I am about to be a part of a production, but I haven't been to any of the rehearsals; perhaps I'd been ill. I ask the large, overweight woman teacher where I should stand. The teacher, who looks a bit like Grandma Agnes, is busy and abrupt with me. I see the girls standing and practicing where they will be during one song. If I join them, I will have to know the precision turns and moves. If I don't join them, I'll be standing alone and conspicuous on the stage with nothing to do. I am aware that if I had taken the initiative and rehearsed, I'd not be in this predicament. I go in search of the teacher who is rehearsing a woman singing. I stand there, edging nearer to get her attention, which interrupts their rehearsal. I am envious of the woman's singing ability to do opera. My throat can't do that any more. The teacher is annoyed with me. She goes to the piano. I am crying copious tears that drip onto the piano. The teacher says, shortly, "Oh, for goodness sake, at least don't get tears on the piano!" She says I'll just have to figure it out, where I'll stand. She hasn't time to work with me. When I'd asked to be a part of this production, I'd promised I wouldn't be a trouble, but I sure am one now. I decide I have to go to the bathroom and find a stall, lock the door and am still crying. Girls look at me sympathetically, but I don't want them to fuss over me.