![]() Nadina, who had been present as a parent assistant, says that Adria was at first shy but gained confidence through the almost nightly practices over the weeks preceding her public debut. Though my daughters’ more envious classmates still assumed that their A’s were the product of paternal favoritism.Īdria, in any case, performed with apparent ease and confidence and even delivered her one spoken solo line with all the Adria attitude that the role required and that we have become so familiar with. He took home B’s and later, C’s, proving that the teacher’s kid does not always get the high marks. But in my Spanish class he perfected the art of sleeping with head up and eyes open (I would always call on him at such moments and enjoy, with the rest of the class, his startled awakening). Then there was Jonathan, my not-at-all misbegotten son, now a pretty decent writer and music journalist. ![]() She stole the show at her five-year high school reunion when she asked the band if she could sing “Proud Mary” skeptically, they said yes, and were then amazed at her professional performance. I know I am a biased reporter, but in my years as teacher, writer, and literary translator, I think I’ve developed the critical skills – like Cervantes with his “misbegotten” child, Don Quixote, as he quipped in the introduction to Book One – to recognize an only adequate or even poor performance from a relative of mine.Īs when Anita, who when she sang more than she does these days, would occasionally strike a flat note (as I would kindly point out in our practices), though the fault was clearly my mediocre skills as an accompanist on the guitar when supported by more competent musical artists, she was always spot on. Need I say that Adria – who just turned thirteen and had been thwarted from a singing part in her school’s planned spring 2020 performance of Jack and the Beanstalk, by the emergence of, you guessed it! the Covid pandemic – was absolutely brilliant in her performance? It featured, in one of the ensemble roles (anonymous children at Miss Agatha Trunchbull’s school of horrors), Anita’s and my granddaughter Adria’s theatrical debut. It was the opening night of the Actors Community Theatre’s production of Roald Dahl’s Matilda: The Musical, at the Jasper Arts Center in Jasper, Indiana. The evening of Thursday, July 21 was one of the truly joyous moments in my life as an old-geezer slash retired-school-teacher.
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