Recently, one of my university theater professors passed away. I've been thinking about him, how amazing he was, how lucky I was to know and work with him.
Let's start with how I knew him. See, that description up above is a bit misleading; yes, he was "mine" as in someone that I studied under, and I enjoyed his company, very much. He was a university professor. But I was not a university student.
Auditions at the university are "open;" anyone can audition (but casting preference is given to students). One of my best friends convinced me to go with him the first time we auditioned; I'm forever grateful.
I got some of my best acting roles there from Dr. Bob Dillard, head of the theater department. He was elegant, slender, funny, acerbic, insanely talented, well read, better educated than I would ever be. He was great at keeping appropriate boundaries while still hanging out with teens and 20-somethings. I was 18 when I met him.
When I was 19, he cast me in "Evita." I was not confident about my singing. My mother had a beautiful voice, and I loved singing, but I was very insecure about letting anyone hear. I told people that I didn't sing, that "you don't want to hear me sing." My family and friends weren't big cheerleaders; the first time my high school did a musical, my father said to me, "What are you gonna do in a musical?" when I told him about the show. Stung, I said, "They need technicians!"
"Oh. I guess that makes sense," he said.
The only reason I tried out for "Evita" is that it had a huge chorus. I could "hide" my voice in the group.
During rehearsals, I learned to sing out, to project. I wasn't ready to play Eva, but I was then comfortable with being an actor who sings.
Later, I also joined my church choir. I can sing the "gloria" part of "Angels We Have Heard On High" in one breath, without sounding gaspy. (Unless my asthma is kicking my butt.)
"Evita" made possible every musical that I was in afterward, musicals where I had solos and a headset microphone. Years later, when I was in a large show, the vocal director pulled a large group over to me during rehearsal and said, "Listen to Sharon. Follow what she does."
I am a singer. That never would have happened without Bob Dillard.
Before I met him, one of his apparently standard admonitions had become legendary - in a musical, the cast was to "Sparkle, dammit, sparkle!" I adopted the phrase for non-theater use; my kids are familiar with it.
There are other phrases that so spoke to me that I still check my work, and my life, against them.
My taste in entertainment (and life) runs to squeaky clean. Still, I know that not everything will be G rated, and that's OK - in fact, it's desirable. I love crime shows, murder mystery books, serial killer trivia. So, I save my ire for things that I find unnecessary. For instance: Mel Gibson makes great historical pieces, but he loves gore too much for my taste; I usually watch his stuff after it's been "cut for TV." David Mamet is brilliant, but probably couldn't order breakfast without dropping four or five f-bombs. I don't mind most of the nudity in "Schindler's List," because I know what Spielberg is trying to say (even though I think that there are less revealing ways to do it). I do mind Amon Goeth's girlfriend being naked and throwing things at him so that we get to see her bounce. Put her in a negligee and the scene still works.
Sometimes, the university theater department would produce things that pushed certain boundaries. I rarely had to sit a show out because it pushed too far for me. And, since I think I'm pretty picky, I usually think that if I'm not bothered, no reasonable person should be.
I don't remember what show we were working on when someone asked Dr. Dillard if he was worried about offending people. While I don't remember the show, I remember the moment, the room we were in, and I remember the smile that spread across his face at the question. "No," he said. "I'm not."
"But what if they, like, complain to the university president? What if they write letters and stuff?"
Here's where he dropped that piece of wisdom that so spoke to me. "If we're not offending somebody, we're not doing our jobs," he said. Each of us has people we're willing to offend, and people we'd rather not offend, and it's not only impossible but dangerous to try to avoid offending anyone, ever. Draw your line in the sand, and stand by it. He encapsulated something I already believed in, in a compact sentence. It was brilliance.
I also remembering being giddily grateful to him on a personal level for the way he handled a conversation that had gotten uncomfortable for me.
There was a group of us sitting in the "green room," the lounge area under the stage where we hung out during rehearsals when we personally weren't working. We were going through the whole "getting to know you" thing of asking each other about our lives and backgrounds - where were we from, where we'd gone to high school, that sort of thing.
One girl said that she'd graduated from a local school. "Hey, me too!" I told her. That led to asking what year, who we both knew that had gone to high school with us, and so on. She'd graduated 5 or 6 years after I did.
"Who was your theater teacher?" she asked. It's a really ordinary question, especially under the circumstances, but I was unprepared for it, and I just froze. I'm a pretty open book, I lean toward TMI, but I just stared at her for an uncomfortable few seconds, then said, "I'm sorry. You've just hit on one of the very few areas of my life that I don't talk about."
"WHAT? What? Who was it?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"What happened? What did you do?" She kept asking, and I kept saying no. See, when you don't want to discuss things, people assume that there's a scandal. They want the dirt - they want to hear something salacious. This is just something that I discuss rarely, and I only discuss in detail with people who were there. I'm not hiding, I'm not embarrassed. It's just so uncomfortable that I'd rather not do it. My kids know this teacher as She Who Shall Not Be Named. They wouldn't recognize her name if they heard it.
But this poor girl was just convinced that there was a great story, a big scandal - and that I undoubtedly did something wrong - and she kept pushing. Finally, she looked at Dr. Dillard. "Do you know?" she demanded. I had no idea if he did or didn't. I'd certainly never discussed it with him.
He looked at me, right in my eyes. If he wanted to say, I couldn't stop him (and I wouldn't have). Then he looked at her and said, "Yes, I do. And I know why she doesn't talk about it."
Oh, the relief! The validation, that I didn't have to say if I didn't want to! I was just so overwhelmingly grateful.
I sincerely have no idea what he knew or didn't know. I never asked. It's entirely possible that he had heard some wildly inaccurate stories that cast me as a criminal mastermind or some such thing. I don't know if he actually even knew her name or not. All I knew in that moment was that he had my back. Even if there had been nothing else about him that I liked, this single incident would have assured that I thought of him fondly forever.
I wish that I could remember more about the last time that I worked with him. Unfortunately, something that still ranks as the worst thing that ever happened to me happened during that show. Trauma tends to stain everything, even unrelated things, so even though I actively tried not to associate the show, the people, the theater, plays in general, or anything else of the sort, with the trauma, it didn't work very well. It took 10 years for me to attend a show in that theater again; I have still never worked there since that show.
It's really a shame, because it was a great show, and a great part, the best part I'd ever had at the university. I always got the sense that Dr. D believed in me, and enjoyed my work. My husband assures me that I did a great job, and none of my friends ever told me that the performance stunk, so that's good. I assume that the show didn't suffer. Still, I'd like to have the memories back. Maybe they'll show up some day.
I saw Dr. Dillard occasionally after that. I sent him Christmas cards for years. Still, we never worked together again, and he eventually retired.
Last year, I was at a theater gathering, and had the chance to write something in a notebook for Dr. Dillard (who couldn't attend). Enough of my loved ones have passed away that I'm getting pretty effusive in expressing my feelings to people. You never know when they'll need to hear it, or when they'll be gone.
I don't remember what I wrote. It was probably inadequate and silly. It was only half a page or so. Still, I knew - I may never be in the same room with this friend again, and I need to let him know how amazing he is. He needs to know that I remember; the shows he cast me in, the things he taught me, how he backed me up when I wanted my personal life to remain personal.
He sparkled.
Now it's our turn. "Sparkle, dammit!"
Showing posts with label university. Show all posts
Showing posts with label university. Show all posts
Friday, May 31, 2019
Monday, July 18, 2016
Honor Code Violations
I hesitate to write anything on this subject again; it did not go well on my Facebook page.
It started with this article about Brigham Young University (BYU) and the students challenging the school's honor code. The claim was made that it unfairly targeted female victims of sexual assault. People were very angry, because sexual assault is a dreadful crime, and they insisted that school policy further victimized the women. How? Because if they were in violation of the school's Honor Code when the assault occurred, they would still face censure for any rules they, themselves, broke.
(You can read the entire Honor Code here.)
I sincerely thought that this was a misunderstanding of the policy at best, and knee jerk reaction at worst. It should be possible to clear up this misunderstanding easily, I thought. I posted the article and said so - "It's not about gender bias or shaming. It's about breaking contracts."
I mean, to me it's obvious that if you know that a policy exists, you agree to that policy in writing, and you sign your name to a contract saying that you will follow those rules or accept censure, there's very, very little room - no, strike that, there's no room - to complain if you're censured for breaking the rules. Simple. right?
A few people saw it that way. They said things like, "I agree that if a student agreed to attend this school knowing that they have such a code, that they should not feel like they get a pass if they're the victim of any sort of crime."
Most pounced on me and quite roundly accused me of condoning rape, of saying that women "asked for it" or "deserved it," and voiced the opinion that I only thought this because I was brainwashed and controlled by my religion.
This was a typical response: " There is NEVER a good reason for punishing the victim of rape."
I could not quite get across that no one was punished because they were raped, they were punished because they broke rules, even when I said things like, "They're referred (to the disciplinary committee) if there's something to show that a rule's been broken - no different than if a male student was pulled over for DUI, off campus." I spent the better part of two days answering every response, and people STILL accused me of condoning rape.
It's been months, and I am still astonished that anyone could take the statement, "Contracts are enforceable" and turn it into, "Women deserve to be raped." That is just such a huge, ridiculous, illogical leap that, if you'd told me before this that people would make it, I would have told you that you were wrong.
And I said "it's about contracts" repeatedly: "It makes no sense to say, "I agree to these rules," but then disagree with them if they negatively impact you. I wouldn't get a free pass on an honor code violation if I was a victim of any non-sexual crime, so why should I get one if the crime is sexual? The students are not being held responsible for their assaults, but simply for breaking the school rules" "As an example, the woman in the article who said, "I'm being honest here. I was doing drugs. But you're not going to censure me for that, are you?" If I was being asked, the answer would be, "Um, yes, I am. It's breaking the law, AND violating the code of conduct to which you agreed.""
Someone responded by telling me that someone was raped "because she was out past 10pm."
NO. To be clear, the women were NOT raped because of what time they were out. They were raped because they were alone with a rapist.
I didn't even bother to point out that, if you read the article, you saw that some of these women were groped, through their clothes; although that is sexual assault, and both immoral and illegal, it is not rape. I went ahead and let people assign the word "rape" to ANY assault.
It's bad enough to have acquaintances, people who don't know me very well, tell me that I believe that certain women deserve to be raped, but many of the people insisting that it was OBVIOUS that this was what I thought were people who've known me for 20 or 30 years, or more. That was quite painful. You've known me for most of your life, and you honestly think it's possible that I hold this opinion? What about my conduct or speech has ever given that impression, even for a moment? I don't even joke about this.
I realized that many people were obviously having a discussion about whether or not rape was OK, and I said, repeatedly, "This is not about rape. It's about contracts." I was told, "No. It's about rape." So, what if this were about men who were robbed when they were out after curfew, because someone was sure that they'd never report it? I was told that such comparisons are wrong, because rape was a violent crime, and therefore in a different category. OK, what if these men were beaten when they were out after curfew, instead? Do we say that you get a pass if you're the victim of a violent crime, but not a non violent one? Do you get preferential treatment if you're a woman? Both those options seem ridiculous and ill advised.
One friend finally understood what I was saying the next day, after protracted conversation, when I said, "First, here's what they did wrong: 1: choose a university whose rules they intended to ignore. 2. Sign a pledge stating that they would uphold the rules (or accept the consequences). 3. Break the rules. 4. Complain that they shouldn't be penalized for breaking the rules. Now, I'm not a sports fan, but that looks like more than three strikes, you're out.
