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Workplace Survival: 12 Rules To Protect Yourself
I finally broke down this morning and filed for unemployment. It’s been three months since I was notified that my contract would not be renewed and I had hoped I would have secured a new job by now. I have some good prospects but for now, the search goes on.
I promised in an earlier blog to talk a little bit about what led up to my release. I’ve waited until now because I didn’t want my words to be fueled by hurt or anger. I finally decided I would rather do it in a positive way and give some advice that might help others who find themselves in similar situations.
Here are my 12 suggestions that might help you survive in the workplace:
Rule #1 Don’t be too good at your job or know too much.
Rule #2 When a superior says, “Don’t Worry” — watch out.
Rule #3 Climbers don’t look down. They don’t have time for you.
Rule #4 Open Door policies can get one slammed in your face.
Rule #5 Keep records and be able to account for everything.
Rule #6 Never feel that your job is secure.
Rule #7 Change isn’t always good but don’t fight it.
Rule #8 Learn to deal with incompetence.
Rule #9 Don’t expect to be treated fairly. Even good people behave badly.
Rule #10 Right doesn’t always win.
Rule #11 Don’t expect rewards for loyalty.
Rule #12 Rules (and policies) are made to be broken (and will be).
Bonus– Rule #13 Work to live, don’t live to work.
Holding a job and being successful at it, isn’t about showing up on time and doing what is expected of you. It’s not about your education or knowledge and expertise. It’s not about your dedication or going the extra mile. Those are all givens. To be successful, you have to be constantly aware of two things: company politics and money. You have to keep your eyes open and your ears to the ground if you want stay aware of what’s really going on behind the scenes.
You, as an employee, are expendable. Simple as that. What makes you important is how you fit into the political and social climate of the workplace and what impact you have on the bottom line.
— I’ll address and explain this set of rules, my experiences and their importance in future blog posts.
Today I do want to explore my Bonus Rule– and I know you’ve heard it before:
RULE #13 WORK TO LIVE, DON’T LIVE TO WORK
It sounds simple enough and yet it is probably the hardest rule to follow. I have always struggled with this, even with jobs that weren’t necessarily in my main field of interest. It is too easy for many of us, to become so vested in our jobs that it’s hard to let it go when we punch out at the end of the day. Unless you own your own business– and even then, you have prioritize what is really important– living a good life and hopefully, sharing it with other people.
Why do we work? To pay bills, provide for families, plan for the future… to live.
Remember that the business doesn’t care about you. Unfortunately, in many cases, neither do employers. You may think they do– but if you step back and look at it clearly, you’ll realize you are there to perform a specific function. You are only one small ingredient in the recipe of success. Being responsible and taking ownership in your job is a wonderful thing. You have to learn to set limits. This is especially difficult when you are doing something you love. When work becomes the only thing, it’s probably time to move on.
I personally have lost years of friendships, family gathering and missed opportunities to experience and enjoy life– either from the necessities of the jobs I’ve held, or by my own drive. You can’t buy back that time.
You may find it necessary to put work first— but at what cost?
That is the most important question.
I Am the Captain of My Soul
I was having a conversation with my parents today that bounced from life to travel and politics to education. We don’t talk on the phone often but when we do, we’re usually all over the map as we catch up and try to solve all the world’s problems. After I hung up (Do we still say that with cell phones?), this phrase popped in my head:
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
My fourth grade teacher, Mr. Hill made my class learn the whole poem and recite it, day after day, in class until we all had it memorized and could repeat it by memory on our own. It was the first thing I can recall being asked to memorize and I spent hours at home reciting it from the tattered mimeographed page we’d been given.
Before I looked it up, besides the above phrase, all I could remember was something about a gate and the line, ‘black as the pit from pole to pole’. I’m not even sure I ever knew the title of the poem until now. I just remember Mr. Hill telling us we should live our lives by this. That, we were in charge of our lives and responsible for how we lived.
Mr. Hill was a big, strong African American man teaching elementary school in Florida in the 1970s. I’m sure that, in itself, had its challenges. His larger-than-life presence was enough to scare us at that age and he was the only male teacher I had until middle school. He was both nurturing and warm but he had the ability to scare the bejesus out of you with his intensity. He was also one of the best teachers I had in all my years of public schooling.
I remember he loved math. He taught us well — not to memorize numbers and equations but to understand how and why the equations worked. He made us all feel, no matter how much we struggled, that we could all learn. We were all individuals and our feelings and our experiences mattered. He never treated us like a bunch of bothersome kids he was stuck with for an entire year.
