American Pie

On the occasion of the Commission's first meeting, President Reagan noted the central importance of education in American life when he said: "Certainly there are few areas of American life as important to our society, to our people, and to our families as our schools and colleges." This report, therefore, is as much an open letter to the American people as it is a report to the Secretary of Education. We are confident that the American people, properly informed, will do what is right for their children and for the generations to come.

... yeah. About that.

More to come, One of my New Year's Resolutions is to blog better. ;)

with love

<3

American Dreamin'

It scares me that so many of my friends have shown this week by their staunch support of certain statements in the media (political and not) that in the 50's or 60's when it was my people being attacked instead of homosexuals, they surely would have been leading the riots. At least if they were being held on Facebook.

Surely people have Biblical backing for that hatred too, right? Do not be unequally yolked and all that. All I'm saying is that Mr. Perry should probably have a video about fornicators and drunkards in the military also.

Don't even get me started on the Muppets.

Oh and Christmas isn't real.

Remember to love this holiday season.

I Believe

Today I almost quit. Seriously. I was standing in my classroom, while my adviser and her boss sat in the back, raising my hand in the air and shrieking "show me five" while Ch continued to taunt and whisper to another girl in the class, Ma stood and began to catdaddy (sp? I've never been faced with spelling that before), Cl laughed uproariously at something utterly unrelated to the reading we were supposed to be completing, and Da contentedly drew on his desk with a red marker.

Week 4.

And I was standing there, while chaos ensued, wondering how this happened, what I had done wrong, what I was continuing to do wrong despite my relentless pursuit of the correct teacher behaviors, the best lesson plans, the perfect consequences... and I thought

'I'm done. I'm not giving my kids anything they couldn't get from any other teacher in the Kansas City school system. In fact, I wasn't even that great of a leader in college... really I was good at planning events and being at the right place at the right time. Those things don't fly in the classroom and I've liteally taught a lesson and a half this week, and those were super mediocre despite how much I try to make them engaging and rigorous. I'm tired of failing and tired of being frustrated and tired of being tired.'

I really don't think there was a single time in the day that everyone was sitting in his or her seat. My table points started backfiring today when one group erased all of the points I had on the board while my back was turned. and Ma took my cell phone in hopes of keeping me from calling his mom. Hey achievement gap. I knew you would manifest yourself in the form of low test scores and low self-motivation. I didn't realize you would be so apparent in me... I am as much the achievement gap as my kids are because right now I basically don't understand how to get to their side. It's awful. Today was my breaking point.

Then I went to V's house to help her aunt with some of our homework, so aunt could help V. V ran up to me and hugged me the second I walked in the door. Her aunt offered me a drink or food about 30 times. Tears swam in her eyes while she told me about V's last school with a teacher who called V a crybaby and gave everyone A's while V continued to read below 1st grade level. She looked me in the eyes and said, "my baby prays to be able to do the work at school and to make me and her teachers proud. And I just listen to her and I tell her I'm already proud." We practiced parallelograms and trapezoids and collinear points and I went on my way, with an assignment for V to practice a list of 220 sight words over the next two weeks. V hugged me good-bye and the screen door shut behind me. I walked onto the porch and looked out at a laundromat where a group of men sat out front looking at me (they probably liked my jacket), a liquor store that also sold cigarettes and possibly groceries, and a street with holes and cracks, on the wrong side of Troost. They live less the 5 minutes from my trendy hipster neighborhood, complete with bike riders, a World Market, and PBR billboards (still baffling). But it might as well be a different world.

Tomorrow I will go to school and I will teach for V. and for the other 24 scholars in my class. Because maybe I'm still incompetent and behind the other new teachers and truly just trying to make it from day to day. But I'm the best those kids are gonna get tomorrow and even without the perfect lesson plan or the right number of worksheets or the foolproof management system... I'm the teacher who cares about those kids. Even when they make me furious or devastated. I still believe. Here's to tomorrow.

