Essays, Chapbooks, Contests...Etcetera
ROBIN WRIGHT:
Writer, Poet & Lecturer
Writer, Poet & Lecturer
Valentine's Day 2020:
What I Learned from Washington Middle School Students
By Robin Wright
The day dedicated to sweethearts fell on a Friday, and the talent show at Washington Middle School was one of the last events my husband and I attended before Coronavirus dictated we become hermits. We took our thirteen-year-old granddaughter, A., to the school early in the evening. She had signed up to sing Selena Gomez’s Lose You to Love Me at the event sponsored by The Teen Power Club as a way to raise funds for Riley Hospital. We paid our admission fees and donated money for bottles of water and bags of pretzels. My husband and I headed down an aisle in the large auditorium to the front row seats. Our son’s fiancé and our two grandsons joined us. Several of our granddaughter’s friends came over to say hi or give us hugs before the show started.
As the lights went down, two students, M. and K., stood on the stage to host the show. The audience laughed at their lively banter. Our nine-month-old grandson, B., sat on a blanket between our seats and the stage, enjoying his toys until the audience clapped. He looked around and smiled. Our seven-year-old grandson, C., usually an active little guy, sat mesmerized by the first talented student who sang on stage. Our granddaughter was second in the line-up.
She took the microphone and began to sing. Her voice fluttered a little. My heart fluttered a little. She kept going but then her voice broke and she tapped her chest. Her voice wouldn’t cooperate. “I can’t do this.” She laid down the microphone and disappeared behind the blue curtain. My heart sunk to the basement, and I said to my husband, “I hope she’s not too disappointed.”
While we waited for intermission so we could check on her, we watched dancers move to the music with grace. Other singers tickled our ears with their renditions of pop tunes. Musicians, a piano player and cello player, left our feet tapping and bodies swaying with their talent. One young stand-up comedian had us smiling and laughing as much due to his enthusiasm as his material.
One of the last acts before the intermission was a young lady who forgot some of the words to her song and asked if she could start over. Students chanted, “You got this.” The girl started again, and her tune filled the auditorium.
We looked for A. during intermission, but she was busy talking to her friends. After intermission, she stepped onto the stage. She was going to try again. My heart beat hard, and I willed her strength. She took a couple of deep breaths, and I nodded, but before she started, her friend, S, joined her on stage and held her hand. A. began but forgot some of the words, so she and S. whispered about the words. A teacher joined them and handed over her phone with the words pulled up on the screen. Again, students chanted, “You got this.” I looked at M., one of the co-hosts, who was at the edge of the stage. She turned on the flashlight on her phone and was holding it up in support. I turned and looked back at the audience, and saw many flashlights, offering support. Our granddaughter made it through the song, and many of her friends ran from the audience to the stage and then backstage to congratulate her. I choked up as my son’s fiancé wiped tears from her cheeks.
The final act was N., who is an incredibly talented singer. I got goose bumps listening to her. After she finished, the audience voted. A teacher came to the stage and announced the winners. A.’s friend, S., got third place. N. got second place. Our granddaughter was announced as the winner. She came to the stage and said, “Well, N. was the winner, but thank you.”
Afterward, A. and N. stood in front of the stage, and while I couldn’t hear what A. said to N., I thought she must be complimenting her because a lady down the row from us said, “Aww.” Then our seven-year-old grandson hugged A. and told her she did a great job. Even the baby grinned. Each of the three winners was awarded a gift card. A. got a gift card for Subway and N. got one for Dairy Queen. N. said she likes Subway better, so A. told her they could trade. N. said, “Are you sure?” A. said, “Yes, it’s only food.” They hugged after the exchange.
Walking to the car, I told A. how proud I was of her for not giving up, for facing her fears. She smiled and said, “It’s a night I won’t ever forget.” I told her I was thinking the same thing.
