My darling mother had died the year before and, in that phase of grief that feels nothing at all. I had blithely suggested a school drama trip - to Greece in the summer. Like all things that should not be wished for this had come true; much to horror of the senior staff, who a week before we left, realised that we were taking the A list of 'difficult' students and the responsible adults were me and Lisa McPherson, in her second year of teaching.
Hasty negotiations took place and Rory was added to the list as the token male presence. Lisa was sent on a freezing July morning to learn how to be a lifeguard and I awoke from my grief to cold blooded fear that I would lose someone or that we would all be arrested for plane spotting or some other innocuous activity.
It seemed, as we let go of our fears with the wine and lobster, that the safest place was after all, here in departures lounge. The worst that could happen was they got on the wrong plane and, as nothing was moving, that was unlikely. "Confidentially Jo," she said, " so am I."
It must be the nature of drama queens to look for the unsettling, frightening and downright absurd tricks that life plays on us and then to take them on in full battledress in the most glaring of spotlights only to sink into a humble bow as the lights dim and all is well and the day is saved. I suppose that is what adrenaline junkies seek as well: that moment of release when instinct and sheer tenacity are all you can rely on.
I look back at that woman and find her more alien than the small baba. At 55 I am still not ready to be a grownup and I find it so strange that some of my friends have done so. I always thought that because I was a certain way so everyone else would be too -not so. It seems that some of us were blessed enough not to have to grow up and some chose to do so. What am I trying to say here? Yes, I am sure you are asking that too.
Last night I reached down into that dark place again - still there today - and posted on my Facebook wall my choice of song if it was the last one ever. Imagine, thank you for asking. Someone I used to teach, tried to teach, picked up that this was perilously close to a final farewell and sent me a panicky message. He tried to make me see the value of this tattered life and the value I had given to him. He succeeded in making me feel very ashamed - I have no right to act out my private dramas on the Facebook stage - to look for validation where I should need none. He also paid me one of the most lovely compliments I have ever had, that I had taught him about fun and laughter. It was meant to be English but I would settle for fun and laughter any day. So I lived through the night thanks to DHL but I cannot keep hoping that someone or something will magically appear and make this nightmare stop.
Perhaps that is why the 'grownups' disturb me so much - they seem to not to find this all so dreary and drab - they are contented with their lot - have worked hard to make their lives as they want. Maybe I am jealous that my fatal flaw (you see, the drama queen again, has to be epically tragic) does not allow me their comfort.
So, in my dwindling spotlight, I am outing myself - I am a drama queen - and I am proud to be one. The cardinal sin as a child was to be boring and this rag tag life of mine is never that. I cannot and will not make promises about tomorrow but today I will stay and see if the dark lifts and the light comes through. I am responsible for my actions and their consequences even if I try to avoid that fact. To have made a child see that laughter and fun were part of learning is no small thing. To take Year Ten to Greece was no small thing - and we had a lovely time.
These are not the worst things that could be written of one so, confidentially, I don't want to be a grown up and I am a drama queen.
No comments:
Post a Comment