Mr. Hill taught us our subjects and he also related them to life. Which bring me back to the poem.
The poem is William Ernest Hensley’s Invictus. As it turns out, it is not only considered to be one of the best poems ever written by many, it is also considered highly controversial in some circles.
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.— William Ernest Hensley
Choosing that poem for fourth graders, is pretty extraordinary by today’s standards. Even though I didn’t understand the whole poem then as I am able to do today, I did understand that last phrase. It has popped into my thoughts repeatedly throughout my life.
Today, we undervalue the importance of true learning in the classroom. Students aren’t taught how to think. We undervalue great teachers that go beyond the rigid curriculum to teach students morals and responsibility. Most of them are gone now.
Today we simply medicate unruly kids that need focus and guidance. We discourage the question why — or any original thought. Individuality is frowned upon. Just do it has replaced how and why we do it. We aren’t relating studies to real life. We definitely aren’t nurturing life-long learners.
That’s not education.
I guess I was lucky.
September 11, 2013 : Twelve Years Later
I didn’t wave any flags this year or post any inspiring patriotic posts on Facebook or Twitter. In fact, for the most part, I tried to avoid social and new media coverage. It’s twelve years after the 9/11 attacks that claimed the lives of nearly 3,000 innocent people and the images of that day — the feelings of loss and mourning — are still fresh in my mind.
Instead of letting others tell me how I should feel, remember or memorialize those events, I chose to grieve privately. I chose to focus on the memories of the lives that were lost, the families that were broken apart and the heroes that will not live to see another day.
I chose to remember the husbands, wives and children whose lives have been forever altered by that single moment in time– loved ones suddenly stolen from them. Their lives will never be the same — our world will never be the same.
In the days leading up to this anniversary, I heard people suggest that maybe it was time to move on. Tell that to families. Yes, it’s true that life goes on, must go on… but to suggest that we can, or should, put that day behind us, is not only insensitive but also ignorant and disrespectful.
History repeats itself when we choose to forget.
Last January, I was privileged to accompany a group of students to New York City and that visit included a visit to the 9/11 Memorial. A handful of those students had been in my play, September’s Heroes, a docu-drama surrounding the events of 9/11 in the fall of 2011. Even though we spent two months working, researching and then performing the play– I think it was still somewhat distant to them.
Visiting the 9/11 Memorial brought that all together.
Standing on that hallowed ground, realizing that the two massive pools were the footprints of where those two towers once stood and reading the names etched around those pools made it real for them. It was emotional. It was extremely emotional for me, seeing that link come together. It brought history to life for them– a moment in time that they were almost too young to remember.
There are now school-aged children who weren’t even born when those towers fell. They need to know what happened.
They need to know why we are talking about our rights to privacy, why there’s an ongoing war on terror and why they have to remove their shoes at airports. They need to know.
We are the memory of those that were lost. We are the link to that moment in history that has led to significant changes in all our lives.
We are the storytellers.
Baltic Cruise Day Ten: Berlin, Germany
Willkommen!
From the time I first thought about wanting to travel abroad, I wanted to go to Berlin. Of course my problem has always been that because of Christopher Isherwood’s The Berlin Stories, I wanted to visit 1920-30’s Berlin. Obviously, time travel isn’t possible– but Isherwood’s vivid portrait of the decadent cabaret and underground scene have always spoken to me.
I was more than content to have this opportunity to get a glimpse of this captivating city– with, or without the dark undertones that have marked its history. Even, if it meant six more hours of bus travel to do it.
We started our day by getting on a bus at the port in Warnemunde, Germany for our three hour ride to Berlin. The trip was marked by the beautiful countryside and farmland, a brief bathroom stop and hundreds of wind turbines producing green energy. I think I managed to get in a short nap and I was all set for our tour, Echoes of the Past: Jewish Heritage.
Of the three different tours of Berlin, we thought this one would be the most interesting, considering it would also compliment our visit to Stutthof the previous day. I was also hoping to gain a clearer picture of the current German perspective of World War II.
When we reached Berlin, we stopped to meet our tour guide and he took us to the Reichstag Building first. The Reichstag is the home of the German Parliament. A monstrous building built in the late 1800s, it mysteriously caught fire in 1933 , the same year power was given over to the Nazi party there. Damaged, it was mostly used for military purposes during the war and was a central target of the Red Army during the Battle of Berlin in 1945 for symbolic reasons.
