My Life as a Furry Red Monster - Kevin Clash [37]
We used the auditorium at Dundalk High School for the event, and our drama teacher, Mr. Riggs (the same Mr. Riggs who gave me that ride home), and our music teacher, Mr. Miller, assisted us. The night was a big success, and we brought in nearly three hundred dollars in ticket sales and pass-the-hat contributions. The following Monday, I was in my study hall, still feeling that postshow high, when a student aide walked in. Instead of going to the monitor as aides usually did, she made her way over to me. She said hello and handed me a hall pass. “The principal would like to see you.”
I took the pass and looked it over. Sure enough, the principal had summoned me. I smiled. I thought that maybe he wanted to make a donation or thank me for supporting such a worthy cause. When I reached his office, his secretary nodded toward an empty seat just outside his closed door.
A few minutes’ wait gave me more time to speculate on how generously he would thank me, until the secretary told me that I could go in. The principal sat behind a big mahogany desk, far different from the blocky teachers’ desks. He didn’t tell me to sit down, didn’t offer his hand, he just sat there shuffling papers and squinting.
“Well, Mr. Clash. It seems we have a…problem,” he finally began.
My stomach felt queasy and my heart started to pound as I wondered what I’d done wrong.
“I understand you used our auditorium on Saturday night. Since that was not a school-sponsored event, you have to pay for the use of the auditorium, as well as the lighting equipment and the sound system. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to take whatever money you brought in for the evening.”
So many thoughts were spinning through my head. I’d never really been in trouble before, so being summoned to the principal’s office was disorienting to begin with. I’d been expecting to be thanked, not reprimanded.
“Sir, we had permission. We were raising money for MDA.”
“You may have had permission from your drama and music teachers, but you did not have the school board’s authorization. According to school district policy, any use of the taxpayers’ facilities must be approved in advance…” He went on and on with a bunch of other bureaucratic bull. After a few seconds, all I heard was the voice used for any parent or teacher on the Peanuts television specials: “Wah-WHA-wah-wah-wah-wha…”
Normally, I would have just stood there meekly. I was raised to have nothing but respect for authority figures, but this situation was ridiculous.
“Sir, this is not fair. You can’t take money from a charity.” I tried every other tactic I could think of, but he would not relent. We had to turn over the money. The principal kept insisting that he had a responsibility to uphold the policies of the school board. Sometimes you learn a lot about courage when you see its opposite in action. I was not proud of this school, and when it came time to purchase my class ring, I wouldn’t buy one.
PEOPLE OFTEN ASK if I ever get nervous when I perform, or if I ever had stage fright. I guess I did, at one time, but after all these years, I’ve developed my own kind of courage—I just get out there and do it! But I still worry about flopping. Though Elmo proved to be a hit, not everything I’ve tried on Sesame Street has succeeded.
For every Elmo in my past, there’s been a Ferlinghetti Donizetti, the rhyming beatnik who just didn’t quite catch on, or a Professor D. Rabbit, whose shtick was so bad that I don’t even remember it. But these Muppet also-rans don’t stop us from trying out new things and taking creative risks. While these acts may not require the same kind of level of courage it takes to get through life’s truly challenging moments, they do require a form of get-your-butt-out-there-and-give-it-a-shot courage that all of us draw on every day.
Let’s see…there was the Grand High Triangle Lover Muppet, who loved