But let's assume that nobody did anything morally wrong. Allow me to illustrate that point with an example starring: my husband.
Now, I think my husband is a pretty great guy. That's why I'm married to him. He has a job. His job has a dress code. It used to be just things like the kind of footwear they allow. Now, they have uniforms. If he did not wear his uniform, the first time, he'd be written up. A second time, he might be demoted or docked pay. A third time, and he could kiss the job goodbye.
It's not that his regular clothes are immoral or dangerous. It's not that he'd be unable to do his job in street clothes, or that he's a danger or distraction to others. It's not as if he turns into a violent pervert if he wears his Star Wars T-shirts. It's just that his employer has a policy. His employment is contingent on following those policies, regardless of his opinion about any of them. (The policy has also changed several times in the years he's been working for his employer.)
If he lost his job because he just couldn't be bothered to put on the uniform, I'd kick his butt into next week. If your employer mandates that everyone wear a Carmen Miranda fruit hat on Tuesdays, you wear one. You don't refuse to wear the hat, then file a lawsuit, and get the Vegetable Growers of America to back your suit, on the grounds that fruit hats perpetuate the idea that fruit is fun and vegetables are icky, and are therefore discriminatory."
The friend then said, "It sounds like the story you heard was "women are trying to use their status as victims to get out of responsibility for their actions.""
YES! YES! I have used THOUSANDS of words to say just that! I responded, "What I heard was "Women expect to get a pass on any rules they broke, because they were raped while breaking them, and rape is worse than whatever they did." My belief is, "Rule breakers should expect consequences, even if somebody else did something worse." Sex, gender, whatever is irrelevant. "
Most people wanted to discuss whether the rules were good ones, and whether rape was bad. We were having THREE separate conversations in one; and, many people really had no interest in understanding me.
One close friend severed all contact with me after this Facebook discussion. This friend is SURE that I was excusing violence and victimization. I can't talk to people if we're obviously having different discussions. And if you won't even have the conversation, well, I can't help you.
So, I'm going to have all three discussions here, separately. We've already had Discussion 1: Contracts Are, and Should Be, Enforceable.
So, let's go on to Discussion 2: Is Rape Ever OK?
This should be quick: NO. (But then again, I thought that the contract discussion was quick and self explanatory, so I'll say more.)
I said on Facebook: " My opinion on rape has always been, and I've said online, to my kids, and anywhere else, all of my life, that if a woman you've previously had sex with is drunk, naked and alone, but says "no," then you're a cretin if you so much as push the issue or ask again."
I'll admit that there is wiggle room in a marriage for a little wheedling. "No" might get the response, "Oh, come on, the kids are at your mom's! We never get this kind of privacy!" But in or out of a marriage, sexual activity is NEVER NEVER NEVER a given, an inevitability, an obligation. Never. You're allowed to be hurt, frustrated, unhappy with an answer of "no," but you still have to honor the other person's wishes.
I can't quite believe that it isn't an absolute given that I feel this way. But now you know - that's what I think.
People have a right to refuse even non-sexual body contact if they don't want it. Cases of safety, medical care and child rearing are the only times it's OK to touch someone who doesn't want it (screaming, "No bath!" doesn't mean that I won't bathe a child who needs it), and it's legally OK to refuse medical care!
Now let's have Discussion 3: Are the Honor Code Rules Good Ones? Honestly, I think this is where many people got bogged down. Having decided that they disagree with the Honor Code, they could not see any way they would ever be OK with its enforcement.
First, see my analogy about my husband's employer's dress code. I truly do not care if the rules are good or bad. If the school wanted to say that everyone must wear purple on Tuesdays, and must turn counterclockwise three times every time they enter or leave a classroom, those rules are enforceable. If you don't like the rules, don't attend the school. This is not public school, where attendance is mandated by law.
I said, " If I am mugged, neither the law nor popular opinion will consider it my fault. If, however, I was alone, at night, in certain neighborhoods or situations, wearing expensive jewelry, carrying large amounts of cash, people will feel - and rightly - that I did not take all of the precautions, or display all of the awareness, that I could/should have. That's the second consideration.
The only reason this has people freaking out is because there's questions of sex, religion and violence pushing everyone's buttons. If I made the above statement in almost any other situation, people would say, "Sure. Of course. That's obvious.""
"To me, the BYU rules say, "You have to be more careful here than you did at home. You are away from family, familiar places and your safety net. The lines have to be adjusted accordingly. Even if you might not have a problem, the person next to you might.""
"I know that there are those who disagree with BYU's honor code. I've even had people tell me that following such rules "ruins" the students' chances of "living a normal life." People who feel this way should choose another school."
"Often, non-LDS people respond to hearing those things (included in the Honor Code) by saying, "They got suspended/kicked out/disciplined for that? That's normal behavior on any other university campus!" And THAT is why most people should attend schools that are NOT BYU."
"I have active, temple recommend holding LDS friends who say that they would not attend BYU or encourage their kids to attend, because they disagree with the honor code. That's OK; it's a valid opinion. But anyone who HAS chosen to attend does NOT get, in my opinion, to say, "Oh, wait, I've now decided that I don't like these rules, so I shouldn't be subject to them." Universities are supposed to prepare students to be productive citizens. Is there any civic law that will say, "oh, OK, you're exempt," if you say that you're philosophically opposed to the law or policy? Sorry, officer, I think that speed limits are wrong, so you can't ticket me."
I think everyone also ignored the fact that there are many, many possible outcomes when you're investigated for an Honor Code violation. From the official BYU website: " An appropriate action will be selected from the following: No Action, Counsel and Education, Referral (to a responsible person or agency—e.g., reconciliation process), Warning, Probation, Suspension Withheld, Suspension, and Dismissal."
That's right - you might face NO action, or a simple warning. There's EIGHT possible outcomes. They're not kicking you out of school if you were 5 minutes past curfew. (The complete article can be read here.)
Having had a couple of months to mull it over, I think that what upsets people most is the BYU dress code. This also doesn't really register with me, because, with a few exceptions, it's how all LDS people are counseled to dress. It's not unique to BYU. I tend to forget how any kind of clothing standards tend to cause people to freak out.
All LDS Church members are told to avoid tank tops (or spaghetti straps) or strapless clothes, bare midriff, bare backs and the like. Shorts should reach the knee. Women's swimsuits should be one piece. The school's is a bit stricter; in church during almost any week, you can find women and girls wearing leggings under skirts that are shorter than knee length, but BYU doesn't allow that.
It also is a code for ALL people, not just women. Men need knee length shorts. They are not allowed tank tops, sleeveless tops, or to wander around topless (except for places like the swimming pool). They are not allowed beards, including goatees, soul patches, or simple scruff. (If you are a member of a religion that mandates facial hair, you are granted an exemption from that requirement.) My son favors scruff, and when he attended BYU-Idaho, they would not let him take his ID photo or sign in to his student housing until he shaved it off. Was he annoyed? Sure. He griped. But he complied, because those are the rules. He also left his cherished sword and knife collection home, because they violate the school's weapons policy. His weapons aren't considered immoral in any way - LDS Scout leaders gave him some of those knives - but they violate campus policy; so, they stayed home. Again, he griped, but he complied.
"But why have these rules?" people ask. I don't; I don't think that any organization needs to defend its dress code or other policies to me, personally. But, in this case, aside from the normal modesty standards we're all asked to maintain, they have a dress code for the same reason any business, school, company or team has a dress code: this is the image they want the public to see. This is how they want their school represented. (If you don't like it, go elsewhere.)
Asking for modesty seems to freak some people out. They are just sure it's about repression, shame, and subjugating women. They just cannot seem to wrap their heads around ANY other POSSIBLE reason for clothing standards, and I find that really puzzling. If it was about subjugating women, why are there clothing standards for men? Is anyone going to make the statement that the school, or the church, thinks that men should be the victims of crime if they're bearded and wearing a tank top? Then why assume that they're making those judgments about women? It's illogical.
I have gotten some truly infuriating answers when I've asked people questions like that. With some frequency, I get answers like, "It's easier for men. They can be considered fashionable and attractive in clothing like that ("that" meaning that it covers most of their body), but women can't." EXCUSE ME? That is an enormously anti-woman sentiment! Do you sincerely want to tell me that women cannot be "attractive" or "fashionable" unless they are in skimpy clothing? You don't see the rampant sexism in that statement? Do we want a university, of all places, to say, "Ladies, in order to be fashionable and attractive, you're going to need to show some skin"? There is no way that I'm OK with any form of that sentiment.
And if the sexism weren't bad enough, I'm also appalled that being "fashionable" is seen as a worthwhile goal. Don't think for yourselves, folks - do whatever's popular right this minute! Sure, what's popular will change in the weeks, months, and years ahead, but you're expected to change your opinion, and your appearance, to conform! I have so little use for trends of any kind, and certainly not for appearance oriented trends. I have the same basic "style" I had as a child. I never did big hair and parachute pants, despite being a teen and 20-something in the 80s. Am I aware that people make negative judgments about that? Yes. Do I care? No. And do not tell me that it is the job of a university to encourage the following of fashion; I find that thought incompatible with the idea of "higher learning."
Do I find fashion and its followers implicitly immoral? No. I just find following fashions to be superficial at best and elitist at worst. Neither of those things is desirable to me.
I also have a really difficult time with sentiments often quoted in popular media. After a celebrity was recently criticized after she posted nude selfies on her social media, she said, "I'm not going to dilute my sexuality and my power because it makes you uncomfortable." Honey, attention seeking is not power. And if you think that your power and your sexuality are tied to your appearance, opinions about you, what the public sees, exposure, or how much attention or validation you get, I feel very sorry for you. You obviously do not understand either power or sexuality.
I was deeply delighted by what actress Gwendolyn Christie said to TIME Magazine about her role as Captain Phasma in Star Wars, and in particular, about her costume (which, if you don't know, was unisex armor that included a full helmet with face shield): “What I found interesting about the character was when they showed me the costume, obviously it looks incredible, and I got excited by that. But it is rare that women get to play a character and below the neck they are really covered up to the extent that you cannot really see the flesh outlines of their body. This excited me for two reasons. It excited me because I realized that every gesture I made would have to indicate something, would have to say something about the character. So the way I stood, the way that I gestured with my arm, where I put the weight in my hips that would all say something about the character. Because [producer] Kathleen Kennedy said to me, ‘Have you ever Googled female heroines?’ And I said I hadn’t, and she did the Google search and showed me. There were a lot of very conventional images of women in fairly revealing outfits, or at least outfits that showed the outlines of their body. And it felt to me that there was a character where we should respond to her due to her actions and what she represented rather than a more conventional delineated flesh outline. And that felt like a step forward in terms of the kind of characters women play in films in our entertainment industry. It felt really progressive to me. And consequently I’m very proud to play this part because yeah, you look at her and she looks badass. But also it means something much deeper and it represents something of proper progressive thought, and it’s in a package that we all love. That’s why I’m so over the moon to be part of this wonderful thing because it’s actually doing something positive and progressive.”
YES. YES. YES. We should "respond to her due to her actions," not according to how she looked! That's the point! That's what I would expect anyone who considers themselves a feminist to think. About the whole brouhaha over BYU's honor code, I wrote, "And, I consider my position that it doesn't matter if the offenders are male, female, minor offenders, major offenders, sexual offenders, carjackers or term paper salesmen to be very feminist. The whole point is to assess by action and ability, not biology."