It sat for years in disrepair, was almost torn down and served a variety of uses before being fully renovated in the late 1990s when the parliament returned to its former home.
Then we proceeded to the Brandenburg Gate. One of the most known landmarks in Germany, it was constructed in the 18th century and is considered an important symbol of Germany. It stands at the west center of Berlin.
While the Berlin Wall stood, the gate was isolated and inaccessible. So when the wall fell in 1989, there was much celebration and focus surrounding the site.
The rest of our morning was spent at the Jewish Museum, Berlin. The museum is housed in two buildings and is only accessible by an underground passage from the old Berlin Museum. Designed by architect, Daniel Libeskind, the museum zig-zags though spaces, including vast voids, housing permanent and special exhibitions of German-Jewish history. There are three particularly large spaces, representing the Holocaust, that are meant to be experienced.
The first space we visited was the Garden of Exile which attempts “to completely disorient the visitor. It represents a shipwreck of history.” (Daniel Libeskind, 1999) When you first look at it up close, and as you start to walk through it, it appears to be very straight and vertical– but you soon find yourself stumbling, almost dizzy and disoriented through the maze. From the outside of the museum, as we were leaving, we could see the extreme angle and tilt of the garden in comparison to the level ground that created this feeling.
Then we went in the dark, chilling Holocaust Tower. It is a 79 foot high, bare concrete tower with only a small shaft of light entering through the roof.
There is a metal ladder on one wall, far above your head. Unreachable. It appears to go to the top– a possible escape… but it doesn’t quite reach the blackness of the ceiling.
The feeling of the space is cold, dark isolation, with no way out.
The third space was the only area of the Libeskind ‘void’ that could be entered. Shalekhet- Fallen Leaves designed by artist, Menashe Kadishman, consists of 10,000 faces punched out of steel. They are scatter on the floor of the “Memory Void” and visitors are encouraged to walk on them.
The artist intended them to not only represent the victims of the Holocaust (Shoah) but dedicated them to all victims of war and violence.
Through the main museum, you had to go to the top to enter the exhibition rooms. Then like a maze, you walked through Jewish history, with only one way out as you made your way to the bottom of the museum.
Michael and I explored most of the museum on our own, leaving the group behind so we could go at our own pace.
We had lunch in the courtyard of the museum and a short break to wander down the street before the tour continued.
Next, we visited the Holocaust Memorial named, The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. It was designed by Peter Eisenman who described its design as to produce feeling of uneasy confusion and represents an “ordered system that has lost touch with human reason”. It consists of 2,711 concrete slabs of varying heights, on a grid pattern of unlevel ground.
The English pamphlet, though, states that there is no intended symbolism.
Our tour guide said that he believed the intention behind the design was to allow visitors to envision their own meaning based on what experiences, or desired meanings they intended to gather from visiting the memorial. Below the memorial, underground, is a vault with all the known names of the Jewish Holocaust victims.
The first thing I saw when we approached, was a large cemetery. The outer stelae (slabs) are lower to the ground and as you walk through the memorial, you become engulfed, with the stelae towering over you in height. I couldn’t help but notice its similarity to the Garden of Exile at the Jewish Museum.
A big controversy arose over the memorial because it only recognized the Jewish victims, leading to memorials for other war victims being erected throughout Berlin.
On the bus, we went past Checkpoint Charlie but didn’t stop– which upset me because it was listed in the tour description. Our tour guide said he doesn’t stop there because it is “100% made in China.” The ‘checkpoint’ is not the original, it is a fabrication, standing on the original site. He considers it nothing more than an overcrowded tourist-trap. (It is surrounded by dozens of souvenir stands.)
Our next to last stop in Berlin, held two important exhibits. One of the few standing sections of the Berlin Wall and below and beside it, an indoor/outdoor exhibit, Topography of Terror.
Topographie des Terrors stands on the site where three buildings used as headquarters by the SS and Gestapo once stood. The buildings were largely destroyed in 1945 by allied bombing and the rest demolished after the war. Only part of the foundations remain. Against those foundations, stands the outdoor exhibit which focuses on the events of the year 1933 when the Nazi regime came into full power.
It’s a great exhibit and I’m really glad I got to see it. I found it really powerful and moving, especially having been to the concentration camp the day before. It was like taking a step backwards and seeing where (and how) it all began.
The Berlin Wall. As an average person, of my age, witnessing the changing world history– The the fall of communism, the tearing down of the wall, the reunification of East and West Berlin– it was an important moment in my life. The images from the original media coverage are engrained in my mind.
