The Missing Costume

Besides damaging fuel pumps, crushing my car in drive-through car washes, and being the luckiest person on the planet, I, as I have mentioned afore, teach Music at a K-8 school, Pacific Coast Christian Academy. I absolutely LOVE my job!!! Working with children is one of the most fulfilling things in my life. To know that I have made, am making, and will make a difference is something that cannot be measured in dollars and cents, nor can it be explained by letters on a computer screen. Suffice it to say that this job has made me realize that love has no limits, even though my heart feels sometimes like it's going to bust open because it's just doesn't seem possible for it to contain it all.

Or maybe I just have the most special students in all the world, which is possible. Just ask their parents!


One part of my job is to direct the school's two musicals. It's a big production on a small budget. There are roughly 80 kids on stage at once, close to 100 when preschool is on the stage with us. The whole school sings in the choir and there are drama and solo parts. In less than 3 months, somehow we manage to learn 6 or 7 songs and memorize parts for a 45 minute show. Three months may seem like a long time, but we only have Music class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. My kids are amazing!!!


I can go on and on about my job and about my students, but I may have already lost you, so let me go on to the story.


Like I said, it's a big production on a small budget, so when it comes to costumes, we beg, borrow, and... uh, can't steal because it's a Christian school. ;-) But we do a lot of begging and borrowing. For Christmas last year, there were 3 kids that played the role of janitors. We borrowed 3 coveralls from...well, that's confidential information.  I didn't give them to the kids until the day before the show because I didn't want them to get lost. You know how it is, child puts costume in backpack, backpack goes home, backpack gets unloaded along with the newest glitter creation of the day, and somehow it ends up under the bed with stinky socks and all the healthy food that mom or dad packed for their lunch and told them they had to eat.


So, the day before the BIG NIGHT I handed out the coveralls. The next day one of the kids brought the coveralls back so he could practice with them. (He was very eager! He was also GREAT at his part! I could start bragging, but I'll spare you...for now.)


You probably can't imagine this, but I am a total stress case the day of the program. Stage 10, I call it.    When the coveralls showed up at our last rehearsal and then got left behind, I knew that in my heightened state of freak-out I should be sure this costume gets put somewhere that it would not get lost.


So, I put it in a very...safe...place.


The BIG NIGHT approaches ever so suddenly and before I know it, I am pacing the floor of the church where we are performing our program. Well, I don't know that walking the entire length of the building back and forth is pacing...perhaps more like hiking...in nylons and heels. But I arrive an hour early to set up and well...pretty much hike the length of the building.


At 6:30pm the drama kids start arriving. I make my rounds, making sure they get mics, props, and to check over their costume to make sure everything is there. I get through all the kids, but at 6:40 I'm missing a kid. Where is he???


As I hike toward the foyer of the building, I see him.  Whoo!  Thank goodness!  I think to myself, "He better get his costume on soon!"


"Mrs. Mickel, Joe (not his real name) lost his costume."


Lost his costume?


"I remember you brought it to school..."


"Yeah!"  Joe says.  "And I left it in the chapel."


Ok.  At this point, in the height of Stage 10, I cannot remember anything past seeing the costume in the chapel.  I don't remember if I picked it up and ran it to Joe's classroom or that I put it in a "safe place."  I don't remember anything at all.  What I DO know is that if this is my fault, I am going to feel really..really...really bad!!!  This is Joe's first program with a speaking part.  Not just that, but he also does a little dance number.  Joe is a born entertainer and I have been looking forward to seeing him shine on that stage since he was in Kindergarten.  I MUST FIND THAT COSTUME!


And so, not knowing who's fault it is, I look at the clock and see that we have 20 minutes until show time.  Let's see...5 minutes home, 2 minutes of looking, 5 minutes back. Yeah, sure!  I can do this!


And so off I fly like a bat out of a Scooby-Doo episode.  I get home, tear out of my car, and begin searching the house, the garage, the trunk of my car, the inside of the infamous Expedition...  Everywhere I can think of.  When I don't see the costume, I begin to tear into my husband's wardrobe to find SOMETHING Joe can wear!  I pull out a flannel or two and head out.


On my way back to the church I think, "Hey!  I'll bet Joe took the costume back to class with him since I told him to make sure and not forget it at rehearsal today and then he must have forgotten to put it in his backpack.  Yeah!  That MUST be what happened!"


I've got 8 minutes until the show starts.  Let's see...10 minutes to the school, 30 seconds of looking, 10 minutes back...I won't be TOO late.  Ok.  Let's do this!


So, off I flew like an early bird who just woke up late and drove to the school.  I unlock the classroom door, search wildly, and to my dismay, do not find the costume.


Office!  Maybe it's in the office!


I run to the office, unlock the door, tear inside, unlock my office door, and begin searching.  Nope.  Nope.  Nope.  Under this thing?  Nope.


