Sales and Snake Oil

I never like it when I feel like I'm being sold something. Hell, no one does, right?

One of the big reasons I went into education is that I felt I wouldn't have to be selling anyone anything. Sold, bought, processed, etc. Didn't want any of that business, so to say.

Man, sometimes this job is nothing but selling. Always some new program that we all have to "get on board with", some hot new product that will solve all our problems. Which usually disappears after a couple of years when people realize it's just the same old shit wrapped up in a new box.

We're one of the fastest-growing districts in the nation, sometimes building 3-4 schools a year. And so of course we keep having to go to the community with our hat in our hands and ask for more money from referendums and tax increases. We're asked to knock on peoples' doors and call them at home during the dinner hour and remind them about the elections and the district's desperate need for more funding.

When I took this job the last thing I wanted to be was a salesman. You want the job of teacher to be divorced from that entirely, and most of the time it is. Students, lessons, teacher, methodology, etc. etc. Mix well and serve.

It's that other stuff, the stuff that sniffs of sales and snake oil, that's the stuff I want no part of.

This, That, and the Other Thing

I've been staring at this screen for several minutes now, trying to come up with a good blog topic. Ate lunch in my room today, to try and get out a posting before the afternoon work begins.

What the hell do I write about?

Several times now I've told myself to sit down and write up something, but nothing's coming. At least, it's not coming out the way I want it. I have the basic idea, but I can't seem to figure out how to stitch the words together so that it flows well and is readable.

I've been spending a good amount of time pondering over different careers, but sometimes it feels like I'm just throwing darts blindly at the board: "Oh, today I think I'll become a textbook editor!"

Cloudy and rainy today, but in the lowers 60s. Vancouver snow's headed our way, apparently.

Mind's elsewhere. This, That, and the Other Thing. What I do, what I want to do. Other Thing's weighing on me, wanting to break out, tired of it all being just This and That.

How many times have I written variations on that damn thought?

I just want to get to the damn fireworks factory.

Time to do something about it.

Routes, Highways, and Back Roads

It feels like I have been on every single damn road Illinois has to offer.

Last week was the road to the Quad Cities, I-88 west from Naperville to Rock Island and back again. This weekend it was another tour of roads and the small towns of northern and central Illinois.

Friday was a trip out to Leland, an hour's drive west of my home. Leland's a town of less than a thousand that is typical of the north Midwestern Scandinavian diaspora. I was attending the funeral of my Aunt Darla's mother, another Good Lutheran laid to rest. Looking at the names at the cemetery and on the church walls and it's all Larsons and Larsens and Gundersons.

Doubled back to Naperville and then down to Colfax, north of Bloomington, home of Hamish and his clan. My cousin Chris grew up in this very small town where the only neon sign is the Casey's gas station. Chris has returned to his high school to teach high school English and to direct the fall drama production, also featuring cousin Jake in his final performance before he graduates and heads off in his own direction.

Ridgeview High does their productions in one of those gymnasiums that has a stage tucked behind one of the basketball hoops, horrible for acoustics and one of those places where you do the best you can with what you have. Most of the kids are quiet, unassuming farm kids that stick together and whose drama ambitions are limited to the final performance on Saturday night.

I was damn proud of Chris and his efforts. I can relate all too well to what it's like to direct kids from the high school where you yourself graduated, on a stage that isn't really a stage. It is a good thing to return from where you were taught, to contribute, to teach, to direct. I did it myself, and while I'm glad I moved on, it was still the most rewarding experience I have had in my directing career.

Afterwards I drove north on country roads with poor lighting and very few cars passing me by, with my grandmother next to me. Talked about this and that in the middle of the night, opening up to her like I can to very few people, about the joys and burdens of being The Guy Who Stayed Close to Home, about family, and about how I missed being able to talk to Grandpa as a mature adult. It seems like at this point in my life I understand him so much better, and could have had such a great relationship with him.

Those long flat Illinois roads are a great way to clear your head and to listen to music and to do all that contemplating. You can go on and on and on in a straight line that only corrects itself for the curvature of the earth (or so Grandpa says), never hitting a stoplight or stop sign for miles and miles and miles. Those seductive flat highways, always taking you somewhere that wakes you up and slaps you in the face and reminds you that there is so much World out there.

Election Day 2006

Voted in the morning for the first time since...ever, I guess. (I usually vote after work.) Clubhouse in one of the many townhome complexes in my neighborhood.

It was a light election in my district (the fightin' 13th!) this year. Voted my choice for governor and said it was okay for the forest service to acquire more land.

Skipped over most of the second page (paper ballot!) because it was a bunch of Republicans running unopposed and really, what's the point? That was the only depressing part of my morning electoral actions. The massive amount of unopposed Republicans that seem to run everything around here.

Elsewhere they're voting on whether or not to give my school district $500 million dollars to basically double the number of schools we already have. Some guys have been trying to break the electioneering barrier outside my school, urging people to vote no, because things always turn out well when you underfund education in this country.

