Dear quidditch community,
As some of you might or might not have recognized had I signed my name upon this correspondence, I’m a teacher. I love education but hate the traditional classroom.
“Why’s that?” you may ask.
Well, for starters: I believe in smaller class sizes, more recess, waiting to teach kids how to read until they’re 7 or 8 years old, three day weekends—you know, all the classic hippy bullshit you’ve probably heard about organic learning systems, which would end up keeping a person in the public education system until the age of 25.
You know what else I believe in? Open and divergent thinking.
“But Ms. Saltine! What’s that?!” you may ask.
Well, young one, I believe that everyone should develop the ability to think outside of their reality and challenge social norms and conveniences. You know, more of that classic, hippy bullshit that makes people uncomfortable and defensive. But that could be beside the point.
Simply by being a player of our magical sport, you have shown the world that you are indeed in possession of the open and divergent mind that I, Ms. Saltine, have tried to foster in every single one of my students. You’re all individuals capable of independent thought and pushing through social boundaries that were inconceivable by athletes past. By bringing together literacy, sportsmanship, full contact, gender inclusivity, and brooms, together we have successfully created a sport that transcends the confines of one-directional thinking and scoring. Congratulations! By just being here and reading this edict, you have performed some outside-the-box thinking, and Ms. Saltine is pleased—whether that was your intention or not.
But perhaps something that accompanies individuals who like to think openly and divergently is that sometimes while your ideas are really fuckin’ great, your other ideas are really fuckin’ not. Take Leonardo Da Vinci, for example. That piano cello thing he invented? Brilliant! That almost-airplane? Right idea, poor execution.
And that, my friends and family, is what I am here to talk to you about today.
We’ve all come together to help create a sport, but in bringing together our ideas and encouraging that strong “outside-the-box thinking,” we have also somehow alienated those who work towards bringing together our ideas.
“Who the fuck are those schmucks?” you may ask.
Well: it’s us. Your volunteers, managers, directors, and staff. Without us, your ideas—and for some of you, your entire livelihoods—are nothing. Without us, quidditch would cease to exist because no one would do the goddamn work it takes to bring between 21 and 31 strong–willed, free–thinking millennials together to get shit to not only happen but progress.
So here I am: sitting down, taking my ovaries out, placing them on the table, and telling all of you to get your shit together.
Some of you are probably staring at the screen and thinking, “How dare you! I help out! I sit on exec! I manage shit! Fuck you!”
If indeed you are someone who believes that they have contributed to the best of their ability and have put in precisely the amount of work that equates with how much you run your mouth, then indeed—you may give me a nice, large, well-deserved “fuck.” Yes, I’ll deserve it, and I’ll welcome it with open legs.
However, if you are someone who complains and never fucking helps out, rest assured that I will be the first one to stand up, take out both of my middle fingers, and tell you to fuck right off.
The amount of times managers and leaders for teams and for media have been messaged, emailed, called, and punched in the nose with our demands and excuses have been far too fucking many. We all ask “What the shit are you going to do for this organization?” but never once do we ask “Hey: what the hell can I, a lowly shiteater, do for everyone else?” We take, take, take, take until every single one of the volunteers in our community burns the fuck out. Want to know why the turnover rate for quidditch volunteers is so high? It’s because they’ve decided to handle our shit for so long that the smell of excuses and disappointment will never wash out of their hair. Despite how unlikely it is that they’ll ever get that stench out, it seems like they’ve decided to start trying for once.
There are four more days until the beginning of September which means that there are four days until the regular quidditch season starts. US Quidditch, Quidditch Canada, the IQA, and Quidditch Post all have vacancies and are ready and willing to take volunteers who are passionate about quidditch and the issues that surround it. Stop disappointing yourselves. Stop disappointing Ms. Saltine. Stop disappointing the rest of the goddamn community. We all deserve better.
With all the love in my wine-stained liver/heart,