happened to be sitting in front of a nice couple from New York (I could tell by their accents).  I struck up a conversation with them as I was from New York as well.  It was a great conversation because I was a little homesick at the time, but when the gentleman offered that he worked for Bloomberg Business communications, my Rachel Berry tenacity went into overdrive.  I immediately started listing my credentials and gave him my contact information.  While his wife was focusing on inviting me to their house for a nice meal, the husband realized I was serious and told me he would be in touch.  I could not focus on the dance!  All I could think about was working as a professional journalist in London!!!

He did call a couple days later and invited me to an interview.  I really thought, "this is it!  I have arrived!!".  I did well in the interview and was offered an apprenticeship.  I would have to fly back home to get my visa organized before taking the position, but I was hired.  I rushed home to call my parents.  On the ride home, I felt like Tom Cruise in the movie Jerry Maguire when he was singing "Free Fallin" in his car.  I was beyond excited.

My excitement dwindled when I called my parents.  My parents are the most supportive people on earth and as they were trying to figure out what I was breathlessly saying about visa status, they asked me if I would finish college.  I hadn't even thought of that.  Really?  Not finish college?  The thought had not occurred to me.  If I took this job, I would have been leaving college in my junior year.  And, talking with my family made me miss them like a pain.  After our conversation, I made the decision to go home and finish my degree. This decision was a pivotal moment in my life at the time.

For years, I would second guess and regret my decision to come home.  I thought of the Frost poem, "The Road Not Taken" and I thought I chose the wrong road.  After moving to Charlotte and meeting my husband, I began to realize I made the right decision.  However, professionally there was something wanting.  My inner Rachel Berry was screaming to be noticed.  I didn't realize until after I quit my job in university admissions that teaching would be the realization of my dreams; to share my passion for writing.

There's nothing like the feeling of knowing where you belong.  I never quite felt that feeling in high school, college or in my early 20s.  I was always regretting and reaching for something beyond my scope.  But, teaching writing and conveying my deep love for writing to students was all I ever needed to quell my inner doubts and feelings of regret.  Teaching is where I needed to be all along.

Do I still push myself?  Absolutely!  In fact, this blog is the manifestation of pushing myself to write.  This blog is for me; dedicated to my former journalist self. my inner Rachel Berry.


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