I Know What That’s For!
Radiation Level: Lower
Listening To: Draw The Stars by Andreya Triana
Okay, so the one week script rewrite job is finished. It was a strange experience, mostly because usually it is the film producer who hires another writer. My boss was the writer/director. There’s a bit of a conflict there because the original writer has an emotional investment in her script. It is, justifiably, her baby. And my job was to chop its arms and legs off. And that’s how it felt. Blood was everywhere.
I’m happy for all my screenwriting jobs, don’t get me wrong. And I learn something new from each one. But this was just awkward. Especially when it became clear that she really didn’t want to make changes structurally or character-wise. So I focused on editing and dialogue. This job was much more about managing her then rewriting her script, but I guess that’s really part of any job. Let’s just say I’m very happy it’s over!
I am still doing some teaching to supplement my income, and today I taught science to 1st graders. We did two experiments: 1) separate the DNA from a strawberry and 2) create a DNA double helix out of red vines and gummy bears (and then eat it!!)
As part of separating the DNA from the strawberry, we mash it up into a cup and add different ingredients like meat tenderizer, dishwashing liquid and rubbing alcohol.
Each time I added a new ingredient, I would ask the kids if they knew what it was for. So when I held up the white bottle of alcohol, a little boy with long, thick eyelashes raised his hand.
“I know what that’s for!” he said. “That’s for when you go to a bris and they put it on the baby’s peepee and then they cut off the top part so he can pee. If they don’t cut it off, he’ll never be able to pee his whole life.”
Okay, clearly that’s not accurate. But I’m the science teacher and I couldn’t just say “okay, you’re right”. On the other hand, do I really want to turn my class on DNA into a lecture on circumcision? NO. So I said, “I’m not sure that’s correct.” The thick-lashed boy tried to argue with me, so I said, “You may want to ask your dad about it”.
And I moved on. Whew!
This is one of the reasons I love kids. Their logic is always so carefully thought out, but often ridiculously faulty. I can’t imagine the boy’s parents told him that story. I’m assuming he just made it up to justify why someone would mutilate a baby’s genitals. But how could a parent take a 1st grader to a bris and not be very thorough in explaining what the hell is going on? It was both baffling and hilarious to me.
And that’s what’s going on with me.