I thought I've told every school story but there's a whole series that I think that I neglected: school plays.

The earliest school play was probably in the second grade or so. We did a "Mousercise" thing. Mousercise was an exercise program on the Disney Channel.

Man, now I'm having second thoughts on whether this was a play or I just remember watching the show. I definitely watched the show because I still remember the theme song. But did we also "perform" the theme song as part of this play?

Why would we "dance" to an exercise program?

Anyway, maybe this happened, maybe it didn't. I think it did. But that's as much as I can remember.

Then maybe in the fifth grade, there was another play. Details are sketchy. Oh, it's coming back to me. We did Beatles songs. I don't know if we also did other songs but Beatles songs were part of it. She Loves You was one of the songs.

So the girls sang the first lyric and sort of danced around and then the boys sang the other lyric and sort of danced around. The parents laughed when the boys sang because we clearly weren't enthusiased about having to sing a love song as 10 year olds. I mean, it's weird, right? Weird to make a 10 year old sing love songs. It's also weird that the girls seemed to be okay with it. I don't know.

There was also a part where we had to do sort of a pirouette. Not on one foot but we put our hands up sort of like a ballerina would and spun around.

During rehearsals, my friend would put one finger on top of his head and do the twirl. He was sort of mocking how gay this all was. But when the teacher saw this, she said, "Yes! That's good! Let's do that instead".

Oh man, people were ready to tear that kid apart. People were protesting that they don't want to do it but the teacher insisted. So that's what we ended up doing, the play was absolutely humiliating from start to finish, and that was that teacher's final year at the school. She was the music teacher. She may have left for unrelated reasons. She was a hippie probably in her 40s with hair literally down to the floor.

The more I think about it, there may have been a play every year. Maybe not. But why would it only be certain years? And it's weird years. And these plays were school-wide things, I think. Like it would be several grades and each grade would come out one at a time. In any event, these are the ones that I remember.

In the sixth grade, there was no school-wide play (that I remember) but there was a play that my class did. I definitely told this story before. The Beatles one too. But it bears repeating.

It was sort of a play written by our class but in reality, it was just like three girls who wrote it. Three girls who were in the lower reading group, by the way. Three girls who weren't particularly academic. How did they get the job? This teacher was openly hostile to boys and would clearly favour the girls. I've never seen anything like it in my academic career except for this woman. Must have some real psychological problems if she's taking her man-hating abuse out on sixth graders.

So anyway, these girls wrote the play. It was god awful. It was about a haunted dance hall set vaguelly in the 1950s. Sort of a takeoff of Phantom of the Opera as well, I think.

We had to audition. I auditioned to be the drummer. I played the drums in the school band so should have been a natural. But the drummer in the play was, rather unusually, like the leader of the band. He had a line.

So we would audition and our fellow classmates would vote on who should get the part. Terrible way to do things. It becomse a blatent popularity contest. But to spare any feelings, the people who were auditioning had to put their heads down and close their eyes when the votings was taking place. Really, the whole class should have because they can still see how well or poorly everyone did and maybe report back but whatever.

I did terribly on my audition and almost certainly got no votes.

One of the kids who I walked to school with made an ass of himself and got the part. That's what acting is, I guess. Nobody with dignity or self-respect gets involved with that shit.

So I ended up getting a non-speaking role as a band member. I was in one of those bands that had a recorder. You know, the plastic instrument. All of the great bands have a recorder.

During the play, I missed my cue to start playing so had to be nudged by another band member.

Anyway, the play was just really bad, a total waste of time, and had zero educational value.

The only good thing that came of it is that for the rest of the year, it became a joke between me and this guy I sometimes talked to. For example, the eighth graders always did a play and this year was no exception. I don't remember what the play was about but apparently it wasn't good.

So the following day, we're in the queue to go down to the cafeteria for lunch and me and this guy are talking about this eighth grade play and how terrible it was. And as we're laughing about it, he says, "OUR play was better" and I about shit my pants I'm laughing so hard. It still makes me laugh thinking about it today. But the teacher overheard it and gave him a stern look so he got serious all of a sudden and said, "No, really. I liked our play. It was good. I thought it was good. Seriously" but she wasn't buying it.

Next year, we did...A Christmas Carol. I think. This was like a proper play with a teacher who took some drama classes in university or something.

