Show Me Your Life

Show Me Your Life

“You want us to do what?” Tami exclaimed, flipping a heavy black braid behind her back. “I thought we were supposed be here for a job. Do you mean that you will be paying us to record our life for a year? Why?”

“We are calling it ‘A Year in Time Research Project’.” Margaret, a dignified woman in a pinstripe suit, spoke crisply. “We are wanting to take a more general look at people and their lives. You can represent parts of your life through poems, songs, stories, drawings, or a diary entry. Be as creative or non-creative as you want, just make sure you make weekly entries in your book. Any questions?”

“What happens if I miss a week or two?”

“You can record the previous week if necessary, but we strongly encourage you to keep up-to-date on your entries. We will be able to tell if you are just filling in for the last few weeks and the final payout will be docked accordingly.”

“How much are we being paid again? That part was never clearly stated.”

“That will depend on the quality of your work. Everyone who finishes the project as specified will receive $500 with a possibility of more if the research data process fulfills the protocol.”

Tami looked at her watch. She had been struggling with finances lately and had to hold multiple jobs to make the ends meet. It was almost time to leave for Job #2. She sighed and said “I’ll participate. What do I need to do to sign up?”.

Margaret handed Tami the final paperwork and a little black notebook and watched the girl unfold her lanky form from the chair and hurry out the door.

The phone rang. “What do you think?” the voice on the other end asked Margaret.

“I really can’t say. She seems like a good candidate, but time will tell. Have any of the other participants worked out?”

“No”

“Isn’t this a lot of effort to…”

“Margaret.” The voice interrupted. “It’s not your job to question my methods.”

“I just was thinking a daily journal over a shorter time…”

“No! The yearlong weekly journal was the original parameter, and I’m not changing it now. I will call next week.”

Margaret heard the receiver click on the other end and looked out the window, gazing non-seeing into the gathering dusk.

********

Late that night Tami lay awake staring at the black book. What had she gotten herself into? What kind of research needed someone’s diary – pictures, poetry, whatever—on everyday events? Didn’t researchers have some specific information they were looking for--like how your health was affected by eating too much pizza? “I wish I had asked more questions.” Tami whispered to herself.

Tami picked up the book and made the first entry.

Week 1 of January

I started a yearlong adventure today…

At first, Tami struggled with feeling self-conscious about making entries but later found she enjoyed her weekly journaling. By the end of her first month, she drew a picture of one of her dancing students sitting on the floor with her face in her hands crying. Tami titled it, Frustration, not knowing if it applied more to her student or herself.

Week 4 of January

Today’s dance class was a disaster. The students were distracted and no matter what I did they danced about the room in a dozen disjointed pieces. And then there was Sally, a sensitive little soul who wants to dance more than anything else in the world. Sally’s high expectations and desire to be perfect often leads to tears. But today as I explained how to do a plié, Sally could not get her body to line up and finally flopped onto the floor and broke into tears. I dried her tears and had her try again with no more success but a lot more praise. I feel like an utter failure. I need to find better ways of explaining how to align the body and not push too hard. I should have seen that she was getting frustrated.

Several weeks later Tami tried penning a simple poem.

Week 3 of February

Bills, Bills, the never-ending bills.

I take the bait with little break just to pay a bill that’s late.

My weekend fun is overrun by children who’d rather sit on their bum.

I’m pulled and slowed, rushed and hushed working for a dime that’s plush.

I chase my dreams and follow my plans.

I push and push and push.

And when I stop, and that’s not a lot, I wonder if I’m in a rut.

As Tami reread her little poem, she winced a little, and followed it with a boring rendition of her week.

Week 1 of March

I danced today, not the typical gentle dances that I’ve been doing lately. I danced with jumps and all. I haven’t been able to really dance since my back surgery. And you know what? So far no pain other than the slight discomfort that reminds me what I almost lost once and sometimes what I did lose during those years of healing. I don’t want to ever forget how truly special the ability to even walk is, much less dance.

Week 3 of April

We went to a dance competition this weekend. My students did so good. Even the ones that didn’t place were just happy to be there. They bore their disappointment with such grace. I am so proud of them.

While at the competition, I saw some old friends who had gone on to be professional dancers. After catching up with them I was feeling extremely sorry for myself, but then Sally came and wrapped her arms around me and thanked me for being her favorite teacher. It warmed my heart. My dancing career may have been redirected by my accident, but I have the best students in the world.

Week 2 of June

Under a cartoonish drawing of three mice gnawing on a square of cheese, Tami wrote:

I am home this week. The three mice are me and my cousins. We found a stall at the farmers market that specializes in cheeses. Yum. Home is really the best spot, but it is so hard to follow one’s dreams in the country.

Week 3 of June

I am staying an extra week at home. Luckily my dance students are ok with an extra-long break but my boss at my Day Care job is upset. Hopefully she will calm down before I get back. I am needed here. I originally planned my visit so I could take care of my mom while she had knee surgery. Her surgery was delayed and now she needs me this week instead.

Week 4 of June

I got fired from my Day Care job. I’m so discouraged but I know I did the right thing by taking care of my mother. She didn’t have anyone else to help.

Week 1 of August

Still looking for a second job. My student loans loom.

Week 4 of August

Got a job at a Before and After School program. My new boss seems nice.

Week 2 of October

Nothing happened this week. Nothing! Just the same old scurry between job.

Week 3 of November

Thanksgiving brought some homesickness and I discovered that Before and After school programs don’t get days off just because the schools is closed. We have Thanksgiving off but the other days are longer and with more kids.

Week 3 of December

The Nutcracker; color, music, dance, and a bunch of snotty nosed sugar plum fairies forgetting their part. Whoever reads this I wish you could have seen it. Sorry, I can’t even attempt to draw the humor. Oh, and I was so proud of little Sally! She let go and just had fun. She forgot to be perfect and you could see her joy. That is why I started dancing—to feel that joy in my bones.

Week 4 of December

This is my last entry. I sent packages home two weeks ago and got my families package two days after Christmas. But I still had a wonderful Christmas. I spent the whole day exploring a park that is usually too far away to go to on a regular day off. I took some time to think over the year, and what a year. I don’t feel any closer to a career. But I think I might have some new dreams. Instead of becoming a professional dancer, maybe teaching and nourishing the passions of kids is what I should keep reaching for. I need a real job and I need to make enough money to pay my student loans, support myself, and plan for a future. But maybe I can grow this into my real job.

Tomorrow I turn this book in. I don’t see what good it will do anyone’s research. But here it is.

******

Two weeks later Tami received a letter and a check for $20,000. Here is what she read.

Dear Miss Tami Jones,

I am writing as Mr. Robert Smiths representative. Mr. Smith had a dream of giving a special gift to someone who needed a leg up as they chased their dreams while still maintaining kindness and doing something to make the world a better place. He passed away this last fall and left me with the privilege of finding a recipient for his gift. Your journal assignment was our research for an appropriate recipient. Mr. Smith wanted to find out who you were, and I think he would have been pleased with the person you are and how you have grown this year. After reading your journal I believe you match Mr. Smith’s idea of a worthy person. Here is a check for $20,000. Good luck and keep the joy in your dancing.

Ms. Margarete Henderson