The day dedicated to sweethearts fell on a Friday, and the talent show at Washington Middle School was one of the last events my husband and I attended before Coronavirus dictated we become hermits. We took our thirteen-year-old granddaughter, A., to the school early in the evening. She had signed up to sing Selena Gomez’s Lose You to Love Me at the event sponsored by The Teen Power Club as a way to raise funds for Riley Hospital. We paid our admission fees and donated money for bottles of water and bags of pretzels. My husband and I headed down an aisle in the large auditorium to the front row seats. Our son’s fiancé and our two grandsons joined us. Several of our granddaughter’s friends came over to say hi or give us hugs before the show started.
As the lights went down, two students, M. and K., stood on the stage to host the show. The audience laughed at their lively banter. Our nine-month-old grandson, B., sat on a blanket between our seats and the stage, enjoying his toys until the audience clapped. He looked around and smiled. Our seven-year-old grandson, C., usually an active little guy, sat mesmerized by the first talented student who sang on stage. Our granddaughter was second in the line-up.
She took the microphone and began to sing. Her voice fluttered a little. My heart fluttered a little. She kept going but then her voice broke and she tapped her chest. Her voice wouldn’t cooperate. “I can’t do this.” She laid down the microphone and disappeared behind the blue curtain. My heart sunk to the basement, and I said to my husband, “I hope she’s not too disappointed.”
While we waited for intermission so we could check on her, we watched dancers move to the music with grace. Other singers tickled our ears with their renditions of pop tunes. Musicians, a piano player and cello player, left our feet tapping and bodies swaying with their talent. One young stand-up comedian had us smiling and laughing as much due to his enthusiasm as his material.
One of the last acts before the intermission was a young lady who forgot some of the words to her song and asked if she could start over. Students chanted, “You got this.” The girl started again, and her tune filled the auditorium.
We looked for A. during intermission, but she was busy talking to her friends. After intermission, she stepped onto the stage. She was going to try again. My heart beat hard, and I willed her strength. She took a couple of deep breaths, and I nodded, but before she started, her friend, S, joined her on stage and held her hand. A. began but forgot some of the words, so she and S. whispered about the words. A teacher joined them and handed over her phone with the words pulled up on the screen. Again, students chanted, “You got this.” I looked at M., one of the co-hosts, who was at the edge of the stage. She turned on the flashlight on her phone and was holding it up in support. I turned and looked back at the audience, and saw many flashlights, offering support. Our granddaughter made it through the song, and many of her friends ran from the audience to the stage and then backstage to congratulate her. I choked up as my son’s fiancé wiped tears from her cheeks.
The final act was N., who is an incredibly talented singer. I got goose bumps listening to her. After she finished, the audience voted. A teacher came to the stage and announced the winners. A.’s friend, S., got third place. N. got second place. Our granddaughter was announced as the winner. She came to the stage and said, “Well, N. was the winner, but thank you.”
Afterward, A. and N. stood in front of the stage, and while I couldn’t hear what A. said to N., I thought she must be complimenting her because a lady down the row from us said, “Aww.” Then our seven-year-old grandson hugged A. and told her she did a great job. Even the baby grinned. Each of the three winners was awarded a gift card. A. got a gift card for Subway and N. got one for Dairy Queen. N. said she likes Subway better, so A. told her they could trade. N. said, “Are you sure?” A. said, “Yes, it’s only food.” They hugged after the exchange.
Walking to the car, I told A. how proud I was of her for not giving up, for facing her fears. She smiled and said, “It’s a night I won’t ever forget.” I told her I was thinking the same thing.
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Robin Wright is a poet and essayist living in Southern Indiana. Her work has appeared in Ariel Chart, Minnow Literary Magazine, Ekphrastic Review, Re-side, Black Bough Poetry, Spank the Carp, Muddy River Poetry Review, Rat’s Ass Review and others. One of her poems was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Panoply, and her first chapbook, Ready or Not, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2020.
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