I wish I could find again and link to a blog I read several months ago. The writer, a woman, said that she had spent her life thinking that modest clothing, and in particular, modest swimsuits, indicated that a person was unattractive, out of shape, or suffering from low self esteem. Consequently, she wore "the tiniest bikini" she could find when she went to the beach or pool. She said that she was constantly comparing her body to those of other women at the pool, either positively or negatively. (And, by the way, the frequently used terminology about whether someone "has the body to wear that" makes me just see red. It's objectifying and demeaning. Whether or not you wear revealing clothing should NOT be determined by whether anyone else thinks you are attractive.).
Then, one day, she found herself enchanted by a little family. They looked so happy, and seemed to be having so much fun. The couple seemed very in love. Then, the writer realized two things simultaneously - 1. she had not compared this woman's body to hers at all, or even thought about whether she was attractive at all, and 2. the woman was the only woman at the pool in a modest one piece swimsuit. "I had noticed her life and her personality, not her body parts. Then, I realized that that was what modesty was about - letting people see my life and my personality, instead of noticing my body or my clothes." YES, YES, YES! That's what modesty is about! It is not about shame!
LDS people are fairly unique in our belief that God has a body, that we are literally made "in His image." That's another reason to dress modestly, avoid tattoos and abstain from alcohol and illegal drug use - to give respect to something that is the image of God.
Another reason for modest clothing is to preserve intimacy. According to dictionary.com, "intimacy" means: "a close, familiar, and usually affectionate or loving personal relationship; a close association with or deep understanding of; an act or expression serving as a token of familiarity, affection, or the like; the quality of being warm or familiar." Putting your body parts on unnecessary display erodes intimacy, as your personal body was never meant to be for public consumption. It belongs to you, your partner and your babies, not to anyone with whom you might come in contact.
Even our sexual organs have non-sexual uses, so it makes no sense to me to assume that everything about your physical self is sexual in nature, and that's what you're doing when you insist that the dress code is about sexuality. Many, many things are physical, but not sexual.
Thinking that clothing standards are about sexuality is so foreign to me that I honestly do not consider that possible interpretation until someone (rather forcefully) points it out. In short, I forget that people think that way. Therefore, I'm at a loss to understand the rage that people direct towards the BYU dress code.
In general, I tend to assume that the most reasonable point is between extremes, and on a continuum of "nudist" to "burka," the LDS Church clothing policy falls smack in the middle.
In an effort to use an analogy to explain myself, think of it this way: I have a bank account. There's nothing immoral about it, or about my money. I am not ashamed of having or using a bank account, and I'm not ashamed by what's in it. It's important to me (and to my family). That is exactly why the only people who have access to it are my husband and myself. Even those I love and trust do not have access to my bank account. It would be too easy to do me and my family harm, even unintentionally, if I allowed other people access to it. That is exactly how I feel about my body. That is how I think everyone should feel about their body.
"But fear of being censured for minor infractions is keeping women from reporting assaults!" people have said to me. I understand, and sympathize, with many of the obstacles to reporting and prosecuting a rape. I understand fear of having to tell the story over and over, the frequent lack of physical evidence, fear that you won't be believed, fear that your attacker will retaliate. But if you would rather let a rapist go free, to rape someone else, than receive a curfew or dress code warning, I'm afraid that you aren't very mature, or displaying good judgment. And if your infraction was bigger - say, drug or alcohol use - you would undoubtedly be happier at another university, and should consider a transfer.
I don't mind if anyone disagrees with me. I do, though, mind very much when people try to tell me what I think, instead of asking me, and listening to (and believing) what I have to say.
And I don't mind if you take exception to the BYU rules. However, those rules are not about shame, blame or subjugation. And if your first instinct is to tell me that that statement is wrong, that I am mistaken or misled about that, don't be too upset if I tell you that you are wrong about what you think, or that I know better than you do what your opinion (or that of your family, religious philosophy, employer, club affiliation or anything else) is.
It started with this article about Brigham Young University (BYU) and the students challenging the school's honor code. The claim was made that it unfairly targeted female victims of sexual assault. People were very angry, because sexual assault is a dreadful crime, and they insisted that school policy further victimized the women. How? Because if they were in violation of the school's Honor Code when the assault occurred, they would still face censure for any rules they, themselves, broke.
(You can read the entire Honor Code here.)
I sincerely thought that this was a misunderstanding of the policy at best, and knee jerk reaction at worst. It should be possible to clear up this misunderstanding easily, I thought. I posted the article and said so - "It's not about gender bias or shaming. It's about breaking contracts."
I mean, to me it's obvious that if you know that a policy exists, you agree to that policy in writing, and you sign your name to a contract saying that you will follow those rules or accept censure, there's very, very little room - no, strike that, there's no room - to complain if you're censured for breaking the rules. Simple. right?
A few people saw it that way. They said things like, "I agree that if a student agreed to attend this school knowing that they have such a code, that they should not feel like they get a pass if they're the victim of any sort of crime."
Most pounced on me and quite roundly accused me of condoning rape, of saying that women "asked for it" or "deserved it," and voiced the opinion that I only thought this because I was brainwashed and controlled by my religion.
This was a typical response: " There is NEVER a good reason for punishing the victim of rape."
I could not quite get across that no one was punished because they were raped, they were punished because they broke rules, even when I said things like, "They're referred (to the disciplinary committee) if there's something to show that a rule's been broken - no different than if a male student was pulled over for DUI, off campus." I spent the better part of two days answering every response, and people STILL accused me of condoning rape.
It's been months, and I am still astonished that anyone could take the statement, "Contracts are enforceable" and turn it into, "Women deserve to be raped." That is just such a huge, ridiculous, illogical leap that, if you'd told me before this that people would make it, I would have told you that you were wrong.
And I said "it's about contracts" repeatedly: "It makes no sense to say, "I agree to these rules," but then disagree with them if they negatively impact you. I wouldn't get a free pass on an honor code violation if I was a victim of any non-sexual crime, so why should I get one if the crime is sexual? The students are not being held responsible for their assaults, but simply for breaking the school rules" "As an example, the woman in the article who said, "I'm being honest here. I was doing drugs. But you're not going to censure me for that, are you?" If I was being asked, the answer would be, "Um, yes, I am. It's breaking the law, AND violating the code of conduct to which you agreed.""
Someone responded by telling me that someone was raped "because she was out past 10pm."
NO. To be clear, the women were NOT raped because of what time they were out. They were raped because they were alone with a rapist.
I didn't even bother to point out that, if you read the article, you saw that some of these women were groped, through their clothes; although that is sexual assault, and both immoral and illegal, it is not rape. I went ahead and let people assign the word "rape" to ANY assault.
It's bad enough to have acquaintances, people who don't know me very well, tell me that I believe that certain women deserve to be raped, but many of the people insisting that it was OBVIOUS that this was what I thought were people who've known me for 20 or 30 years, or more. That was quite painful. You've known me for most of your life, and you honestly think it's possible that I hold this opinion? What about my conduct or speech has ever given that impression, even for a moment? I don't even joke about this.
I realized that many people were obviously having a discussion about whether or not rape was OK, and I said, repeatedly, "This is not about rape. It's about contracts." I was told, "No. It's about rape." So, what if this were about men who were robbed when they were out after curfew, because someone was sure that they'd never report it? I was told that such comparisons are wrong, because rape was a violent crime, and therefore in a different category. OK, what if these men were beaten when they were out after curfew, instead? Do we say that you get a pass if you're the victim of a violent crime, but not a non violent one? Do you get preferential treatment if you're a woman? Both those options seem ridiculous and ill advised.
One friend finally understood what I was saying the next day, after protracted conversation, when I said, "First, here's what they did wrong: 1: choose a university whose rules they intended to ignore. 2. Sign a pledge stating that they would uphold the rules (or accept the consequences). 3. Break the rules. 4. Complain that they shouldn't be penalized for breaking the rules. Now, I'm not a sports fan, but that looks like more than three strikes, you're out.
But let's assume that nobody did anything morally wrong. Allow me to illustrate that point with an example starring: my husband.
Now, I think my husband is a pretty great guy. That's why I'm married to him. He has a job. His job has a dress code. It used to be just things like the kind of footwear they allow. Now, they have uniforms. If he did not wear his uniform, the first time, he'd be written up. A second time, he might be demoted or docked pay. A third time, and he could kiss the job goodbye.
It's not that his regular clothes are immoral or dangerous. It's not that he'd be unable to do his job in street clothes, or that he's a danger or distraction to others. It's not as if he turns into a violent pervert if he wears his Star Wars T-shirts. It's just that his employer has a policy. His employment is contingent on following those policies, regardless of his opinion about any of them. (The policy has also changed several times in the years he's been working for his employer.)
If he lost his job because he just couldn't be bothered to put on the uniform, I'd kick his butt into next week. If your employer mandates that everyone wear a Carmen Miranda fruit hat on Tuesdays, you wear one. You don't refuse to wear the hat, then file a lawsuit, and get the Vegetable Growers of America to back your suit, on the grounds that fruit hats perpetuate the idea that fruit is fun and vegetables are icky, and are therefore discriminatory."
The friend then said, "It sounds like the story you heard was "women are trying to use their status as victims to get out of responsibility for their actions.""
YES! YES! I have used THOUSANDS of words to say just that! I responded, "What I heard was "Women expect to get a pass on any rules they broke, because they were raped while breaking them, and rape is worse than whatever they did." My belief is, "Rule breakers should expect consequences, even if somebody else did something worse." Sex, gender, whatever is irrelevant. "
Most people wanted to discuss whether the rules were good ones, and whether rape was bad. We were having THREE separate conversations in one; and, many people really had no interest in understanding me.
One close friend severed all contact with me after this Facebook discussion. This friend is SURE that I was excusing violence and victimization. I can't talk to people if we're obviously having different discussions. And if you won't even have the conversation, well, I can't help you.
So, I'm going to have all three discussions here, separately. We've already had Discussion 1: Contracts Are, and Should Be, Enforceable.
So, let's go on to Discussion 2: Is Rape Ever OK?
This should be quick: NO. (But then again, I thought that the contract discussion was quick and self explanatory, so I'll say more.)
I said on Facebook: " My opinion on rape has always been, and I've said online, to my kids, and anywhere else, all of my life, that if a woman you've previously had sex with is drunk, naked and alone, but says "no," then you're a cretin if you so much as push the issue or ask again."
I'll admit that there is wiggle room in a marriage for a little wheedling. "No" might get the response, "Oh, come on, the kids are at your mom's! We never get this kind of privacy!" But in or out of a marriage, sexual activity is NEVER NEVER NEVER a given, an inevitability, an obligation. Never. You're allowed to be hurt, frustrated, unhappy with an answer of "no," but you still have to honor the other person's wishes.
I can't quite believe that it isn't an absolute given that I feel this way. But now you know - that's what I think.
People have a right to refuse even non-sexual body contact if they don't want it. Cases of safety, medical care and child rearing are the only times it's OK to touch someone who doesn't want it (screaming, "No bath!" doesn't mean that I won't bathe a child who needs it), and it's legally OK to refuse medical care!
Now let's have Discussion 3: Are the Honor Code Rules Good Ones? Honestly, I think this is where many people got bogged down. Having decided that they disagree with the Honor Code, they could not see any way they would ever be OK with its enforcement.
First, see my analogy about my husband's employer's dress code. I truly do not care if the rules are good or bad. If the school wanted to say that everyone must wear purple on Tuesdays, and must turn counterclockwise three times every time they enter or leave a classroom, those rules are enforceable. If you don't like the rules, don't attend the school. This is not public school, where attendance is mandated by law.
