Brian Greene
Age 12 at the time

My family moved to Virginia Beach, Virginia when I was 12 years old and in the sixth grade. My father was in the Navy, and we were transferred to Virginia from Charleston, South Carolina, where we had been living the previous three years. In South Carolina we lived on the naval base but in Virginia Beach we lived in town, amongst the civilians. I was to find that life for a pre-adolescent was much different at a regular neighborhood and at a public school than how things were on the base, and at the Navy school.

On the base in South Carolina, there really weren’t any established cliques amongst the kids who lived and went to school there. Of course you made friends with certain other kids and hung out with them more than others, but there were no exclusive groups everyone was either part of or refused admittance to. Maybe this because the society around a military base is so transitory, and so diverse; with the sailors getting transfers so often, families came and went on a daily basis, and the ones who came in arrived from all over the country, and sometimes different parts of the world. We were all too transient, and too different from one another, for there to be much of a social status pecking order in place amongst us kids.

It was much different in Virginia Beach. On joining the new school, I learned very quickly that my class was split into two distinct groups. There was a pack of about 10 kids, probably half boys and half girls, who were clearly the elite here. They made the best grades, the boys were the most athletic and the girls were the prettiest. They sat amongst themselves in the cafeteria and if you weren’t invited to sit at their part of the table, you wouldn’t dare go over there. All the rest of us kids were simply “the others,” the commoners who simply took up space and were the ones the elite crowd could look down upon.

I had no great desire to get in with the popular kids, but what did bother me was that, even within the group of “average” boys and girls, I didn’t seem to be making any friends, even after I’d been in the town, and at the school, for a few months. The other nondescript kids were generally friendly with one another, and many of them seemed nice enough. How come none of them were trying to befriend me, when I was one of them?

Finally, I decided I would try and find out why none of them were making friends with me. I asked a boy named Mark, who had done more than any of my other classmates to be nice to me. We were outside on the playground at recess, and Mark and I were kind of standing off by ourselves.

I said, “Do you know why Marvin or Stacy or none of the other kids ever talks to me? I saw Stacy at the park near my house the other day, and when I went up to say hi to her, she walked away. People are always doing that to me. I’m not talking about Greg and Melissa and those kind of kids, I mean the regular ones, like us.”

Mark looked like he was carefully considering how to answer my question. Then he came to a decision in his mind and he said to me, “I’ll tell you the truth. It’s your shoes.”

“My shoes?”

“Yeah, they’re Weo’s.”

“Weo’s?”

“Yeah. You know how at the A&P grocery store they have some things that are like a sale brand? They call those things Weo’s. So to us anything that’s cheap like that, we call it a Weo. You should get your parents to get you some Nikes or Pumas, or at least Converse.”

“And that’s really why kids won’t talk to me?”

“Yep. A lot of them think you’re a nice kid. They say if he would just get rid of those Weo’s, we would play with him.”

It seemed that even amongst the “regular” kids, there were certain status symbols. I felt both confused and ashamed to learn that I was being shunned by them because I wore cheap, non-name brand tennis shoes.

That night, before I went to bed, I told my mother about my conversation with Mark. I asked her if she could buy me some Converse, if we couldn’t afford Nikes or Pumas. I made a deal with my mom, that if I mowed some lawns and put together a little bit of cash, she would pay for half of a new pair of Converse if I could cover the other half. I remember having a kind of creepy feeling when I bought the shoes and wore them to school for the first time. It was like I was buying the chance to make friends. In South Carolina, you made friends with certain kids just because you liked them and they liked you. Here, I had to wear a certain kind of shoe before any of my peers would consider befriending me. It didn’t feel right.

But I forgot about all of that when, at recess that first day when I wore my new shoes, Stacy - the same girl who had snubbed me at the park in our neighborhood - came up and talked to me. I’d had a crush on her since the first day I was at that school, and now she was flirting with me. I asker her to “go” with me about three days after that, and she said “yes.” After we started going together she got her parents to buy her a pair of Converse that were the same color as mine.

Did you miss Wednesday’s Can I Sit With You? Live! in Redwood City performances? Never fear; now you can have a glimpse of what it was like to be at that fantastic show.