I give up.  I'm late for the show, I have no costume, the search is over.


On my way back to the church I'm thinking, "Oh, please don't let this put Joe in a tailspin!  Please don't let it be so unnerving for him that it ruins his whole night.  Oh, please, please, please!"


I get back, throw the flannel over Joe's back, and try to explain to him that his costume is lost, he has to wear this.  While rolling up his sleeves, I try to assure him that he is going to do an amazing job, I have total confidence in him, and his new costume looks GREAT!


On with the show!  I have the not-so-wonderful privilege of letting the audience know why we are starting 10 minutes late.  There was no sense in saying something like, "Due to technical difficulties..."  No, all that means is, "Hey!  I was running late.  The technical difficulty was my blow dryer."  I had to tell the truth.  A costume is missing and I'm not sure why.


Well, the show went fabulous.  No one in the audience knew which costume was missing because the flannel I put Joe in looked perfect, perhaps even better.  He did a fantastic job and I was so proud of how he was able to be flexible with the costume and still come out shining on stage.  I love that kid!


Two weeks later I am cleaning up my office.  I lift up a sweatshirt and...wait!  What's that?  No.  It can't be.  I looked under there!  I picked up this same sweatshirt and looked under there!


There it was.  The costume, finally out of hiding.  Oh, thank goodness because it was slightly begged for and definitely borrowed.


However, I had some explaining to do to some parents...


Here's "Joe".  He's the one in the flannel and broom.


(Thank you, "Joe's" parents, for letting me post this story.  You have a great kid, there!)

The 11 Stages of Putting on a Musical

As I have mentioned before, I teach Music at a PreK-8 school.  Best job I've ever had!!!  Besides the kids, the Christmas musical and the Spring musical are my two favorite parts of my job.

Well, O.K., I lied.  But Tuesday night around 8pm it will be true again!  You see, in 2 days we "go live."  All 90 or so kids will be on stage, smiling and looking adorable, realizing the fruit of their labor.  And while the best part of the whole thing is the final bow, the few days before the program are, well...in a word, stressful.

This is the 11th musical I have directed at Pacific Coast Christian Academy and after experiencing 9 of them, I discovered that there was a certain rhythm to this whole thing.  Just as predictable as a lively song to start the program and just as predictable as the preschooler in the front row picking his nose, so are the stages of putting on a musical.

Stage 1: Research
It all starts with the question, "What are we going to do this year?"  It follows with browsing the internet, looking for musicals that are cute enough to make the audience smile and "cool" enough for junior high kids to sing.  (Not always attainable, but you try.)  You choose a few that have good sound bites and look entertaining and then order the preview pack.  (A choral book and CD packaged together at a very reduced rate.  It's like bait only it doesn't smell bad.)

Stage 2: Discovery
You get the bait in the mail and start popping CD's in.  You're simply listening to see if this is the program. It only takes 5 minutes or less per CD to decide.  If I'M bored in the first 5 minutes, the audience certainly will be!  No use in listening to the whole thing.  NEXT!

Stage 3: Deliberation
While deciding whether a certain program makes the cut or not takes 5 minutes or less, deciding which one of those that made the cut will be THE ONE takes a bit more deliberation.  Is it TOO predictable?  It the title hopelessly cheesy?  Can Kindergarten handle the music?  Is it too cutesy for Junior High?  Will the audience love it because if not, I'll be judged accordingly.  How complicated is the drama and can the kids handle the parts that are played by grownups on the CD?  What kind of message does it send?

Stage 4: Decision
After weighing all the options, I choose the one that excites me most.  Most of the questions I asked myself above are completely unnecessary because in the end, because I'll pretty much just improvise it all, anyway.  Whatever obstacle appears, I'll figure it out.  But not yet because I must enter stage 5.

Stage 5: Glorious Excitement
I love stage 5!  Oh, the thrill of creativity!!!  I pop that CD into my car and listen to it over and over again.  As I listen to the drama, I am creating the props, visualizing the staging, dreaming up costumes, and coming up with my own interpretations.  I'm tearing up at all the sappy parts and singing cheerfully to that first lively song.  So many ideas run through my head.  It's like a drug.  A natural high.  A most happy place where life is a hall of mirrors that reflect such beautiful light in all the shades of the spectrum.  It surrounds you and lifts you and you just want to skip through a field, only you couldn't skip because you'd be floating.  There is nothing else except for newly opened lilies and hummingbirds...

and...well, until someone calls, "MOM!" from the backseat.

Stage 6: Tryouts
This is such a fun stage!  Seeing those 3-8th graders get up in front of their peers and saying their lines or singing a solo is incredible and I stand taller because of them.  You have to admire the ones who seem to have no fear, but you have to especially admire and respect the ones who are frightened out of their wits, voices quivering, hands shaking, and determined to finish because they are more afraid of not doing what they set out to do than they are of standing there in front of everyone.  Right there.  That's where I stand taller.