I said, " If I am mugged, neither the law nor popular opinion will consider it my fault. If, however, I was alone, at night, in certain neighborhoods or situations, wearing expensive jewelry, carrying large amounts of cash, people will feel - and rightly - that I did not take all of the precautions, or display all of the awareness, that I could/should have. That's the second consideration.
We routinely warn people to avoid the situations named above, or to lock their cars and hide their valuables, or to lock their doors at home. When we travel, those warnings go up. If someone is robbed, the thieves will still be to blame, and will still be prosecuted, but everyone from law enforcement to casual friends will remind the victims that they should have taken precautions in the past, and should definitely take them in the future."
"Of course, I'm also ticked off that society went from leaving our doors unlocked to locking them to also locking the windows to whole house security systems (in ONE lifetime!). We SHOULD be able to expect people to stay the heck out of our houses, belongings, etc. without them. But, when my house was robbed, one of the first things the police asked was, "Were your doors and windows locked?" And you can bet I would have kicked myself had the answer been "No. I trust in the goodness of my fellow humans.""
"If you (the rhetorical, as well as individual "you") don't like the rules at BYU, GO SOMEWHERE ELSE. I mean, are campuses that are OK with all night alcohol and sex situations in short supply, somehow? There's only 3 BYU campuses (and the admissions are highly competitive). Surely someone who thinks the rules are Draconian is best served by going elsewhere."
"I mean, at its core, the point is that each person is responsible for their own actions, and accepts the consequences when they take any action. Just as we're not responsible for others, we also can't forgo the consequences of what we do.The only reason this has people freaking out is because there's questions of sex, religion and violence pushing everyone's buttons. If I made the above statement in almost any other situation, people would say, "Sure. Of course. That's obvious.""
"To me, the BYU rules say, "You have to be more careful here than you did at home. You are away from family, familiar places and your safety net. The lines have to be adjusted accordingly. Even if you might not have a problem, the person next to you might.""
"I know that there are those who disagree with BYU's honor code. I've even had people tell me that following such rules "ruins" the students' chances of "living a normal life." People who feel this way should choose another school."
"Often, non-LDS people respond to hearing those things (included in the Honor Code) by saying, "They got suspended/kicked out/disciplined for that? That's normal behavior on any other university campus!" And THAT is why most people should attend schools that are NOT BYU."
"I have active, temple recommend holding LDS friends who say that they would not attend BYU or encourage their kids to attend, because they disagree with the honor code. That's OK; it's a valid opinion. But anyone who HAS chosen to attend does NOT get, in my opinion, to say, "Oh, wait, I've now decided that I don't like these rules, so I shouldn't be subject to them." Universities are supposed to prepare students to be productive citizens. Is there any civic law that will say, "oh, OK, you're exempt," if you say that you're philosophically opposed to the law or policy? Sorry, officer, I think that speed limits are wrong, so you can't ticket me."
I think everyone also ignored the fact that there are many, many possible outcomes when you're investigated for an Honor Code violation. From the official BYU website: " An appropriate action will be selected from the following: No Action, Counsel and Education, Referral (to a responsible person or agency—e.g., reconciliation process), Warning, Probation, Suspension Withheld, Suspension, and Dismissal."
That's right - you might face NO action, or a simple warning. There's EIGHT possible outcomes. They're not kicking you out of school if you were 5 minutes past curfew. (The complete article can be read here.)
Having had a couple of months to mull it over, I think that what upsets people most is the BYU dress code. This also doesn't really register with me, because, with a few exceptions, it's how all LDS people are counseled to dress. It's not unique to BYU. I tend to forget how any kind of clothing standards tend to cause people to freak out.
All LDS Church members are told to avoid tank tops (or spaghetti straps) or strapless clothes, bare midriff, bare backs and the like. Shorts should reach the knee. Women's swimsuits should be one piece. The school's is a bit stricter; in church during almost any week, you can find women and girls wearing leggings under skirts that are shorter than knee length, but BYU doesn't allow that.
It also is a code for ALL people, not just women. Men need knee length shorts. They are not allowed tank tops, sleeveless tops, or to wander around topless (except for places like the swimming pool). They are not allowed beards, including goatees, soul patches, or simple scruff. (If you are a member of a religion that mandates facial hair, you are granted an exemption from that requirement.) My son favors scruff, and when he attended BYU-Idaho, they would not let him take his ID photo or sign in to his student housing until he shaved it off. Was he annoyed? Sure. He griped. But he complied, because those are the rules. He also left his cherished sword and knife collection home, because they violate the school's weapons policy. His weapons aren't considered immoral in any way - LDS Scout leaders gave him some of those knives - but they violate campus policy; so, they stayed home. Again, he griped, but he complied.
"But why have these rules?" people ask. I don't; I don't think that any organization needs to defend its dress code or other policies to me, personally. But, in this case, aside from the normal modesty standards we're all asked to maintain, they have a dress code for the same reason any business, school, company or team has a dress code: this is the image they want the public to see. This is how they want their school represented. (If you don't like it, go elsewhere.)
Asking for modesty seems to freak some people out. They are just sure it's about repression, shame, and subjugating women. They just cannot seem to wrap their heads around ANY other POSSIBLE reason for clothing standards, and I find that really puzzling. If it was about subjugating women, why are there clothing standards for men? Is anyone going to make the statement that the school, or the church, thinks that men should be the victims of crime if they're bearded and wearing a tank top? Then why assume that they're making those judgments about women? It's illogical.
I have gotten some truly infuriating answers when I've asked people questions like that. With some frequency, I get answers like, "It's easier for men. They can be considered fashionable and attractive in clothing like that ("that" meaning that it covers most of their body), but women can't." EXCUSE ME? That is an enormously anti-woman sentiment! Do you sincerely want to tell me that women cannot be "attractive" or "fashionable" unless they are in skimpy clothing? You don't see the rampant sexism in that statement? Do we want a university, of all places, to say, "Ladies, in order to be fashionable and attractive, you're going to need to show some skin"? There is no way that I'm OK with any form of that sentiment.
And if the sexism weren't bad enough, I'm also appalled that being "fashionable" is seen as a worthwhile goal. Don't think for yourselves, folks - do whatever's popular right this minute! Sure, what's popular will change in the weeks, months, and years ahead, but you're expected to change your opinion, and your appearance, to conform! I have so little use for trends of any kind, and certainly not for appearance oriented trends. I have the same basic "style" I had as a child. I never did big hair and parachute pants, despite being a teen and 20-something in the 80s. Am I aware that people make negative judgments about that? Yes. Do I care? No. And do not tell me that it is the job of a university to encourage the following of fashion; I find that thought incompatible with the idea of "higher learning."
Do I find fashion and its followers implicitly immoral? No. I just find following fashions to be superficial at best and elitist at worst. Neither of those things is desirable to me.
I also have a really difficult time with sentiments often quoted in popular media. After a celebrity was recently criticized after she posted nude selfies on her social media, she said, "I'm not going to dilute my sexuality and my power because it makes you uncomfortable." Honey, attention seeking is not power. And if you think that your power and your sexuality are tied to your appearance, opinions about you, what the public sees, exposure, or how much attention or validation you get, I feel very sorry for you. You obviously do not understand either power or sexuality.
I was deeply delighted by what actress Gwendolyn Christie said to TIME Magazine about her role as Captain Phasma in Star Wars, and in particular, about her costume (which, if you don't know, was unisex armor that included a full helmet with face shield): “What I found interesting about the character was when they showed me the costume, obviously it looks incredible, and I got excited by that. But it is rare that women get to play a character and below the neck they are really covered up to the extent that you cannot really see the flesh outlines of their body. This excited me for two reasons. It excited me because I realized that every gesture I made would have to indicate something, would have to say something about the character. So the way I stood, the way that I gestured with my arm, where I put the weight in my hips that would all say something about the character. Because [producer] Kathleen Kennedy said to me, ‘Have you ever Googled female heroines?’ And I said I hadn’t, and she did the Google search and showed me. There were a lot of very conventional images of women in fairly revealing outfits, or at least outfits that showed the outlines of their body. And it felt to me that there was a character where we should respond to her due to her actions and what she represented rather than a more conventional delineated flesh outline. And that felt like a step forward in terms of the kind of characters women play in films in our entertainment industry. It felt really progressive to me. And consequently I’m very proud to play this part because yeah, you look at her and she looks badass. But also it means something much deeper and it represents something of proper progressive thought, and it’s in a package that we all love. That’s why I’m so over the moon to be part of this wonderful thing because it’s actually doing something positive and progressive.”
YES. YES. YES. We should "respond to her due to her actions," not according to how she looked! That's the point! That's what I would expect anyone who considers themselves a feminist to think. About the whole brouhaha over BYU's honor code, I wrote, "And, I consider my position that it doesn't matter if the offenders are male, female, minor offenders, major offenders, sexual offenders, carjackers or term paper salesmen to be very feminist. The whole point is to assess by action and ability, not biology."
I wish I could find again and link to a blog I read several months ago. The writer, a woman, said that she had spent her life thinking that modest clothing, and in particular, modest swimsuits, indicated that a person was unattractive, out of shape, or suffering from low self esteem. Consequently, she wore "the tiniest bikini" she could find when she went to the beach or pool. She said that she was constantly comparing her body to those of other women at the pool, either positively or negatively. (And, by the way, the frequently used terminology about whether someone "has the body to wear that" makes me just see red. It's objectifying and demeaning. Whether or not you wear revealing clothing should NOT be determined by whether anyone else thinks you are attractive.).
Then, one day, she found herself enchanted by a little family. They looked so happy, and seemed to be having so much fun. The couple seemed very in love. Then, the writer realized two things simultaneously - 1. she had not compared this woman's body to hers at all, or even thought about whether she was attractive at all, and 2. the woman was the only woman at the pool in a modest one piece swimsuit. "I had noticed her life and her personality, not her body parts. Then, I realized that that was what modesty was about - letting people see my life and my personality, instead of noticing my body or my clothes." YES, YES, YES! That's what modesty is about! It is not about shame!
LDS people are fairly unique in our belief that God has a body, that we are literally made "in His image." That's another reason to dress modestly, avoid tattoos and abstain from alcohol and illegal drug use - to give respect to something that is the image of God.
Another reason for modest clothing is to preserve intimacy. According to dictionary.com, "intimacy" means: "a close, familiar, and usually affectionate or loving personal relationship; a close association with or deep understanding of; an act or expression serving as a token of familiarity, affection, or the like; the quality of being warm or familiar." Putting your body parts on unnecessary display erodes intimacy, as your personal body was never meant to be for public consumption. It belongs to you, your partner and your babies, not to anyone with whom you might come in contact.
Even our sexual organs have non-sexual uses, so it makes no sense to me to assume that everything about your physical self is sexual in nature, and that's what you're doing when you insist that the dress code is about sexuality. Many, many things are physical, but not sexual.
Thinking that clothing standards are about sexuality is so foreign to me that I honestly do not consider that possible interpretation until someone (rather forcefully) points it out. In short, I forget that people think that way. Therefore, I'm at a loss to understand the rage that people direct towards the BYU dress code.
In general, I tend to assume that the most reasonable point is between extremes, and on a continuum of "nudist" to "burka," the LDS Church clothing policy falls smack in the middle.
