My Star Shined For A While

When I was a child, I dreamed big. I always imagined. I played more imagination-type games than anything.
I sang, I danced, I put on costumes. I was really creative when it came to finding a way to capacitate my play.

In first grade, my teacher, Mrs. Read, an older lady with white-curly hair, a little plump and very tall as I remember her (even in comparison with remembering her when I was older), appreciated that performance was a vital part of a child's development. So in her class, every Friday was "Performance Day"!

This was the best day of every week for me. I absolutely loved learning as a child, but I truly REVELED in performance. The chance to be on stage, singing or acting especially, was what I THRIVED upon. I LIVED for that.

When I think about it... I can imagine a part of this is due to the fact that my father never really validated anything I did and always seemed to want to downplay what I was able to do. I was always trying to show someone what I could do. I felt very un-special most of the time. Being on stage meant I was special. Especially when I was legitimately good at something and everyone cheered me on.

So Performance Day. I would find something to sing and I was NOT satisfied with just singing a song. I had to PUT ON A SHOW.

I remember one time I wanted to sing the song that Cinderella sings during the scene when she is scrubbing the floors in the Disney movie. So I went through my great-grandmother's clothes that she had left me for dress-up and found old-timey skirts (layers of them, mind you), an old-timey blouse, an apron and a head-scarf. I took some other supplies with me and carried a bucket to school which contained all of my things for Performance Day time. (It was the end of the day. I could barely wait.)

That day, one of the nicest people I remember from school, Nick G (I remember his full name, but not going to throw a lot of names around here like that) did a comedy act of re-enacting a scene from Roger Rabbit (I remember him jumping into the air, grabbing his butt and yelling "MY BISCUITS ARE BURNING!". Everyone laughed so much.

When it was my turn, I went into the bathroom (we had one in our class) and they let someone else go while I prepared. I put on my outfit, sat down with some makeup and made myself look dirty and soot-covered, face, arms, feet. I took my bucket and filled it half with water and soap I'd brought. I put my washing rag in it and hung it partway out. I pulled a few hairs astray so I looked positively perfect for Cinderella. (I was a blond with long hair btw).

I came out when it was my turn. I made Mrs. Read hold the door so I could exit the bathroom completely in character. And I sat down on the floor and started actually scrubbing the floor (it was hard vinyl). I sang the song. "Sing, sweet nighting gale... siiiing sweeet..." No one really appreciated it in the class... except Mrs. Read and our neighbor-teacher Mrs. Springfield who ended up standing at the corner at the edge of our class to watch Performance Day many days.

She and Mrs. Read saw there was a special talent or at least a special way of thinking in me.

The next Performance Day, I got even bolder with my costume. I wanted to sing a song from "The Little Mermaid" so I had to find a way to do up THAT costume. My mom got out a dress-up dress I had that was a tube-dress and said that would work. She pulled it up above my chest like it was made to go. I looked down and was distressed. I knew it wasn't right. My mom insisted tho. So I came up with my own plan.

On Performance Day, I did the same thing I'd done before. I went into the bathroom to prepare. I put on the tube-dress but I put it where it belonged, at my hips, hanging down over my feet. Then I took off the tights I'd purposefully worn to school that day and wrapped them around my chest. They were too tubular looking so I peeked out and asked Mrs. Read for a safety pin. She indulged me. I took the safety pin and pinned the tights in the middle so they scrunched down and then fanned them out to make them look more like shells. They were white, but this was better than my MOM's idea of how to do an Ariel costume.

I had my hair swept to the side and had hairspray in it (mom had done it before I left that day) and it'd been messed up a bit, but I decided Ariel had had a tough day. So it was okay.

I went out in this insanely inappropriate (as most people would see it) costume and sang my heart out. "A Part of Your World" was the song I sang, of course. I knew it by heart. I was REALLY good at memorizing songs word by word. My mom would get me a new Disney movie and I'd watch it going to bed that night and be singing a key song from it the next day perfectly. She always boggled at that.

