Tears of...something
“You are here, at the start of a moment, on the edge of the world. Where the river meets the sea. Here, at the edge of the Atlantic, on an island in between there and here.”
How many teachers enjoy field trips? I understand the immense joy of not being under the florescent lighting in our classrooms all day long but other than that, field trips make me itchy. What if it rains? What if I can't find the bus? What if a kid gets lost or stolen? It's a never ending list of 'what ifs' that send me spinning in to mom panic mode before I even send out the permission slips. Since I work in the Bronx, almost all my trips involve seeing a show in Times Square. Talk about a nightmare. And while the majority of my kids are NYC residents, probably more apt to be in Times Square at curtain time than I am, I still avoid field trips like I avoid 'This is Us' spoilers.
With money in the budget and the perfect show to tie in to our curriculum, I caved and decided to take my smallest (and my favorite) class to see an evening performance of Come From Away. As many of them were coming from sports/ other after school activities, they were all supposed to meet me there. I sat in our meeting spot with my phone so tightly clenched in my hand that I mistakenly took my shaking hand for phone vibrations. They started to arrive but with five minutes before curtain, we were still missing one. I felt myself profusely sweating (in January), worried she was dead. Dead is obviously the first thing I thought... not stuck in traffic. D.E.A.D. dead. May I just point out that when my friends are slightly late to a lunch date or drinks, I never worry they are dead. What does this say about me? Anyway, she eventually arrived and we headed in to the theater with three minutes to spare.
I had already seen the show and was really looking forward to watching my classes reactions as the story unfolded. It's a gorgeous show and one I knew they would really like and be affected by. I planned to watch them more than watch the show itself but when we arrived in the balcony I realized we weren't all sitting together. I split up the class and put myself in the hover mother seat; the seat that was the highest up so I could make sure to see them all at all times, you know, in case one of them was about to be abducted from this packed Broadway house.
The lights went down and I was entranced. The theatricality, the music, the way the story is told. The chills distracted me from my fears of losing the teenagers and wrapped me in a Broadway size blanket of feels. I live for those moments.
I met my small but mighty class at the top of the stairs after the show. They were loud and excitable, yelling (not speaking... yelling) about how much they enjoyed it. Then I look over at one of my girls and she is balling. She is bright red, only made redder by her blonde hair and fair skin. Her eyes are squinty and she can't seem to form words. First thought.... SHE IS DYING! Something happened.
'Ms. Frare... that was (big breath) the greatest (breath) thing I have ever (breathe) seen'. (more crying). Then she just said words because sentences were too hard. 'emotions' 'beautiful' 'good people' 'music' 'favorite' 'can't control it' ... the list goes on. At some point after catching her breath she said 'It was better than Hamilton!'.
My beautiful, emotional girl continued to cry as we walked down the stairs of the theater, as we called her an uber, as we waited in the lobby and as I put her in said uber. She could not control herself. It was a release of sorts. It was a reaction to theater like I have never seen. I have asked her multiple times what the heck happened to her, and she still cannot describe it. She only uses words 'emotion' 'no idea' ' beautiful' 'can't control' 'so much crying' ' so happy' 'moved'.
Field trip... totally worth it.
