Don't Stop Believin': Book One of the Kimberly Hummel Series

Chapter Fifteen

"Okay, guys, listen up," Mr. Schue said on Monday in rehearsal. "This is Mr. Ryan. He's a member of the school board, and he would like to say a few words. I just want you guys to listen critically and know that what he's saying is just one of many opinions."

He gave Mr. Ryan the floor who said, "Take out a piece of paper." I held out my hand to my brother who ripped a piece out of his notebook. "And, on that paper, I want you to write down your biggest dream, a dream that means so much, you're afraid to admit it even to yourself."

I quickly wrote mine down, obviously it was Broadway.

I looked up from the paper to see Mr. Ryan take Artie's paper, crumble it, and throw it in the trash, "Your dream is never going to happen. Ninety-one percent of you will spend your entire lives living in Allen County, Ohio. So, unless you wrote down your dream is to work for a mid-market health insurance provider, or find an entry-level job in an elderly-care facility, you're going to be very disappointed."

"This is really depressing," Mercedes said quietly.

"I'm going to guess that a lot of your dreams involve showbiz," Mr. Ryan said as me, Rachel, and Kurt all looked at each other. "Well, let me tell you, showbiz dreams are the most unrealistic of them all."

"But, that's what I want to do with my life," Tina said.

"Oh, look, I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, I'm just trying to spare you disappointment."

"I think we get your point," Mr. Schue said.   

"Ah, well, Schuester, here's a prime example. He used to have that glimmer of hope in his eyes that I can see right now in all of yours. But . . .   He couldn't make it happen for himself sso now he has to try and convince you all that yours will work. Guess what. His dream didn't work out. And neither will yours."

Tina sobbed.

"Okay," Mr. Schue said. "You're done here."

"You'd be wise to show me some respect," Mr. Ryan said.

"You've said your piece. Now get out."

"Well, Schuester, I should thank you. You've made my decision about which program to cut a lot of this year."

    A few days later, Mr. Ryan was standing in front of all of us again with a box, "Guys, I have great news. I siphoned off funds from the Cheerios, and I took a little shopping spree through the Jazz Hands catalog. You know why? Because the arts matter. And I got custom-made New Directions jean jackets."

    He pulled one out which was bedazzled and said New Directions on the back. My brother was all for it, running down from where our seats were at the top riser, grabbing it.

    "And some rad tear-away dance wear," Mr. Ryan continued, peaking my interest, I was always ready for a cool quick change. "Hello–And every piece of sheet music from every Broadway show from the last fifty years. Everything a show choir needs to become champions."

    "That's amazing," Mr. Schue said with a smile. "Let's give a hand for Mr. Ryan."

    We all applauded as I wondered what happened to Mr. Ryan.

    "Congratulations, Will," Sue said as she came into the room. "I am over the moon for you."

    "Thanks, Sue. I'm glad you have a good attitude about your budget getting cut."

    "No, I'm not talking about that. I came over here to congratulate you on your new role. Local director Herb Duncan does the dry cleaning for the Cheerios, and he let slip that you just landed the lead in Les Mis. Congratulations. Oh, I'm ecstatic. Oh, and the good news just keeps coming, because you got a part too, Bry," Sue pulled out the script. "The exciting role of Townsperson. And you got a line too. Way back here in the second act, you get to say, 'Hooray'. Congrats, both of you, really. I can't wait for opening night."