MAY
29

The Heart of Theatre

If you’re like many teachers, it’s the time of year when you’re asking yourself, “Why do I do this every year?  Maybe somebody else should do drama club next year.”  The letter below was written by a long-time middle school teacher who definitely was feeling that burnout.  You’ll love reading about her trials and tribulations and how the amazing, intangible results of the production itself rejuvenated her spirits.  We can’t think of a better way to capture the heart and soul of our motto, “Touching lives through theatre...  together™.” 

Our sixth grade just finished its production of Cinderella, Cinderella! as part of anti-bullying program this last week.  It has been an extraordinary journey.  I am telling you, I almost walked away from this one multiple times these past few weeks, but in the end, it was all worth it.

The scheduling and space reservations for rehearsals and performances were supposed to have been done by another administrator, but I found out four weeks ago that they were not.  I’ve had to scramble, jump through bureaucratic hoops and kiss a lot of you-know-what to get us time and space in the school district.

And through all that, I’m still rehearsing, but I only get the kids once a week for an hour.  We get to tech week, and the track coach and I work out a schedule we are both okay with.  But no, it’s never that simple, is it?  I didn’t anticipate parental outcry because I “don’t understand what a unifying experience sixth grade track is for the kids and their parents.”  (The parents??)  I am forbidden from scheduling ANY rehearsals during track.

One week before our show, we plug in the light racks the school owns.  Not only don’t they work, we discover they have cloth cords.  We make the decision to run out and rent lights.  I finally get my scraps of tech week rehearsal time, even though it was not nearly enough.  Then, are you ready for this?  Last Monday morning after I had been working for an hour before school, being nice to maintenance so they will set up my stage that night, the nurse calls me into the office to tell me that one of my Cinderellas (we double cast the show) has head lice.

So...  I spent Monday at school decontaminating costumes.  I had my dress rehearsal Monday night and believe me, the decontamination of the costumes was the most successful part of rehearsal that day.  I admit, I bawled that night.

Tuesday morning the sixth graders did their first performance in the morning for first and fourth graders.  They knocked it out of the park!  I don’t know where those kids were the night before, because they were NOT at my dress rehearsal!  We did two public performances that evening and then on Wednesday we did morning and afternoon performances for second and third graders, then fifth and sixth graders.

I have to say, being in this show was life-changing for so many of these kids.  They are the reason I didn’t chuck the whole thing two weeks ago and jump off a bridge.

At least four of our actors had never said more than two sentences aloud voluntarily in six years at the school, but they brought the volume and the character to stage.  I had a stepsister who has Asperger’s with texture issues who took a cupcake in the face by choice.  Twice!  I told her, “I can make this funny in lots of different ways.  You don’t have to do this.”  She said, “No, I think I’d like to try it.”  And she did.  This kid had to be put on depression medication this fall and has had a terrible two years dealing with other girls’ nasty behavior.  When school was cancelled one day this winter that coincided with drama, her mother emailed me, overjoyed, because for the first time in three years her daughter was disappointed she couldn’t go to school.

One of our stepsisters speaks English as a second language.  Maybe 80% of what she said was unintelligible, but she was so incredibly physical that it didn’t matter.  The music teacher (who is a phenomenal teacher and an artist herself) told me that this girl for six years has sat in a tight ball, head down, nonverbally communicating, “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me.”  About four weeks ago she raised her hand voluntarily in class for the first time.  Ever.  Then she actually moved to the front of the class, where she both spoke and sang in front of everyone.

One of the Cinderellas is a kid with a lot of challenges already before her, and she’s terrified to believe in herself.  She lives with her grandparents and has struggled socially at school for years.  She is often ostracized by the other kids, some of which is perpetuated by her own behavior.  Other kids have been so cruel to her so often that she gives off a strong “I don’t care.  I’ll get them before they get me” type of attitude.  She struggled in the first evening performance and her eyes were the size of ping pong balls with terror.  But she kept going.  She never stopped.  SHE DID NOT GIVE UP.  And then before the morning show the next day, two of the girls who would typically be called the “popular” girls who would ordinarily not have anything to do with her except to be nasty, approached her and braided her hair.  I can’t even speak about it without crying.  I wish you could have seen this girl’s face in this normal activity.  None of those three girls would have had that experience had it not been for the show.  That one moment (among many for all the kids) has the potential to truly be life-changing for all three of those girls.  The next time this young lady comes up against something in her life (and unfortunately she will probably have more than the average), she will KNOW that she can get through it, even if she is terrified.

The light shining from these kids’ faces for two days of performances was humbling to witness.  Every one of the kids in the cast and crew has come away knowing something new and amazing about him or herself.  They are amazing.  I can’t tell you the number of first through fourth grade teachers who came up to me, visibly moved or already in tears, to tell me about the former student they saw on stage.  They knew the personal struggles of those kids from years past and now they were able to celebrate their triumphs.

I am a little ashamed of myself that after 30 years of working with kids in theatre, I forgot for even a second how transcendent they can be and how wonderful they are.  I let my ego get the better of me for a few days there, I think.  I am glad I pulled it back in time for the kids to succeed.

I think about how blessed I am to witness these children’s self-discoveries, and I start to cry all over again.  I can tell I am getting old because I used to pride myself on not going all stupid and weepy over the kids, no matter how I felt inside.  Either my acting skills are deteriorating or I increasingly recognize the power in the hearts of these kids.  I am beyond grateful.