Back to Performance Day. Mrs. Read's and Mrs. Springfield's faces couldn't have been more red. But they were smiling, covering their mouths with amusement. They laughed, the cheered. The encouraged me. I was such a cheeky damned kid. Thankfully they realized I needed more than just the typical education.

While the other kids made me feel embarrassed and didn't appreciate my antics, my teachers really nourished me at this age. Mrs. Read talked to my parents about testing me for the Gifted Education Program. I passed the test with flying colors. So much so that I became the first student entered into the Gifted Education Program in Alabama as young as 6.  I was given honors and met with Mrs. Suzy Blackwood who would be my IGEP teacher the coming year. She was going to be my favorite teacher for many years to come and I didn't know it yet.

I started into IGEP the next year. I was constantly looking for a way to perform. If I was offered a chance to sing or act before others, I jumped into it. I LIVED for this. This was what I was inside.

Mrs. Black, Regina I believe... She was my principle at Sumiton Elementary. She was later related by marriage through a cousin of mine and a nephew of hers I believe. She was a person I really loved at my school. I never got along well with my peers, but I adored the adults who I knew at school. Most of them anyway, and during my younger years anyway.

Mrs Black... that's right. She offered for me to sing the National Anthem during our Friday Assembly after talking with Mrs. Read and I did. I was ... amazing for a 6 year old.
That began a process of me becoming the school's favored performer for Friday Assembly. She'd give me a theme, I'd find a song, and I'd either lead the assembly in a patriotic or holiday song, or I'd just sing and perform something. I did it every week for years. I needed this. It was, in a way, the only thing I had. Because there were few outlets for my performance talent needs. My family didn't really enjoy them much, not that just singing for my mom over and over was what I wanted anyway. My dad made me feel bad about it more than good, so more often than not, I decided to sing alone to my mirror or my empty room.

The assemblies made me come alive, however. I was always a kid that managed to find ways to be doing SOMETHING special half the time anyway... I was rarely walking in line with the crowd and yet I was rarely in trouble for that. At least while I was young.

I got into other things I could manage as well. I did talent shows, contests, Beta Club later on...
One year, just starting into 2nd grade or end of 1st, I can't recall. I think end of 1st... Our school won a state-wide recycling competition called "Great Balls of Foil" contest. As a prize, we got to send a student to sing the National Anthem at the Birmingham Baron's Baseball game.

Three Jr. Highschool girls auditioned to go ... and so did I. I won. I went. I sang the National Anthem at the Baron's game in front of hundreds... thousands? of people... and the 2-second delay mic that supposedly messed up professional singers didn't even phase me.
I remember the news broadcast coverage on it. The female anchor recounted, "Oh say can she sing!".
I had a hell of a voice for a 6 year old ... and at that time, I hella looked the part of a child star-to-be. I had insanely long blond hair, pretty blue eyes and a killer smile. I could have been anything at that point...
My teachers and principle argued whether I'd be a singer, an actor, or the first female US President. lol...

By 6th grade, this started dying out. Another girl at my school had stepped forward as an also-good singer. At the time, I hated her for it. She stole my thunder. Something I needed so badly at that point emotionally. She started being asked to sing at the Assemblies instead of me. I was crushed. Especially when it would just turn up that I was ready to sing that Friday but the administrators had given her the go ahead to do so instead without even having informed me or asked me. So I'd go up to sing... and they'd tell me to sit down.
I don't know what happened there. It seems they were awfully thoughtless. There again, they likely didn't know how much I thrived on this activity... how it fueled me as a person.

Cheryl C. was her name. The girl who stole my thunder. I secretly hated her for it SO much for years. I was smiling and kind to her on the outside. But inside, I was so mad at her... she'd taken this from me.

In high school, I got over it and she became at least a friendly acquaintance. Later, even a friend, sort of.
I had few friends I would really, truly call friends in retrospect, tho.

I'm done for today. This made me cry a bit...
I remember the emptiness... and I remember how fulfilled performance made me.

This would lead in later years to my absolute OBSESSION with roleplaying games.
Maybe I'll talk about that tomorrow.