With love,
Ms. Brown

Smile Like You Mean It

At 4:45 today I left my school carrying three bags, two laptops, 26 paragraphs about "the best weekend ever" and the kind of maturity that only comes from being responsible for the safety, well-being, and (most importantly) education of the 26 scholars in room 309 at Pathway Academy. It's the end of week one and I survived. And it's weird because you'd think I'd be prepared. Most of my friends in Kansas City started last week so I had already heard the stories about children being handcuffed after fights in the hallway and high schoolers reading on a 5th grade reading level. Plus, no one gets into TFA without being utterly convinced of the reality of the achievement gap.

But today I gave my first assessment and I gave a rousing speech about how we'll be taking some sort of assessment every week all year and how important it is that we can show people and ourselves what we know. We sang our classroom theme song:

We are Ms. Brown's 4th grade STARS
We're Scholarly so we'll go far
We are Thinkers, Attentive too,
And Respect we'll show to you,
We're Sincere (that means honest)
We are STARS and
WE'RE THE BEST

And everyone started their assessments. Within 15 seconds five hands were in the air.

"Ms. Brown, I don't get the first question."

"Ms. Brown, what are we supposed to do?"

"How do I answer this?"

The question said: what does the M in M.E.A.L. stand for? We've been reciting it all week long. I think 5 of my scholars got that question right.

So we've got a long way to go. I definitely have a lot to learn still about how to teach 9 year olds and how to give explicit directions and how to help 4th graders get organized. But most of all I see that, though my kids are so smart, they haven't been given so many tools that they need to be successful after 4th grade.

Some days were bad. Some moments were good. My favorite moments include Marquan walking up to me during recess so he could sing "Man In the Mirror" for me; A'Keila hugging me before she left Wednesday and saying "usually my teachers are white." Dae'Toine telling me today that I was "the meanest teacher ever" and then a few hours later DeMarion saying I was the best teacher ever. Reading my childhood favorite poem "Honey, I Love" for the class... and having them beg to hear it again the next day. In the midst of counting down for silence 15 times a day and taking away 5 minutes of recess time and sending Cheyenne back up the stairs to show me how we walk appropriately ("Cheyenne, this is not an argument. You will do what I say and I will be calling your mother so we can talk about what we can do to make sure you are following directions at school") and Latrell getting so angry he cries once a day... In the midst of all of that, I am falling in love with my 4h graders.

There was one moment, yesterday when we were working on a short math practice work sheet and everyone was on task and I was able to walk around and check for understanding, answer questions, fulfill my core teacher duties... and I could see just a glimpse of how exceptional our class could be. It was a great moment and one I'm trying to hold on to. Now the real work starts.

With Love,
Shelli

We Looked Like Giants

or
TFA Induction / Institute update.

Her name is Destiny. She sits on the second row of my classroom but when Kimbo isn't there (I somehow became cool enough to call Kimberly by her friends only nickname), she moves to the front row. She has little issue sitting next to our special students with autism during class, though she sometimes falls into the class habit of treating his as though he has an infectious disease. She wears a purple lumberjack / hipster-esque hoodie to school everyday to handle the subfreezing classrooms. She's in seventh grade. She reads at a fifth grade level. She hates math - when she feels like she can't understand math equations, she shuts off. You can see her eyes checkout of class and hear in her sigh when you ask her to solve a multiplication problem that she just doesn't get. But in reading class, I ask her to tell me a point of view and describe it. She proudly sounds out om-ni-scient, just like we practiced as a class. She says it means "all-knowing." "Is Kevin all-knowing," I ask her, referencing another student in the class. Kevin reads at a 3rd grade level. He is 12. "No!" several students call out. they're breaking one f our class rules, but I let it slide because last Thursday, no one answered any questions. This week generall at least 4 raise their hands every time I ask for a fact or a thought.

Destiny and the other scholars at Room 33. They're why I teach for America.

