Give Me a Hand- Part 4: The Concept

Since we last left Puppet World (God, if only that was a real place), I had met my fellow campers, fallen in love with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and began to feel at one with my dorkiness. I was reveling in felt bliss and I simply did not want it to end.

Imagine my dork head wanting to explode when I found out we were to create our own play and not do an adaptation. "Finally, the chance to let my creative juices flow and show the WORLD how creative this 11 year old can be!" Little did I know that my ideas weren't going to be taken so seriously.

Putting ten or so nerds under the age of 14 in a room is a unique experience. Everyone thinks their ideas are the shiznit and no one will compromise. I imagine this is what it's like the writer's room for "The Simpsons"....back when it was good. Everyone wanted to be heard, and no one was biting my idea about a group of gnomes who want to teach the evil sisters of a brilliant 5th grader a lesson. After what seemed like hours upon hours of deliberation, tears and Doritos eating, the story came together.

Hence, the plot of our magnum opus at puppet camp- "Little Billy and the Spaceship Adventure."

Here we go: A rogue group of ragamuffins (consisting of a boy named Billy, a horse, two fairies and a giant octopus) board a spaceship because that makes complete sense. While on their way to Mars, the spaceship encounters engine trouble and it is up to Billy to lead everyone to safety. Little did he know that the octopus has diabolical plans (like eating them). That bastard.
*It should be noted that this is the summer of "Apollo 13" was released and we were taking lots of liberties.

Clever as all get out, huh? Indeed.

Naturally, I was creating Billy and naturally Polexia was creating the octopus. If she were anyone else, I would have been annoyed that she was trying to show us all up with such a character. "Eight legs?! I can't even make TWO," one camper said. It didn't matter, because I loved her and she loved me. Except I was convinced we'd get married and her feelings were that of the "this little kid's obsessed with me but no one will fill the hole left by the death of Jerry Garcia" variety. God, she was intense. God, I loved it.

With our script put together and the recording down, it was now time to create the puppets.

With paper mache. I sucked as paper mache. Like, really sucked. Like, when I tried to make a paper mache dolphin it ended up looking like cat vomit and rabbit ears. This was not my forte. But I persevered and within days, little Billy (with his drawn-on brown hair, blue jeans and long sleeve red shirt) was born. He was awesome, and I was awesome for creating him.

And Mr. Vest was happy. And Polexia was happy. And Animal was happy. And somewhere, Anderson Cooper was happy because he was Anderson Cooper.

Yes, with several practices ahead of us and the eventual performance night looming, I was ready to make my grand introduction to the puppet performance world. Was the camp ready? Was Atlanta ready? Was I ready?

Await Part 5.

Portrait of a Teacher by a Young Man

This is what happens when you request a student to draw a picture of you:

Ouch.

Give Me a Hand- Part 3

Back to the Puppet Camp....

Now, I am sure that the people I would spend the next week with at Puppet Camp would be just like me. They'd be a tad overweight, love discussing what happend on "Doug" the past weekend, and were convinced that at some point in the very near future they'd be famous.

Not as such.

I walked into the room and was well aware that I stuck out. I was the youngest by a year or two and many of the people were from the Atlanta area to begin with. When I told one girl I was from Jacksonville, her eyebrows raised and she asked, "Why did you come all of the way up here for this?"

INDEED. I was shocked and appaled. Clearly this girl doesn't know how awesome this experience would be or she wouldn't be surprised that a kid drove seven hours to be there. For a week. With puppets. God, what a Negative Nancy.

I quickly bonded with this kid Evan...mainly because he was fat, too. He had a bowl haircut and wore tshirts with the Looney Tunes characters in punk gear. The ying to my yang. Anywho- we sat in the corner together and traded stories about what television shows we wish we were on and what we ate that day. The latter took longer to discuss.

There was also this one girl, we'll call her Polexia (just 'cus) and she was waaaaay too old to be there. I think she was 16 and clearly this was her punishment for the summer. She was constantly rolling her eyes, wore dark mascara and loved the Grateful Dead. I was convinced that I was in love with her, too. This was before I realized that thinking about Brad Pitt a lot was an indicator of my sexual preference.

This was August 1995, and Jerry Garcia passed away during the camp week. Polexia was devastated and I was there to console her. Consoling for an 11 year old is something akin to patting someone on the back and stagnantly saying, "There. There."

I think she knew I cared.

So, this motely crew of puppeteers came together that fateful morning to be told that we had one week to write, record and create our very own marionettes in a show that would be performed that Friday. Huzzah! Our guide was this guy I'll refer to as Animal...because he looked just like that particular Muppet. He was probably in his early 30s, hadn't had sex yet and was very eager to make puppets. At the time I thought he was awesome, put in retrospect I was probably subconsiously thinking, "Shit, is this my future?"

Next time....what happens when you put 10 tweens in a room and ask them to create a show.

And the schooling will continue this fall at....

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!

Boston, here I come (again)!

One more thing about today

I have this kid who has recently become obsessed with pencil shavings. Normally this would give one pause, but this kid is straight up wacko. I like the weirdos, but this kid often crosses the line and becomes creepy.

I once caught him staring at my during independent reading. When I asked him what was up, he said, "I'm just trying to picture you with a baby." I asked him why and he just went back to staring at me.

Like...his eyelids didn't blink.