I remember talking to a friend, shortly there after, who was in Germany with a touring show at the time, who was lucky enough to be there as it happened. I remember how jealous I was that they were present at that important moment in history.
The wall itself, is not that threatening. It’s a very thin concrete wall. It is the symbolism of what it represented and how it affected so many lives that’s important.
Our tour guide recounted his experience when the wall came down: Friends were calling him in the middle of the night but he didn’t believe them. Finally he heard the reactions of people in the street and realized it must be true. An aunt of his that lived on the other side (I don’t remember who he said lived in East and West Berlin), showed up at his door the next morning, suitcases in hand. She brought with her, all her important belongings because she was afraid the freedom to cross the line wouldn’t last and she would be separated from them again. They had been separated for years.
So I was finally here. I was staring at this insignificantly simple structure that represented so much heartache and political control of people for so long. I was finally able to link my own personal recollections– my history– in this very spot, which was a very important moment in time for me.
I could go on a tangent here about the evils of war, political control and the horrific events that have ruined so many lives of average people (Look at what’s happening in Egypt and Syria today.) But I won’t.
I was content. No, exhilarated to be here and see this first hand.
It started to pour just as it was time to get back on the bus. We had to run through the rain to keep from getting totally drenched. I suddenly realized, though we’d seen a lot, I was a little disappointed with our visit to Berlin.
We still had one more stop before heading back to the ship– and then I looked out the window and we were suddenly driving through the shopping district. There’s no other way to put it, it was simply amazing! Blocks and blocks of tree lined streets shading nearly every designer shop you could possible think of– it was a shopping mecca. Beautiful!
It made me want to go back before we’d even left.
Our last stop in Berlin was the Schloss Charlottenburg (Palace). We didn’t have much time here except to walk around the front courtyard and statue of Friedrich Wilhelm I. It was built at the end of the 17th century and later expanded. I wish we’d had time to tour the inside and the incredible gardens on the other side of this massive palace.
I guess I’ll have to put that on my list for things to see the next time I’m in Berlin.
I’ll be back.
Baltic Cruise Day Nine (Part One): Stutthof Concentration Camp
It’s hard to know where to even start this post. I have so much I want to say– that to include it all in one post would be impossible. I’m going to try to keep this post focused on our visit to Stutthof, itself; and I’ll follow up later with a more personal post about my feelings on the subject of the Holocaust and my commitment to the importance of retelling the horrific story that can not and should not be forgotten.
I must say here that my involvement in education about the Holocaust began nearly twenty years ago with a play adaptation I wrote, that in subsequent years, has been performed for more than 25,000 students.
I had to visit here.
I had to witness it with my own eyes.
Michael was able to arrange a private tour to the Stutthof Museum through our travel agent way in advance of our trip. On past Regent cruises, it had been offered as an excursion but it was not on the itinerary for our cruise. Our travel agent, Judy Perl, whose family was also on the cruise, thought the prospect of going would be a good experience and asked if we minded if her family joined us. We readily accepted. So that morning, our party of seven, boarded a mini bus for Stutthof.
(A side note: The tour to Stutthof was later offered to our fellow cruisers as a late add-on and they ended up with five full buses!)
In 1939, the Stutthof Concentration Camp was built in the former Free City of Danzig territory, 34 km (21 miles) from Danzig (now, Gdansk). It is now known as the Stutthof Museum or Muzeum Stutthof w Sztutowie.
Stutthof was the first camp built outside of German borders and was the last camp to be liberated in May 1945.
It was originally intended to house Polish undesirables as an internment camp but in 1941 became a labor camp. In early 1942 it became a concentration camp. It is believed that approximately 110,000 Poles and Jews from all over Europe were sent here. The crematory and gas chamber were built in 1943, used primarily to execute patriotic Poles. In June 1944, they were used for Jewish executions as part of Hitler’s Final Solution.
The original, old camp had only eight barracks but was then expanded with many more barracks as part of the new camp. Surviving documents show people from at least 28 countries were imprisoned here. Outside of the Stutthof facility, there were 39 sub-camps scattered throughout Poland.
Men, women and children lost their lives here. It is estimated that more than 85,000 people were either shot, hung, gassed or died of malnutrition and disease here. In 1945, of the 50,000 remaining prisoners in the Stutthof camp system, half of them died. 5,000 died on a death march to the Baltic Sea, where they were forced into the water and machine-gunned.