But that's my class at the middle level. They're compliant and on task... if I don't count Marco, who let's his hair swing over his eyes and refuses to read out loud in class. Or Nadia who needs to be reminded to read instead of coloring in the pictures ("I know you can do it Nadia, let's answer the questions together"). Or Ricky who says at least four times a day that this is all "too hard..." even though he can list off the step to find theme in his sleep. He can tell you how, but he can't execute. And so far, I haven't figured out how to help him. I've got 11 more days.


Teach for America so far has been a whirlwind. I've met people that I know will be some of my best friends for a long time. And I've met people who irritate the crap out of me (i.e. the girl who draws unicorns on everything. Really, why are you doing that?). And I've met a precious few, like maybe 2, that I'm not really sure I trust to teach America. I've had a million and a half conversations about politics, social activism, personal belief systems, and a ton of other things that fill the minds of the "type" that TFA attracts. Oh there is definitely a type. Idealistic, naive, smart, goal oriented, type-A. I've never sat in a room with so many people that I immediately felt camaraderie with. And now that we've all lived through three weeks of Institute (an exerience like no other), there's a bond that we'll never be able to explain to others. Yeah, it's partly about staying up until 2am to finish a lesson plan (or 3). But it's also about the feeling you get when a kid writes a summary to a story about weaving... that he's been reading for about 15 minutes... and writes about waving goodbye to a friend. Its an immeasurable sadness and a sense of frustration and definitely being overwhelmed that, like, this kid made it to 7th grade without so many basic reading comprehension skills. And then its a sense of urgency that, like, maybe we're not outstanding teachers yet, maybe we're not even really sure what we're doing on this rollercoaster out in LA, but we have a duty to every student we encounter to help them as much as possible in the time we have left together.

Angel wrote at the end of his assessment today: "I hope you like it Ms, I did the best I could" (with a few more spelling errors). It definitely made me cry, because I know he's being honest. I just want to help his best be at an ability level that will let him succeed next year in middle school. I'll be honest - I'm not entirely sure that's going to happen for Angel this summer. But I do know that everyday we're both learning a lot. That's a start.

So, yeah. That's just such a small small part of my story since I left Alabama. I love Kansas City (based on the week I was there) and am so excited to move back. I don't particularly like LA, though the weather is fantastic. Santa Monica is pretty awesome. I don't sleep nearly enough. Today was TFA Day which is why I suddenly have time to blog lol. And my English class of 17 is awesome. :) As for updating again, I shall try... but it might not be until August. There are many lesson plans to write and many assessments to grade. :)

With love,
Shelli

Quelqu'un m'a dit

Salut!

I'm guessing the people who read my blog already know this, but just in case: Next Sunday I start the training process as a corp member of Teach for America.

For the next two years I will be teaching high school French in Kansas City, Missouri.

I am...

excited

terrified

overwhelmed

unprepared

nervous

and so so thankful for all of the support from my friends and family.

If you were wondering about the law school thing, lol, I deferred my admission to Notre Dame and will start there in Fall 2013. Go Irish! ;)

Adult life is flying towards me and I have never felt so young and so old at the same time. In about seven weeks (seven!) I'll have a classroom of students who will probably look older than me and this incredible responsibility to teach them.

But I'm sitting on my (Andie's) couch in the Maisonette and I'm still finding it very hard to believe that I'm not going to wander around in Haley Center for a class in the fall. That I won't wear pearls to football games (well, ok, I probably still will, but you know what I mean) and that I won't learn any choreography for a Singers show. Craaaazy.

I'm thankful to have no regrets and no real longing for the past. I'm glad for my fond memories of the past four years in Auburn and the past 19 in Alabama. But I know in my heart that these next few years and whatever follows them is going to be exactly God's plan for me.


