When I was little and people used to ask me that inevitable question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I used to reply, “I don’t care, just as long as I’m famous.” It’s true. That was my ultimate dream, no matter what profession; I wanted to be illustrious in it. My “five minutes of fame” happened when I was in 6th grade. If I would recall it, it would go like this:
On the first day of school, Mr. Gallant, the principal, walked into my class and began pontificating about us being the graduating class and how special that was and how special we were because we were the IGC class (Intellectually Gifted Children). There were three other classes and they were tracked from 6-2 to 6-4. If you were in the “2” class, you were up there, but not intellectually gifted; the “3” class had the “average” kids and the “4” class-well- would be referred to with a little sorry shake of the head, as the “bottom” kids. (Those days, the educational system was not about raising self-esteem for all students.)
Well, Mr. Gallant wanted to make sure that we knew that we were the top class and therefore, we should win all the awards at graduation. I listened attentively. I wanted to win an award. He proceeded to tell us about THE principal’s award- the one he presented at the graduation ceremony- the most prestigious award- THE Charlotte Schlenker Memorial Award for English. Then, he recounted that when he was standing outside at morning line-up, one of the sixth grade line monitors turned to him, while admiring the line of younger students she was in charge of, and said, “Mr. Gallant, aren’t they superb?”
“This girl, who uses such wonderful vocabulary, this girl is the kind of student who will win the Charlotte Schlenker Memorial Award for English,” said Mr. Gallant, with a quick, sure nod of his head and then he turned and left the room. I sat there as he walked out of the door. My heart sunk. I thought to myself, “I’ll never win that award. I don’t even know what superb means.”
The year went on. We learned a lot- Arithmetic; Greek history; Science, etc., etc. My favorite subject; though, was Creative Writing. I remember writing short stories, poems, limericks; I loved to write. Graduation day approached and students were chosen to win awards. I never thought I had a shot after Mr. Gallant had walked out of my class 9 months before. What I didn’t know either was that the Charlotte Schlenker Memorial Award was given to the best writer in 6th grade.
And in June, my mother got a phone call from my teacher, Miss Guinan. I won the principal’s award and I was going to be presented with it at graduation. I remember standing up on the stage, feeling a little bit famous, in my yellow A-line chiffon dress, next to Mr. Gallant, as he spouted about Charlotte Schlenker, a former teacher, and how much this award means. I stood there on stage, listening and thinking to myself, “And I still don’t know what the word superb means.”
At that point in my life, I decided to become a writer, a famous writer, of course. But then, adolescence emerged-not a pretty thing, and I sort of forgot about wanting to become a writer and even forgot to write. In High School, I remembered. “Hey,” I said to myself, “I remember! I want to be a writer.” So, I took up Journalism as my major. However, all the confidence I had from being on the stage in my yellow dress beside Mr. Gallant, totally disintegrated with Mrs. Sosnow, a stern English teacher, who always wore her hair pinned in a large brown bun at the nape of her neck. All she did was criticize my writing. I was worn down by her constant negative feedback. I let Charlotte Schlenker down. I let Mr. Gallant down. I let myself down. So, I switched majors. I was good in Art; as a matter of fact, very good. Art teachers were much more supportive than Mrs. Sosnow. I realized, also, that there were famous artists too. I put my heart and soul into Art. Art had fewer boundaries and rules and I could be wildly creative. I once sculpted a nose, which I glazed blue. It earned me a high grade.
