From the Single Files

What did Vieja Valley’s Ashley Scatena learn on The Bachelor? The reality of life is preferable to TV.

A kindergarten teacher straight out of central casting, Vieja Valley School’s Ashley Scatena is sweet, petite and charming. So what was she doing starring on ABC’s comical catfight “reality show,” The Bachelor?

It wasn’t to meet the man of her dreams.

It wasn’t the money; the women aren’t paid to participate. They even have to supply their own clothes.

It wasn’t the potential stardom; unlike many bachelorettes, Scatena has no ambitions to become an actress or a model.

Scatena was simply motivated by the opportunity to get a behind-the-scenes look at a reality TV show. She said the whole process was fascinating.

“I can’t watch a show the same way again,” she said.

She was particularly struck by how long it took to film a single scene. For example, the rose ceremonies — during which the women find out if they’ve been chosen by the bachelor to go on to the next round — took about nine hours to film and resulted in only about nine minutes of airtime.

Last week’s rose ceremony was the last one for Scatena, since Byron the bachelor did not choose her to continue.

While Scatena felt badly about not staying on longer, she was hardly heartbroken. She said she knew right away that the Las Vegas fisherman wasn’t the man for her, but figured she might as well enjoy the experience.

With 25 women sharing three small bedrooms and two bathrooms, and completely cut off from the outside world — no phones, no Internet, no television, no books, no magazines — it’s no wonder they became close friends.

“We spent 23 hours a day talking and getting to know each other. It was just a great way to bond with women my age,” said the 31-year-old. “And I realized that we’ve all had the same dating experience all over the country.”

Scatena’s looking forward to November, when the women will film a “Girls Tell All” episode and give the inside scoop on their experiences on the show. Right now they are not supposed to be talking among themselves, to help keep up the suspense — as well as the secrecy — of the show.

As for the over-the-top drama of some of the women, Scatena said they were mostly just playing to the camera and giving the producers what they wanted.

But being dramatic was the last thing Scatena wanted. Ever aware of her role model status — especially among her previous students — she was very careful not to do anything she would regret.

“These kids are my biggest fans, and they don’t even care that I was on TV,” she said, as two little girls shyly presented her with some yellow leaves. “Yesterday I got a marble and a paper clip.”

It’s hard to be a diva in a class full of 5-year-olds.

“My students are my saving grace right now,” she said. “When everything else is crazy you can come in here and tie 10 pairs of shoes and blow someone’s nose and open their string cheese, and you forget all about The Bachelor.”

Originally published in South Coast Beacon on October 7, 2004.

The first steps are the hardest

Photo by Tolmacho, Pixabay.com.

Photo by Tolmacho, Pixabay.com.

Whether starting out or starting over, the joy is in the journey.

I just started kindergarten for the third time, and it doesn’t get any easier. I also started writing this column at least three times and I’m not sure it got any better.

Firsts are not my bests. I probably had more butterflies in my stomach the day Koss and his humongous Yu Gi Oh! backpack walked into Vieja Valley School than when I first set my own shiny black Mary Jane-clad feet into Washington School almost — oh, my gosh — 36 years ago.

The reason I’m writing this column is because my dear friend and colleague, Sally Cappon, abandoned me to write a book, sort of like Koss’ preschool friends abandoned him for different elementary schools. I don’t know what I’ll do without Sally to help me spell Devereux and Glen Annie or her encyclopedic knowledge of Fiesta.

Change is hard. I was just starting to get the hang of my first kindergarten classroom at Crown Pointe Elementary in San Diego. Then my dad selfishly took a job at Santa Barbara City College and moved us here midyear, without a second thought as to who I would sit with at snack time. Thankfully Mrs. Moropoulos (whose son, Craig, is now the football coach at Santa Barbara High) was looking out for me that first day. She let me have the special honor of assisting her by wiping off the blackboard and cleaning the erasers.

There are no more erasers to clean.

Koss has a whiteboard in his classroom, two computers and 19 kids he didn’t know until that first day. I was terrified, but he took it in stride, promptly befriending Ben and Bob and telling me he wished he only had three letters in his name.

One of the most wonderful and alien things about being a mom is re-experiencing some of the memories of my childhood through the eyes of a little boy. Even though the chairs have shrunk enormously, they’re still made of that artificially shiny wood. I can almost feel my bottom skating across the seat every time he sits down.

Koss is fitting easily into his new school and tells everyone who asks how much he loves it. As I agonize over the contents of his Pokemon lunchbox (do I give him the Goldfish crackers I know he’ll eat or the celery sticks I wish he would), he sings his new songs (“To stop the bus in cases of emergency, you pull the cord …”) and chatters about how much better Ms. Geritz sings than I do. In reality, everyone sings better than I do, but he never noticed this in preschool, when all the bus did was have its wheels go round and round.

Koss is becoming more and more independent every day, which simultaneously thrills and kills me. It seems like yesterday I brought him home from the hospital and he already wants to be dropped off in the school parking lot to walk to class alone (over my dead body!).

While Koss learns to pronounce L’s and R’s in a way that people other than his dad can understand, I’ll be working on a way to put my own observations into a forum that entertains more than just my husband. I’ve got high hopes for this column, but even higher hopes for Koss as he sets off on this lifelong learning adventure.

But until he learns to read, I’m counting on the rest of you.

Originally published inĀ South Coast Beacon on September 23, 2004.