Ok, imaginary blog audience. I am asking a favor of you. You know the difference between a funny anecdote and me really griping about work, right? If you do, I need your help. When you sense real griping, remind me of what it is to go to prom.
If you are imagining your own teen angst ridden past, leave it for a second and witness the snapshots I will carry.
Happy ending boy, who left my school for the alternative program in a haze of drugs both prescription and recreational, seems to have pulled it off. He was his best, most calm, most handsome self as he told me he would graduate on time.
Our Jr Class president glowed as she offered for her grandmother to make me a Nigerian formal (Just like hers!!!), wrapped me in her African head dress, and tried to convince me on the dance floor that my hips could indeed move like hers (pictures have survived of the head dress but not the dancing, and no, I don't care to have image hosting, thank you).
I do what I do because I get to take moments like this. I get to see these people as their best selves. It's not just that they are dressed up, that's not it at all, but I get to see those times that so much of everything clicks. If I were on Inside The Actor's Studio (and I have long since given up that dream), I would answer that my favorite sound or noise is of my student's voice filling a room. I do the job I do to witness the moments that they step up and see their potential.
That and the hot dog suit, I love that freakin hot dog suit.
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