In an effort to use an analogy to explain myself, think of it this way: I have a bank account. There's nothing immoral about it, or about my money. I am not ashamed of having or using a bank account, and I'm not ashamed by what's in it. It's important to me (and to my family). That is exactly why the only people who have access to it are my husband and myself. Even those I love and trust do not have access to my bank account. It would be too easy to do me and my family harm, even unintentionally, if I allowed other people access to it. That is exactly how I feel about my body. That is how I think everyone should feel about their body.
"But fear of being censured for minor infractions is keeping women from reporting assaults!" people have said to me. I understand, and sympathize, with many of the obstacles to reporting and prosecuting a rape. I understand fear of having to tell the story over and over, the frequent lack of physical evidence, fear that you won't be believed, fear that your attacker will retaliate. But if you would rather let a rapist go free, to rape someone else, than receive a curfew or dress code warning, I'm afraid that you aren't very mature, or displaying good judgment. And if your infraction was bigger - say, drug or alcohol use - you would undoubtedly be happier at another university, and should consider a transfer.
I don't mind if anyone disagrees with me. I do, though, mind very much when people try to tell me what I think, instead of asking me, and listening to (and believing) what I have to say.
And I don't mind if you take exception to the BYU rules. However, those rules are not about shame, blame or subjugation. And if your first instinct is to tell me that that statement is wrong, that I am mistaken or misled about that, don't be too upset if I tell you that you are wrong about what you think, or that I know better than you do what your opinion (or that of your family, religious philosophy, employer, club affiliation or anything else) is.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Turn the Page
"On a long and lonesome highway..."
The American West is filled with "lonely" highways, stretches of asphalt ribbon stretching to the horizon across sparsely populated, sagebrush studded land. I spent my childhood in the family car or pickup truck, driving for hours between small towns, mountains, lakes and other isolated places.
Some of my favorite memories from those roads, though, come not from my childhood, but my adult years before I was a wife and mother. They includes lots of time on the highway, spending hours en route between small towns, on tour with the local university theater company.
"You can listen to the engine moaning out its one note song..."
There were two dozen or so of us packed into vans and a single large truck, hauling scenery, costumes and the like to places with names like Winnemucca and Tonopah. I was 19, but not a full, or even part, time student. The university theater company was open to the community. Members like me, unenrolled at the U, were exempt from some of the requirements the students had - for instance, always having to stay after a show closed to "strike," or tear down and put away, the set, props, costumes and everything else. I held myself to the higher standard, though, expecting from myself everything required if I was being graded. It was important to me to be a "real" member of the company.
I'd spent almost two seasons with the company by the time I went on tour. I'd already watched the group go on an international USO tour and another state tour, and I was so deeply jealous of those who got to go. But, I was living on my own, working for minimum wage, and I couldn't afford the time off work or the expense of travel. I'd juggled a lot to make sure I could spend two weeks on tour before I applied to go, and I wanted it so badly I could taste it.
The show was "The Passion of Dracula," and I was crew. We'd already had a great run in the university theater. Having worked the show already didn't guarantee me a spot on tour. I had to apply and wait. When my name showed up on the list tacked to the "call board," the theater bulletin board, my best friend and I shrieked so loudly, jumping up and down and hugging, that a professor had to come out of his office and shush us.
"But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do..."
We all got a small per diem allowance from the university, designed to cover our food and other travel expenses. The professors and other faculty, of course, got paid wages as well. The other students were typical college kids whose parents footed most of their bills. Most of them lived with their parents or in dorms that their parents paid for. For them, the per diem was just a nice perk. For me, it was my only income for half a month. I had to save enough out of it to pay my rent and my half of the living expenses at the place I shared with a roommate. I'd done the math; I watched every cent like a hawk. A couple of the casinos gave us coupon books, $2 in nickels, or both, when we checked into their rooms. I hoarded them like a miser. I skipped some of the things the rest of the company did, like the night everyone else ate at a renowned Basque restaurant. Then and now, it was considered a "must do" in some of the towns we visited. I had the ham and eggs special ($1.99) in the coffee shop at the hotel/casino where we were staying. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I had to have somewhere to live when we were done.
"And you don't feel much like riding; you just wish the trip was through..."
We had no "spare" time. We'd roll into a town before lunch, put on a show of various fairy tales at the local elementary school, then go to wherever the play would be that night - usually the local high school - and set up, then eat dinner, do the show, tear it all down, pack it up, fall into bed and be up early the next morning to do it again in a different town. There was no pool time, and no nap time unless you slept in the van. It was hard work. I loved it all.
"Here I am, on the road again
There I am, up on the stage
Here I go, playing the star again
There I go, turn the page..."
I played characters like Jack's Mother in Jack and the Beanstalk in the children's show. We changed wherever there was room; once all of us packed into a broom closet to dress and undress. We performed in lunch rooms, mostly. The kids and teachers seemed to love it. These shows were freebies, designed to spread both goodwill and word of mouth. We ended every show by passing out flyers for that night's performance. The kids weren't our target "Dracula" audience, but their parents were.
We also did scenes from "Dracula" at the high schools, because they were our target audience. One scene involved our Lucy, under the vampire's spell, biting our Dracula's chest and licking up the blood while she made, well, "yummy noises" - noises indicating pleasure. It was my job to fill the squeeze bulb on the back of Dracula's brooch with stage blood, so that he could bleed on cue. Yeah, pretty racy stuff for us big city folk to be presenting to rural teens. Our Lucy and our Dracula had very different takes on this scene. He saw it as pulling her over to the Dark Side, whereas she saw it as being deeply suggestive of sex. Nobody polled the kids, but they gasped, every time.
"Well, you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you, as you're shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode..."
After every show, we'd have people say things like, "Thank you so much for coming to our town! We never get the opportunity to see productions like this!" They didn't just tell the actors, they'd tell all of us. Those, of course, were the folks who sought us out deliberately. Walking into a restaurant, gas station or casino could elicit a different response. We piled out of our vans, many of us in head to toe black, with shirts with the word "Passion" in large letters, and graphics of a vampire, long before they were mainstream. We felt conspicuous.
"Most times you can't hear them talk
Other times, you can
All the same old cliches
'Is that a woman or a man?'"
It was the mid 80s; popular looks included long, curled hair on men, shorn or shaved hair on women, and mullets on everyone. I don't think that any of us looked outlandish; no guyliner, no animal print leggings that I recall. I thought that we looked pretty normal. Our Dracula looked downright Mr. Rogers, wearing a sweater vest and a bow tie every day. Still, we were theater people in a town full of ranchers and cowboys. We stood out.
"And you always seem outnumbered
You don't dare make a stand..."
I remember hearing about a couple of times that minor words were exchanged, maybe when one of us physically bumped into a guy our age in flannel and boots, but we had a very strict conduct code, a tight schedule and a short leash. I only remember one particular time when I felt unwelcome. We swept into a restaurant that had offered us a discount on their buffet; they apparently did this every time the group toured. Cheap food and young people - yes, please! I remember a few horrified looks and pointed comments about how "crowded" and "noisy" we made the place. I tried to smile sweetly, hoping to demonstrate how harmless and fun we were.
"Out there in the spotlight you're a million miles away..."
There's a reason that people "talk shop" with others of their profession or hobby or vocation. No one else really understands. As an actor, you're both acutely aware of the audience, and oblivious to their presence. As a stage technician, you're a cog in a complicated machine, both independent and interconnected. Either way, you live for the work itself, but also for the reaction it elicits. Trying to describe how you feel sounds self absorbed. Others like you, though, "get" it. You don't have to explain.
"Every ounce of energy you try to give away..."
Our set was gorgeous. All the carved wood elements were actually made of styrofoam, so they were light enough to haul around. The Victorian "wallpaper" was painted on. The costumes were equally stunning. We had staircases, fancy furniture, crates and boxes of things to transform the high schools into an English mansion, and our actors into characters.
Besides the stage blood, my favorite jobs involved the wind and fog machines and flash paper.
Our wind machine was low tech, my preferred method of doing things. It was a wooden cylinder with slats attached to the round end units. Over that was stretched heavy canvas. A hand crank came out of one end of the cylinder. Turning it made a remarkably realistic wind noise. It was my job to create everything from low moaning wind to shrieking gusts.
The fog was higher tech, produced by a small machine into which I poured chemical fog juice. At certain points, I'd slide the machine close to the edge of the set and turn it on. Its motor made only a whisper, and the fog would pump out of one end. It was glorious stuff, reflecting the lights, swirling when the actors walked, filling the familiar drawing room with an otherwordly air. By the end of one scene, the air would be thick with fog. Turn off the machine, and it dissipated, like magic.
We had several large and small wooden crosses. At one point, our Van Helsing held up a dramatic, ornate cross about 2 1/2 feet long. Our Dracula would grab the cross, and it would burst into flame - truly, actual flame. Both of them would then drop the cross, and the fire would die. It was visually spectacular.
The crosses were painted to look like metal, but they were all wood - lighter, easier to fabricate, easier to rig. The large cross had a hollowed out portion on the back where we fastened a cigarette lighter, right at the junction of the beams. My job, every night, was to wind flash paper across the back of both beams, wound into a spiral and stapled. When Dracula grabbed it, Van Helsing flicked the lighter on. The flame would race along the paper, providing a fantastic, but brief, flash of real fire. It was another moment that always elicited gasps, and it made me smile, every night.
I learned to make stage blood when we opened our trunk one day and discovered that the entire gallon container had leaked, coating the inside of the packing crate, and leaving us with no blood for a fairly bloody show.
I panicked a bit, but our Lucy said, "No problem. Come with me." She whisked me off to the grocery store, where we bought light corn syrup, red food coloring, and blue dish detergent. I still make "blood" the same way, whether I'm using it onstage, for Halloween, or, as I did once, for a zombie themed promo video.
"Later in the evening, as you lie awake in bed
With the echoes from the amplifiers ringing in your head..."
I didn't know it at the time, but within a year I'd be a pregnant newlywed, living in one of the small towns where we'd performed.
The tour is such a fond memory that the smell of chemical fog, or hearing Bob Seger sing "Turn the Page," makes me instantly nostalgic.
I think that everyone who works in entertainment, whether they're a slam poet, concert violinist or lighting tech, should get the chance to tour with a show; even if it's just for two weeks, through the Nevada desert.
"Here I am, on the road again
There I am, up on the stage
Here I go, playing the star again
There I go
There I go."
The American West is filled with "lonely" highways, stretches of asphalt ribbon stretching to the horizon across sparsely populated, sagebrush studded land. I spent my childhood in the family car or pickup truck, driving for hours between small towns, mountains, lakes and other isolated places.
Some of my favorite memories from those roads, though, come not from my childhood, but my adult years before I was a wife and mother. They includes lots of time on the highway, spending hours en route between small towns, on tour with the local university theater company.
"You can listen to the engine moaning out its one note song..."
There were two dozen or so of us packed into vans and a single large truck, hauling scenery, costumes and the like to places with names like Winnemucca and Tonopah. I was 19, but not a full, or even part, time student. The university theater company was open to the community. Members like me, unenrolled at the U, were exempt from some of the requirements the students had - for instance, always having to stay after a show closed to "strike," or tear down and put away, the set, props, costumes and everything else. I held myself to the higher standard, though, expecting from myself everything required if I was being graded. It was important to me to be a "real" member of the company.
I'd spent almost two seasons with the company by the time I went on tour. I'd already watched the group go on an international USO tour and another state tour, and I was so deeply jealous of those who got to go. But, I was living on my own, working for minimum wage, and I couldn't afford the time off work or the expense of travel. I'd juggled a lot to make sure I could spend two weeks on tour before I applied to go, and I wanted it so badly I could taste it.
