In anticipation of my grandbaby’s first Christmas play, I admit to being a tad nervous. Will she do okay? Will she be crushed if she gets nervous and messes up her lines? For two weeks prior, she was practicing her moves, singing the songs over and over again, at dinner, in the car. With dead seriousness. This was …
… serious. Her teacher (whom she adores) had said so. Will she get performance anxiety when she looks up and hundreds of adults are looking at her?
None of the above. None. In fact, she was over-the-top animated, followed all the rules, remembered all the rules (this can be the biggest hurdle). Hmmm, well, she followed all the rules except for when she ran from her assigned station to hug me as I was finding a seat in the audience. Did I cry before it even started? I did.
Hey, check out the boy on the right and the kid in front looking at her as if they hadn’t been told there would be singing and arm waving … just like the teacher told her to, okay? I don’t think this will be the last time she gets that LOOK.
After everything was said and done, she informed those of us milling around afterward, “Next time, I’d like the microphone.” (The microphones were reserved for the sixth-graders who sang solo.) Patience. Practice.
“Now, what were we supposed to be doing?”