(The patient is sitting in a chair. He has a very desolate look on his face, eyes are droopy and his mouth is partially open. He leans in the chair  because he is heavily sedated; his arms hang out by his side of his body, almost lifeless.)

(Sings)

Hickory...dickory..dock..

The mouse… ran up the clock

The clock struck one…

The mouse ran down…

Hickory….dickory..dock

*whispers*

Hickory…..

Dickory……

Dock! (Right on the dock, the patient shoots up in seat, and he discontinues his whispering)

The mouse ran up my clock!

My clock struck one

But it never ran down!

And up that clock he sure did…

(The patient stands up from his seat and walks around stage)

They say I’m crazy (chuckles) but I refuse!

WHY DID I END UP IN HERE?!

I don’t belong in here. They diagnosed me with schizophrenia. Do you believe that?

(Leans toward the audience and points to himself) Look at me. I said look at me goddamn it!

(cries) I’m sane….(stops crying and face gets serious) They threw me in this hell hole

*Bangs repeatedly on head*

Why did he run up that clock?

Why must there be a reason for why he did it?

They took over head, my entire being. I can’t control it! (pulls at hair) Why would they take over my body? Every aspect of my being is completely in control of them! (points to his head)

GET OUT OF ME! (falls to the ground on his knees and sobs) Just get out of me, please. I’m begging you. (continues to sobs and slowly gets up. He staggers from lack of energy)

(Turns front of body toward the audience) I want to go back to a place where I was normal. Back when I was in control. The time where I had a job I was fresh out of college..just graduated. (smiles) Everything was going great for me. (Pauses and thinks to himself) Until they took over me! Why? Dispel from me you beings. You are not me. There is but one and that is me.

(The patient is losing control and starts to show behavior)

So you listen to me! You run down that clock! You and all your little friends. Run down that clock so this clock can finally strike DONE! (At this point, the two men in uniform burst through the room, and drag the patient from his room. The patient is kicking his feet and profanity escapes his mouth)

YOU RUN DOWN THAT CLOCK! RUN DOWN! RUN!

(HE continues to yell the same words until he is dragged out the room. The door slams behind him and all noise is subdued)

Monologue

Dear Pennsylvania Governor or to whomever puts this is the paper shredder:

One, two, three, four? FOUR textbooks for a class of 32 students.

That’s what I’ve been handed to teach my students.

I’ve been working as a teacher since I got out of graduate school 6 years ago. It’s my passion.  I love learning from my students and challenging our thinking.   My  job  requires many hours of unpaid overtime but it is what is required to be an effective and caring teacher.   I’m not asking for a raise; rather I am  advocating for my students.   I teach five  classes of 33 students and am responsible for 33 additional students in my advisory.  My budget for my 198 students is as empty of nutrients as a Mcdonald’s ice cream machine.  I buy what I can - pencils to tissues to copy paper.  Most of my students’ families can not afford basic school supplies.  Other students work to support their families.  Each day is a balancing act; I question how much longer I can compromise.  We only have 20 mixed matched desks and six extra chairs; some of my kids have to stand up. Have you ever made a seating chart with no seats?

I continue teaching and learning with these wonderful kids who deserve much better because they remind me of the power of community.  They are generous and concerned young people full of potential.  While some people may believe investing in more affluent and powerful students is a better deal, investing in my students will have more impact.  Students from more affluent and well connected families are more likely to make it.  They have been given opportunities from birth.   Meanwhile, my students are treated as second class citizens in old, dilapidated facilities without the basics.  The 100 year old floor creaks;  the 1950s clock stopped ticking thirty years ago.   It is as if my students’ lunch line is serving leftovers and crumbs.  My student ask for more but  I can’t answer or provide everything for them. I’m one man.

Imagine going to a school where you are told to meet high stakes standards but have few tools to begin building.  I bring in paper and pencils but then am told to have everyone do a science fair project.  They  can’t all submit moldy bread science fair projects!  My fellow co-workers and I try to say something positive but the illusion has worn off.   We turn to parent volunteers parents who have time to come to school and can scrape together the bus fare.  We also volunteer by sponsoring clubs and tutoring for free.  It is not enough.  In a world demanding innovation and creativity, we are stifling the future leaders by underfunding their education and underappreciating their potential.

