Our original dance teacher was preoccupied. She was in "The Producers". She was going to Italy. She was thinking about starting a family. In short, she was busy.
Another dance teacher we tried, as it turned out, had other obligations also.
So I went to rehearsal that night prepared to tell the dancers that there would be no dance. No teacher. No pre-show entertainment.
But God watches out for the Little Theatre Group That Could. Although I didn't know it yet, there was a reason that I didn't just call everyone and cancel rehearsal. If I've learned one thing in theatre (and theatre has taught me everything I need to know), it's to wait. Wait and see. Wait to see what happens, wait and problems will solve themselves. Wait and a miracle may walk through that door. At five minutes until six, in walked Shelby.
A freshman in high school. Barely a year older than some she would be leading. I had my doubts. What did she know about leadership, about working with kids? About KidsPlay, for that matter? Oh, I knew she knew dance. But...could she lead? Could she inspire? Could she gain the confidence of my little non-dancers? Would she be able to teach even them?
She spent the first ten minutes learning their names. Wow, I thought. That was a really smart way to start. Especially considering that *I* don't often learn ALL the dancers names until the performance. The actors, yes, but the dancers--they belong to the dance teacher.
The interim dance teacher had given Shelby her choreography. Shelby looked it over, ran them through it, and picked up right where she left off. A difficult task. The tendency would be to start over and make it her own. As it turned out, that wasn't a problem. At all.
And so, Tuesdays and Thursdays, in 30-minute stints, she drilled them, taught them, loved them. Praising, hugging, counting out the measures in 8-counts. Worked in small groups. Worked in large groups. Kept plugging away, dancing, reteaching steps as needed, tightening the weak parts. Creating a dance number.
Usually, during the dance segment, I am busy--answering questions, getting stuff together, preparing announcements, talking to parents. But every once in a while I would stop and look up and see miracles happening. Our rag-tag bunch of non-dancers, most of whom had never danced before, were dancing. Counting. Smiling. Putting together a terrific dance number.
And Shelby was dependable. Always there on time. Always ready. And always going over time. So into what she was doing that 40 minutes would go buy before I'd finally look up and say, "You have one minute. It's time for the actors now..."
Last night, with her permission, I asked if I could have the dancers one at a time to try their costumes on them. So first went Jillian, into the restroom with a hanger and a bag. She came out in her leotard and cowgirl printed vest and skirt. Shelby turned and saw her and her mouth dropped open. "Oh, she's so CUTE!" she said.
She couldn't take her eyes off the young dancer in her costume, who would soon stand next to twelve other dancers, all in that same costume. And dance on the big stage. The dance that Shelby, herself, had taught them. And I saw in her face the big picture. You know the one. That vision of the future that keeps us all going. In that moment, she knew then that it wasn't all sweat and toil, drilling and counting. That there was a bright spotlight ahead for the girls, for her. An opening night in the future. That she was part of a something bigger than herself. That we all are. And what we do touches lives that touch other lives and other lives like ripples in a pond, ringing out farther and farther...perhaps far into the future. She looked at Jillian, she looked at me and she grinned from ear-to-ear. And turned back to the task at hand.
The shining face of Shelby. One of the sum of the parts that is greater than the whole.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Lake Crazy
Well, it's been a not-so-quiet week at Lake Crazy.
It's been a long week, a short week, depending on how you look at it, but for all involved, it was a week that marked the culmination of months of planning and preparation for this bunch of fiercely independent theatrical types. All of us gathered together--in assorted capacities but with a single purpose--to bring laughter, to bring tears, to transport Greenfield theatre audiences to a small carport beauty shop in Chinquapin, Louisiana.
It went well. No one said 'chicken' when they should have said 'dog', or 'gun' or 'baby' or 'tomato'. A glass broke, the coffee had enough sugar, and issues with purses, coats, hats, food, doors, shoes, and hair all remedied themselves through the weekend run.
The captain of our ship was all smiles--he and the first mate handing out hugs, notes, flowers, and praise like candy. Our audiences were modest, but enthusiastic. Their laughter and applause--music to our ears--encouraged each of us to bring what we each needed to bring, and in doing so, we earned their ovation at curtain call.
It was quite a week. We all learned something. We learned there's no need to be a high-maintenance diva because the stage crew treats us like royalty. We learned that we enjoy being nice to each other. We learned the chicken walk and that the show goes on--even after a mistake--and that life goes on. We learned that audiences full of the ones we love are the best audiences. We learned that it's what we have inside that matters. We learned how much it takes to do what we do. We learned that it's OUR opinion of ourselves that matters most.
