~"The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live"~
Once again it is that time of year..a time where I gather my strength..gird my loins..and put on my game face. Yes, it is time for the annual school Christmas concert. I know, I know...I've written about school concerts before..about the(very) beginning orchestra members..and the "catchy" holiday tunes...So clearly this is an issue for me. Honestly, I feel kind of bad about it..like I am somehow defective..or missing some sort of special parental gene for the
tolerance appreciation of singing children.
I don't know what it is..or even WHY it is this way...but just the thought of a group of singing children makes me nauseous. Add dancing and I've got a full blown panic attack in the making. It isn't that I don't appreciate that these kids have worked hard-I do! It's just watching the results of their work that sets my teeth on edge-churns the acid in my stomach. The thing of it is-I look at all the other parents watching-and they seem enraptured..over joyed..thrilled and full of wonder..and I think "What the hell is wrong with me? Why don't I get excited when the kids start dancing? Why don't I think it's cute? Why am I just so annoyed by it? "
A parent at the concert asked me if I remembered being in any "musical" productions as a kid...maybe there was some underlying reason as to why I loathe these events. At the time I couldn't remember anything (which should have been a clue)...but later...some memories started to surface..Memories of singing in a school pageant...memories of throwing up...
I believe it was in fourth grade that my class participated in some sort of school concert. We sang "Raindrops keep falling on my head". Now, I don't have any memory of being scared or upset by that...No, it was what occurred after the performance that forever damaged my perception of school concerts ! Yes! I do have an excuse, a traumatic event! A REASON why singing children make me ill. Oprah would call it an "AHA" moment! An "Aha" moment involving...nuns. ...Oh, I can see it clearly now...being led off of the stage and into our classroom by the ever so scary Sr. Catherine (You're cruising for a bruising!) Marita. She was razor tongued and quick as a whip-Heaven help you if you were not exactly "student" material. She could haul a kid(by their ear) from the back of the room to the front of the room in under two seconds flat-which is probably some kind of Guinness nun hauling record.(which I believe are stored somewhere under Vatican city-along with clickers, rulers and mummified children's ears.) Needless to say, I spent a large part of that year trying (and failing) to be invisible. I lived in absolute terror of her..
So, there we were being led back into the classroom by Sr.
Godzilla Marita....where she had a "surprise" for us! We were each going to get a bottle of soda for performing so well. Back in the 70's-soda was a treat..as was any kind of junk food. It just wasn't part of our diet-except for on special occasions. So, we were all pretty excited by this. Each of us were given our own bottle (and it was big-maybe a liter) of off brand(of course) cola. The problem was-we were given exactly five minutes to drink it..AND being that it was a rare treat for any of us...we weren't going to not finish it. Now imagine if you will...a group of nine year olds-each chugging down a liter of soda as quickly as they could...the imagery enough is creepy-but the results..oh the results were horrifying..especially for a boy named Sean. (I can't believe that I remember that!) We downed those soda's as if our lives depended on it.. almost finishing as a group..all of us out of breath, a little bit sweaty, letting out a collective belch...except for poor Sean...who simultaneously burped and projectile vomited this seemingly VAST ARC (think Charlton Heston as Moses parting the Red Sea) a veritable GEYSER like FOUNTAIN of soda..right on to Sr. Godzilla's Marita's desk. There was a small burp...and then...with the exception of soda slowly dripping off of the desk...drip...drip....drip...silence.
I honestly do not remember what happened after that-or more importantly, what happened to Sean. (Surely we would have noticed if he didn't come back to school. Right?) I wonder though...is this the underlying reason for my "children's concert" anxiety? Is my worry over what happened to Sean somehow to blame? Am I really not missing the special "I love children singing in groups" parent gene? Can I blame my anxiety, nausea and downright contrariness over all things "kids concert" on Sr.
Works for me!
Works for me!
I suppose someone(else) could hunt her down.....and find out the truth of what happened that fateful night. If you do-please-just DON'T tell her where I live!...and for the love of all things holy-protect your ears!.