I know I live in a state where the elderly are better cared for than children.  It apparently is acceptable to have high rates of childhood poverty.  Yes, my students do not vote so you may not consider them your constituents.  They can not fund your campaigns nor make you more powerful.  When politician say “I will fix the system and bring equality and justice to the people,” we want to believe you.  But,  the justice and equality never happens.  Do you want to know why?  Because, the politician do not amend the system; the system amends the politicians. The politician must remember their power lies with all the people; otherwise, I no longer live in a democracy.  Too often, when someone is in a position to change the world, they stab the world in the back. Words mean nothing if they are not backed up by action;  I am waiting for the action.

The passion for education is dying because we have been set up to fail. While I tell myself, “we must do more,”  we can not do it alone.  Our students deserve more; they are counting on you.   We live in a country where we are told  we are equal under the law.  How is inequitable and unjust funding of public schools equality under the law?   If we  properly support our public schools,  the lives of our students will improve which will improve the quality of life for everyone in our country.  Mr. Governor, please open your heart and mind to my students.  Work to provide fair and equitable funding for public schools.  Let my students know they have a chance to reach their full potential.  

Sincerely, Mr. Queen

You breathe in.

You breathe out.

You stare at your computer screen for a few seconds. Stunningly, a finished monologue fails to appear. 

You feel apprehensive. You know you have to finish something by tonight. You’ve told your parents time and time again that those projects were already finished; you didn’t have to do anything.

None of it was true. It never is.

The jig is already up. The only thing you’re working for now is to not punt two entire projects in a cloud of early-quarter ennui.

You breathe out.

You breathe in.

(beat)

You’re desperate. You try not to show your panic, but you can feel the goosebumps running down your spine, the familiar chill that overtakes you every time you try to write about yourself.

They said you didn’t have to write about yourself, but you knew better. “All of the best fiction has elements of its writer,” you had thought to yourself. “And besides, my life has so much to write about, and I do so many interesting things. I probably shouldn’t even need to brainstorm!”

You fall into this trap every time. And every time, you are dry of ideas.

And every time, you sit there and think.

And you breathe in.

And you breathe out.

(beat)

Maybe you could write about depression? 

(sigh) You don’t know, the entire topic is so trite and stereotypical; you want your monologue to stand out. You just know they get hundreds of angst-filled rants like that every year; it must sometimes seem as if that’s all that teens can write about.

The voice in the back of your mind speaks. It is the voice that says “This is due in eight hours. You need to do this. You need to get this done.”

It says, “Why not be aware, then?”

You breathe out.

You breathe in.

(beat)

You smile. It’s the smile of a person who knows that they have just narrowly averted a disaster. 

You glance down at the keyboard. For the first time since you started this project, you think you know what you’re doing. Your hands fly over the keyboard as words slowly begin to fill up the page. You don’t need to write a monologue that’s original and self-aware.

(beat)

After all, you’ve already written one.

The class starts and I’m standing here next to the teacher anxiously, waiting to be introduced to the class. I am amazed to see such diversity of students in the classroom, but I see none from where I'm from. Why are they whispering and pointing? As I am standing there feeling more and more like an outcast. ¨I would like to welcome our new student Mona Elsyed who’s come all the way from Egypt....¨ As she’s introducing me, I already feel as if I did not belong. I noticed the pointing fingers turn to my head. One girl had a  confused look on her face as  her eyes were directed towards my Hijab. I felt that she was clueless of what it was and I wasn't able to tell her the way I wanted to because of the language barrier, so I still remained silent. If I knew the correct words I would tell her, that my hijab means much, it is for only those who are family to see what is hidden and where I am from it is written that my hair is a treasure only for my husband to adore. I then was given my seat and I sat down. The teacher then began to teach of things that I did not know or understand and the students began writing while I sat there in worry and confusion. I’m afraid of failing and being made fun of so I just raise my hand ask her what does it mean? she answered me more clear “huh?” but I still couldn’t understand, so she came over to me and showed how to write the assignment. “Ooohh!”, I said loudly and I heard the students around laugh at me but now, I understood. I then began writing my name and I forgot how to write the date in English so I just wrote it in egyptian. I had to write about what I did this past summer,so I wrote at my best ability and I made a paragraph. I then called the teacher over again to check my work and she told me I did a great job and asked if I could read mine out loud to the class. I felt unsure but still said yes. I stood up and the students clapped and as I read slowly, everyone was silent and staring at me so my hands began to shake but I continued reading. I knew I sounded like a broken machine but at least I had the courage to speak and when I was finished I felt better. Everyone then clapped again and I sat down.