************************
It was an amazing weekend. The Mama brought a year's worth of grief and joy to her performance and left us weeping in our seats and wondering at the strength of the human soul. The daughter left the tatters of a paper bag on the Dungeon floor, broke a glass in her realistic portrayal, and broke through the fourth wall into the hearts of the audience. She had point to prove and did so with no reservations. The mouse showed us that she was ever so much more than Daddy's Girl. She's theatre's child. And even one-word lines can bring a chuckle. The former mayor's wife acted with such a natural presence that if she showed up at your door with a tin of pecan tassies, you'd mistake her for your grandmother and invite her to stay through the holidays. The laughter of the singer turned actress turned hairstylist was the glue that held it all together, as she brushed and teased and primped for two hours and 15 minutes, holding ever fast to her tenet that "There's no such thing as natural beauty". And that grouchy ol' broad in the wacky hat finally learned to relax, delegate, and enjoy the ride. If she's not careful, she'll get too comfortable in that back dressing room.
We all shared. We wept together as sisters on stage and shared hugs as a cast, as a production team, as CrazyLake Acting Company, where the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. That's what we know and we do what we do, and next weekend, we get to do it again. We'll be heading back to Chinquapin Friday night and Saturday. Come and go with us. Get your hair done at Truvy's. Share the love.
It's been a long week, a short week, depending on how you look at it, but for all involved, it was a week that marked the culmination of months of planning and preparation for this bunch of fiercely independent theatrical types. All of us gathered together--in assorted capacities but with a single purpose--to bring laughter, to bring tears, to transport Greenfield theatre audiences to a small carport beauty shop in Chinquapin, Louisiana.
It went well. No one said 'chicken' when they should have said 'dog', or 'gun' or 'baby' or 'tomato'. A glass broke, the coffee had enough sugar, and issues with purses, coats, hats, food, doors, shoes, and hair all remedied themselves through the weekend run.
The captain of our ship was all smiles--he and the first mate handing out hugs, notes, flowers, and praise like candy. Our audiences were modest, but enthusiastic. Their laughter and applause--music to our ears--encouraged each of us to bring what we each needed to bring, and in doing so, we earned their ovation at curtain call.
It was quite a week. We all learned something. We learned there's no need to be a high-maintenance diva because the stage crew treats us like royalty. We learned that we enjoy being nice to each other. We learned the chicken walk and that the show goes on--even after a mistake--and that life goes on. We learned that audiences full of the ones we love are the best audiences. We learned that it's what we have inside that matters. We learned how much it takes to do what we do. We learned that it's OUR opinion of ourselves that matters most.
************************
It was an amazing weekend. The Mama brought a year's worth of grief and joy to her performance and left us weeping in our seats and wondering at the strength of the human soul. The daughter left the tatters of a paper bag on the Dungeon floor, broke a glass in her realistic portrayal, and broke through the fourth wall into the hearts of the audience. She had point to prove and did so with no reservations. The mouse showed us that she was ever so much more than Daddy's Girl. She's theatre's child. And even one-word lines can bring a chuckle. The former mayor's wife acted with such a natural presence that if she showed up at your door with a tin of pecan tassies, you'd mistake her for your grandmother and invite her to stay through the holidays. The laughter of the singer turned actress turned hairstylist was the glue that held it all together, as she brushed and teased and primped for two hours and 15 minutes, holding ever fast to her tenet that "There's no such thing as natural beauty". And that grouchy ol' broad in the wacky hat finally learned to relax, delegate, and enjoy the ride. If she's not careful, she'll get too comfortable in that back dressing room.
We all shared. We wept together as sisters on stage and shared hugs as a cast, as a production team, as CrazyLake Acting Company, where the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. That's what we know and we do what we do, and next weekend, we get to do it again. We'll be heading back to Chinquapin Friday night and Saturday. Come and go with us. Get your hair done at Truvy's. Share the love.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Machine
All this time, we've called it 'the KidsPlay Machine'. By 'machine' I mean the tried and true, tightly efficient, time-perfected way that we band together to accomplish anything huge--Move Day, the performances, our day-time matinees, community projects--anything we do. It always amazes me the parents who come out of the woodwork to 'make it happen'. And it does. I'm always amazed at their willingness to work hard, the above-and-beyond the call of duty and detail that putting on a production is--and how we make it happen. Whatever we've done, whatever grand schemes we concoct, I know that the ever-amazing KidsPlay machine will be behind us and it will be successful.
