By Jenny Brundin
http://stream.publicbroadcasting.net/production/mp3/kuer/local-kuer-954639.mp3
Salt Lake City, UT –
Described as creative and eccentric, 17-year-old Rhea Hermann is transferring to the School for the Performing Arts, part of Highland High. The new school is vastly bigger than her old school. Her only memories of public school were from the elementary years when she was mercilessly bullied. Rhea is nervous, but also excited and optimistic, ready for a new challenge.
It's 7:15 a.m. at Rhea Hermann's house. She's whispering because there are still people asleep.
"I'm very excited, I hardly got any sleep last night," whispered Rhea. "And when I did sleep, I dreamed of ducks that wouldn't let me pass."
Rhea's Dad drives her from her Glendale neighborhood to Highland which is on 2100rd South and 1200 East. The conversation between father and daughter flows easily.
"Someone the other day asked me the other day if I was a wall flower, and I'm like what's a wall flower, and they're like, it's someone who's shy and quiet and they read a lot of books and I thought, oh, I want to be a wall flower!"
Her dad, David Hermann laughs.
"Aspiring to be a wallflower!"
The time in the car is that safe time between parent and child, where insecurities are revealed, met by reassurances from the parent, along with advice
. "One of the things I would really encourage you to do is to use the calendar in your phone get in the habit of doing it every time you have an assignment," said David Hermann.
But Rhea's on top of it.
"Not assignments because I have a planner for that, the school gave me a planner," said Rhea.
We get to the school about 7:30 a.m.
"Alright I love you Rhea, have a good first day," said David Hermann. They tell each other they love each other and make plans for how Rhea will get home.
"May all your scholastic dreams come true!" said David Hermann, as Rhea gets out of the car.
Wading through the droves of kids, it's easy to see that everyone defines themselves still by their dress - and their mood. There are boisterous kids, and goofy kids, and kids who look so uncomfortable, it's painful to watch. Today, Rhea will attend ALL her classes mostly just introductions. Rhea's first class is a voice class, taught by an enthusiastic new teacher, Mr. Anthony.
"Course materials," said Mr. Anthony. "Your own body is the main material required for this course!"
He tells the kids in this class, they must learn to give and receive criticism. Rhea's legs, which bounce up and down nervously all day, bounce a little harder.
"The most important resonator is something called the naso-pharanx," said Mr. Anthony. "Sounds cool, huh!"
"Exciting!" exclaims one kid.
Mr. Anthony even gets them to sing on the first day. Rhea says she's never had singing lessons.
"I sing to my shower head but I don't think it listens very well and the imaginary audience past my curtain, they're the same people over and over again," Rhea said.
The kids sing. Even as she sings, one kid is clinging to giant blue stuffed narwhal. A girl shouts out that it's her birthday. So the voice class, appropriately, sings "Happy Birthday" - with Rhea adding in her own vocal flourish.
"Cha, cha, cha," sings Rhea.
The singing seems to put Rhea into a relaxed mood, and now she's off to AP English, the class she's most looking forward to.
"I might major in English, and I'm passionate about writing," said Rhea.
She talks eagerly about the books the class was assigned to read over the summer.
"The Grapes of Wrath has been my favorite so far but the Crucible comes up really close, the Crucible shook me in the ending," said Rhea.
In AP English, there's a kid who looks like he's 10 sucking on a blue lollipop. And a girl who looks like she's 20 in stiletto black boots, who is clandestinely texting beneath her desk. Rhea reaches for an enormous stash of candy in her backpack.
It's 9.00 o' clock. One the way to chemistry, I lose Rhea. Then we both get lost. We finally get to room 212, and this teacher has a seating plan. It feels studious. Rhea is noticeably more relaxed here. Plus, the kid with the stuffed narwhal is near us, which Rhea gleefully asks to pet.
"Oh my god, I love it," said Rhea.
The teacher passes out a basic chemistry test so she can gauge how much they already know. What is an element? What is the noble gas? How many milliliters are in one liter? Reah is rocking until she gets to what is a mole is, you know, a unit of measurement having something to do with 12 grams of carbon. Rhea writes, "Those brown marks are your skin."
