With just a few days till my final student recitals of the year, it’s time to put the finishing touches on all of their pieces before they hit the stage. It’s time to practice without the mirror. It’s time to get those extra accessories and rhinestones glued into place. It’s time for every entrance to be polished, every exit to be spot on. It is not—I repeat NOT—time for the props to start spontaneously combusting…
And yet combusting they are.
Admittedly, last week’s umbrella disaster wasn’t exactly spontaneous. It happened when one of my graduating seniors realized she was spinning her umbrella in the wrong direction and tried to switch back too quickly.
The main shaft cracked and when I tried to tape it back together again, it fell apart leaving me with half an umbrella in one hand and the handle, plus two or three inches of umbrella shaft, in the other.
It would have been okay if this had been the first umbrella disaster of the season—or even the first umbrella disaster of the evening but it was far from the first, on both counts. Umbrellas, evidently, aren’t meant to withstand rehearsals. And seeing as the girls’ routine consists primarily of synchronized umbrella twirling (and super fast footwork, for which they have all come to hate me), my beautiful creations aren’t holding up very well.
When the girls first unveiled my handiwork people from other teams started asking them where they’d gotten their umbrellas and their costumes (which I also bedazzled) were nominated for a Best Costume award. (I considered quitting my job to start my own umbrella bedazzlement business but then I was forced to admit that there isn’t much call for bedazzled umbrellas outside of the competition industry…)
Last week, however, one of the six officially kicked the bucket.
Naturally, as it officially summer and the mere thought of spending time inside of classroom this times of year makes everyone a bit punchy, we held a funeral.
And this, dear readers, is why the school year needs to be OVER!