The show was "The Passion of Dracula," and I was crew. We'd already had a great run in the university theater. Having worked the show already didn't guarantee me a spot on tour. I had to apply and wait. When my name showed up on the list tacked to the "call board," the theater bulletin board, my best friend and I shrieked so loudly, jumping up and down and hugging, that a professor had to come out of his office and shush us.
"But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do..."
We all got a small per diem allowance from the university, designed to cover our food and other travel expenses. The professors and other faculty, of course, got paid wages as well. The other students were typical college kids whose parents footed most of their bills. Most of them lived with their parents or in dorms that their parents paid for. For them, the per diem was just a nice perk. For me, it was my only income for half a month. I had to save enough out of it to pay my rent and my half of the living expenses at the place I shared with a roommate. I'd done the math; I watched every cent like a hawk. A couple of the casinos gave us coupon books, $2 in nickels, or both, when we checked into their rooms. I hoarded them like a miser. I skipped some of the things the rest of the company did, like the night everyone else ate at a renowned Basque restaurant. Then and now, it was considered a "must do" in some of the towns we visited. I had the ham and eggs special ($1.99) in the coffee shop at the hotel/casino where we were staying. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I had to have somewhere to live when we were done.
"And you don't feel much like riding; you just wish the trip was through..."
We had no "spare" time. We'd roll into a town before lunch, put on a show of various fairy tales at the local elementary school, then go to wherever the play would be that night - usually the local high school - and set up, then eat dinner, do the show, tear it all down, pack it up, fall into bed and be up early the next morning to do it again in a different town. There was no pool time, and no nap time unless you slept in the van. It was hard work. I loved it all.
"Here I am, on the road again
There I am, up on the stage
Here I go, playing the star again
There I go, turn the page..."
I played characters like Jack's Mother in Jack and the Beanstalk in the children's show. We changed wherever there was room; once all of us packed into a broom closet to dress and undress. We performed in lunch rooms, mostly. The kids and teachers seemed to love it. These shows were freebies, designed to spread both goodwill and word of mouth. We ended every show by passing out flyers for that night's performance. The kids weren't our target "Dracula" audience, but their parents were.
We also did scenes from "Dracula" at the high schools, because they were our target audience. One scene involved our Lucy, under the vampire's spell, biting our Dracula's chest and licking up the blood while she made, well, "yummy noises" - noises indicating pleasure. It was my job to fill the squeeze bulb on the back of Dracula's brooch with stage blood, so that he could bleed on cue. Yeah, pretty racy stuff for us big city folk to be presenting to rural teens. Our Lucy and our Dracula had very different takes on this scene. He saw it as pulling her over to the Dark Side, whereas she saw it as being deeply suggestive of sex. Nobody polled the kids, but they gasped, every time.
"Well, you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you, as you're shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode..."
After every show, we'd have people say things like, "Thank you so much for coming to our town! We never get the opportunity to see productions like this!" They didn't just tell the actors, they'd tell all of us. Those, of course, were the folks who sought us out deliberately. Walking into a restaurant, gas station or casino could elicit a different response. We piled out of our vans, many of us in head to toe black, with shirts with the word "Passion" in large letters, and graphics of a vampire, long before they were mainstream. We felt conspicuous.
"Most times you can't hear them talk
Other times, you can
All the same old cliches
'Is that a woman or a man?'"
It was the mid 80s; popular looks included long, curled hair on men, shorn or shaved hair on women, and mullets on everyone. I don't think that any of us looked outlandish; no guyliner, no animal print leggings that I recall. I thought that we looked pretty normal. Our Dracula looked downright Mr. Rogers, wearing a sweater vest and a bow tie every day. Still, we were theater people in a town full of ranchers and cowboys. We stood out.
"And you always seem outnumbered
You don't dare make a stand..."
I remember hearing about a couple of times that minor words were exchanged, maybe when one of us physically bumped into a guy our age in flannel and boots, but we had a very strict conduct code, a tight schedule and a short leash. I only remember one particular time when I felt unwelcome. We swept into a restaurant that had offered us a discount on their buffet; they apparently did this every time the group toured. Cheap food and young people - yes, please! I remember a few horrified looks and pointed comments about how "crowded" and "noisy" we made the place. I tried to smile sweetly, hoping to demonstrate how harmless and fun we were.
"Out there in the spotlight you're a million miles away..."
There's a reason that people "talk shop" with others of their profession or hobby or vocation. No one else really understands. As an actor, you're both acutely aware of the audience, and oblivious to their presence. As a stage technician, you're a cog in a complicated machine, both independent and interconnected. Either way, you live for the work itself, but also for the reaction it elicits. Trying to describe how you feel sounds self absorbed. Others like you, though, "get" it. You don't have to explain.
"Every ounce of energy you try to give away..."
Our set was gorgeous. All the carved wood elements were actually made of styrofoam, so they were light enough to haul around. The Victorian "wallpaper" was painted on. The costumes were equally stunning. We had staircases, fancy furniture, crates and boxes of things to transform the high schools into an English mansion, and our actors into characters.
Besides the stage blood, my favorite jobs involved the wind and fog machines and flash paper.
Our wind machine was low tech, my preferred method of doing things. It was a wooden cylinder with slats attached to the round end units. Over that was stretched heavy canvas. A hand crank came out of one end of the cylinder. Turning it made a remarkably realistic wind noise. It was my job to create everything from low moaning wind to shrieking gusts.
The fog was higher tech, produced by a small machine into which I poured chemical fog juice. At certain points, I'd slide the machine close to the edge of the set and turn it on. Its motor made only a whisper, and the fog would pump out of one end. It was glorious stuff, reflecting the lights, swirling when the actors walked, filling the familiar drawing room with an otherwordly air. By the end of one scene, the air would be thick with fog. Turn off the machine, and it dissipated, like magic.
We had several large and small wooden crosses. At one point, our Van Helsing held up a dramatic, ornate cross about 2 1/2 feet long. Our Dracula would grab the cross, and it would burst into flame - truly, actual flame. Both of them would then drop the cross, and the fire would die. It was visually spectacular.
The crosses were painted to look like metal, but they were all wood - lighter, easier to fabricate, easier to rig. The large cross had a hollowed out portion on the back where we fastened a cigarette lighter, right at the junction of the beams. My job, every night, was to wind flash paper across the back of both beams, wound into a spiral and stapled. When Dracula grabbed it, Van Helsing flicked the lighter on. The flame would race along the paper, providing a fantastic, but brief, flash of real fire. It was another moment that always elicited gasps, and it made me smile, every night.
I learned to make stage blood when we opened our trunk one day and discovered that the entire gallon container had leaked, coating the inside of the packing crate, and leaving us with no blood for a fairly bloody show.
I panicked a bit, but our Lucy said, "No problem. Come with me." She whisked me off to the grocery store, where we bought light corn syrup, red food coloring, and blue dish detergent. I still make "blood" the same way, whether I'm using it onstage, for Halloween, or, as I did once, for a zombie themed promo video.
"Later in the evening, as you lie awake in bed
With the echoes from the amplifiers ringing in your head..."
I didn't know it at the time, but within a year I'd be a pregnant newlywed, living in one of the small towns where we'd performed.
The tour is such a fond memory that the smell of chemical fog, or hearing Bob Seger sing "Turn the Page," makes me instantly nostalgic.
I think that everyone who works in entertainment, whether they're a slam poet, concert violinist or lighting tech, should get the chance to tour with a show; even if it's just for two weeks, through the Nevada desert.
"Here I am, on the road again
There I am, up on the stage
Here I go, playing the star again
There I go
There I go."
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Off to School We Go
My third child is about to leave home to attend a university several hundred miles away. Naturally, we're simultaneously thrilled and anticipating missing him.
We've done this twice before, as his sisters went away to school, so we know the drill. It's not new. Still, there are differences.
The biggest difference is that he's been homeschooled since the sixth grade. "Are you more excited about Alex than you were with Lana and me?" my middle daughter asked. No, not more excited; I do feel a bit more proud of myself, though, because his education has more to do with me. All I provided for his sisters was their genes.
OK, that's not true; I'm exaggerating. We provided good genes, a home filled with books, educational trips, parents who loved learning, a place and time for homework, perspective, incentive ("If your grades slip, you'll have to quit your job. School comes first."), and an environment that helped them succeed. Still, most of the responsibility rested on them, then on the school. We could help, but you know those studies that say that kids spend an average of ten minutes a day with their families? We had those days.
When they were young, they had dance classes, gymnastics classes, drawing classes, Scouts and church activities on various week nights. Thank goodness, they were not in all those activities at once, but it still meant 2 or 3 weeknights, on average, spent somewhere besides home. When they were in high school, especially their last two years, their schedules looked like this: 6:45 a.m. - early morning religion classes; 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. - school; 2:30 - 5:00 p.m. - band practice; 6 to 10 p.m. - job; 10:30 p.m. - bedtime. Add to that band performances at games and competitions, other extracurricular activities, time spent with friends and church youth group, and on many, many days, we'd see them just long enough to say, "Get up," and, "Go to bed." If there were large educational deficiencies, we could do little to remedy them except cut back on their work hours or extracurricular activities - and everyone knows that the standard advice on getting into the college of your choice strongly advises extracurricular activities, so cutting those too drastically would make for both unhappy teens and diminished educational opportunities. (Ironic, isn't it? You can't cut back in order to focus on education, because your educational opportunities will suffer.)
(Both, by the way, were honor students, both took AP courses. Both got into their first choice college.)
We've gotten used to having my son, and our youngest daughter, with us all the time. They, too, have had classes (fencing, dance, karate), Scouts, church activities and more. We've spent an average of one day a week, and sometimes two, at homeschool co-ops, where they're in classes taught by someone besides us for up to three hours. Even with all of that, we still see them for hours every day. This last year has been a big adjustment, since my son's been working an average of 30 hours a week.
And, of course, we're legally (and otherwise) responsible for making sure he has a chance to learn everything he needs to know. I don't have to teach it to him personally, but I have to make sure that he has a chance to learn it. That's a change from when my older kids just signed up for whatever their school offered.
I never worried too much about whether he'd be able to go to college after being homeschooled. (My husband worried a bit, but that's because it's what he does. I Worry, Therefore I Am.) There are so many avenues available. Many schools accept a homeschool diploma the same way they do a public or private school diploma. Dual enrollment, or enrolling at the community college during high school (ours accepts students 16 and older), the GED, placement exams, Credit By Exam/Advanced Placement exams and more are available for schools that don't accept a homeschool diploma.
There are so many schools, and so many ways to go to school; there are few wrong ways to become educated. One of the very few ways that I consider wrong is the need to go into massive amounts of debt so that you'll have a particular school name on your diploma. Sometimes debt is unavoidable - my second daughter needed student loans - but I think it's a bad idea in general to take on loans while in your teens or 20s that you won't have paid off until your 50s.
I loved recently reading a piece of common sense advice from a father to his daughter. She was a sweet, earnest girl wanting very much to do the right thing, and she asked her father how she'd know which college God wanted her to attend. His down to Earth response? "God doesn't want you to be an idiot, so go somewhere you'll learn." Bingo. That nails it.
Plus, my son had an A list (only two schools, but I browbeat him into adding a third), a B list and a C list of schools to apply to. His fallback, "if all else fails" plan was to stay home and go to the local community college and then transfer to the local university; that's the A list plan for many kids. It's a good one. Still, I wanted my son to have the experience he wanted. He wanted to go away to school. Plus, both of his sisters went to their A list schools.