Rhea whispers to me, "This is going to be a good year. "
9:25 a.m. Spanish. Senora Stringham introduces herself to the class. Reah's concentrating hard, listening. The teacher tells a story about trying to buy a dozen eggs in Japan when she didn't know Japanese.
After many attempts to communicate, someone tells the teacher, why didn't you just go "bock, bock, [noise of laying an egg]?"
The class erupts in laughter, with Rhea's being the loudest.
Senora Stringham asks the class why they are interested in Spanish. Rhea's the only one to raise her hand at first.
Rhea speaks in Spanish. She says she lives in a neighborhood with a lot Spanish speakers. She and her Dad sometimes go to the Mexican bakery on the corner to buy cookies. She'd like to be able to talk with people in the store more. And the cookies by the way are pretty good.
Next, Algebra II. This is the class Rhea fears the most.
"I took an SAT practice test on line," said Rhea. "And I found I'm doing miserably in the math section, there's a lot that I don't know."
The teacher hands out a sheet with several questions. One is, how can the teacher help the student learn? Rhea writes she hopes the teacher, Ms. Waltrin, doesn't go to fast, or Rhea will get lost, like she did in middle school.
"Throughout my middle school I cheated throughout 6th to 8th grade, I failed my tests but I did well homework assignments because we were supposed to grade ourselves and I always gave myself a 100," said Rhea.
Ms. Waltrin asks the class if they're ready to use your math brains tomorrow and take a little pre-test. She tells the class she's going to work them hard. This is when Rhea, I notice, starts sharpening all her pencils.
Theater is up next.
This class, like many of the others is large, between 30 and 40 students. This teacher, named Jarrod, is no-nonsense.
"Late work, I don't accept it," he said. "If it's not on-time, you just don't get the points, period."
Memorization must be thorough, on-time and word perfect.
"Do not slough my class," he said. "It will be ugly for you if you do."
I'm suddenly feeling a long dormant teenaged instinct to rebel; Rhea likes Jarrod's approach, eager for the challenge.
I'm a little nervous about college," said Rhea. "So I want to try and prepare myself for college in any way that I can including, like, the fact that I'm being taught by a college professor in a college-like classroom, then I think it will definitely help. "
The bell rings.
"Lunchtime, "said Rhea. "Oh I'm famished."
We wade into mobs of kids, standing in various line-ups for lunch. Rhea actually sees someone she knows.
"The girl with the red streaks, I used to know her, she used to be a very dear friend of mine, that is, until she tried betrayed me. "
Rhea orders a pepperoni pizza.
She sits alone outside, but says she likes to eat alone.
After ballet, finally - last class of the day! - AP History. This class is a little rowdy. Mr. Ika tells them the rules, no cell phones, no food - last year then food attracted mice. The teacher goes around the class, asking each student for their goal this year. Every single kid says something like, get straight A's, not fail this class, or a grade point average they want. Rhea says she wants to learn more so she can write better stories.
"Because the more I know, the better stories I can write," said Rhea.
At the end of the day - 1 o'clock - we're summoned to the assembly hall for the school of performing arts. There's a lot of good talent, including a trio of long-haired heavy metallers delivering a rippin' version of the Beatles' Helter Skelter.
"Look out, Helter Skelter," the singer screams.
For the final sketch, they ask for volunteers. Rhea - self-described shy, socially awkward at times wallflower, well, her hand suddenly shoots up. Next thing I know she's on stage, acting out a scene.
"No seriously I can't do this!" shouts Rhea. "5, 4, 3, 2, I can't do this!"
I think she's actually having a panic attack for real. But she's not. She's just acting. And she's good. And the kids in the audience? They're roaring with laughter.
In the hallway after, a skinny kid she doesn't know comes up to her and hugs her.
"My first day of school fascinating and amazing, said Rhea. "And I really hope that things get better. I can definitely see my school life becoming improved and I think that this change has been for the best."