Jenifer Scharpen Reads “A First Grade Reader”

Elaine Park Reads “Forever Young”

Lea Cuniberti-Duran Reads “A Non-Catholic Upbringing”

Jackie Davis-Martin Reads “Lose and Win”

Judy McCrary Koeppen Reads “Men-Stru-A-Tion”

John Kim Reads “Spitting Image”

Jennifer Byde Myers Reads “Sorry, Charlie” (Apologies, this is a very brief excerpt from a charming performance. Stupid camera.)

Shannon Des Roches Rosa Reads “The Joker’s Wild” (and overacts quite a bit out of sheer nervousness)

—–

Again, audio from the Seattle show is coming soon.

Our very own Jen Myers reading her story Sorry, Charlie.

Last night’s reading at Angelica’s Bistro in Redwood City was a lot of fun, and quite a success. We filled the place, which was good for us though harrowing for the restaurant staff. We were thrilled to see so much support for the project, sell so many books, and have guests like Grace Davis and Left Coast Mom in the audience.

A few restaurant patrons who didn’t realize there was going to be a show but stayed to watch anyhow (we’re that mesmerizing!) came over afterwards and donated money to SEPTAR, the special ed PTA to which all of the Can I Sit With You? proceeds are directed. Very touching.

The show featured our scheduled readers, Jen Scharpen, Elaine Park, Lea Cuniberti-Duran, Judy McCrary Koeppen, Shannon Des Roches Rosa, and Jennifer Byde Myers. We were also lucky enough to be joined by CISWY authors Jackie Davis-Martin and John Kim

Go see photos of all the readers (except Shan, who took the pictures). Video excerpts to come.

Can I Sit With You? Live! is back home in the Bay Area:

MAY 7, 7:30 PM
Angelica’s Bistro
863 Main Street
Redwood City, CA
650.365.3226

No Cover, Donations Accepted, Reservations Recommended

This is a really exciting event for us, as we’re featuring solely micro-local (RWC-resident or working) writers.

Angelica’s is a lively, versatile restaurant with a charming atmosphere and a considerable wine and beer selection. It is also family-friendly, but as usual please review the stories below before deciding to bring your children along.

And, er, Jen and Shan will actually be reading as well as running the show. Ha ha hahahaha. Which means that when Shan’s not on stage, she’ll be addressing her stage fright at the bar.

Readers:
Jen Scharpen
Elaine Park
Lea Cuniberti-Duran
Judy McCrary Koeppen
Shannon Des Roches Rosa
and Jennifer Byde Myers

——-

if you miss tomorrow’s show, you can catch us at Book Passage in Corte Madera on Saturday, August 9th, at 4 PM.

by Sabina Sood
Age 11 at the time

“I dare you to cheat on your math test.” The gentle breeze blows her words away before they reach my ears.

“What?” If my words aren’t enough to portray my puzzlement, my scrunched nose, half-opened mouth, and furrowed eyebrows are. Did she say, “cheat”? How will cheating on my math test make me worthy enough to be accepted into her circle of friends?

“I double dog dare you to write down all the test problems and give them to me,” she taunts. Who does Kristina think she is (besides the leader of the most popular group in fifth grade)? As my flame of hope to join her group is snuffed, I turn around to leave.

“I triple dog dare you. You can’t turn that down!”

My shoes squeak on the dewdrop grass as I pivot to face her. A smile tiptoes across her face as the other girls in her clique laugh.

She knows I know about the unwritten rules that bind every elementary school kid to the social ladder. Every kid keeps this rulebook tucked away in a corner of his mind until the day she outgrows it and passes it on to someone else. One of my friends passed this knowledge on to me when she graduated from elementary school, and during times like these, I wish she hadn’t. This rulebook is the Bible of elementary school and not abiding by it makes losing one’s social life inevitable.

As I ponder her statement, I flip through the pages of the rulebook in my head. Here it is. Page 37, Rule # 182: “If a kid is dared to perform a task, she has the choice to accept or refuse it. If a kid is triple-dog-dared to do something, she must complete the dare or risk public humiliation.”