Naturally I entered college as an Art major. This was short lived when I found out in college that Art majors are required to take Art History classes, which were taught in enormous lecture halls. We sat there, viewing endless slides, while listening to the boring Art professor drone on. It was painful. I was faced again with the inevitable question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Although, this time, I was the one asking me. My mother offered a possible solution- become a teacher. “No. Don’t want to do that. Definitely no. Don’t know any famous teachers, either.” I thought to myself. Besides, all my friends were studying Education. I knew I was different. I became a Theater major. That, I figured, would be the most sensible route to fame. I could sing, too. After all, I was the lead in the senior play in High School. Four years later, after various roles; for example, a Jewish mother in a Neil Simon play and on the other end of the spectrum, a nun, twice, in two other plays, I graduated with a degree in Theater. Of course, my mother kept asking me, “What are going to do with a degree in Theater?” “Be an actress,” I replied, confidently. “Don’t you want to meet someone, fall in love, settle down, get married and have a family?” my mother inquired. “Not really,” I responded. I did mean it at the time. Then my friend introduced me to Mark and we started dating. One night he asked me not to see other guys. I said okay, but that weekend I had a date with another guy. I was determined to not be serious about any guy. The pivotal moment was when we were walking in the snow one night. I remember how peaceful and beautiful it was. We were discussing our futures and I said to him, “I’ll be on Broadway and you’ll come to see me with your wife and kids.” He looked and me with sad eyes and just pouted, without saying anything. That’s when I knew and I thought to myself, “You’re not going to be on Broadway and you’re probably not ever going to be famous, but you are going to marry Mark.” Not only did I marry Mark, settle down and have two kids; but, eventually, after realizing you can’t do much with Theater degrees, I became a teacher. This made my mother very happy.
Life passed like it always does, quickly. All of a sudden the two adorable little girls you have are two grown women in a blink of an eye, it seems. Life is cyclical. You see yourself in your children and that’s when you see history repeating itself. Lindsay turned out to be very much like me. She could even sing. And she loved to act. After a brief period of wanting to be a veterinarian when she grew up, she changed her mind and decided early on that she was going to fulfill her dream (and mine) and succeed in acting and singing. She went to a Musical Theater conservatory at first, but then switched to a regular college and majored in Media Studies as a back-up plan. After she earned a bachelor’s degree, she concentrated on pursuing her passion- to be a performer. She gave it her best shot, much more than I ever did. She tried out for American Idol nine times and even made it pretty far. She performed in community theater. She even got her SAG (Screen Actors Guild) membership and got to work with very famous actors, mostly doing background work. I would go off to work in some school as a teacher trainer, while she would get to spend the day with Catherine Zeta Jones, Will Smith, or even Angelina Jolie. Her big break was going to come. She was sure of it. She came very close many times. She almost got a feature role with Richard Gere. She almost got one of the leads in the national tour of Hairspray. Almost. Almost. It was so close, but so far away and she was getting older, even though she still looked 16, which is pretty good for an acting career. And she was struggling, financially.
Why don’t you become a teacher? I asked one day, the day I became my mother.
She looked at me with psychic daggers.
No. I will never be a teacher. I am not YOU. I will never give up my dream! She responded adamantly.
Then came Scott. I knew. I saw it in his eyes. I saw it in her eyes. It was only a matter of time. They fell in love. That’s why they say “fell” in love, because you can’t plan these things, even when you’re Charlotte from Sex and the City. Lindsay moved into Scott’s apartment; but she was determined not to give up her dream. She continued to do background work; she even got Scott some background work. (They’re both on an episode of Law and Order.) When, they started to get very serious, she started to look for a real job, after the stock market dropped and the banks began to fail. There were no jobs, even with her “back-up plan degree”. Then, they got engaged. One day when I came home from work, she said to me, matter of factly, “I registered for Graduate school. I’m getting a degree in Special Education.” I looked at her for a second and thought to myself who is this girl and what has she done with my daughter, Lindsay? But out loud, I said “Oh, how nice.” “Well, do you think you can pull some strings and get me a job as an assistant teacher while I get my teaching degree?” she asked. “I’ll see what I can do.” I said. She is now working in a Charter school as an assistant teacher, making a steady income and doing on-line courses at night. “And don’t think I’m giving up my dream because of this. After I get this Masters degree, I’m going to register for another graduate program for Theatre Education.” She assured me, “I just need to do this now because I’m getting married and starting a family soon and this is the best thing to do.”
Yep, I’ve heard these words before…in my own head.
I never gave up my dream either. I even accept my Academy Award, occasionally, after I finish blow-drying my hair, for example. I stop for a second, hold the brush as if it were my “Oscar”. “This,” I say into the mirror, “is proof that you should never give up your dream. I want to thank my family who always gave me the inspiration to pursue that dream. I want to thank Stephen Spielberg for believing in me and my script…blah blah blah blah blah…” I imagine myself wearing a yellow dress just like when I accepted the Charlotte Schlenker Memorial Award for English and then I imagine putting the "Oscar" right next to my 6th grade award on the shelf....sigh, then reality kicks in and I'm back in the bathroom. sigh.
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