Stage 7: Casting
I don't care to dwell too much on this stage.  It's painful.  Only a few kids will get the part they really wanted and there are always a few parents who aren't happy with my decisions.  Yeah, it's painful.

Stage 8: Rehearsal
We sing, sing, sing and sing some more!  Well, actually we've been singing since the start of stage 5, but this is where we begin to rehearse the drama, as well.  Oh, my this is fun!  This year's musical has been especially fun.  The drama is just over-the-top hilarious and one of our kids knows how to work an audience really well.  He's a total crack up!

This stage is also a lot of fun because I get to take quiet, reserved children and turn them into little acting machines.  It's fun to watch them at the first rehearsal, arms crossed, head down, barely audible...and compare it to the last rehearsal where they are loud (or at least louder), arms are moving about freely, head is up, and they begin to walk taller as they glide down the school halls, proud of what they've accomplished and feeling bonded with the other actors.  There is nothing like the bond of fear, hard work, and universal accomplishment.

Stage 9: Freak Out
It's how many more days until THE day?  What?!?  Are you sure???  Uhhh...am I as far along as I need to be?  Should I freak out right now?  No?  Oh, well, too late.

Stage 10:
This is where I am right now.  This is the most horrible stage of putting on a musical.  Horrible is a bad word.  Horrifying might be a better one.  It is only mere days before the program and everything is suddenly overwhelming.  All the weak spots are glaringly obvious, all the things that have been procrastinated on have come due, and all the extra space left in my schedule is now completely full and overflowing.  You're still freaking out because you can't for the life of you see how everything that needs to get done will get done and doggoneit, those kids better memorize those lines!  Fred's sick and can't make rehearsal?  Which parent am I calling back today?  What else needs to be coordinated?

I was tempted to make this another step, but I think dress rehearsal needs to stay in Stage 10.  Oh, dress rehearsal...  I get the whole, "You gotta do it so you can see where all the holes are and what needs to be fixed," but we only get one rehearsal on the actual stage we do our program on and it's not your normal dress rehearsal.  It's far worse than that.  We can't do our programs our own building because we can't fit 300 people plus the kids in our own chapel, so dress rehearsal becomes a field trip to the church we are renting, thus allowing us approximately 2 hours to do it "just like we're going to do it live!"

(forced laugh)

What really makes dress rehearsal difficult is that ALL the teachers are watching, the staff of whatever church building we are renting are watching, and all the parents who drove kids on this field trip are watching.  This is their first impression and it is always a mess!  The program is what everyone judges my performance on.  Whether or not I'm viewed as a good teacher or not depends 90% on how the program goes.  Overall, it's a very small glimpse into what I do.  Teaching is a complex art.  Somehow you're supposed to take a subject that 1/3 of your class is interested in, make 99% of them like it, find a way to engage 20 kids...at the same time!...who are all incredibly different and make sure they know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are loved, good grade or not...that's a better measure of my value as a teacher.  But, reality is, all most parents see is the show.  So when they are watching the dress rehearsal and seeing all the most minute mistakes, it's a little unnerving.  I begin to say to myself, "That's it!  After this I'm done!  I'm so unqualified, I've made so many mistakes, the school will look bad because of me, and why am I doing this to myself, anyway?  I'm so tired...so very, very tired."

But Stage 11...

Oh, glorious, most wonderful Stage 11!
The show starts at 7pm sharp.  (Well, except for the one time I lost a kid's costume and ran back home and then back to my office to find it, but I'll have to tell that story later!)  By 7:10 the welcomes are complete and all the kids are assembled on the stage.  The crowd hushes, the children take a deep breath, and then the music plays.  Suddenly the kids and I are in a world of our own making.  This is what we've visualized in our heads for so long and now we are living that moment.  First scene, second scene, fourth song, fifth song...they fly by like the telephone poles on the highway.  Before we know it, the musical is done and we are standing there, taking our bow, and basking in the glow of Stage 11.

I can be no prouder than when the audience is clapping, yelling "Bravo!", standing to their feet, and giving their kids what they desire most in life...the look of acceptance and pride on their parents' faces.  No, there is no better moment when it comes to putting on a musical.

This is when I answer the question I asked myself earlier.

"Why do I do this to myself?"

Because you love it, Rachael.  You love watching these kids.  You love seeing them shine.  You love seeing them proud of themselves.  You love watching a kid who is struggling in school do something he never knew he was good at.  You love seeing the kid who was having a hard time being accepted by his peers suddenly the center of their praise.  You love watching the teacher's faces as they gain an even deeper appreciation for what his or her student is capable of.  You love the hugs.  You love hearing, "You're my favorite Music teacher" (even if I am the only one). You would be unfulfilled if you never did this again, knowing that you are missing the opportunity to make a difference.

Bring on the next musical!




(Here's last year's Christmas musical."  Feel free to click on parts 2-6 as well!)