Saturday, February 4, 2012

The Hills are Alive

Whew, another Catholic's School Week down. It's a busy and bit stressful bit of work that culminated with a Family Fun Night. This "Fun" night includes a talent show. A talent show that carries the expectation of the teachers participating.
Sadly, ahem, last year I had promised Ol' Mother Hubbard that I would be the creative director of Miss Linee's princess party and had to leave the "Fun" night before the talent show started. I didn't think I'd better try that two years in a row, so, with reservation, signed my name on the line. Boy oh boy, what was I thinking? First I get this e-mail that we're going to do one of those mob style dances that are so popular in malls and train stations now and the song to which the mob would be responding. I no longer recall the name as I was unfamiliar with that tune, but just the title left me curious about the lyrics, so I quickly googled it before responding.
Well, let's just say I would not be shaking my blub at a family affair to the tune of that song. At lunch I questioned the song choice. When the leaders looked into it, they agreed that chaste teachers in a Catholic school should not even know that song, much less be twisting the night away to it. I thought, "Perhaps the whole flash mob scene would be squelched for something a little calmer." No, no, that is not what happened. New news that our performance would still require simultaneously hopping up from the crowd to gyrate to Footloose. Oh goody!
I have a love hate relationship with technology and such events are why. Back in the day, batteries didn't last long, so, since we went last, you could be safe knowing that batteries had been spent taping cutest punkin's performing their best. Now, every other person possesses the power to video tape you in their pocket.
So it went down like this, we are sitting in the crowd and the principal thanks everyone for coming and what a great show it was, etc, the parent operating the CD player, who is in on it, blasts out the song while we all scream like thirteen year olds and run to the stage and break out in, well I don't even know what you'd call what I do. Instead of breaking out, I'm trying to smile and make it look like I have a clue what I'm doing without breaking anything. And what to my wandering eye appears? Cell phones popping up all over, and yes, I know they aren't calling anyone, they are videotaping or capturing my picture.
Did you know I love to dance (Did you care) ? I frequently dance around my kitchen and am content to be in the middle of group at a reception swirling around with no one noticing. I have never had a desire to find my flashdancing self on the old FaceBook.
Those situations are just hard for me. I liked getting some exercise whilst dancing with my teacher friend girls during rehearsals, but being the oldest and the, let's see, okay, I'll just say it, fattest, doesn't make me good performance material. I surely don't want to be in anyone's picture. At the same time, I hate being the old fuddy duddy of the group. Sometimes, there just aren't any good answers.
On a different note, somewhere at school Bean heard someone say that the song they were singing was from The Sound of Music. He knows that is one of my favorites, so that was his movie of choice on Playdate Thursday. I loved watching them watching and loving it.


  1. I recently bought The Sound of Music for my seven-year-old granddaughter, who somehow knew most of the songs but had never seen the movie.

    As for your dancing, I'm a non-dancer who loves to watch others dance, and I can promise you that one's dancing ability has nothing to do with age or weight. I love to see someone who will proudly demonstrate their moves in spite of not being the youngest or thinnest person on the dance floor. So don't hide your light under a bushel!

  2. Girl, me and my light wouldn't fit under a bushel, but thank you for your kind words all the same.