My Grade 10's

I have an entry sitting in my head somewhere about my Grade 10's.
I'm not exactly sure how to get it out.
I think that wherever it's hiding.....
...it's probably patient.
...it's probably tactful.
...it's probably diplomatic.

Perhaps even more diplomatic than I was with my Grade 10's today.

Was I actually diplomatic?
Perhaps....
It's hard for me to know objectively.
I wasn't exactly pleased...
...I think they got that....
But it's not really me to get ....too upset.

They are free to read this post...
... ah, the beauty, and danger, of the internet blog!
So, I have to be ...diplomatic, right?

Although, I tell them that in their own portfolios, they should be as honest and candid as possible.
Does the same rule apply to me? Here? Now?
Well, they know I'm the only one who reads their entries.

Some of them might read this one....
Hmmmm....

I'll have to keep thinking, I think....
....and searching my head for the post that I know is there

....but is hiding
....diplomatically.

Improv, A Power Outage, and Ghost Stories

or How to Turn A Power Outage into a Teachable Moment.....

The rules of improv (so far) as my Grade 9's understand them:

1. Blocking = bad, accepting = good!
2. You are not the star. Support your fellow actor.
3. Give the audience what they want.
4. Be prepared to change yourself. Go with the flow.

So, on Friday I was enjoying my usual after lunch time with these ever-enthusiastic Grade 9 improvisers, teaching them a game or two to assist with their ever-growing improv skills - uh, foreign film dubs I believe. Or, as one them so masterfully suggested we call the game, "Lost in Translation" (Thanks, Fly!)

On Friday, somebody, somewhere made me an offer. And as a good improviser, I had no choice but to accept.

I called my class down to the stage to move on to the next activity, when suddenly - Fwump! Out goes the power. (And I am fairly certain that "fwump" is exactly the sound that is made when the power goes out in a two hundred-seat theatre.)

So what would an improviser do? Well, improvise I do proclaim. Without missing a beat I ask them to sit in a circle (yes, it's dark... very dark) Zoe, my Grade 12 peer tutor, who is incredibly adept at reading my mind most of the time, caught my eye in the dim glow of the emergency lights, and with a quick nod, was off up the stairs to the booth. She returned momentarily with a flashlight, and we commenced an improptu game of "Line by line Ghost Story". It was great. Once again, my Grade 9's came through with adaptability, acceptance, and all manner of good things.

Now, I don't say these things without some understaning of the opposite. I taught at a public school in New Zealand, in a school that was quite "different" than my present school in terms of the behaviour of students. In that school, when the power goes out, as it did for me one afternoon with 31 Grade 10 students, a teacher has almost no hope. It took everything I had to coral those students. And that was in a room that was still incredibly well lit by many large windows letting in the somewhat cloud-muted sun. On Friday, it took 5 words to get my class of 25 to settle in a near-pitch-black room. "Join me in a circle" And they did!

It didn't take long, and power came back on. Only a few minutes probably. Brittany D was in the middle of her own ghost story. There was no discussion. One of them jumped up, ran to the light switch, and plunged us once again into darkness. This was okay with me. I think they knew it. They weren't taking advantage, or trying to take control of the class away from me. I think they have just come to know me, and how I operate, how I think, what I want, what I do.....

Accept and adapt. Rule number 4! Be prepared to change yourself (or, in this case, my lesson plan). Go with the flow. If the power leaves you in the dark, change your plans, but don't stop.

Rule number 1 - Blocking = bad, Accepting = good. "Can we keep doing this?" one of them might ask. A lightning fast decision from me that yes -this is fine, and still acceptable for an improv class. After all, storytelling is part of what we do....

Rule number 3 - You are not the star. Support your fellow actor. My class wanted to keep telling ghost stories. You know what? It's their scene. Not mine. Though I am the teacher, I am not the star. I felt in that moment that the ghost stories better "supported" their learning than what I had planned anyway.

When the bell went to end the class, we turned the lights back on.

"Stay for just a moment" I offered.
"Sure" they accepted.

I told them my thoughts about how we just accepted, adapted, allowed ourselves to change -Improvised!

They got it.

Sorry, this was long. But you know what? My Grade 9's are worth the time and the words.

An article and a reflection on Little Shop of Horrors

So, it's been a while again, but this time I don't feel quite so bad. We had three weeks of Christmas holidays, so not a lot to write about during that time. And then, I was back for only 2 and half days before taking time off for the birth of our new son. So, here I am at home, on my "paternity" leave, reflecting on our Fall Term show.

Following is the first draft of what I have written as an article to accompany the Little Shop of Horrors feature that will appear in the winter edition of our school's magazine, Traditions.

What’s the recipe for a successful musical production? Well, it’s nothing terribly scientific, but it might look something like this:

Combine 3 days of auditions, 1 afternoon of callbacks, 56 rehearsals, 3 cast changes, 930 moments of laughter, 140 tears shed, 227 nerves frayed, 14 Starbucks runs, 1 inexhaustible rehearsal pianist, 22 two by fours, 8 flats, 178 screws, 9 cans of paint, 1154 lines memorized, 46 lines recited wrong, 29 pages of director’s notes, 1 indestructible stage manager, 114 lighting changes,1 fog machine, 2 dress rehearsals, 4 performances, 3 of them sold-out, and over 2000 combined man-hours. Add in several healthy doses of commitment, passion, pride, excitement, and dedication. Give these things to 4 capable directors and after several months of intense work, you will have accomplished something truly magical – musical theatre.

Of course, we cannot forget the things unique to our production in particular, which serve to make the adventure even more memorable. 1 power outage during a technical rehearsal, the Senior Boys Soccer team makes provincials and we lose 4 cast members for a week, 1 birthday party in Italy, 2 clocks that just refused to cooperate, and the list could go on and on.

What makes a production memorable? Well, for an audience, it’s feeling like you’ve been invited to be part of something special, just by being present in the theatre. It’s witnessing those things on stage that remind you that you are attending live theatre. It’s feeling the electricity in the air as the auditorium fills, the lights dim, and the performance begins. For a member of the cast or crew, it’s much more than that. It’s much more than four successful performances. It’s the bonds of friendship that are formed by the intense hours of rehearsal. It’s the appreciation that is gained for the art of theatre. It’s the knowledge that you have contributed to something great, and the feeling that each night can never be recreated as it was, but is unique in itself. It’s the tears and laughter that will never be shared with an audience, but are so integral to the building of an ensemble.

As the Production Director, I will take with me always each unique experience that comes with producing theatre. Each year brings a new script, new challenges, a new cast, a new crew, a new perspective on people, and life. The IB Theatre Arts program guide states that “theatre is one of the oldest, most universal, and most profound of human activities.” To that list, I would add the words enduring, and endearing. Through our production of Little Shop of Horrors, I have seen students and adults alike transformed, changed, and “profoundly” affected. In my opinion, there are very few undertakings that can equal the experience of taking part in the creation of theatre, and perhaps doubly so at the high school level, working with people whom you love and trust.

See you in the theatre!


Cheers until soon....