I auditioned for some kind of...I don't know. The character had a few lines. And everybody was impressed with my reading. The line that impressed everyone was, "All right, I'm leaving." Everyone else read it like a dumb third grader trying to read from his phonics text book but I read it like how somebody would actually say it. People laughed and were genuinely impressed.

It was the teacher who decided who should get what role and that role went to some girl. The teacher was talking about what a difficult decision it was to decide who should get what. When my classmates found out that I didn't get the part, there was an uproar. "Baron should definitely get a speaking role. He was good." The teacher agreed and I ended up getting a line for a character who wasn't supposed to speak. "A toast, a toast to Mr Fezziwig, the best employer a man can have! And to Mrs Fezziwigtoo!" and then everyone does a hurrah.

It must have been towards the end of the play. I guess. I don't know. Anyway, the line sucked so I couldn't really put much into it, unlike the passion inherent in, "All right, I'm leaving."

So time comes to do the play. I was nervous. I did the line and that was that.

Next year, it's time for our eighth grade play. This is the final year of school so, like I said, it's a tradition that every eighth grade class does a play.

We're doing The Wizard of Oz. This was actually exciting because it's not a traditional play like in A Christmas Carol or whatever. This is modern. A play based on a book from 1900. Although, to be fair, the play is essentially based on the 1939 film. There were no hammerhead characters, for example. It was loosely based on the film.

I was riding high on last year's glowing praise of my acting abilities so this year, I was going to try out for the role of the narrator, which had a lot of lines. Howevver, when I saw that I was the only boy trying out for this role, I pulled out at the last minute. So that was the end of my acting career.

I took a non-speaking role as a flying monkey. This guy who made fun of how bad the eighth grade play was two years ago was also a flying monkey.

It was one of those god awful "let's involve the audience" things where we "flew" (ran) in from the back of the auditorium and jumped up on stage.

I was the last monkey. So everybody else got to bring the witch a person. A monkey brought Dorothy, another monkey brought the Scarecrow, et cetera. But they made me the last monkey so I brought a stuffed toy playing the role of Toto. I was so resentful that I sort of tossed the "dog" to the witch, which earned a few unintentional laughs.

That's basically it. Interesting who played Dorothy, though: a girl who was family friends with this teacher. And her twin brother played the Scarecrow. So the two biggest parts went to the kids whose parents were friends with this teacher.

These were new students, having arrived at the school in the sixth grade. Just about everyone else had been in the school since kindergarden. These were not good students, middling at best, yet they get the juiciest roles.

Were they competent? I guess. Although, the guy blew one of his lines big time.

But were they the best choices? Almost certainly not.

As a flying monkey, we had to kiss Dorothy's hand. What humiliating shit this is. And why are they making eighth graders do this? It's weird. I didn't want to kiss this girl's hand.

But if the girl with the big boobs was Dorothy, that's some acting that I can get into. She could have shook her tits in my face and I'd be cool with it.

Not that Dorothy need be top-heavy. There's nothing in the book or film to suggest this. But that's just a ridiculous example. I don't actually know who would have made a better Dorothy. Anyone could have. There was nothing exceptional about this girl except for her parents' friendship with the director.

I don't know what this big titted girl is doing now. She's on a "modeling" site but it's from 15 years ago and it's not really a modeling site, it's just some scam for people who are looking to model.

She was also in a news article about the local gas company doing talks at schools. She worked at the gas company. This was from ten years ago.

Her mother died a few years ago. Her mother was Mexican, hence the big boobs. Her father was, I don't know, Greek or something.

I did find her older sister on Facebook, though. She's an estate agent, loves Jesus, married with four children.

She mostly posts shit about open houses and whatnot. Here's something different. You can get your sidewalk shoveled for $20. She's posting this on behalf of her cousin.

That's sad. This used to be a "job" for neighbourhood kids to make a few bucks. For a grown man to have to do that...where's the profit? He has to drive around. It takes time to get to each customer. Then it takes time to shovel, of course. If he shovels one sidewalk an hour, I'd be shocked.

Then there's the money for gas. I mean...he's not making money off of this. Not enough to be worth doing, certainly.

She posts a bunch of stupid "memes" too. I guess it's not just the retarded kids who like them. "This wacky picture really reflects what I'M feeling!" Fuck off.

Anyway, no pictures of her sister. And she's not in her friends list. So I suspect that she doesn't have Facebook. She's embarassed at what little she's achieved.