Down the road Denny Hastert will likely win reelection to another term as representative, although whether he retains his speakership remains to be seen.

I wear my "I Voted Today" sticker proudly, and I still get excited and proud about the fact that I can do this one small thing that becomes part of a greater thing. Tonight I'll hear stories about low voter turnout and lawsuits against Diebold and allegations of fraud and long-winded commentaries about What It All Means, but for now it still feels good to be a voting American.

What's the story out there, America? Any good election stories to share? Comment or email them to me and add to the written record.

The Quad Cities in brief:

The Mississippi River impresses no matter how many times you see it.

Some of the downtowns have seen better days. Ever been to one of the once-mighty river towns of the Midwest? Cities with wide streets and grand buildings struggling to find purpose in a new century that doesn't know what to do with them.

Augustana College has a lovely campus and a small theatre that needs its heating fixed. Supported one of the Limelight family and brought a motley crew to see a show.

Felt bloated and thick after a calzone at Pizza and Subs (hmm, I wonder what they serve there?) and felt broke and cheated after crappy mussels and overpriced scotch at the Blue Cat. (Yep, Padawan, I went there, and I'd go back tomorrow for that pumpkin beer.)

Oh yeah, and there were multicades everywhere I went.

Donkey Kong, Budweiser, and Led Zeppelin on the jukebox. A lingering cloud of cigarette smoke. Greasy food.

Felt like it was 1983.

Wind Burn

My face has felt tight and wind-burned for most of this week.

I've been running from place to place for several days now; one job ends and another one begins.

Fire Marshall says we can no longer store materials on the stage, and so last night I packed up my entire theatre program (give or take some chairs, fake trees, and a rack of costumes) and sent it off to deep storage. DO NOT OPEN UNTIL SUMMER 2007.

Scrap wood and four sets of stairs had been cluttering up the place and it was time to clean house, but when I showed up tonight for the first rehearsal of the new show and I looked at the empty stage it felt like something had been lost, like we were back to being this transitory thing, a ghost of a theatre company.

Halloween came and went in a recycled costume at work and an empty movie theatre at night. Pretty much no one knows who Speed Racer is anymore, just so you know, so my streak of completely obscure costume choices is alive and kicking.

Didn't feel like passing candy out to junior high kids who don't even make an attempt to dress up. The younger ones must head off to the nicer Naperville neighborhoods. Went to the movies and finally saw Marie Antoinette.

Maybe it's a chick flick, but I don't really care about that shit. I like what I like. Lost in Translation was one of the best films I saw in the last five years and Sofia knows what she's doing with sound and images. Isolation and expectations and New Order and watching the sun rise from Versailles. Magnificent.

Saturday I get to hit the fucking road and head to a new place. The Quad Cities, we call it. Davenport and Bettendorf, Iowa, and Rock Island and Moline, Illinois. Couple of hours west of here, four cities that ride the Mississippi River. One of the Limelighters directed a show at Augustana and we're heading west to check it out.

I could use a few hours on the road, with music and jokes and a packed bag and a hotel room waiting and new streets to walk and explore. I could use a lot of that, actually.

The skin on my face feels tight and my brow tightens as my eyes squint out towards what happens next.

Kerry that Weight

And so Senator Kerry decided to apologize for the "botched joke" after all.

Yesterday he was looking pretty good, standing his ground and sticking to his guns. It was a slam on the incompetence of the Bush administration, not a slam on the troops, he said. Okay, I believed that. The Republicans were just trying to make something out of nothing, looking for any chance to gain some ground before next Tuesday.

But dammit Mr. Senator, why did you have to apologize? Now you just made everything they said about you "true" in the court of public opinion. I believed that you wouldn't make a disparaging remark about troops fighting overseas, because you were one yourself and seemed to understand all too well what it was like to be fighting an unpopular war, wondering who would be the last man to die for a mistake.

You say you're just apologizing for telling the joke wrong, but that's not how people will see it. The political divide is so wide, and the right and left are so far apart from each other, that it has become harder and harder to see events clearly. The Right hears about an event through Rush or Fox, and the Left hears about it through Countdown or Colbert. Each has their version of the story, and the "truthiness" of this incident is already hard to discover.

You should have stood your ground and refused an inch. Now you've issued "an apology" and have cancelled public appearances and everyone is running away from you. And you're not even running for anything.

Now the Fat Fucks can point their fingers and say "See! SEE!!!! They hate our troops, just like the terrorists!" Cheney gets to say "Oh, so he was for the joke before he was against it!" And doubt about the Democrats' ability to lead has once again crept back into many an undecided voter's thoughts.

Way to fuck things up, Senator.

(There is another way to look at this incident: Kerry stood his ground, but everyone else ran away from him, freaking out about their own election chances next week. Due to the potential damage to Democratic chances if nothing was done to minimize damage, Kerry is forced to fall on his sword and take the blame, sparing others from the collateral damage of a good man once again putting his stupid foot in his stupid mouth.)

Thoughts, vox populi?