When we arrived at Stutthof, we stood for a long time inside the main gate near the SS headquarters just outside the camp itself which was completely surrounded by barbed wire. Quite frankly, I tuned out most of what our tour guide was saying, lost in my own thoughts. Most of the information she was relaying to us, I had heard before– this was a deeply, personal experience for me.
The camp and the museum exhibits are quite sterile. By that, I mean there is nothing displayed in an effort to encourage emotion. Still, I couldn’t help but shudder when I walked through the Death Gate, past the barbed wire and into the camp.
My head was full of the atrocities that took place here. The horrifying conditions, the torture… they even experimented with making human soap from the victims’ remains.
Some of the barracks still stand. Guard Towers surround the camp, assuring that no prisoners could have escaped. In the center of the large fenced yard are the crumbling foundations of the workhouses. Of course, much of the camp was destroyed as the Allied troops approached, in an effort to eliminate any evidence of what occurred here.
At the far end of the camp stands the gas chamber and crematory. I couldn’t believe how incredibly small the gas chamber was… the interior, possible 12 feet by 20 feet at the most.
In the corner, a marker and replicated gallows stand where hangings took place. It stands very near an old wooden gate crossing train tracks that brought in cattle cars full of prisoners.
Outside the old camp, the location of the new camp barracks is memorialized with large white stone markers.
The majority of the camp is a wide open field, scattered with what remains from this defining moment in history.
I’ll let the rest of the pictures speak for themselves.
I will never forget this day.
Baltic Cruise Day Three: Helsinki, Finland
Helsinki is the beautiful, urban capital city of Finland. Full of history and culture it is also the largest, most populated city in Finland. We took the four hour, “Walking Tour of Helsinki”, which wasn’t nearly enough time to see all we would have liked to have seen but our guide gave us a really nice cross section of the historic and modern influences the city has to offer.
Our guides in both Turku and Helsinki stressed the importance and strong government support for education in Finland. Most education through university, is free, even to foreign students. To graduate though, in addition to the Finnish language, you must learn and show a mastery of the Swedish language as well, even though less than 5% of the population are native Swedish speakers. The reasoning is due to the close social and economic ties with Sweden. If I remember correctly, English is taught to students beginning in the third grade. I found this very impressive.
Our first stop was the Uspenski Orthodox Cathedral, the largest orthodox church in Western Europe. It was designed by Russian architect, Alexey Gornostaev but wasn’t built until after his death in 1862.
Next we visited Helsinki Cathedral, the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland, in the center of Helsinki. It’s main structure is in the design of a cross with a large main dome surrounded by four smaller domes. The domes were added later, modeled after Saint Issac’s Cathedral in Saint Petersburg, Russia.
The interior, though simpler than many of the Russian cathedrals we would visit later, is quite stunning with its high arching peaks.
I found it interesting that the choir lofts in most of the churches and cathedrals we visited are behind the congregation and mostly hidden from view.
Great care is taken in the renovation and maintenance of these iconic Finnish landmarks.
We then walked through the more modern streets in the heart of Helsinki and saw many examples of historic and modern architecture and also many, many buildings dedicated to the arts.
Taking a break from our walk, we stopped at an intriguing little local restaurant for blueberry tarts, coffee and tea. It was tucked away in a much more densely populated part of the city that you could easily miss. The decor was quite eclectic and I couldn’t resist snapping a picture of the colorfully-lit bar just inside the entrance. I loved the atmosphere in this place.
Continuing our walk, we visited the historic Finnish National Theatre and the modern, glass-designed, Helsinki Music Centre, that houses two symphony orchestras and the Sibelius Music Academy.
Then we came to a large rock hill, roughly the size of a city block, surrounded by business and apartment buildings. Inside this rock is the Temppeliaukio Church, also know as the Church of the Rock. It is a Lutheran Church built in the late 1960’s inside the excavated rock. From the outside, the land appears mostly undisturbed, similar to the exposed rock clusters you’d find in Central Park, NYC. Inside, you find a gorgeous modern church, rock walls, copper ceiling with natural light warming the center.
We got on the bus to travel a short distance to our final stop on our tour, Sibelius Park. Here stands the Sibelius Monument to honor Finland’s great composer, Jean Sibelius.
Sibelius (1865-1957), was a prolific composer, particularly in the 1920’s and is probably best known for his composition, Finlandia and his symphonies.
Apparently, there was quite a controversy over the monument and its modern art design when it was erected in the late 1960’s. I love its design and think it’s a fitting tribute to the late composer.