(Sits at a table) I sit here again, like every night, pondering at this cold plate of food I could never eat. I wonder why I can never eat once I get home. I’m excited as its being made then when  its in front of me, its complete poison. I always thought it was her cooking, so I begin to make my own meals, and again, I just sit here, pondering at it as it gets cold, watching it as a crystal ball as I review my day. (Slides plate away)

I greet each person I see at school in the morning and always get a smile or  greeted back. I bring fellow students laughs and they are always excited to have me with them. In class I always understand the criteria and help other classmates that need assistance. At lunch I always have my favorite, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I can eat it everyday and so I do. At the end of the day if I had a club I would go. Greeting everyone as I walk in. I contribute to whatever activities we are doing that day and always receive an applause for a job well done. When its time for me to go, I would receive goodbyes as I leave waving good bye to everyone.

When I get home, I would turn up my music and do my homework, soon my mom is home. She would ask me about my day. I always say fine. Then we have dinner. She would become impatient and head upstairs leaving me to my untouched plate. Then we are where we are now. (picks up a fork full of food, looks at it, drop it back on the plate)

So why am I so depressed? Why does my day always end like this? A complete change of mood. Why do I feel so lonely? (Lays head on desk, after 30 secs and lifts head up)

I sit here again like every night pondering at this cold plate of food I could never eat. I wonder why I can never eat once I get home. I just sit there pondering at it as it gets cold, watching it as a crystal ball as I review my day.

I greet each person I see at school without ever getting a response back or even notice of my existence. I make jokes in class but are never heard because I speak it softly and the person next to me then repeats the jokes louder and receives full credit for the laughs it brings. In class I can never understand the criteria and when I ask for help from other classmates, they act as though I do not exist. At lunch I always eat the same damn thing, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. At the end of the day if I had a club I would go. Greeting everyone as I walk in and have no looks down my way. I contribute to whatever activities we are doing that day with no applause. When its time for me to go, I leave waving good bye to everyone with no one paying attention that there is now an empty seat or if it was or was not empty in the first place.

When I get home, I would turn up my music and just sit on my bed, by then my mom is home. We would talk about our days, I would tell her the same line and nothing else, “It was fine.”. Then we would have dinner. She then would become impatient and head upstairs leaving me to my untouched plate. Then we are where we are now. (Watch beeps) 7:30… (Pulls out a baggie with 3 pills) Take with food….. (Pops one pill)

My life isn't as perfect as I thought it was. Its not all daisies and sunshine. Just here, as a normal unseen kid. I’m alone. I’m on my own. Except- I’m not.

I sit here again like every night pondering at this cold plate of food I could never eat. I wonder why I can never eat once I get home. I just sit there pondering at it as it gets cold, watching it as a crystal ball as I review my day.

I greet each person I see at school without ever getting a response back or even notice of my existence. Except my two friends, they greet me and hug me. We talk about our previous night and the day to come. (Picks up a fork full of food and begins to eat) I make jokes in class but are never heard because I speak it softly and the person next to me then repeats the jokes louder and receives full credit for the laughs it brings. Yet I still manage to pass along inside joke to my two friends. (Eats more food) We laugh and keep the day going. In class I can never understand the criteria and when I ask for help from other classmates, they act as though I do not exist. So I move my stuff next to my friends and ask them and they can always find a way to explain the subject giving me an easier way to figure it out. (Keeps eating) At lunch I always eat the same damn thing, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, its the only way to get my special brown candies in, crushed in my peanut butter because they are too big to swallow. I keep a stash of candy in my bag, my mom puts it in my bag every morning and sets my watch for me before I leave. She mixes the special white ones she wants me to take with colorful ones that are ok to share. I hate them, the tastes like the doctor’s office but she says it's important to swallow them everyday at specific times. I share the unprescribed ones with my friends. At the end of the day if I had a club I would go. Greeting everyone as I walk in and have no looks down my way. I contribute to whatever activities we are doing that day with no applause. When its time for me to go, I leave waving good bye to everyone with no one paying attention that there is now an empty seat or if it was or was not empty in the first place, because of that I usually skip the clubs, and instead hangout with my friends. (Eats faster) The city becomes ours as we roam the streets, making jokes and laugh anxiously. Buying candy and sharing with each other. We share secrets and help each other with problems. When its time to go home, we move the party to the bus. We take control of the back of the bus and play games and make jokes always trying to keep smiles on our faces, though we in stuck in in this miserable life. We try to stay positive and keep ourselves in the light so we can't see the shadowy engulfing dark side. (Pops second pill)

(Stands up) My friends have been there for me through thick and thin! They were my umbrella when I walk into the rain! They have been there for my roughest hours and have been my rock! I should not be sad to have such a blessing! I should be thankful to have them in my life!

