Mr. Shapiro was my drama teacher from 7th grade until high school graduation. He wasn't the first person to believe in me, but he was perhaps the most adamant. No excuses, no waffling, no bullshit, just do good work and do a lot of it. He died in 2001, and I'm pretty sure that today is the anniversary of his death. There's a whole big crop of us from Winthrop High School who were molded into the people we are today by a our teacher's caring, ass kicking, leadership, dedication, infuriating stubbornness, and weirdo obsession with Sophia Loren.
I thought about him just the other night after Ryan and I saw Fences at the Huntington Theater. Especially in the light of what I'm trying more and more to do, I think he'd give me the OK on my life, and that makes me really happy. I think some of the most interesting people in the world were Mr. Shapiro's drama geeks, and I'm proud to count myself among the jazz squaring, monologue memorizing ranks.
Mr. Shapiro, we miss you and love you. And as for me, I constantly wish you were alive so I could get your take on things. But I guess the only thing to do is just shut up and do good work, a lot of it.
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Erin, Mr. Shapiro would never have us *memorize* monologues. We'd LEARN them.
That being said, I think about him all the time, too. Especially in September. I know I am the person I am today because of him. Anytime I'm feeling lost or without direction, I can't help but think to myself: Who am I? Where am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going?
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