A Jew in Goyland

I have to begin this post with a caveat. What I am about to recount should in no way cast aspersions on the absolutely incredible talent of the students who participated in this. I mean, who knew they could sing that way?! And the music was phenomenal. Lastly the masks were gorgeous, whimsical and one of the high points of the show.

Rather the focus of this needs to be on the clash of state and religion. And also once again, the ways in which I find, as a Jew turned atheist, that I am not in Kansas (so to speak) anymore. Long have I held the belief that there are only two kinds of people here in this small hamlet in which I reside: Black Baptists and White Baptists. And thereby begins this tale.

Yesterday we took our students to see Noyes Fludde. This is a Medieval Mystery Play by the Chester Master. I was fairly excited since I have a degree in both Medieval Studies and Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations. While in college I assistant directed The Second Shepherd's Pageant (a truly hilarious play and a Nativity play) so I don't have an issue with religion when it is placed contextually and is ancillary to the subject or performance.

But it turns out that this play has been messed with. By Benjamin Britten. In 1957 he decided to turn it into an opera for his church community. And thus begins the oddness of this field trip.

We had been told that the play was not religious. And then we took our 51 children to a church to see it. We sat in the pews for 1/2 an hour (a neat trick since I had most of the neediest children with the behavior problems). Long story short, thank you David for introducing the Koi Pond app on the iPhone, and thank you to the makers of the bubble wrap game for iPhone as well.

The show began with someone explaining that there would be opportunities to sing along with the opera. The kids were excited. And then we found out what they would be singing: A hymn which begins something along the lines of Oh Jesus save us. I was aghast. Public school children in a church during school hours singing hymns? How screwed could I possibly be when the first parent call came in?! I told the kids they should choose to sing or not depending on what they were most comfortble with. My partner gaped at me in shocked awe as they gestured for the school children to sing. The principal shot me an astounded look as well. This was so not what we'd been told would be happening. What happened to "It's not meant to be religious?" And isn't lying a sin?

Did I miss something? Wasn't Noah one of my people? Then why is he wearing a giant wooden cross? And why are they singing to Jesus? Actually one of my students actually turned to my teaching partner and said "Isn't Noah supposed to be Jewish?" (Not all of my kids are special ed).

I was sitting with two students who have a lot of trouble attending. And the accoustics of the church are not conducive to the volume of the music (once again, gorgeously played!) for understanding the words in the singing (which was also phenomenal, John and Evan!!). At least not for students who struggle to understand the speech and directions given to them one on one. So these guys could not understand anything that was going on.

I knew I was in trouble when the first question came: "Who that voice up there? Why he talk to that man with the cross?"

The answer is that the voice was God from above. But this is a public school group, and I am a teacher in a public school. Do I say to them, "It's God," or do I say what I ended up saying "It's the voice giving Noah directions about how to survive the flood."

And that was the sign that this was going to be a challenging day for me.

Then followed the simple question, "Is that a real axe?" Yep. "Why they have an axe?" to build the ark. "What's a ark" A fancy name for a ship. "Why the old lady don't want to go?" She's scared. Phew. Crisis averted.

But then came the second wave of trouble. The animals began to march in. The students at the high school had made these incredible paper mache masks for them to wear. They were enchanting and the students were excited by them. I fielded the easy ones: "It's a rat, a lion, an elephant–" (special ed, remember) "a flamingo" (my favorite I think because who does not love billowing pink feathers). And then it came: "Why they need the animals?" Thankfully one of my students who attends church regulary answered for me, "Cause God say they need to save the animals on the ship." At least I didn't say it.

Finally Noah's wife was on the ship (and I didn't have to explain the concept of the Gossips and Temptation). And they were off. There were more questions "why they sleeping?" long trip, tiring, but these were not challenging.

And then the raven was sent out. It started easily enough.

"What's a raven?"
"It's a Crow."
"How come he don't have no mask?"
"He's got feathers on his hands."
"Did he go to our school last year?"
"Yes he did."
"I know him."
"Yes, I'm sure you do."
"What that? That an angel?"

And I had to stop. Because I didn't know if it was or not. Garbed in a white choir robe with elaborate (and spectacular) white feathered wings, was a blond child with shining hair.

"It looks like an angel," I cautiously proffered.
"I think she an angel."
"She could be." And I am racking my mind for the Noah story. I don't remember an angel. In the Old Testament, angels aren't sweet and lovely and you don't want to meet them on an overcrowded ship reaking with animal shit.

And then Noah sent her out.
"She's a dove." RELIEF!
"What a dove?"
"It's a bird. It's a sign of peace"
"Like the thing on a Mercedes" D'Oh!
"Not exactly."
"Where the angel go?" D'Oh!
"She went to find dry land."
"Why they need land they got a boat?"
"Would you want to be on a boat with so many animals?"
"How the angel going to find the land?"
"The dove is going to fly out and see if there's anything to rest on."

