Browse archives: 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 | 1998 | 1997 | 1996 | 1995

Published on 05/26/1999 All articles from this issue

Mom on stage

printer friendly version

By Joan Passarelli

Blue Jeans & Jelly Beans

Last month I was returning to my spot at the Cub Scout campfire. Pack 36 was still applauding my rendition of the chant "We're Going on a Bear Hunt." I sat down next to my son, flushed and excited.

My son looked at me and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Mom," he said, slumped over and scuffing his feet, "do you have to get up there and do that?"

It probably started with ballet lessons as a little girl. I took combined ballet and tap class at Miss Amelia's Dance Studio on the main street of my town. Visions of the Nutcracker's sugarplum fairy danced in my head as I did plies and stretches at the barre. The visions conveniently obscured the mirror's reflection of a chubby 7-year-old in a tight leotard and too-short haircut. I was set on performing before an audience.

I performed every chance I got when I was a kid. I loved being picked to be the narrator of the class plays, because then I had the most lines.

In high school I sang and danced in a group called the Entertainers. It gave me my first taste of performing before anyone other than adoring parents. Getting them to applaud was a new kind of rush for me. Never mind that we were performing for free for convalescent homes. I was in show biz.

In college I danced some more. I was the highlight of a student production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" as the fairy Mustardseed. I was grateful for the shining, fantastical makeup we wore, as I didn't want any of my friends to recognize me in the vivid-green bodysuit that revealed every late-night Oreo I'd eaten that quarter. I found refuge in the huge, rustling robes I wore on Sunday morning as a member of the Memorial Church Choir.

Later, I was submerged in the world of babies for several years. My only performances were exhausted renditions of "Hush, Little Baby" and "Rock-a-bye Baby" to wakeful little screamers in the middle of the night.

When I became a Cub Scout den leader, though, my innermost instincts as a ham found a reason for existence. The pack leaders wanted songs at the pack meetings, so I volunteered to lead them. I found that the more ridiculous and over-the-top I was, the more involved the boys got, if only to see what un-grown-up thing I'd do next.

We raised the roof at the Halloween meeting with "Oh the Fungus That I Grew" (tune: "My Darling Clementine"). I not only led it, I also wrote most of the lyrics as well. That was a true creative triumph.

I became a Music for Minors docent this last fall to lead music in my daughter's kindergarten class. I took 10 weeks of training and learned more about music theory and teaching than I knew existed. I don't know how good I am at teaching theory, but I do know how much fun I have in front of the kids.

Again, the sillier I am, the better. I was helping my class rehearse their dance for the spring show with the other kindergartners last week, and acting my usual self. As we concluded the number, I announced, "And the parents go wild!" and leapt about with abandon. A little girl from another class looked at me with wide eyes. "You're silly!" she stated, as if making a discovery. What could I say? "That's my job." I answered.

So, in answer to my darling son's question, I'm sorry, but I do have to get up there and do that. That's my job.

Passarelli, a mother of three, sings and performs regularly and ignores the embarrassment of her offspring.