Other people, it seemed, worried about my son's choices, and chances, a lot. Many of them would express general worries about homeschooling, then temper their expressed worries by saying something like, "Oh, I'm not worried about YOU and YOUR kid, just OTHER homeschooled kids," as if that wasn't irritating. (Obviously) I'm only responsible for my kid. The world in general doesn't answer to me.
Even my son, who asked us to do this for four years before everything aligned and it worked for our family, occasionally argued with my choices.
In his 5th grade public school classes, they'd had the kids in the advanced group doing "beginning algebra." When we started sixth grade, he naturally wanted to skip any review and go full steam ahead. I think that a lot of current assembly line, run-it-past-the-kids-pass-an-exam-on-it-and-move-on instruction doesn't let the instruction sink into their long term memory. Sometimes I'll use a common term like "adverb" around kids in honors classes (or adults who passed them), and they'll be baffled and unsure of what it means. I've watched too many teens in honors programs - mine included - insist that they can't calculate how much, say, a 20% discount is on an item. My 16 year old daughter, who was in honors trigonometry at the time, insisted through tears that she couldn't do simple multiplication without a calculator. I was not going to teach with those methods.
When he couldn't tell me what simple terms like numerator, denominator or divisor meant, I told my son that we were going back to the basics until they were rock solid. He was furious, and sure that he'd be tragically behind other kids his age. (This was also his dad's biggest worry. Math is not my strong suit, and I'm upfront about this. He occasionally worried that I was not up to teaching it.) I did not want to hear about what tests he'd passed; I wanted to know what he could do. An education only works if it's functional, accessible knowledge. Plus, terms like "beginning algebra" are fairly meaningless. The first time a small child is presented with, "2 + _ = 4," that's algebra. It's solving for the unknown using a given formula.
One of the reasons we chose homeschooling was the ability to tailor it to our kids as individuals. The more "standardized" instruction becomes, the less effective it is, in my opinion.
I have four children. Two of them are relentless perfectionists, much harder on themselves than necessary (or than anyone else will ever be). Two will always take the path of least resistance, and have to be kept strictly accountable for making any progress at all. Naturally, I have to handle these kids differently.
In general, I'm pretty laid back as an instructor. When I used to teach theater classes, we'd play some sort of game, or do something that the kids loved but that they assumed was just goofing off, and then I'd tell them the skill they'd just mastered. My youngest child is all about fun, and my son's way too hard on himself, so I deliberately kept things casual.
Sometimes, my son would accuse me of being too casual. I usually just "grade" their stuff as, "OK," or, "Do it over," so there's not a lot of letter grades. For his official transcript, the one that I anticipated every college needing, I had to do letter grades (and justify them). I coach the local homeschool speech and debate team; we compete against teams from public and private schools. He happened to look over my shoulder during his junior year when I entered an A for speech and debate. He was aghast. "I didn't trophy once! I don't deserve an A!" Competitions are on average every month during the school year, and although he made finals all but twice, and came in 4th several times, he had not trophied (3rd place and up). He would have grudgingly given himself a C, "or maybe a B-."
I dragged out my official coaching manual, given to me by the national organization. It gives a grading scale based on the points kids earn at competition. He was far, far above the amount of points required for an A. He was deeply surprised. "I do not ever hand you an A because I'm your mommy," I told him.
It is worth noting that during his senior year, he brought home 5 trophies and qualified for the national tournament in two events. You can only represent your district at Nationals in one event (which he did).
When he signed up for the ACT exam, the exam preferred by his A list schools, I deliberately downplayed it. "It's no big deal. Plus, you can take it as many times as you want, and they throw out all but the highest score." We didn't get any practice books, but he did do the official ACT online practice, just because taking standardized tests is a skill unto itself, and I wanted the format to be familiar. Had he been his sister, there would have been lectures about how important it was, and how she needed to do her best, but he's a different person. I was very, very casual about it. The last thing he needed was to tie himself in knots.
His math was his lowest score, but - whoops - that was because we sent him in without a calculator. His scores were still right in the target range, and exceeded what he'd need for his B list schools. His lowest score was what his highest ranked B list school wanted as a composite score. But he wanted to take it again, and we totally understood. Armed with a calculator this time, his math score improved by 4 points, now putting him in the ACT's "college ready" range, and in the range for his A list schools. (Take that, naysayers!)
His highest score, science, was in the 30s. No big surprise to us - we know him - but a friend actually said to us, "But I thought that religious people didn't like science." Sigh.
In the fall of his senior year, we hit a small snag. One of his A list university choices required all homeschooled students to have a GED; actually, the state the school was in required it. By then he'd taken the ACT, which, in my opinion, should be enough info for any school, but hey, you jump through whatever hoops you have to.
Again, I downplayed it as no big deal. "It'll be kinda like the ACTs, only less difficult."
Here, though, it got a bit hairier. Our local laws required him, as a minor, to take a GED pre-test before he could take the GED. After the superintendent of schools himself reviewed the scores, he'd let us know if Alex had permission to take the GED. This is because they want to guarantee that minors, who are factored into state and federal numbers, don't show up as drop outs or failures. So of course, the first thing GED candidates have to do is drop out of school. I'm not kidding. If you are enrolled in a public, private, charter or online high school, you have to drop out to take the GED, or even the practice GED.
Not that it affected my homeschooled student, but let's think about that for a second. Let's say that you know you're cutting it close, and may not graduate. You want a diploma, but between work, home and your family situation, it might not happen. Instead of letting you stay in school while you take the GED as a safety net, the law requires you to drop out to even consider it as an option. Really? Does this seem like a good idea to anyone?
When I talked to people, though, many of them defended this policy. "You want kids to stay in school. You don't want them to take the GED. You want them to graduate." My state has one of the worst graduation rates in the country, and my county has one of the worst graduation rates in the state. How could it possibly get any worse? How could we want to make any viable alternative harder? Newspaper accounts like these are our "success" stories: "The Washoe County School District's 2010 graduation rate increased to 63 percent after languishing in the 56 percent range. (Reno Gazette Journal, September 14, 2010)"
That year, 2010, my state ranked 51 in graduation rates, behind every other state and the District of Columbia.
This year, again, there are thousands of kids entering 12th grade who will not graduate even if they pass all of this year's classes. I mean, can anyone give me a reason that they should drop out to even consider the GED? Why shouldn't they have a safety net while they're in school? Would we rather they get an alternative diploma, or none at all?
A reason besides making the numbers look good, I mean. I consider this preoccupation with documentation to the federal and state government, under threat of losing funding, accreditation or jobs, to be equivalent to "cooking the books." But that's a conversation for another day. Back to my kid.
We had one month before the preferred application deadline to set up the pre-test, get it scored, get the official letter letting him take the GED, take the GED, get the scores back, and get them to the university. We took the first available slots for everything. The next pre-test was in 4 days. He had a cold, but we didn't care. We took the spot.
When we told people, some of them started to fret. "What will you do if he doesn't pass?" "They've really tightened up the exam. It's so much harder than it used to be." "After this many years out of school, I don't know if I'd be able to pass." I threatened any Negative Nellies - you will NOT say stuff like that in front of my kid! Good gravy! When my daughter and I went to the bookstore for something, I was glad that my son was at work, so he didn't see the entire shelving unit devoted to GED prep. I didn't want him thinking that it was a big deal.
I had no worries at all. I'm pretty sure that a few people wondered if I really understood the situation.
There are 5 sections of the test. "The math was so easy that I thought at first that they were kidding. I wondered if it was trick questions," he said. He got perfect scores on two sections, science and math. His scores were almost as good in the other three sections. There were hand written notes saying, "Wow!" and "Congratulations!"
Still, the superintendent himself had to review the marks. There is apparently no other entity, or computer program, available to say, "Yup, those scores are passing," or, "Nope, those scores are failing." We waited for the official letter, so we could sign him up for the real test. When we got it, we took the first available testing spot. My son was the youngest person in his testing room, and he got the highest score in the room, hundreds of points over the necessary "passing" mark. The university marked the scores as received two days before the application deadline. Success!
"So, he's done now, right?" his older sister asked. No, I told her. It's only October. We have an entire school year of stuff planned. I have a unit on Shakespearean tragedies planned, a research paper that he needs to write, a debate season to compete in. "I can't believe that you're making him get a diploma AND a diploma!" she said. Yes, I am, I assured her. His homeschool diploma has credits equivalent to (actually, surpassing) the requirements for our county's honors diploma. As far as we're concerned, that's his "real" diploma. The other one is just to satisfy the government, and anyone who worries that his home instruction "didn't keep up" to a public school education.
So, I feel that I can gloat a little more than I could with his sisters. I taught that kid. I coached that competitor. Yeah, it's still all about him, but I get a bit more reflected glory this time. I'm enjoying it; so sue me.
When he got the first acceptance letter from an A list school, we tossed out all the other brochures and applications. Whether the other two schools accepted him or not, the mission was accomplished. He was going where he wanted to go. I was so giddy that I bought him a school hoodie the day he accepted the offer.
He refused both the GED ceremony to which the county adult education office (repeatedly) invited him, and any of the homeschool ceremonies he could have had. I signed his diploma, stuck a gold seal on it, and dropped it in the Rubbermaid tub where his memorabilia goes. He grudgingly let us take cap and gown photos. He's not big on ceremony.
Now, he's packing silverware, dishes and a crock pot for his apartment. He has a schedule, a roommate, a start date. He's a university student. Just like we did with his sisters, we'll go there for Move-In Day and parent orientation. Then, we'll drive away and leave him on his own.
I think he's ready.
Like every parent, I hope that I'm ready.
We've done this twice before, as his sisters went away to school, so we know the drill. It's not new. Still, there are differences.
The biggest difference is that he's been homeschooled since the sixth grade. "Are you more excited about Alex than you were with Lana and me?" my middle daughter asked. No, not more excited; I do feel a bit more proud of myself, though, because his education has more to do with me. All I provided for his sisters was their genes.
OK, that's not true; I'm exaggerating. We provided good genes, a home filled with books, educational trips, parents who loved learning, a place and time for homework, perspective, incentive ("If your grades slip, you'll have to quit your job. School comes first."), and an environment that helped them succeed. Still, most of the responsibility rested on them, then on the school. We could help, but you know those studies that say that kids spend an average of ten minutes a day with their families? We had those days.
When they were young, they had dance classes, gymnastics classes, drawing classes, Scouts and church activities on various week nights. Thank goodness, they were not in all those activities at once, but it still meant 2 or 3 weeknights, on average, spent somewhere besides home. When they were in high school, especially their last two years, their schedules looked like this: 6:45 a.m. - early morning religion classes; 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. - school; 2:30 - 5:00 p.m. - band practice; 6 to 10 p.m. - job; 10:30 p.m. - bedtime. Add to that band performances at games and competitions, other extracurricular activities, time spent with friends and church youth group, and on many, many days, we'd see them just long enough to say, "Get up," and, "Go to bed." If there were large educational deficiencies, we could do little to remedy them except cut back on their work hours or extracurricular activities - and everyone knows that the standard advice on getting into the college of your choice strongly advises extracurricular activities, so cutting those too drastically would make for both unhappy teens and diminished educational opportunities. (Ironic, isn't it? You can't cut back in order to focus on education, because your educational opportunities will suffer.)
(Both, by the way, were honor students, both took AP courses. Both got into their first choice college.)
