....I mean, besides the fact that Mom, Dad, and I do enough worrying for everyone else.
So APPARENTLY money is a taboo subject. But, as a person who was born without any sense of social conduct, I never worry about dropping the "less than _____ K"'s. And then, inevitably, things get awkward. It goes something like this:
You tell me I simply cannot live like this. I explain that I'm above the poverty level, but taxes can still upset my finances for months and a restructuring of the tax system may be in order. You say that I deserve to make more than ____K. When I agree, and suggest you write your congressman or woman and suggest more funding for the arts, you suggest I "sell out." When I explain that I like my job, you are worried about how I'm surviving. When I mention I love my Latino neighborhood and attic abode, you are concerned for my safety. When I mention that my landlord lives in the building and keeps an eye on me, you suggest I find roommates. I say I love living alone, you insist I can't live in these conditions any more. When I say I'm perfectly happy and have everything I need, you suggest grad school. Then I agree that grad school is on the books and leave out the fact I'm looking at an MFA in dance just so we can talk about something besides my apparent misery.
Yes, I need to be paid more for the work I do. Yes, arts funding needs to be more available and dancers need to stop taking jobs that don't pay when the directors are paying a tech staff for one night of work. But I LOVE my job, and I LOVE my life and you can't tell me for a second I should sacrifice all the love I have and give and get everyday just so I can move into a bigger apartment, buy a newer car, eat more expensive food, take vacations, and go out more. I don't want any of these things. All I want is a day off and a French baguette with a glass of red wine. And maybe an annual holiday- but beggars can't be choosers.
Last Saturday night I worked a bat mitzvah and crawled into bed at 1 am in my clothes. Then I was back awake and at work by 9:30 Sunday morning. I worked until 9 pm then woke up at 7 am Monday morning to haul my ass to 3 separate teaching jobs before stumbling into Aldi's for groceries at 9 pm, then coming home to a cat that just wants to be held like a baby.
And tonight I'm the happiest woman in the world. Yes, my apartment is a mess and I have an awful stomach ache because I only ate a bag of Combos all day. I have deep circles under my eyes and I'm praying the 9th virus of the winter isn't on its way into my sinuses....but I got to spend my whole day doing what I love.
Kids are phenomenal because they give back what you give to them. I teach with love. I hold hands, I give high-fives, I tell funny stories, I ask about my student's lives, and I share dance. In return I get hugs, assurances that I'm fun, hilarious stories and anecdotes, and phenomenal dancing. Ok, so it doesn't work like this all the time. But today I'm feeling pretty positive.
Today was the first day of my new Chicago Public School job. I headed down to 104th street where I managed to convince the kids I was a leprachaun because I was so damn pale. I'd been warned to be prepared for unruly CPS kids, but these were the best kids I've ever taught. Oh sure, they were kids. And for some reason their reaction to everything was to hit their bestie beside them. (Ladies- rule #2- Hands to yourself.) Sure I had to yell and ask for their attention and threaten to take away free time. But, I mean, that's the usual, and I got like 7 million hugs before I left.
The thing is, these kids were so excited to be dancing. It was such a treat for them. And it should be. Kids know that they're lucky to come to dance class: they get excited. That's why they lose their heads, and then I lose my voice. It is exciting. And I get to be a part of it. I get to tell them what a great job they're doing. I get to help them do better. I get to laugh until I cry when they do something hilarious, I get to share their success, and I get to pass on all my passion to them.
So I know it's cliche, but you don't need to worry about my finances. I am rich in joy. If you want to help me, write to your congresspeople and remind them that arts jobs are jobs, and that people need and love art. Art feeds the soul. That's why we make it. Like education, like food, like safety, art needs to be accessible to all. Whether you're at 104th St or in Lake Zurich, 2 years old or 75, you deserve to dance, and sing, and paint, and to be given the chance to experience and participate in the world as a human full of potential and vibrant feelings and beautiful imaginings. Art is all around us, in advertisements, in architecture, in design, in fashion, in the street performer at the corner. Support it- you partake in it.
And if you can't do that little bit to help me out- because of whatever bullshit excuse you've got about small government and how great the free market is- and you can't donate to a not for profit because you're only making twice what I make, at least stop and thank a teacher. Let me start- thanks to my ballet teacher Nick Pupillo who inspires me as a teacher and dancer. Thanks to Jessie Murphy and Brian Murphy who work everyday to better the lives of the students in their communities. Thanks to Susanne Arens for working so hard to ensure your kids are being challenged and inspired. Thanks to Lori and Tim who let me play 4 days a week in their studio, and thanks to all the teachers who inspire me as a teacher and as a human.
I love my job. Now, to bed so I can do it all again tomorrow.
