They say that when one door
closes, another opens. Read about my
personal predicament of joining the ranks of the unemployed in an article
published in the November 2011 issue of Incite/Insight.
I hope it will provide a
little inspiration for anyone facing challenges in this [non-existent] job
market and that there is light at the end of the tunnel:
As an educator, summers were always a time to leisurely pursue professional enrichment, read junk novels, and capture the calm breezes of the season. Not unlike T.S. Eliot’s Prufrock whose life was “measured in coffee spoons,” my teacher’s existence was structured into 42-minute segments, 5 days a week, 10 months a year, carefully pacing myself to the next day off to re-boot my energy. This inner balance worked for me for over 30 years. When I left teaching behind to pursue other goals, it was challenging, yet thrilling. How would I monitor the next 30 years of my life?
As an educator, summers were always a time to leisurely pursue professional enrichment, read junk novels, and capture the calm breezes of the season. Not unlike T.S. Eliot’s Prufrock whose life was “measured in coffee spoons,” my teacher’s existence was structured into 42-minute segments, 5 days a week, 10 months a year, carefully pacing myself to the next day off to re-boot my energy. This inner balance worked for me for over 30 years. When I left teaching behind to pursue other goals, it was challenging, yet thrilling. How would I monitor the next 30 years of my life?
Using the lyrics from the Spice Girls’
“Wannabe” tune as a source of inspiration, I sought to reinvent myself with
each new endeavor with the query: So, tell me what you want, what you really
really want? With every new day, I wanted ...
To be a
college professor!
To devise a new
curriculum!
To serve as an
education director for arts organizations!
To present
workshops at conferences!
To teach
teachers!
To work with
young people and promote their voices through
playwriting!
As I successfully transitioned from one
creative pursuit to the next, I finally landed a job as an education director;
no sooner did I begin to savor the challenges of this career phase when the
position was eliminated due to budget constraints in March of 2011. I should
have seen it coming; the handwriting was on the wall: continued budget cuts,
declining arts funding, selectively competitive grant awards. Schools, though
supportive, were unable to allot monies and relinquish class time for arts
programming. Despite acknowledging its merits, schools
perceive such programs as “extras” and they easily become targeted to reduce
expenses with the rationale that donations from philanthropic patrons would
replace any losses. Sounds like a feasible compromise until you begin to think
about the long-term effects. I’ll come back to that dilemma, later. Stay with
me.
So, here I was, at age 60, unemployed
with a Ph.D. and over 30 years teaching experience, with no prospects, or so it
felt at the time—after all, this was during the highest unemployment rate in
our nation’s recent history. In this economic downturn, who would hire me at
this stage of my life? I sulked … for an entire week lapsing into a regimen of
eating Mallomars with a quart of milk. After glutting myself with such internal pleasures, I took a
step back and asked: So tell me what you want, what you really really want?
Within the soul of every teacher lies a
deep commitment to making our world a better place to live in by educating our
future citizens—those young minds whose imagination and talent shape the next
generation. It has always been my strong belief that the arts define our
humanity, and that they are an empowering supernatural gift given
to us in order to make our world a richer better place to live.
So. Now. What. Are. You. Going. To. Do?
It was time to put my [unemployment]
money where my mouth was and take charge. Subverting all fears aside, “What
makes you think you can make a difference?” echoed in my psyche. I was reminded
how I used it as a mantra for all my students—why not for me?
After an acting stint in an Off-Broadway
production of The Vagina Monologues, I realized the only way to move
forward and effectively utilize my time and talent would be through the
creation of a professional website. Thus began an arduous two-month examination
of the scope and scale of my career arc. As a result of this self-reflection, I
was able to define my next challenge: to authenticate the arts and alter its perception as an amenity. I started to
collect stories of artists “in the trenches,” so to speak, who were making
things work and garnering amazing outcomes: 12-year-old Olivia Bouler of Islip,
Long Island, who raised more than $175,000 for the Audubon Society; an Artspace
loft to energize Patchogue, Long Island; the Airmid Theatre Company working with
New York Assemblyman Steven Englebright to create a permanent theatre space on the sprawling
former grounds of the Kings Park Psychiatric Center.
On a national scale, I was horrified and
outraged by a particular story related by Erika Nelson, an artist in Lucas, KS who makes miniature models of
giant pieces of Americana, puts them in a van, and drives around the country to
show people. She called her mobile museum “The World’s Largest Collection of
the World’s Smallest Versions of the World’s Largest Things.” But this year,
Kansas, which has one of the country’s smallest state arts
budgets, decided to shrink it even further, to zero, cutting off all of
Nelson’s state support. This was just one story among many. While national
advocacy groups fight to keep the arts as a core mission of the government, the
rising sentiment is that it’s an optional staple of sustenance. Instead of
taking polite nibbles to offset this spiraling trend, I decided to bite back!
Since the launch of my website in late
August, I’ve initiated The First 100 Stories Campaign, entered blogs on
subjects ranging from literacy, CORE standards, and professional development,
and proposed an education program for class field trips to the 9-11 memorial.
Additionally, I conducted two interviews for First Online With Fran: a
talk show solely dedicated to honoring ordinary people doing extraordinary
things in the arts to make our world a deeper, better place to live. Sounds
lofty, doesn’t it?
Alas, it’s the stuff that dreams are made
of.
And THAT is what I did over my summer
vacation.
More to come. Stay tuned.
Frances McGarry, Ph.D. has been teaching
theatre for more than 30 years. The Young Playwrights Festival
in New York City became the subject of her doctoral dissertation
in the Program of Educational Theater at New York University. She has
presented Young Playwrights Inc.’s Write A Play! curriculum at local,
regional, and national conferences. Her new website, www.francesmcgarry.com offers discussions on how practitioners
are utilizing the arts to make our world a richer, deeper better place to live.

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