So with that, I'm going to try to blog while I'm in LA for training, but I probably won't get to much. Follow me on twitter, skype me, force me to stay in touch. :)

<3
With love

Shelli

Thnks fr th Mmrs

Thank-you


for the nights in the Harper Hall lobby watching youtube videos and "studying" for calculus and chemistry

for flag decorations and watching the OC instead of studying

for the Freshman Forum meetings when Amanda was there... and we ignored her

for progressive stories in Chem and at Steak N Shake

for the first time I saw the eagle fly

for the Little Lovers socials

for Harper Hotties

for the lemonade debacle of 2008 O-Days

for unplanned trips to Tuscaloosa

for the 3am crisis calls

for choreography parties

for Greg and Kenneth parties

for 603 parties

for night's at Stuart and Paul's

for ridiculous warm-ups and Elijah Rock for the 3rd time

for Little Shop rehearsals (and the semester of I can't, I have rehearsal)

for failed attempts to have a youtube show

for successful musical scripts (if only we'd finish those last 2 monologues)

for Greased Lightning and Chattanooga Choo Choo... both better the 300th time around

for the nights in the SGA office... even when I wasn't in SGA

for creativity nights with fiction writing, painting, and John Mayer

for photo shoots at Samford and in Opelika

for the 2am drive back from Georgia. "You know what they say... give a man a fish"

for impromptu lake trips

for Crawfish Boil 2008, it'll never be better

for lunches at Toomer's

for breakfast at Big Blue

for study dates at Toomer's Coffee

for post-show Buffalo Wild Wings

for campaigns and campaign t-shirts and concourse dances and billboard painting

for days in the office that were utterly unproductive but so fun

for karaoke with the CWE cult

for successful fundraisers

for failed fundraisers

for every service event

for every meeting (well, most of them)

for listserve emails

for not telling me in advance about Taylor Swift

for standing outside the hotel and conference center until she came out

for the West Virginia game

for mornings in the President's Box

for Beat Fiji Year, Beat ATO Year, and Beat Farmhouse Year

for lemon drops

for dancing and drink specials

for jokes about making out with 15 year olds (never gets old)

for weeks in Gulf Shores, trying to find dance clubs

for art museums in DC

for catch phrase

for band parties and toga parties

for Dr. Troy's fiction class

for Dr. Burkhart's into to the psych major class

for Dr. Mattson's lab meetings

for every game day date, every road trip, every Tuesday night at 6:00

for singing the alma mater at the end of meetings

for singing the national anthem at the end of meetings

for every time I wore a blue suit and pearls with 24 of my best friends

for every time I put on sequins and poufed my hair

for Winter Song

for alto sectionals where we got nothing done and everything done at once

for party dress jokes

for Shoney's... twice.

for awkward small shows

for formals and weddings and socials

for letting me be one of the blacks and part of the black caucus

for Sundance Sundays at the Maisonette

for Twitter and #superlonghashtags

for iron bowl victories

for rolling Toomers and loving Toomers

for Toomers for Tuscaloosa

for a National Championship

for the music

for believing in the human touch

for blessing me with the Auburn family

for the perfect college experience

War Eagle.

For Good

[disclaimer: I have never done anything this cheesy in my life and probably never will (until I have to leave Singers of course). So no making fun. haha.]

I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn and we are led to those who helped us most to grow if we let them... and we help them in return.


Well I don't know if I believe that's true - but I know I'm who I am today because I knew you.


Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun. Like a tree that meets a boulder halfway through the wood... Who can say if I've been changed for the better?

But because I knew you... I have been changed for good.


It well may be that we may never meet again in this lifetime, so let me say before we part - so much of me is made of what I learned from you... you'll be with me like a hand print on my heart.


And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend.

Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea. Like a seed dropped by a skybird in a distant wood...

Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But because I knew you...

I have been changed for good.

And just to clear the air I ask forgiveness for the things I've done you blame me for...

But then I guess we know there's blame to share. And none of it seems to matter anymore...

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?


I do believe I have been changed for the better...



Because I knew you I have been changed for good.


Thank-you for teaching me more than I ever learned in a class. Thank-you for being the most amazing people on an amazing campus. Thank-you for accepting me and loving me and challenging me to be the best person I can be every day for the past two years. And thank-you for the best years of my life. War Eagle.

In The Waiting Line

Tonight I tried planned to work on my thesis and plan my law school visits and generally get things accomplished.

