All flowers have their seasons, right? Well, Angelborough seems to be over-run with flowers that create rudeness.
The flowers themselves are tiny-tiny, although they have a pungent odor. You wouldn’t think any one of them is a big problem. But ignore one or say, “Oh, that one tiny flower doesn’t matter,” and the next time you look there are five, and then ten, and then a thousand, and you wonder how it got to that state.
Angelborough Middle School had its band and chorus concert, and the rude-e-dendrons were in full bloom everywhere. Oh, it started okay enough, with only the parents who allowed their offspring to race between two sets of seats (one with Mom and Dad, one with other relatives) through the dark with their light-up sneakers. No biggie.
Then the performers, who dressed kinda-sorta to the performance dress code, the girls wearing shorts even though they shouldn’t be allowed to and given a pass because the shorts were longer than the black skirts some of the others wore (which were engulfed by the mandatory white shirts). Half the performers wearing flip-flops. The girls giggling on stage and whispering to each other during their own performance. The performers who, once their songs finished, either gathered their families and left or else stood in the back of the auditorium to chat with their friends.
When did this happen? I hate to be one of those “in my day” little old ladies, but in my day, the band teacher sat us down and said, quite solemnly, that while the other groups performed we were to maintain total silence. Because it was polite and because they would be silent for our performance too. And also because (and Mr. Mendelssohn was a smart cookie, yes he was) if we talked during the performance, we could kiss our grade goodbye. You have never witnessed a quieter bunch of fifth graders.
During intermission, some luminary left the house lights down, so there was no clear method of indicating that intermission had ended. Flashing the house lights did not stop the roar of conversation. Neither could the band director, who asked everyone to please quiet down so the next group could perform.
These were the adults talking, by the way. Not the kids, most of whom were racing around the school hallway.
This same thing happened back in Angeltown, where the parents never shut up during anyone’s performance except their own kid’s, and where the chorus kids were yelling across the gymnasium to one another while the band groups were playing.
Rhudedendrons are in full bloom, and Lawn Doctor can’t spray for them.