And in she came with the olive branch in her hand.

"Why she got a stick in her hand?"
"It's an olive branch. It's a symbol of peace."
"Like an angel?" Fuck me running!!!!!!!!!
"Like the DOVE."

At that moment the childern who had played the animals and sung in the chorus, donned colored gloves, held hands and made a rainbow.

"What the rainbow for?"
Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!
"It's a sign. The rainbow is a promise."
"Like the angel?" Oh Holy Jesus!!!!!!!!
"Like the DOVE."
"Who's promising?"
And now I'm screwed. I have to this point managed to avoid God through this whole thing. Can I use entity? What about not answering? How do I do this?
"Ms. ________ Who promising? What they promise?"
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
"It's a promise not to flood the earth and destroy it any more."
"Who flood the earth? Why he do that?"
AAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"He thought the people were bad and wanted to punish them."
"Why he punish them?

And now triumph!!!!!!! You see, we're working on civics right now. I had this one in the bag!!!!

"Because when people hurt their community by breaking the rules and doing bad things, they get punished so the community can be healthy and safe. We do the same thing in our community. This is a play from long ago when they punished people differently."

Whew!!!!!!!

"I don't want to drown in no flood."
"No," I said. "Neither do I."

And thus ended my Friday Field Trip.

Oh my fucking God I found the motherfucking rat

When I came home this evening at 6:30 , having left the house at 7:00am, I noticed that there was a smell in the kitchen. It was a bad smell. A too sweet but not sweet smell. The Kid noticed it too. We checked the trash, which also smelled, but which did not smell like this.

We proceeded to sniff our way through the house. Stronger in the living room and dining room. Not as strong in my study or the bedrooms. In the entry way it was Jack LaLane strong. But on the stairs down to the laundry room it was Lou Ferrigno strong. We sniffed through Ricardo's study and the guest room. Less powerful there.

And I knew. The whole time I knew but didn't want to face it.

That was the smell of dead rodent.

And it was in the laundry room. And it could be anywhere.

By the time we made it into the laundry room it was Arnold Schwarzenegger, pre Terminator, on steroids, just in from Austria, 1970s smell. I started to gag. The Kid ran up to his room to put on his batman mask and retrieved his ninja knife. (As an aside, which is what this is, wtf goes through 9 year old boys' heads? a plastic knife and a rubber face mask?). I fended off the nausea that threatened to rob me of my $5 value sub from Subway, and we began the search.

It could have been anywhere. I tried behind the work bench, in the luggage, and behind the washer and dryer. We looked through the old crib, under the changing table and between the spare dining room chairs. We looked under the sink, through the shelves and between the brass bed that one day I really will spray paint and use in my guest room because it's so much nicer than the one I have in there. But alas, no dead rat.

And then I thought the smell would knock me right over. As I leaned over the cinderblocks beside the boiler, I smelled it. And then I saw the tail and the puddle of gore that it lay in, 3/4 of the way under the boiler.

The way rat poison is suppposed to work is that they eat it and it makes them so thirsty they leave the house to find water and then they drink water and the poison is activated and they die. But it hadn't been working. Oh the poison was being removed, but the rat was still around.

Last Monday we saw it. The kid came to me and said, "Mommy the rat is sleeping in the family room." So I went downstairs to see what the hell he was talking about. Sure enough, there was the mangy, manky sonofabitch, sleeping (or more likely beginning to die) right in front of the TV. I thought it was dead so I turned on the light. NOT DEAD!! It jumped up and scurried towards us. I screamed as it ran through my legs. The kid screamed and ran upstairs to get his wooden sword (that one made sense to me). I ran upstairs to get a broom, but to no avail. We could not find the rat.

Also the rat ate my favorite plant ever, Instrument Salad, the Christmas Cactus that my neighbor gave me and which The Kid named when he was only 3. And I loved that fucking cactus.

But now I was faced with the tail and the dilemma. How do I get it out? I had the broom but that only pushed it further under. Except the part that stuck to the floor in its own entrails.

I was going to have to touch it. I went upstairs and double gloved. The Kid got bags and I went down again. With a wrenching shuddering heaving effort, I extracted the rat from under the boiler, thrust it in a plastic bag, tied it in a knot, and threw it in the trash which I then took out and threw in the outside trash. I poured bleach over the spot two times and left it to soak. I opened all the windows I could and tore up the stairs.

Having done the deed, I literally ran to my bathroom, ripped off my clothes, threw myself into the shower and scrubbed every inch of my body from head to toe as if I had OCD. There may not be enough colazepam for this experience.

And with that, Instrument Salad was revenged.