By Betsy Love
I want to be writing, really I do. I want to keep up with my blogging. I have so many things I would like to be working on, but the call of my further education has my complete and undivided attention. Am I still writing? Absolutely, but not in the way I love the best. Writing for me for the next four weeks will take on the tone of the MLA research paper and the reaction paragraph, all done for professors who believe it their duty to make sure I write.
Since I am unemployed, I am desperately making myself someone a theater department would love to have. I’ve never done things in the normal way. For instance, when I got my job teaching theater at a local charter school it was purely by accident or perhaps it was divine providence; some days I’m not sure which. In spite of my lack of education in the education field I was begged and cajoled into accepting a position as the drama teacher. I kept repeatedly telling the assistant principal that I neither had the credentials, nor the teaching background to undertake such an endeavor. Seven and a half years later I finished my teaching degree in English (of all things), not the theater major I had originally thought I would go for. I then taught English for two years and loved it. Now as I think about where I would like to teach, several opportunities have come up for me to once again teach theater. Drama positions are not easy to come by, so I felt myself lucky to have two brought to my attention. The problem is that I am lacking in twelve credit hours in order to have the credentials to teach theater. In a mad rush, I have enrolled at the local community college in the “fast track” program to complete those credits.
Which brings me back to the subject of writing. While I am still writing almost every night, it is not very enjoyable. I write reaction papers to plays, and critiques of plays, and reviews or plays. I create projects that challenge my knowledge of the elements of design that go into movies and plays. But, hey, it’s only for four weeks, right? I can do anything at this break-neck pace for that short of time. Oh, by the way, did anyone see where I hung my white jacket? You know the one with the little buckles on the sleeves.