We've gotten used to having my son, and our youngest daughter, with us all the time. They, too, have had classes (fencing, dance, karate), Scouts, church activities and more. We've spent an average of one day a week, and sometimes two, at homeschool co-ops, where they're in classes taught by someone besides us for up to three hours. Even with all of that, we still see them for hours every day. This last year has been a big adjustment, since my son's been working an average of 30 hours a week.
And, of course, we're legally (and otherwise) responsible for making sure he has a chance to learn everything he needs to know. I don't have to teach it to him personally, but I have to make sure that he has a chance to learn it. That's a change from when my older kids just signed up for whatever their school offered.
I never worried too much about whether he'd be able to go to college after being homeschooled. (My husband worried a bit, but that's because it's what he does. I Worry, Therefore I Am.) There are so many avenues available. Many schools accept a homeschool diploma the same way they do a public or private school diploma. Dual enrollment, or enrolling at the community college during high school (ours accepts students 16 and older), the GED, placement exams, Credit By Exam/Advanced Placement exams and more are available for schools that don't accept a homeschool diploma.
There are so many schools, and so many ways to go to school; there are few wrong ways to become educated. One of the very few ways that I consider wrong is the need to go into massive amounts of debt so that you'll have a particular school name on your diploma. Sometimes debt is unavoidable - my second daughter needed student loans - but I think it's a bad idea in general to take on loans while in your teens or 20s that you won't have paid off until your 50s.
I loved recently reading a piece of common sense advice from a father to his daughter. She was a sweet, earnest girl wanting very much to do the right thing, and she asked her father how she'd know which college God wanted her to attend. His down to Earth response? "God doesn't want you to be an idiot, so go somewhere you'll learn." Bingo. That nails it.
Plus, my son had an A list (only two schools, but I browbeat him into adding a third), a B list and a C list of schools to apply to. His fallback, "if all else fails" plan was to stay home and go to the local community college and then transfer to the local university; that's the A list plan for many kids. It's a good one. Still, I wanted my son to have the experience he wanted. He wanted to go away to school. Plus, both of his sisters went to their A list schools.
Other people, it seemed, worried about my son's choices, and chances, a lot. Many of them would express general worries about homeschooling, then temper their expressed worries by saying something like, "Oh, I'm not worried about YOU and YOUR kid, just OTHER homeschooled kids," as if that wasn't irritating. (Obviously) I'm only responsible for my kid. The world in general doesn't answer to me.
Even my son, who asked us to do this for four years before everything aligned and it worked for our family, occasionally argued with my choices.
In his 5th grade public school classes, they'd had the kids in the advanced group doing "beginning algebra." When we started sixth grade, he naturally wanted to skip any review and go full steam ahead. I think that a lot of current assembly line, run-it-past-the-kids-pass-an-exam-on-it-and-move-on instruction doesn't let the instruction sink into their long term memory. Sometimes I'll use a common term like "adverb" around kids in honors classes (or adults who passed them), and they'll be baffled and unsure of what it means. I've watched too many teens in honors programs - mine included - insist that they can't calculate how much, say, a 20% discount is on an item. My 16 year old daughter, who was in honors trigonometry at the time, insisted through tears that she couldn't do simple multiplication without a calculator. I was not going to teach with those methods.
When he couldn't tell me what simple terms like numerator, denominator or divisor meant, I told my son that we were going back to the basics until they were rock solid. He was furious, and sure that he'd be tragically behind other kids his age. (This was also his dad's biggest worry. Math is not my strong suit, and I'm upfront about this. He occasionally worried that I was not up to teaching it.) I did not want to hear about what tests he'd passed; I wanted to know what he could do. An education only works if it's functional, accessible knowledge. Plus, terms like "beginning algebra" are fairly meaningless. The first time a small child is presented with, "2 + _ = 4," that's algebra. It's solving for the unknown using a given formula.
One of the reasons we chose homeschooling was the ability to tailor it to our kids as individuals. The more "standardized" instruction becomes, the less effective it is, in my opinion.
I have four children. Two of them are relentless perfectionists, much harder on themselves than necessary (or than anyone else will ever be). Two will always take the path of least resistance, and have to be kept strictly accountable for making any progress at all. Naturally, I have to handle these kids differently.
In general, I'm pretty laid back as an instructor. When I used to teach theater classes, we'd play some sort of game, or do something that the kids loved but that they assumed was just goofing off, and then I'd tell them the skill they'd just mastered. My youngest child is all about fun, and my son's way too hard on himself, so I deliberately kept things casual.
Sometimes, my son would accuse me of being too casual. I usually just "grade" their stuff as, "OK," or, "Do it over," so there's not a lot of letter grades. For his official transcript, the one that I anticipated every college needing, I had to do letter grades (and justify them). I coach the local homeschool speech and debate team; we compete against teams from public and private schools. He happened to look over my shoulder during his junior year when I entered an A for speech and debate. He was aghast. "I didn't trophy once! I don't deserve an A!" Competitions are on average every month during the school year, and although he made finals all but twice, and came in 4th several times, he had not trophied (3rd place and up). He would have grudgingly given himself a C, "or maybe a B-."
I dragged out my official coaching manual, given to me by the national organization. It gives a grading scale based on the points kids earn at competition. He was far, far above the amount of points required for an A. He was deeply surprised. "I do not ever hand you an A because I'm your mommy," I told him.
It is worth noting that during his senior year, he brought home 5 trophies and qualified for the national tournament in two events. You can only represent your district at Nationals in one event (which he did).
When he signed up for the ACT exam, the exam preferred by his A list schools, I deliberately downplayed it. "It's no big deal. Plus, you can take it as many times as you want, and they throw out all but the highest score." We didn't get any practice books, but he did do the official ACT online practice, just because taking standardized tests is a skill unto itself, and I wanted the format to be familiar. Had he been his sister, there would have been lectures about how important it was, and how she needed to do her best, but he's a different person. I was very, very casual about it. The last thing he needed was to tie himself in knots.
His math was his lowest score, but - whoops - that was because we sent him in without a calculator. His scores were still right in the target range, and exceeded what he'd need for his B list schools. His lowest score was what his highest ranked B list school wanted as a composite score. But he wanted to take it again, and we totally understood. Armed with a calculator this time, his math score improved by 4 points, now putting him in the ACT's "college ready" range, and in the range for his A list schools. (Take that, naysayers!)
His highest score, science, was in the 30s. No big surprise to us - we know him - but a friend actually said to us, "But I thought that religious people didn't like science." Sigh.
In the fall of his senior year, we hit a small snag. One of his A list university choices required all homeschooled students to have a GED; actually, the state the school was in required it. By then he'd taken the ACT, which, in my opinion, should be enough info for any school, but hey, you jump through whatever hoops you have to.
Again, I downplayed it as no big deal. "It'll be kinda like the ACTs, only less difficult."
Here, though, it got a bit hairier. Our local laws required him, as a minor, to take a GED pre-test before he could take the GED. After the superintendent of schools himself reviewed the scores, he'd let us know if Alex had permission to take the GED. This is because they want to guarantee that minors, who are factored into state and federal numbers, don't show up as drop outs or failures. So of course, the first thing GED candidates have to do is drop out of school. I'm not kidding. If you are enrolled in a public, private, charter or online high school, you have to drop out to take the GED, or even the practice GED.
Not that it affected my homeschooled student, but let's think about that for a second. Let's say that you know you're cutting it close, and may not graduate. You want a diploma, but between work, home and your family situation, it might not happen. Instead of letting you stay in school while you take the GED as a safety net, the law requires you to drop out to even consider it as an option. Really? Does this seem like a good idea to anyone?
When I talked to people, though, many of them defended this policy. "You want kids to stay in school. You don't want them to take the GED. You want them to graduate." My state has one of the worst graduation rates in the country, and my county has one of the worst graduation rates in the state. How could it possibly get any worse? How could we want to make any viable alternative harder? Newspaper accounts like these are our "success" stories: "The Washoe County School District's 2010 graduation rate increased to 63 percent after languishing in the 56 percent range. (Reno Gazette Journal, September 14, 2010)"
That year, 2010, my state ranked 51 in graduation rates, behind every other state and the District of Columbia.
This year, again, there are thousands of kids entering 12th grade who will not graduate even if they pass all of this year's classes. I mean, can anyone give me a reason that they should drop out to even consider the GED? Why shouldn't they have a safety net while they're in school? Would we rather they get an alternative diploma, or none at all?
A reason besides making the numbers look good, I mean. I consider this preoccupation with documentation to the federal and state government, under threat of losing funding, accreditation or jobs, to be equivalent to "cooking the books." But that's a conversation for another day. Back to my kid.
We had one month before the preferred application deadline to set up the pre-test, get it scored, get the official letter letting him take the GED, take the GED, get the scores back, and get them to the university. We took the first available slots for everything. The next pre-test was in 4 days. He had a cold, but we didn't care. We took the spot.
When we told people, some of them started to fret. "What will you do if he doesn't pass?" "They've really tightened up the exam. It's so much harder than it used to be." "After this many years out of school, I don't know if I'd be able to pass." I threatened any Negative Nellies - you will NOT say stuff like that in front of my kid! Good gravy! When my daughter and I went to the bookstore for something, I was glad that my son was at work, so he didn't see the entire shelving unit devoted to GED prep. I didn't want him thinking that it was a big deal.
I had no worries at all. I'm pretty sure that a few people wondered if I really understood the situation.
There are 5 sections of the test. "The math was so easy that I thought at first that they were kidding. I wondered if it was trick questions," he said. He got perfect scores on two sections, science and math. His scores were almost as good in the other three sections. There were hand written notes saying, "Wow!" and "Congratulations!"
Still, the superintendent himself had to review the marks. There is apparently no other entity, or computer program, available to say, "Yup, those scores are passing," or, "Nope, those scores are failing." We waited for the official letter, so we could sign him up for the real test. When we got it, we took the first available testing spot. My son was the youngest person in his testing room, and he got the highest score in the room, hundreds of points over the necessary "passing" mark. The university marked the scores as received two days before the application deadline. Success!
"So, he's done now, right?" his older sister asked. No, I told her. It's only October. We have an entire school year of stuff planned. I have a unit on Shakespearean tragedies planned, a research paper that he needs to write, a debate season to compete in. "I can't believe that you're making him get a diploma AND a diploma!" she said. Yes, I am, I assured her. His homeschool diploma has credits equivalent to (actually, surpassing) the requirements for our county's honors diploma. As far as we're concerned, that's his "real" diploma. The other one is just to satisfy the government, and anyone who worries that his home instruction "didn't keep up" to a public school education.
So, I feel that I can gloat a little more than I could with his sisters. I taught that kid. I coached that competitor. Yeah, it's still all about him, but I get a bit more reflected glory this time. I'm enjoying it; so sue me.
When he got the first acceptance letter from an A list school, we tossed out all the other brochures and applications. Whether the other two schools accepted him or not, the mission was accomplished. He was going where he wanted to go. I was so giddy that I bought him a school hoodie the day he accepted the offer.
He refused both the GED ceremony to which the county adult education office (repeatedly) invited him, and any of the homeschool ceremonies he could have had. I signed his diploma, stuck a gold seal on it, and dropped it in the Rubbermaid tub where his memorabilia goes. He grudgingly let us take cap and gown photos. He's not big on ceremony.
Now, he's packing silverware, dishes and a crock pot for his apartment. He has a schedule, a roommate, a start date. He's a university student. Just like we did with his sisters, we'll go there for Move-In Day and parent orientation. Then, we'll drive away and leave him on his own.
I think he's ready.
Like every parent, I hope that I'm ready.
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