Once more into the breach, dear friends.

My first class of the semester starts in about 30 minutes and here I sit thinking about teaching.  My Dad was a college professor for more than 30 years.  When I was a kid sitting in his class room, or because he couldn't turn it off, just sitting down to dinner with him, I saw my Dad inspire people to discuss, to explore and to think critically about what it is we do in this world.  My Dad taught sociology, which makes that sort of investigation and questioning kinda the point.  But the thing about all this that makes it relevant to me now is whether or not it is even possible for me to have the same impact on my students.  The class I will began teaching in 20 minutes covers stagecraft.  Or, put less snootily, building stage scenery.  Questioning the foundations of society rarely comes up.  Like most men in the western tradition, my self worth is quite tied up in being at least as good a man as my father. Now in some ways I feel pretty damn successful, but here I pause.  Can I make them think and feel and care as I describe the vagaries of plywood and the evils of luaun?  Probably not.  But today I think I will start with a simple discussion of why we are in the theatre.  A question they can answer and, hopefully, I can tie together into a cohesive and interesting lecture on the beauty inherent in building scenery for a living.  We'll see.

This little fella was hanging out behind my garage today. I failed to take a picture of me, in super manly fashion, using a 9-iron to carry him across the road to hopefully find a new home.

I haven't actually "written" a blog in quite some time.  Maybe that explains some things.  Tuesday night a new kid joins my family for a while.  Unlike the others she will be 16 and Danish. It's weird when you don't actually know the person. At all.  That's been on my mind lately along with the imminent return to work that August brings in a violent way.  Festival and school starting all at once.  All this seems silly however as today I got a call that one of my students who I have become quite attached to, was beaten into the mayo clinic by the guys he was trying to protect a stranger from.  His fractured skull will heal, I am positive, but that doesn't make it all make sense. I'm really confused about that whole thing where, in the movies, if you do something selfless, it doesn't end like that. I know I sound like a child saying that, but I have always lived with the belief that if I were in that situation I could and would solve the problem.  I count on the fact that my strength can fix things. It makes me feel better about the world.  Well if this guy can't get out of this without getting airlifted to mayo, I'm fucked.  I am left feeling weak and unsure.  That I suppose is what everyone feels. Maybe if I go to bed now, I'll feel strong in the morning. Cross your fingers for me.  He doesn't need help.  He's too strong to give in to something as puny as head injuries. Trust me.