If I refuse the dare, then word of my sin will spread like wildfire throughout the school, and no one will ever speak to me again. If I accept the dare and cheat on my math test, I will jeopardize my elementary school career … but that will only happen if I’m caught.

The next day, I enter my math classroom, my heart pounding and my mind searching — searching for the courage and reassurance that escapes with every breath. I accepted the dare and there is no turning back. My face tingles as shivers dart up and down my spine. Sweat trickles down my arm as I focus on one sustaining thought: I accepted the dare and there is no turning back.

Mr. Walshe reads the directions of the math test. Time creeps by. Tick…tock … tick…tock. After what seems like an hour, he finishes his speech with, “You have forty minutes to complete the test. You may begin.”

We turn the page. One student taps his pencil on the desk in a rhythmic pattern. Another accompanies him as she hits the desk frantically with her shoe. Tap … tap … bang … tap … bang. As the other students scribble on their scratch paper and fill in the bubbles on their answer sheets, I grab my pen, turn my left hand over, and jot down the first problem on my palm. “If 3x+5=…” The sweat from my hand smears the ink. “If 3x+5=…” My hand quivers, causing even the prettiest handwriting to be illegible.

I cross out my mistake and find a clean part of my palm to begin again. “If 3x+5=20, solve for x.” I glance up to see if anyone notices. Mr. Walshe types on his computer. The other students rustle their test papers and answer sheets. I look at the next problem, but I hear something as I bring the pen to my hand.

“Sabina, what are you doing?” Although he whispers, Mr. Walshe’s deep voice penetrates the classroom. His tone drowns the paper rustling and shatters the pencil-tapping and shoe-banging harmony. As he stands by my desk, his shadow devours me. My heart sprints to catch up with my embarrassment. The blood from the pit of my stomach rushes to my head as my face boils. He grabs my test and tears it in half. My classmates murmur. I can’t swallow and can barely inhale enough oxygen to stay conscious.

“Let’s go talk in the hallway.” I can’t move. My feet are glued to the ground. Guilt desiccates every drop of saliva in my mouth. It chains me to my desk. I struggle and finally break free from the shackles. The water that disappeared from my mouth now crowds my eyes and streams down my face. As Mr. Walshe crosses the classroom, I try to run, but my feet are anchors, maliciously enjoying every student’s glance that pierces my ego and follows me out of the classroom like a shadow.

As soon as the door closes, I ramble, trying to say anything that will save me from the punishment. “ThereisKristinaandtherulebookandshetripledogdaredmeIcouldntsayno.” I hate him. How can he embarrass me like that? It isn’t my fault that I cheated on the math test. It’s Kristina’s fault for daring me. It’s the rulebook inventor’s fault for writing Rule # 182. It’s God’s fault for giving me dreadful cheating skills. Why should Mr. Walshe punish me?

“This is your first and final warning, Sabina. I’ll give you a second chance to take the test, but I will have to call your parents,” Mr. Walshe explains. He returns to the classroom, leaving me alone in the hallway to think about what I have done.

The following day, I walk onto the playground and sit on the tanbark. Kristina and her group spot me near the swings.

“I heard Mr. Walshe caught you cheating,” one of her friends snickers.

“How embarrassing,” says another.

“Even though you failed miserably, having the guts to cheat makes you worthy enough to join my group. You can sit with us during lunch tomorrow,” Kristina scoffs.

I turn around and walk away as her offer hovers in the air, waiting for the wind to blow it away.

Here’s Jen & Shan Getting Interviewed by the NPR Reporter:

And here’s the whole darn photoset:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/23268879@N07/sets/72157604810989992/

Our show in Seattle was fantastic. We are exhilarated and exhausted. Photos and videos to come.

The reporter who interviewed us expressed surprise that none of the live stories were about special needs. So, while you wait for event news and media, here is a piece about what it is like to cope with OCD (Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder) in the classroom.