(Looks at the plate) So why am I so depressed? (Pops third pill) Why does my day always end like this? A complete change of mood. Why do I feel so lonely? (Lays head on desk)

[sits cross-legged on a chair, then speaks as if answering someone]

What’s my name? My name is Sal-ba-tor-a Rivers and I am four and three quarters! I’m prac-ly five. And I said it slow ‘cause did you know that sometimes everybody messes my name? Sometimes not even my bestest friends. My big sister says my name means saver, which is when Superman saves the girl off of a [counting on her fingers] cliff, or a spaceship, or a building. He’ll fly around and save her right up! I’m not Superman. But guess what? Guess what, guess what, guess what? My sister is! I read a lot of big books and can say a lot of big words also, but my sister is way way bigger and she knows [holds arms out] everything!

[as if answering someone] What did you say? Yeah, she’s very very really very strong! I just told you she’s Superman! Even though her name doesn’t mean saver. Her name is Anna and that just means Anna, which can be kind of boring. But she is more of Superman that me! She is strong and cool and she is sooooooo pop-ler in her up school! [suddenly scared, she looks around her quickly] Please don’t tell her I said that, please and thank you! She thinks I don’t like her too much, but [whispers], she’s awesome. She is 17 and one quarter, which is really really big. I can’t even count that yet!

[as if answering someone] Yeah, she’s pop-ler! Why did you say was? I see her all the time on field trips to her up school from my daycare, and she’s as famous as Superman! Everyone pointed and whispered at her, which means that she’s famous, right? That’s what that means, right? They were prob-ly all talking about how cool she is! But sometimes she comes home from her up school with purple on her face.

[as if answering someone] Yes, yes, yes, sometimes she’s real sad. She can cry like babies do sometimes, like a lot sometimes. Especially when she looks in the mirror. And she looks in the mirror a lot. And she says her friends were mean, but that doesn’t make any sense! She’s a million bajillion kajillion hundred times than everyone else ever in the whole world! No one can be mean to her! No one can be mean to Superman! Superman will just make them into dust!

[as if answering someone] Yeah, I know where she is! Do you wanna see her? Oh, okay. Well, I know she got a new bed. It’s all black, like a big black box with a lid, too!  I was with Mom and Daddy when they picked it out. She must be really super happy about it, because now she sleeps all the time. I try to bring her cookies, because I want her to wake up, but Mom says she can’t eat. I get it, though. Even Superman needs sleep! I’m smarter than everyone thinks, I know when people are too tired they need some cookies! Mom doesn’t like Anna sleeping, she’s sad about it, but I know she’ll be up any second or minute! Because when the bad guys get Superman, he always gets back up! And Mom says that some people at school made Anna feel all bad so she decided to not get back up again. But Superman always gets back up! I don’t know why everyone’s so quiet! I know she’ll be here any second! I don’t why you’re asking me all these questions about her! What’s the big deal?

She’s never been asleep this long, but it’s okay. She should be up really soon. Then you can ask her the questions yourself.

You guys would like her. She’s just like Superman!

He always make sure i'm set perfect.  He makes my face sit toward the big open course, its really a beautiful sight, all of the scenery like the lake, and the trees and the bright green grass. My lifes a lot of fun, i'm a guy who likes to travel, its not really my choice, and I did not like it so much when I was new to it, but I've adjusted and its really a lot of fun. I travel all over with my good friend billy. We’ve played in contests in front of audiences, winning money sometimes, and other times we’ve just went out and played for fun by ourselves, enjoying different courses with different scenery, and playing at the course thats closest to our house.