The pencil shavings came up about a month ago and I was not really sure why he was obsessed with them. Whenever the sharpener would get full, he would bounce around me like a yelping dog, begging to keep the shavings. I said he could...mainly so he'd leave me alone. Week after week, he asked and I let him.

And now....I discovered why he so enjoyed the pencil shavings.

During class today, one of the students handed me what looked like a joint. My first instinct was to light up (thank you, college) but being a responsible teacher and all, I was positively agog.

"Where did you find this?!"
"In [student]'s desk."
"Say what?"
"In [student]'s desk. He takes pencil shavings and puts them inside."

And there you have it...pencil shavings have become the bastard child of ganja. I was at once horrified and surprised. I mean, that's kind of clever isn't it? The kid isn't smoking this stuff, but at least is aware of texture and appearance.

That doesn't look quite right

One of my students drew on eyebrows with a black marker. The thing is, he already had eyebrows to begin with. I think that's greedy.

Give Me a Hand: Part 2- The Arrival

Puppet camp works like this: You arrive, meet your fellow dorks, create characters and a script, make your marionettes, perform it and- in my case- eat a celebration dinner at Planet Hollywood Atlanta (don't judge, this was 1995. If it had been the Fashion Cafe then I deserved to be judged. I only ate there once.).

The Center for Puppetry Arts is located in Atlanta, Georgia. A city known for many names- ATL...Atlanta....I'm sure some others. Anywho- this is the setting for our adventure. In the weeks leading up to this camping excursion, I was tickled pink with excitement. I knew it in my heart of hearts that upon completion of this program, I would be asked to star in television series with a giant puppet (maybe a panda or a tiger or a giant piece of cheese) and we'd go on adventures and sing songs and eat ice cream. I was fat back in these days, so the ice cream was an important factor in just about anything I did.

Needless to say, some of my family members grew tired of hearing me boast about my eventual Daytime Emmy Award speech. But, what did they know? They weren't going to puppet camp.

Suckers.

Ok- so while I was going to be in paradise with felt and strings, my family was to spend the days relaxing at Stone Mountain State Park just outside of Atlanta. If you haven't been there, it's the kind of place where you can get Dippin' Dots. This means its awesome. It also has trees and mountains and shit.

The night we arrived, I simply could not sleep. I was all atwitter. I tossed and turned, just knowing that the next day I would meet people of my similar interests and mindsets. I would finally be with the weirdos.

As the family van arrived at the camp site, I nearly vomited from excitement (or too much Dippin Dots, I don't really remember). I entered the doors and the experience began.

Next time: A profile of my fellow campers and a counselor who was the spittin' image of Animal.

Woops

As I am reading a story called "Dandelion and Doodlebug:"

"So, Dandelion and Douchebag...oops...I mean....Doodlebug....oh god."

What's funny is that none of the kids reacted. Except the perverts.

Student quote #13

Student: "Mr. Vest, let's hang out this weekend."
Mr. Vest: "No."
Student: "Come on, man. Why?"
Mr. Vest: "First of all, you called me 'man.'"
Student: "Listen! We'd have a great time."
Mr. Vest: "What would we do?"
Student: "Lots of things. So many things. So, many, many things. Like, we would do old people things."
Mr. Vest: "Namely?"
Student: "You know...stuff old people do. Like eat oatmeal. We could sit around and talk about ties and stuff. And coffee. You love coffee, Mr. Vest. So, I think a lot of our conversation would be about that. We could talk about our hearts and whether or not we are having heart problems. Bird watching. Old people watch birds. Maybe rock climbing, if you are adventurous. Come on, we could be busy-buddies."
Mr. Vest: "You mean 'bosom buddies.'"
Student: (long beat) "Mr. Vest...I don't have bosoms. I'm a boy."
Mr. Vest: "It's a phrase."
Student: "I'll let it slide."
Mr. Vest: "So, bird watching and rock climbing? I don't think this old guy could handle that."
Student: "Yeah, I figured."

Give me a hand (Part 1)

I love puppets. Freakin' love 'em. I'm not even joshin' with you. Now, I'm not talking about creepy puppets, per se, like this:

(Note: Are the nipples necessary?)

No, no, no...more like this:

*Massive apologies to a reader I know of that is positively frightened by Fraggles.

Now, this hasn't won me any popularity contests. Frankly, some people find it questionable. Even weird. I say, "Away to you!"

I remember watching this sitcom a few years back where a character (I think it was Ricki Lake and the show was something like "We Didn't Have Anyone of Note to Cast and Ricki Lake Was Available") comes out of a beau's bedroom and comments, "Wow...I don't think I've ever seen that many marionettes before." The audience laughs but I was offended. Like...who doesn't have a marionette in their room? I have one. And he is a moose. And he is AWESOME.

That being said, my obsession in my youth began with "The Sound of Music" and Jim Henson and has never waned. How I longed to be a Lonely Goatherd and have talking and singing goats around me. I wasn't too jazzed about the blonde girl in braids, but you deal with what you're given. I would watch "The Jim Henson Hour" religiously and quote from all of his specials and movies. Hell, I have a Kermit tattoo on my back.

This lead my parents to a decision to send me to PUPPET CAMP in the summer of 1995. When I found out, I went apeshit. Puppet Camp? Where everyone who is awesome's dreams come true? My parents sent me off to what would amount to be of the most definitive weeks of my life. I'm not even playin' you.

Stay tuned, my fellow goatherds.