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My very own Charlie Brown Christmas
Dec. 7th, 2010 07:57 pmWhen I was a kid, I was pretty much the definition of Charlie Brown -- mostly friendless, taunted by my very own Pattys and Violets, full of self-doubt and sincerity, and always finding some way to lose at nearly everything I tried. I even had a huge unrequited crush on a little red-haired girl who I never once said a word to (seriously).
Anyway, in sixth grade my classroom teacher decided that we should put on our own production of A Charlie Brown Christmas. "Well," said everyone else, "Jan's the perfect Charlie Brown." And so I was, but getting the part wasn't that easy. Our teacher decided that the fairest way of casting the play would be to go through each character and ask who wanted to play him or her. If there was more than one kid who wanted the part, the teacher would pick a number between 1 and 10. Whoever guessed closest got the part. And instead of casting the big roles first, he started with the small ones. So I held out, waiting for Charlie Brown to come along.
It was the last part cast, and apparently another kid had eyes on it as well. Our teacher called the part of Charlie Brown out, and Richard Nemet and I both raised our hands to try to win it.
"What are you doing, Richard?" a bunch of kids asked him. "Jan's Charlie Brown, not you. Don't be a jerk."
Yes, in spite of most of them treating me with either derision or outright disdain, they still recognized my innate Charlie Browniness, and were willing to stick up for me in my quest to be the consummate loser. Which, admittedly, was kind of nice. And, in true Charlie Brown fashion, when it came my turn to step up to the plate and pick a number, I swung for the fences and missed. Richard got the part.
"God, you are such a dick," someone sitting next to him said.
But Richard didn't care. He was Charlie Brown.
So now it came time to figure out what to do with me, because all the parts in the play had been cast.
"Well," our teacher said. "What Peanuts characters are there who weren't in A Charlie Brown Christmas?"
The class thought for a moment.
"Franklin!" someone shouted out.
"Oh," said our teacher. "That's right. Jan, you can be Franklin."
Yes, Franklin. Peppermint Patty's black friend. So I was Franklin, up on a stage, in front of the whole school. Wearing blackface. No, really. Blackface. In 1981. Feeling like a complete and utter creep and loser.
And that is my very own Charlie Brown Christmas.
Anyway, in sixth grade my classroom teacher decided that we should put on our own production of A Charlie Brown Christmas. "Well," said everyone else, "Jan's the perfect Charlie Brown." And so I was, but getting the part wasn't that easy. Our teacher decided that the fairest way of casting the play would be to go through each character and ask who wanted to play him or her. If there was more than one kid who wanted the part, the teacher would pick a number between 1 and 10. Whoever guessed closest got the part. And instead of casting the big roles first, he started with the small ones. So I held out, waiting for Charlie Brown to come along.
It was the last part cast, and apparently another kid had eyes on it as well. Our teacher called the part of Charlie Brown out, and Richard Nemet and I both raised our hands to try to win it.
"What are you doing, Richard?" a bunch of kids asked him. "Jan's Charlie Brown, not you. Don't be a jerk."
Yes, in spite of most of them treating me with either derision or outright disdain, they still recognized my innate Charlie Browniness, and were willing to stick up for me in my quest to be the consummate loser. Which, admittedly, was kind of nice. And, in true Charlie Brown fashion, when it came my turn to step up to the plate and pick a number, I swung for the fences and missed. Richard got the part.
"God, you are such a dick," someone sitting next to him said.
But Richard didn't care. He was Charlie Brown.
So now it came time to figure out what to do with me, because all the parts in the play had been cast.
"Well," our teacher said. "What Peanuts characters are there who weren't in A Charlie Brown Christmas?"
The class thought for a moment.
"Franklin!" someone shouted out.
"Oh," said our teacher. "That's right. Jan, you can be Franklin."
Yes, Franklin. Peppermint Patty's black friend. So I was Franklin, up on a stage, in front of the whole school. Wearing blackface. No, really. Blackface. In 1981. Feeling like a complete and utter creep and loser.
And that is my very own Charlie Brown Christmas.
