Misfit Theater Company (Wattys Winner 2018)

1. All-time Low

    If there's one thing every sixteen-year-old never wants to see in the guidance counselor's office, it's their mom. Yet, here we are—me, Mom, and my guidance counselor Mrs. Thomas—sitting in the guidance office, reading over my second marking period record card. I feel like slinking from my seat and crawling out of the room while Mom is distracted.
    I seriously consider it for a split second, but I'd never make it out of this room alive. Besides, Mom is probably going to make sure I never go anywhere again, and she reminds me of this by grabbing the arm of my chair while she reads what her only child has done.
    English 10: 63% D
    Geometry: 65% D
    Western Civilization: 70% C
    Biology: 73% C
    Spanish: 68% D
    Art: 94% A
    Family Consumer Science: 91% A
    "What are all of these C's and D's about, Janie?" Mom asks in disbelief. I've never had straight A's, but these grades represent an all-time low for me.
    I shake my head in defeat. "I don't know, Mom."
    Mrs. Thomas turns to my mom. "I've spoken to Janie's teachers, and they said that it appears as though Janie isn't studying for her tests. The quality of her work has also been on the decline during this past marking period, and her teachers have noted that she does not appropriately advocate for herself."
    "They have noted?" Mom asks.
    Mrs. Thomas nods and hands a sheet of paper with a bunch of actual notes from all of my teacher. She reads it over in silence, but I can see her cheeks turning red. She's mad. I'm never going to hear the end of it.
    "Well," Mom sighs, "we will definitely be dealing with this. Janie's third marking period grades are not going to look like these, I assure you."
    I hate when Mom talks about me like I'm not here. I might as well not be. I hang my head and pick at my nails. Anything to distract myself from this hell.
    "Janie's teachers will be keeping you updated on her grades," Mrs. Thomas says, "but I had an idea I wanted to run by the two of you. Something that helped me when I was Janie's age."
    "We are open to any suggestions," Mom says for the both of us.
    I just keep picking at my nails. Maybe I'll paint my nails red for Valentine's Day in a few weeks. That will be how I celebrate this year: red nails.
    "When I was Janie's age, I was painfully shy, and found myself in the same sort of trouble. But then I started taking theater classes, and I began to come out of my shell. I see that for her third marking period elective course, Janie has chosen sewing. I recommend switching that class out for theater. I have already spoken with Mrs. Permala, our theater teacher, and she is willing to allow Janie to join Theater 4 with the other sophomores; however, theater is a semester-long course. It will go until the summer, so I wanted to make sure I talked it over with you and Janie before I made any changes to her schedule."
    I want so badly to protest and beg to stay in sewing, where I can have class with my best friend Gina and stay silent, but my mom agrees before I can muster the courage. "Let's do it. She needs to get out of her shell. Thank you so much for setting this up for her."
    "Janie," Mrs. Thomas starts, finally addressing the fact that I'm in the room, "is that okay with you?"
Despite absolutely hating this idea, I shrug. Once Mom says yes to something, I have no ability to argue it.
    "She's fine," Mom says. "When can she start in the theater course?"
    "We can start today," Mrs. Thomas says.
    "Great," Mom says.
    "Good. Well, it will be her next class, so I will walk her down to the theater wing myself. I just need your signature."
    Mrs. Thomas hands a class change request form to my mom, and she signs it immediately.
    "Oh," Mrs. Thomas says when my mom hands the paper back to her. "I actually need Janie's signature too."
    She passes the paper on to me. This is my chance, my opportunity to stick up for myself. I could just peacefully protest this by refusing to sign. But like my teachers wrote, I don't self-advocate, so I sign the stupid form.
    I can't help but think that whatever happens with this new class will be my fault. I will continue to fail, especially now in my theater class. Gina will be mad at me. Mom is going to expect more from me. And it's all going to be my fault.
    "Okay, let me print out your new schedule," Mrs. Thomas says with smile. She stands up and heads just outside of her office to get my new schedule from the printer by the office secretaries.
    Mom turns to me and, in her sternest voice, says, "When you come home today, we're going to have a long conversation about this."
    It's only 8:23 am, and I'm already dreading going home this afternoon. I want to tell her that my grades aren't my fault, but there's no one else to blame. And I seriously doubt theater is going to change any of that for me. It's only going to make me more anxious about speaking up in class.
    I hate this.
    Mrs. Thomas returns with my schedule, and there it is, right there in my second period slot: Theater 4.
    This is going to be my worst marking period ever.