Lines
by James Penha

From the time he carefully
pulls the stool from beneath
the massive black slate
of the science laboratory table
    to align
    the outer edges
    of its rear legs
    perfectly
    against
    the line
    separating
    –looking
    backwards
    from the table
    –the black –the white
    imitation marble imitation marble
    tile tile
    from the white from the black
    imitation marble imitation marble
    tile tile
    on the left on the right
and arranges
the equipment required
for the experiment
to follow the set-up printed in the laboratory manual he stared at
so long last night at home
he fell asleep
before trying to revise his English homework
or reading consumer math,
Angel worries what he will do
forty-three minutes
and ten seconds from now
when Mr. Klepper
five minutes
before the bell
forty-two minutes
and fifty-five seconds from now
tells the class to clean up which means
Angel will be watched
forty-two minutes and forty-five seconds from now
to see if today he pushes the stool
back into the shadows
beneath the dark desk slab
where there is no line
to align
to its feet
so if Angel does push the chair
into chaos
his head will spin, stomach churn
and he will cough up what he didn’t
in preparation for the day
eat for breakfast or
he will be given one last chance by Mr. Klepper
again to cooperate
before being sent to the office and
two hours
forty one minutes
and five seconds from now
detention instead of home,
so there is no time
or space to think of science
and he’s falling
    per second per second
to earth

I have it on good authority that you Seattlites are the spontaneous kind, so we’ll see the rest of you at the door. You might want to get there a tad early to make sure you get a seat.

Can I Sit With You? Live in Seattle
TONIGHT 8:00 PM
Annex Theatre
1100 East Pike Street
Seattle, WA 98122

Sadly, Els Kusher will not be able to join us tonight. But we look forward to sitting with the rest of you.

We will be back with videos, pictures, and new stories on Monday.

CISWY Seattle is tomorrow. GASP!

If you’d like a guaranteed seat, please buy your will call tickets by 8 AM Friday:

Buy Tickets Now:

If seats are still available after will call cut off, we’ll post a notice in this space, and you can buy your tickets at the door. Cash only.

See you there!

——-

More CISWY Events, back here in The Bay Area:

MAY 7, 7:30 PM
Angelica’s Bistro, Redwood City
863 Main Street, Redwood City, CA
650.365.3226
No Cover, Donations Accepted, Reservations Recommended

This is a really exciting event for us, as several of our readers have never before agreed to perform their stories in public.

Angelica’s is a lively, versatile restaurant with a charming atmosphere and a considerable wine and beer selection. It is also family-friendly, but as usual please review the stories below before deciding to bring your children along.

Readers:
Jen Scharpen
Elaine Park
Lea Cuniberti-Duran
Judy McCrary Koeppen
Shannon Des Roches Rosa
and Jennifer Byde Myers

——-

We’re also going to be at Book Passage in Corte Madera on Saturday, August 9th, at 4 PM. I wonder if they’ll rotate our photos in the header alongside Mario Battali, Dave Barry, Isabel Allende, and Anne Lamott?

Sneak Eep: Lea Hernandez, cartoonist, manga sage extraordinaire, and artist for the Can I Sit With You? book cover, will be joining us.

We just heard from the NPR reporter who contacted us about the April 25th Can I Sit With You? Annex Theatre show in Seattle, asking for technical sound specs so she can record the performers.

It’s finally hitting us: CISWY Seattle is a real show. We could very well be on NPR. (!!!!)

We also have limited seating. So, if you want to see CISWY Seattle, you should buy your tickets ASAP:

http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/30612

Tickets are priced at $5 and $12, which means you can choose how much to donate.

Will Call tickets is probably the best option at this point. We’ll have a list of Will Call names and will check them off at the door.

Also, we have some additional, fantastic news: Sarah Dopp will be joining our show! Welcome, Sarah.

To further entice you, here is the full list of CISWY Seattle readers, with links to the stories they will be performing:

Michael Procopio

SJ Alexander

Liz Henry

Sarah Glover

Cindy Emch

Jason Kovacs

Els Kushner

Judy McCrary Koeppen

Sarah Dopp

Final note: children are welcome at the show. They are not allowed in the bar area of Annex Theatre, and you should read the stories above to make sure you know what said children will be hearing, but if you think they would enjoy seeing these stories read aloud, then please, get them a ticket.