So there are the highlights of our whirlwind tour of Helsinki. I really loved the blend of historic and modern architecture.
The city was busy, yet didn’t give you that overwhelming, rushed feeling that many new city surroundings can give you.
I was also impressed by the elaborate transportation options in the city. Fewer cars and many bicycles, trains, buses and trams for travel.
I’d definitely visit Helsinki again.
Back on the Voyager, we ended the day with a fabulous dinner followed by this breathtaking sunset. A perfect ending to perfect day.
Next stop: Russia.
May I Return To The Beginning?
It’s three in the morning. The birds are chirping like crazy, there’s the sound of a train in the distance and across the street the meter man is ticketing cars parked on the wrong side of the street. I guess it’s just some of the benefits of sitting on my front porch and living in my little acre “forest in the city” I’ve created. Mostly tranquil, it’s a great place to relax and reflect.
I love my yard, loosely landscaped– some parts manicured, others untamed. It’s a lot of work to maintain but I love working outside and getting my hands dirty. It gives me time to reflect on life and dream of the future as my mind unwinds all the knotted and pent up thoughts stored away from the stressful activities of everyday life.
This is a year of milestones. I turned 50 in December, Michael and I celebrate our 20th anniversary in September and my career is taking an unexpected turn that has yet to be determined.
At school, the colleagues I’d worked with for fourteen years all retired. Together, we’d built a musical program that I’m extremely proud of. For the past year though, it was hard to watch this beautiful thing come to an end. I just didn’t know how final it was for me. Now, all of us are gone and the future of the program is completely unknown. It’s a bittersweet ending to a very stressful but extremely rewarding chapter in my life.
Over the years, the musicals have taken us from back alleys to exotic lands. We conjured up hope and laughter, tears and sorrow– celebrating the joys of life and the difficult challenges of the human condition. Live theatre is like nothing else.
There were some years we knew exactly what musical we wanted to do next but more times than naught, it was an organic process that just felt right. This year, we did Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat — and perhaps not so coincidentally, it was the 30th anniversary (for me), directing it as my very first show in 1983.
The final number in the show, Any Dream Will Do, asks the question, “May I return to the beginning?” I got it– a milestone and the end of a collaboration. It was a time for reflection and of celebration.
This the 7th time I’d directed the show– each one, somewhat unique. I’ve never tried to duplicate a previous production but it has always been important to me that one element remain: the magic.
That 1983 production was magical. Nearly every person involved in that show went on to have, or had a career in the visual and performing arts. The right group of people brought together at the right time, in the right place can make magic and somehow we did. We were all novices then– unseasoned thespians full of passion and youth.
That was my beginning.
In 1995, I directed a production that was inspired by the Donny Osmond version that had become wildly popular. Every kid out there knew about Joseph, had seen it or been in it. This year was totally different. None of the students knew the show or were necessarily excited about doing it, so it was my challenge to bring that excitement to life.
After so many productions, you’d have thought this one would be easy. Yet, time and time again I found myself second guessing my choices and vision and tried to keep the overall focus, while allowing elements of the show to evolve naturally as rehearsals progressed. It was a true collaboration of thoughts and ideas that really made the show work for me. Being such an ensemble show, it was fun seeing the cast’s excitement build and all their hard work and determination pay off in the end.
Then it was over.
The show, a fourteen year collaboration of an amazing creative team –and as it turned out, the end of my time at Bartlett High School.
All bittersweet.
May I return to the beginning?
I’ve learned a lot over the years about the importance of reflection. Though I don’t feel like I live in the past or want to actually re-live the past, the lessons learned only move us forward. I’ve had the privilege to work with, and learn from, many wonderful people. Teachers, parents and most of all– the students, have inspired me and taught me in so many different ways.
Do I actually want to return to the beginning? No. It was a marvelous, wild ride while it lasted. I wouldn’t change a minute of it. Now it’s time to move on.
I think it’s a huge mistake to live in the past, yet there is so much to be learned from it. It’s nice to look back from time to time at where I’ve been. It often helps put today in perspective and helps guide my tomorrow.
I’m on my second pot of coffee now, the sun is coming up and sounds of distant trains and chirping birds is slowly being over taken by that of garbage trucks beeping and other people starting their day.
A new beginning.








































































