I will never forget the exact moment when I stopped trying in school. It was the last month of classes before the end of 8th grade. I was ditching some class under the guise that I was "rehearsing" in the band room for an upcoming spring concert. I remember hanging out in the band office with both of my music teachers: Ms. Corwin and Mr. Pontiere. I was riffin' doing some kind of 8th grade version of standup comedy talking about other students and teachers and making them both laugh. I'll never forget Mr. Pontiere saying,"Gab, if you're already ditching class in the 8th grade, I hate to see you by your senior year." I wasn't quite sure what he meant so I asked, "why?". He responded with, "well, if you already displaying the signs of senioritis now then God knows how you'll be in four years". Still confused, I asked, "what's senioritis?"
Urban Dictionary Definition:
Senioritis -noun. A crippling disease that strikes high school seniors. Symptoms include: laziness, an over-excessive wearing of track pants, old athletic shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, and sweatshirts. Also features a lack of studying, repeated absences, and a generally dismissive attitude. The only known cure is a phenomenon known as Graduation.
So I thought to myself if I've already caught the virus then I may as well keep up the slacker symptoms.
So now let's flash forward to my senior year of High School...
I started the year knowing that I didn't want to go to college but also knowing my parents would strong-arm me into it. I had taken honors classes the first three years so I was pretty much done with most of my needed credits. I took three electives of band classes because I was that cool *sarcasm*. I still had an extra elective so I decided to take Honors Anatomy for fun.
Why?
Well, I'll tell you.
I always harbored this desire to be a doctor secretly within my soul. Not because I wanted to be a doctor, but because I always felt my mother wanted at least one of her children to go to medical school. So when I was confronted with the choice of one more elective and there were no other band classes for me to join, I thought to myself: I'm going to take Anatomy for fun! That way, if I end up being naturally good at it then maybe I can reconsider going into medicine and if I suck at it, well, who cares? It was just a dumb elective anyway.
So me being the forthcoming, outgoing, charismatic student that I was... I immediately informed my Anatomy teacher of my situation on the very first day of class. This is exactly what I said verbatim:
"Hi Mr. Cavitt. My name is Gabby Bonesso and I'm in your honors Anatomy class. I just wanted to let you know up front that I will not be studying or doing any homework. Mostly, because I want to find out if I'm naturally gifted in this subject. If it turns out that I am not gifted, well, that's okay because this is an elective and I don't need this grade to graduate. (putting out my hand to shake his) Here's to hoping I'm a genius!"
Turned out, I was not a genius.
I was initially bummed, but overall I was fine with the result.
Mr. Cavitt, however, had a problem.
How to teach an advanced Anatomy class with a student who has complete disregard for school, class, homework, grades and authority?
Well, he did it by having a complex relationship with me.
Basically, Mr. Cavitt and I had the exact same sense of humor. I could make the man laugh like nobody else. In fact, one of my best bits during my senior year was my impersonation of him, "Riga, riga, rigamortis. Say it. Say it. Rigamortis! Say it!" *you probably had to have been there, but trust me when I say my impersonation was spot on!*
Anyway, socially we were pals. I mean, we didn't hang out, but before and after class he would let me do my standup shtick for everybody and he was always the biggest laugher.
However, during class... YIKES. I was the bane of his existence. He would ream me out in front of everybody for being lazy and nonchalant. Damn. You should of been there when my class was tested on all the bones in the human body. HahA! I purposely didn't get one right. He pointed to the skull and I answered, "the head bone" and he freaked out! It was hysterical. So I feigned outrage and screamed, "Geez, Mr. Cavitt back off! It's not like I want to be an Anatomist when I grow up!" which then made him throw me out of class.
Oh... The memories.
Last night, I had a show in Carnegie. Pretty close to where I went to high school. Rumor had it that a bunch of teachers were going to attend. I said to my sister last week, "I hope Mr. Cavitt comes. He always encouraged my sense of humor and was just one of my favorite people of all time".
Yesterday, before the show, I found out that none of my former teachers would be able to make it. They had to attend the funeral of another teacher. Mr. Cavitt.
I was crushed to hear the news, but I was even more crushed when I realized that I wouldn't be able to make it to his only funeral viewing because I had to perform.
Attending high school in the suburbs had a tendency to take it's toll on me. I was always labeled "weird" and I never fit into any one niche successfully. I was far more interested in old movies and Woody Allen than Brad Pitt or whatever else was popular at the time. I had extreme difficulty conversing with my peers. It was just so refreshing when someone "got me". You know? And Mr. Cavitt definitely did.
I know for a fact that teachers like Mr. Cavitt helped me to gain the confidence in myself to become a professional performer and writer. He may not have respected my work ethic in his class, but I know he admired my ability to always be myself. He appreciated my sense of humor and I admired his.
I just wish I could have seen him one last time before he died. I would have loved to have shot the shit and caught up and had some laughs. Most of all though, I would have loved to thank him. He treated me with respect and treated me like a person. Not a kid. Not a student. A person. I know it sure meant the World to this terrible anatomy student.
Rest in peace, Mr. Cavitt. You are already missed.
