Is Anybody Waving Back at Me?

Until this school year, getting out of bed has always been a struggle (I mean, it's still a struggle actually removing the warm covers from my sleepy body, but the metaphorical struggle of not having ample purpose to get out of bed in the morning is solved!).

I've never felt this kind of support, encouragement, community, excitement, and love at work. 

A week into the school year, the ladies on staff threw me a surprise bridal shower. Full on balloons, and temporary tattoos, and cupcakes, and a three-trips-to-the-car-and-back pile of presents to give me. And they barely knew me. 

Me & my bestie Steve.

On top of that, I have an amazing, competent administration that genuinely cares about the best education possible for these kids, and also the best PD and resources for the teachers (like sitting in on rehearsals run by Steven Schwartz).

Plus I get to immerse myself in musical theater. Like, THAT IS MY JOB. I teach about the history and the impact of the history. I teach directing, and I get to direct. We explore, we workshop, we choreograph, we build as classes. I teach a group of 160 self-selected demographic of talented students, excited about the subject, and willing to try and grow (when does that happen in high school??) 

I feel like I went from last year's episode of living in The Twilight Zone, to running the whole darn television network. I feel so lucky and so grateful. Dream job. 

...

Today, one of my best singers, we'll call her Amy, came to me and asked if she could chat.

"Mrs. Corkin, I'm sorry to waste your time..."

"You're not wasting my time! What's on your mind?"

"My mom thinks whatever I do is great, so I can't ask her," she said chuckling, but her eyes brimming with tears, "I... kind of panicked... cause I just... don't think I'm good enough, and I... need to know if I should be.. you know... doing something else? Am I wasting my time?"

At her audition, she sang a song called "Waving Through a Window" from the musical Dear Evan Hansen. A teenager seeking for belonging, belts the phrase, "Is anybody waving back at me?" An emotion paralleled in her watery eyes right then.

It was this funny moment--realizing the impact I could have in this job. What I said might very well be remembered by that girl for the rest of her life.

Because I remember that exact fear. I was Amy.

I had that gripping panic at 15-years-old, then again at 16, then about twice a year for the next decade (still do, sometimes. who doesn't?).

I remember that desperation for an authority to tell me I had a talent worth pursuing.

I walked into my college voice teacher's office and asked her if I should bother continuing. Internally begging her to tell me I wasn't good enough so I could move on, live in the world that wasn't make-believe. Or to tell me I had the perfect potential and the world would be at a loss without me on the stage.

But she didn't tell me either. She basically said, "I don't really know."

When I realized I wasn't going to be on Broadway (at 15), I constantly thought I should've been spending my time doing other things. Should I have learned to be a computer coder instead? Maybe. Should I have become fluent in a second language? Mastered the Piano? Understood/cared about football? Maybe.*

But I can't think all that time doing theater was a waste. I honestly can't think any of that time was a waste. The musical theater world is a place where we collaborate, we create, we connect. I wouldn't take back any of those experiences.

"Amy." I chose my words cautiously, looking at her face reflecting that feeling 'Is anybody waving back at me?'
"Objectively, you were one of the best auditions for the company. That's why you made it on. You have talent." I watched her face and waited for that to sink in. "But even if you don't do this professionally in the end, do you think it's a waste of your time?"

She paused, thoughtful. Then she responded quietly, but strong. Looking me straight in the eyes, "No. I don't."

I smiled, "Me neither."

I hope we're right. But I've never felt more peaceful that I was doing the right thing than I am right now.

*as a dear friend once told me, "Don't 'should' on yourself."