Last time, I left off knowing I was gonna get once more little chat with my teacher to try to figure out why I was so much worse in the second half of the session (semester).
I thought about that talk for the entire week. Do you know how many times you can run a 5-minute conversation over and over and over again in your head in the course of a week?
Many, many times.
My class had just ended. I didn’t start my new job until the following week. I had plenty of time to live in imaginary land, and that’s exactly where I lived basically every moment of every day.
My brain was eating itself with doubts. “How did I convince someone to have so much faith in me by the midterm, just to convince them to lose all of it by the final? Ugh. He seemed so frustrated in the final. I seemed so frustrated. He hates me. I don’t deserve to improvise! Or interact with other humans, for that matter.”
This next part is super embarrassing, but I’m gonna tell you anyway. (Hopefully he’s not reading.)
Since the only thing I could think about was my talk with Kevin, I went on this little kick of watching a bunch of his old acting stuff – as if that would summon him or something, or reveal some kind of secret message through the TV about my failure.
I had a large number of hours of terrified waiting, so i saw everything. Rules of Engagement? Saw it. ER? Oh, I saw it. Rozerem commercial? Yeah, I saw that too. I saw it all.
Finally, the day came when I kind of got my re-do on my final evaluation (for which I could never thank him enough).
I know it was a big favor that isn’t done very often. I know he definitely didn’t owe it to me. So it’s awesome that he’s a complete sweetheart. I was still all jumbled up, so that little redo was really helpful. I appreciated it a lot.
What was so funny about it was that you’d think after 140 hours of thinking, I could’ve come to some conclusions on my own. They made so much sense when he said them – of course he viewed the second half as weaker!
We got our midterms in class seven. We had a sub for class eight. There are only twelve classes. Of the four classes we had left, one was fateful Wednesday – meaning of those last four, one was a complete and total failure. Already, I’m down to a 75% success rate in the last four classes (since I get nothing for fateful Wednesday). 75% would be assuming I got 100% on the other three.
As far as the final scenes were concerned, he said they weren’t bad, but that he wanted more from me. He expected more. Guess what? He hadn’t abandoned all faith in me. I wasn’t a lost cause!
Then he left me with some pretty magical advice. He said I needed “swagger.”
That’s when it clicked.
Remember how I’d been told in my midterms both times I took Basic that I needed more confidence? I guess sometimes it was hard to find “confidence,” because I didn’t want to accidentally hit “conceited” or “controlling.” But there was something about “swagger” that I understood.
By giving me that one word, he changed everything.
I felt so magical the day “swagger” clicked that that was how I wanted to end the post. I wanted to believe that it would change everything. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe we’ll find out if we ever talk about the Groundlings again.
I will always be thankful for Kevin’s class. It helped bring back some of that drive, passion, and craziness that I’d lost around the open-heart surgery recovery time. I’ll admit (even if it is embarrassing) I’m still not as crazy as I was in high school, but this class helped rev that crazy up a bit.
It also ended in really the best way I could’ve asked for. I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed that on-the-fence, “okay, I guess” type of acceptance. By getting a just barely pass, I didn’t take anything for granted. I definitely didn’t get too comfortable.
Plus, I had these great burning desires: A) Prove him right for sending me on. B) Prove him wrong for ever doubting me. He gave me the perfect mix of push and support.