But I went and bought my secret P gift and accidentally bought myself a double feature: Garden State and Say Anything. So I watched them both instead of being productive. I'm watching the end of Say Anything right now and I've learned a few things in the years that I've been watching both of these films.

* I need a boy like Lloyd. Seriously. He's probably the most perfect 80's film boy ever. I love how awkward he is about Diane and how he humor her basically the entire movie, when they're talking on the phone, when they're at the party. If more guys humored more girls by just agreeing with what they said the world would be a better place.

* Other movies are not nearly as realistic as these are. Even as I wrote that I thought about how stupid it was. Because movies are never realistic and real life is cinematic sometimes (that is, sometimes things happen that are truly unbelievable). But its the little things in these that make them believable. Like when Lloyd asks Diane if she's there because she needs him or because she needs someone. And then he says, "I don't care." Cause in the real world we rarely hold our moral standards and our ideals. Clearly in a perfect world everyone does everything for the right reasons and in the right way and we all live happily ever after. In my world sometimes I don't care why you came back... I just care that you came back.

* I wish more people were honest like Sam. My friends and I could definitely use a nice dose of honesty sometimes.

* I've basically my entire life fancied myself Diane Court. Except for the awkward relationship with my father, I've just kind of seen myself as being a little separate from the crowds. Which is fine... and possibly a little conceited.

* Zach Braff has the best taste in music ever. Seriously. I could listen to the garden state soundtrack every day.

* People should sacrifice for the ones we love more often. Sometimes love is worth a leap of faith, right? Who needs jobs in California or in Seattle when they could be in New Jersey or England with the person they love more than anyone else in the world? I think we're a generation plagued with the idea of "timing." What does that even mean? If we all sit around waiting for the right time to come along for everything - for crazy life decisions and for love and for the things that create a life... we'll end up looking back when we're old and seeing a lot of waiting and a lot of missed opportunities.

* Planes are awesome for scenes. In books also, which is a little counter-intuiative since nothing is really "happening" in a plane (unless it crashes but, seriously, no one should ever write plane crashing movies). Planes are a great place to consider your life though and to be aware of how small you are and (for me at least) how big God is.

And that's all I got.

In other news... I'm not ready for senior speeches tomorrow night. I thought maybe I would be... but I'm not.


With love,
Shelli

When the Sun Goes Down

I'm reading my guide to compositional pedagogy (which is a fancy way of saying teaching writing) and the essay I'm reading is talking about critical pedagogy and democracy. In reading it I have become painfully aware of 2 things. Well, maybe more, but 2 right this second.

1 is that I am one of very few students who are in school just because they want to learn. I find that comical because I've gotten by with straight B's and no real dedication to being an overachiever in the classroom. But the book suggests (I think correctly) that students at the university level are in school as consumers and their expected output is a job in their chosen field. I'm having an incredibly hard time making decisions about what I want to do next year in part because I never expected college to necessarily give me the skills I need for one certain job. Partly because I've always planned to go on in my education beyond a BA, but also because I just like school. So I readily accept whatever my professors purport to be imparting upon me in a class because I have no real expectation beyond gaining some kind of knowledge from the past four years.

2 is that I have readily accepted the idea that education was a means to escape without really thinking about what that really means. What do people escape from and where do they escape to? Really education is just another system, an institution that is as flawed as the government and every other man made institution. What are we promising students, especially students that are perceived as repressed or disenfranchised in some way when we tell them education is the answer? Especially when there are so many dissenting examples, examples of people who follow the path and earn degrees and still fail. people who never graduate and are wildly successful. Varying opinions about success and various exposure to success just make it very difficult to truly believe in the so-called power of education.

So maybe I'm finally having that whole freshman year of college sudden disillusionment with the world around me. Or maybe I'm thinking too much.

