On Saturday I put Tessa, our doggie, in the pickup and drove a half-mile down to the mechanic’s, leaving it there for him to work on it this week. Tessa, excited beyond a reasonable doubt, squeaked and whined sweetly, yet with great, underlying energy, until I came back to get her. Then I put her black harness thingy on her.
The thingy is a “gentle leader” that goes over her face when we walk her, and I heartily recommend it to other dog owners whose pups like to pull and meander. This thing makes the whole dog-walking scene go so much better.
To the casual observer we meet on the sidewalk (which, by the way, badly needs repair … if anyone in Fillmore is reading this, let’s band together to lobby the highway department to fix the sidewalks!), the “gentle leader” looks something like a muzzle. Tessa is, admittedly, a relatively energetic doggie; she often wants to go sniff a new friend in hopes of being petted or played with, so she will naturally move toward the passerby. Upon meeting her on the sidewalk, one might even think our sweet Tessa is ferocious, kept from gnawing off unsuspecting children’s arms only by this muzzle-thingy.
Au contraire. The situation is not as it seems.
Last week, I met many new students in my classrooms and rehearsals. I think some of them come across a bit oddly sometimes. Such factors as the stress of auditions, the new social scenario, and the anticipated pressures of college studies probably lead to a lot of this. Who knows why some of them look a) nervous, b) disaffected, c) like they’re trying too hard to be cool, d) over-eager, etc.?
What I need to remember is that things aren’t always as they seem. Not every student is assessable by his/her facade. God, let me not rush to pigeonhole people. Let me see as You see.