Well, Spencer finally got his dream. Last Friday in assembly, and once again yesterday, the sixth grade class put on a brilliant play, written and directed by an incredibly talented mom of one of the girls in the class.

The play was about the kids' journey through their years at Walden, the experiences in the various classrooms and what they remembered about their teachers. Anna, their first grade teacher, was like the sun presiding over a garden of little Teletubbies. Mark, the second grade teacher, was a zen Buddhist imploring his little grasshoppers to "breathe and read, breathe and read." Lori was a mellow combination of Earth Mother and Janis Joplin. The kids took turns portraying the teachers, enacting the skits. The women teachers were played by boys in drag; a girl played Mark.

Spencer played Billy.

Spencer came out with swagger and proceeded to torment the kids by making them run 536 laps, do 240 jumping jacks, 650 hamstring stretches. He purposefully garbled his language when explaining the rules of a game. At the end, when one of the kids he was ordering around said it was torture, Spencer put his foot on the prostrate kid's back and gave an utterly priceless Dr. Evil laugh, filling the community room with his version of Billy's maniacal personality. He was ruthless and gloried in his power - both in character (as Billy), and as Spencer, the graduating pre-adolescent who finally got his moment center stage at the expense of his nemesis.

It was sweet. Not that I have anything against authority (I'm supposed to be something of that myself). I had to side with Spencer for many of his issues with Billy. But I was grateful for Billy as well. Not only for watching over and keeping my son alive for all these years, but because he gave me a chance to talk to Spencer about how to deal with people in authority that we just don't like. We will have bosses that won't always treat us fairly. We will chafe under their rule. We will want to pick up our quota of trash from the trash can. We will hate the fact that we have to kiss their ass. And we may not have any choice but to continue doing so.

Without confrontation, and without destroying himself in the process, Spencer found his voice. And I got to watch the true nature of art being played out in front of me. By channelling his anger and powerlessness into priceless minutes on stage, Spencer transformed the situation into one of glorious humor and parity.

Art transformed him.

Art enabled him to speak his anger.

Art saved him.

What a great thing to understand as we live powerlessly in this world ruled by men so completely unfit to rule. What a great thing to know as we go to work every day and do things we don't want to do so we can afford to write books and sing songs and create sculptures.

To Spencer and to the Walden Class of 2005: I bow with respect before you. The world is a much better place because the twenty-two of you are in it. I pray you can do something with the mess we've left for you. Thank you for showing me that hope in the future is neither futile nor misplaced.

Go forth and live deliberately, each one of you. Keep your laughter and your bright internal light shining. Keep your moral compass at hand. And never ever forget to transmute anger into art, to find your voice in this world in ways that are breathtaking and true.

# posted by Katherine Doughtie Nolan @ 9:53 PM