With love

One Less Bell to Answer

I've been writing for hours but I haven't written anything worth reading. But isn't that the life story of the English major? This sounds conceited, so take it at face value. I know I'll get an A on this paper. It's pretty good, and undoubtedly way better than most of the other papers that will be turned in tomorrow at 2:00pm. But I know the truth - it's mediocre at best. With time and a little more concern from me, it could be great. Right now, at 12:30am, if I have to write one more sentence about perfume I'll kill someone. So I'm taking a break. And writing something else. But isn't that the life story of the English major?

I haven't been much of anywhere. I fancy myself really cultured because I took art history in elementary and middle school and because I listen to NPR and because I read... but the sad truth is that I've spent most of my life tucked away into a corner of Alabama in a corner of Southern America in a corner of the world.

What I have done is driven down highway 280 about 100 times since my freshman year of college. Sometimes I talk on the phone, sometimes I listen to music. But tonight I rolled down my window and turned off my radio and I rode with my thoughts and the wind that rustled between assaulting my cheekbones with cold sharp jabs and gently brushing the front locks of my hair across my nose. I was somewhere between Dadeville and Alexander City when I saw a baby deer standing on the side of the road. I've heard that there are lots of deer in Alabama on the roads and such, which explains those deer crossing signs, but I don't think I have ever noticed one just standing on the side of the road like she was. I say she. Maybe he. But something about deer and her eyes that looked mournfully at me as my squeaking Nissan glided past and probably the American partiachal tradition of the powerful man and the innocent woman, with a dash of a childhood viewing of Bambi all make me think she was a girl. Although now that I think about it, I'm not entirely sure if Bambi was male or female. She was just standing there and by the time my heart jolted at the prospect of this deer escaping whatever made her eyes look that way by dashing in front of my car and dashing the rest of my semester... she was just a reflection in my 'objects may be larger than they appear' mirror.

The rest of my ride was uneventful, unless you count being tailgated by a Lexus SUV. I drove the speed limit. I tried not to text. I shed a few tears that I'll blame on the sting of the air as the time grew later and Mother Nature remembered that it's supposed to be February, even in Alabama. I sang a little, maybe outloud, maybe to myself, because it's all the same when the wind is covering your voice and only the occasional deer is around to listen.


Now I'm going to finish my paper. It will be done before 2am, at least the content. If not, there may be an addition to this post in an hour.

With Love

Reflection

My future career / life plans, according to Disney.

If you feel the need to ask me about my plans for next year or the next few years or the rest of my life, please reference this blog.

• I look once more just around the riverbend, beyond the shore. Where the gulls fly free, don't know what for. Why do all my dreams ascend just around the riverbend? Just around the riverbend... Should I choose the smoothest course? Steady as the beating drum? Should I marry Kokoum? Is all my dreaming at an end? Or do you still wait for me, dreamgiver... just around the riverbend?

• I want adventure in the great wide somewhere... I want it more than I can bear. And for once it might be grand to have someone understand... I want so much more than they've got planned.

• A whole new world. A hundred thousand things to see - I'm like a shooting star. I've come so far. I can't go back to where I used to be...
  

• I have often dreamed of a far off place where a great warm welcome will be waiting for me. Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face... and a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be. I am on my way, I can go the distance. I'll be there someday, if I can be strong. I know every mile will be worth my while. I will go most anywhere to feel like I belong.

• I remember Daddy told me fairytale's can't come true. You've got to make it happen, it all depends on you. So I work real hard each and every day, now things for sure are going my way. Just doing what I do, look out boys, I'm coming through! And I'm almost there. I'm almost there. There ain't nothin gonna stop me now cause I'm almost there.

• Bright young women, sick of swimming, ready to stand! And I'm ready to know what the people know; ask them some questions and get some answers. What's a fire and why does it, what's the word? Burn...? When's it my turn? Wouldn't I love... love to explore that shore up above.

Nothing like a few Disney princesses (and one prince) to allow for the melodramatic. ;-)

And I've gotten into Penn State, Vandy and Pepperdine for law school so far. I'll try to keep you posted, but I have no clue where I'm going or what I'm doing.

Oh, and I couldn't make Aristocat's fit. Sadly.