Today we are out on a new course, in sunny San Francisco. Billy takes me out and I notice that he is playing with his co workers, a usual group to play with. He holds me in his hand and I listen to them talk “Alright fellas,  who's going first?” I hear billy say “I guess I will” He always goes first, it gets me excited every time. He walks over and sets up my stand. He always makes me sit up high in the beginning, probably because i'm his favorite. He faces me out toward the course, and I admire the beauty of the course in which is new to my eyes. I see a big stream that runs through the whole land in which the course sits on, creating an obstacle for me to get to almost every hole. I feel him take his practice swing, the wind created from the swing hits me and it tickles, the blades of grass in which he sliced the tops off sway back and fourth. I know its time know. I get excited, knowing I am about to launch off into a new course, or a new world is how I look at it. The first hole is always the most important for me. When I launch, I look around at all the other holes while i'm souring, checking out all of the obstacles in which billy will guide me around. He always does. Hes such a skilled player, he always wins, out of all the matched we’ve competed in we’ve probably one every single one. Were the best team since, since, since peanut butter and jelly. The wind feels great, we haven’t played in awhile,  it's nice to finally get out of the bag to play other than to get cleaned over and over again. I was heading down for landing, just looking at where I was going to land and I noticed, At the speed i am going, i'm guaranteed to land right in the stream. I start to panic, this could be my last game, ever. My life starts flashing before my eyes, all the tournaments, all the courses, all the wins. I just close my eyes, wanting it to be over. I feel myself hit the water and just float to the bottom. The water is cold and the rocks are covered in slimy moss. I just sit with my eyes closed, sad, thinking why here, why now.

Suddenly, I feel a cold metal ring, wrap around me, I jump because I am startled. I open my eyes and notice that I am being lifted by some mysterious pole, type thing. I see a big blurred figure out side of the water. The light shining down affects my sight. I just close my eyes and think. Ive heard stories about this kind of stuff. When the kids take us and hit us as hard as they can with bats, damaging us and just forgetting about us after we land.  Or the people who take us out of rivers and sit out side of courses, selling us to make some cheap cash.

Oh! My feeling’s returned. This is just what I need after all those weeks I spent frozen and crammed in tight plastic. I’m not complaining, the synthetic did wonders to compress and contain my ever expanding ass. I’m no barbie doll, but a turkey’s gotta look good. It feels like ages since I’ve been alone. You spend all your life squeezed between #6788859 and #6788857, it’s hard to feel like the strong and beautiful turkey you were meant to be. The bath confetti cubes of carrot and celery are delightful, I couldn’t ask for more. How did I get so lucky? Before I was booked a trip from Oregon to Pennsylvania, I was defeathered and shaved. I’ve never felt more like a woman. The removal of each pesky bristle unearthed a disgusting chaos which had cultivated beneath my feathers...chapped and pasty skin. But what’s to expect from a girl who’s never seen the daylight. Artificial lighting only goes so far. I wasn’t sure if they would apply bath oil or a simple two in one replenish and restore lotion to soothe the itch. Razor burn was the least of my problems. Boiling water soaked my tense muscles and with it, rising steam seemed to carry a familiar aroma. That rustic farm smell.

Wait, where did the bubbles go? Ouch! A pair of hands clasp my feet, bothering a stray hair neglected to have been plucked. Within a few seconds, my legs are being spread open. Are you looking up my…? Carrots, potatoes and...is that rosemary...are pressed into every groove on the inside of my stomach. I’ve heard rosemary lightens the mood. The same hands turn me over and begin kneading oil into my skin. It was like an oil, herbal massage. If I were alive, that’d tickle! I hear a faint jingle, then one by one, tiny crystals shower over my thighs as if to celebrate my beauty. I am proud of my thighs. I’m a scientific wonder. [Looking up at the ceiling] That’s a nice shade of orange. It reminds me of the beautiful hues on the pills that were pushed down my throat each morning. I’d love to see that color on my fingers. Wait, I don’t have fingernails. [Looking at thighs] Does this dressing make me look fat? Hopefully removing my feathers took a few layers off, or did it just emphasize my butt? I do have perky breasts, they may even hold up under the roasting. It was fun when they were force feeding me. Some guy would come around with a funnel and cram food down my throat. And I would just lay back and take it in. But hey, I’m rich in protein. And men like curves, right? I heard that the Turkey next door was raised on an organic farm. What a loser. 2 in 3 farm animals are raised on a factory farm. Organic is so uncool, everyone is factory farmed now. Where’s the community? At once, I’m lifted into the air, spun around and then lowered. [The Turkey notices a picture hanging on the wall, as she is moved slowly into the oven] I notice a blue and green square on a bare white wall. Birds like me sit among colorful patches and others drink water from a pond. My toes begin to blister and heat moves up my legs and spreads to my thighs. I don’t notice the rosemary inside my stomach begin to roast as well. Where are the people? Where are the cages? The turkey next to the tree is eating, choosing it’s own grass, not being force fed mashed and unidentifiable food. Maybe that’s how free range turkeys are supposed to be...ah, finally the tan I’ve been longing for...