With Love,
Shelli

Best I Ever Had (Glee Cast Version)

My normal week, Glee style.

** note: this post is significantly less awesome if you don't click on the green words when they appear. Trust me. With love!**

I woke up Wednesday morning later than I intended, as I always do, and went to work. I still managed to get there before my boss and when he got there he called me into his office so we could talk about how things are going to go the rest of the semester. After about 5 minutes, I fell into a daydream about a boy I am friends with but may or may not harbor less than platonic feelings for. The daydream started splendidly, with us talking over some Toomer's Lemonade, but then he started telling me how he could Count on Me which translates into friend zone. He did have a cool guitar and hat on. At the end of the song my boss sat his coffee cup down particularly loudly, breaking the spell and sending me back to my computer.

Meanwhile, my roommate was leaving the apartment, coffee cup in hand, to go to one of her super hard classes that I could never understand if I tried. While she was waiting at the light, a boy in a rather large truck rolled down his window and made some semi-inappropriate comments to her. Roommate looked him square in the eye and said, "Shut Up and Drive." The song continued while she walked to class, including a montage where she walked down a hallway and ignored several boys who tried to dance with her until she got to one at the end of the hallway, whom she stood uncharacteristically close to and whispered into his ear at the end.

Roommate and I met in the lunchroom later, along with a few of our friends: pretty but mean blonde girl, token Hispanic boy, single black guy, tall awkward dark haired boy, and dramatic brunette. We discussed the latest issues in life, namely the fact that red haired frenemie got in a nasty bicycle accident, and is now in a full body cast, but there are no handicap ramps in the school and even if there were, there's no assistance for a girl in a full body cast. Usually we wouldn't care, but we all happen to be in The Greatest Show Choir in the World and she's one of our best back-up singers and snappers so we need her safe and sound.

We decide that the best thing to do would be to have a $5 party to raise money for red-haired frenemie, which work great because it's Wednesday, the first day of the weekend in a college town. We run around the town buying things for the party, including streamers, cookies, and beverages. While we're shopping, decorating, and preparing we sing a fun acapella version of Raise Your Glass (because we're really too school for cool). Plus we invited all of the misfits and outcasts to the party because the cool kids would be spending their $5 on covers.

I am at the party location before anyone else until single black guy comes in. He didn't know I was the only one there. He asks me how my day was and I tell him about my daydream and the disappointment in the outcome, which makes him sad because he wanted me to fall in love with him based on his charm and style. In a voiceover he sings It's Gonna Be Me in a failed attempt to show me what I'm missing out on... at the end of the song I thank him for listening and kiss him on the cheek. Slowly everyone else gets to the house where the party will be happening and then everyone else shows up, which is great because we're making money and making a statement all at once (statement - not cool kids can have fun too). Except for pretty but mean blonde who stands in the corner and sings about how Big Girls Don't Cry (you need to have seen previous days to understand this... but you can probably guess).

Meanwhile, the boy whose ear roommate was whispering into shows up, with a guitar, and sings to her, much to her confusion. But she doesn't complain and sways to the Rhythm of Love.

The party goes well and at the end of the night we count the money - $3000 smackers! Just the amount needed to hire someone to assist red-haired frenemie until she gets out of her cast! The next day in rehearsal, however, an administrator comes to us and says they cannot hire anyone because it shows favoritism towards red-haired frenemie. We're all very upset about this, so much so that we have to sing about it. Thankfully, tall awkward dark haired boy offers us some perspective when he reminds us that we get by With a Little Help From our Friends.

We go to the president's office in protest, sending dramatic dark haired girl in first while the rest of us filter in slowly. We explain to the president that we understand, but we refuse to go down without a fight. He is cold-hearted and mean, so we appeal to his emotions with 21 Guns [slight side note, really you need to listen to this one. It's incredible].

At the end of the song, the president is in tears and agrees to let us use the money. We go to class a few days later and explain to red-haired frenemie that, even though we still don't like her much, we always stand up for one of our own. Cause baby, you're a Firework!

Fin.