But I may have to rethink this a little. We are most of the way through the 'heavy-lifting phase' of "Steel Magnolias". Our director (Dennis Cole) and our assistant director (Christy Laudig) assembled a team of more than 25 people for building, painting, set, props, costumes, moving, lobby, tickets, concessions--and a good number of them have never worked on a KidsPlay production. They are a CrazyLake Machine. Every bit as efficient, dedicated, and HARD-WORKING as the KidsPlay parents, and every bit as amazing.
In fact, I have to say, that following our very long day of Tech (the one day where we dismantle our set in the Dungeon rehearsal space, load it onto a trailer, reassemble it in the theatre, work with sound and lights and all the technical aspects for the first time, and finish with a full run-through of the show), I was quite touched by the number of Facebook posts commenting not only on weariness and the length of the day, but by what a good time they had, what a good group of people with which they worked, the camaraderie of the team, and the 'good tired' feeling of having worked hard to accomplish a common goal. I was moved by that. It made me smile.
And I think that's what sets us--KidsPlay and CrazyLake--apart from the others: the sense of team, the sense of family, the sense of appreciation from those of us who plan and dream and see the vision of what we're trying to accomplish. Without these good friends, this strong support, this theatre family that is willing to band together to move the mountains we imagine, we are leaders of nothingness. Without them, it would not happen. And without them, it wouldn't be nearly as fun. So here's to you, Bill and Joe and Ted and Jim and Rachel and Amelia and Pat and Johnny and Aaron and Amanda and Lex and Beth and.... You are the power behind the dream.
But I may have to rethink this a little. We are most of the way through the 'heavy-lifting phase' of "Steel Magnolias". Our director (Dennis Cole) and our assistant director (Christy Laudig) assembled a team of more than 25 people for building, painting, set, props, costumes, moving, lobby, tickets, concessions--and a good number of them have never worked on a KidsPlay production. They are a CrazyLake Machine. Every bit as efficient, dedicated, and HARD-WORKING as the KidsPlay parents, and every bit as amazing.
In fact, I have to say, that following our very long day of Tech (the one day where we dismantle our set in the Dungeon rehearsal space, load it onto a trailer, reassemble it in the theatre, work with sound and lights and all the technical aspects for the first time, and finish with a full run-through of the show), I was quite touched by the number of Facebook posts commenting not only on weariness and the length of the day, but by what a good time they had, what a good group of people with which they worked, the camaraderie of the team, and the 'good tired' feeling of having worked hard to accomplish a common goal. I was moved by that. It made me smile.
And I think that's what sets us--KidsPlay and CrazyLake--apart from the others: the sense of team, the sense of family, the sense of appreciation from those of us who plan and dream and see the vision of what we're trying to accomplish. Without these good friends, this strong support, this theatre family that is willing to band together to move the mountains we imagine, we are leaders of nothingness. Without them, it would not happen. And without them, it wouldn't be nearly as fun. So here's to you, Bill and Joe and Ted and Jim and Rachel and Amelia and Pat and Johnny and Aaron and Amanda and Lex and Beth and.... You are the power behind the dream.
Missing the KidsPlayers....
My dear KidsPlayers--
You'll be rehearsing without me again this evening. Please don't think I've forgotten you. You're in my mind all the time, and I hope you'll forgive my missing presence. But as I know you know, I'm in a play of my own this time (only the fourth one ever--most of you have more theatre experience in your short lives than I've had in 51 years!!)
I do, hope, however, that you'll all make it to see "Steel Magnolias" some time over the next couple of weeks. It's September 17, 18, 19, 24, 25, at 8 p.m. (6 p.m. on Sunday). Then you'll see what all the fuss has ben about. You'll see Jim Vetters' mom, you'll see Mr. Jacobs' wife, you'll see Ian, Alec, and Aubree's sister Payton. I think we're pretty good and I think you'll enjoy it. And if you make it to the show, don't forget to hang around in the lobby to give me a hug. That's what we theatre types live for, you know. Laughter and hugs. ;-)
So do a good job this evening. I look forward to seeing you all on Thursday to block the last part of the show. I love flowers, but I love cowboys, too.
Love, love, love--
Chris
You'll be rehearsing without me again this evening. Please don't think I've forgotten you. You're in my mind all the time, and I hope you'll forgive my missing presence. But as I know you know, I'm in a play of my own this time (only the fourth one ever--most of you have more theatre experience in your short lives than I've had in 51 years!!)
I do, hope, however, that you'll all make it to see "Steel Magnolias" some time over the next couple of weeks. It's September 17, 18, 19, 24, 25, at 8 p.m. (6 p.m. on Sunday). Then you'll see what all the fuss has ben about. You'll see Jim Vetters' mom, you'll see Mr. Jacobs' wife, you'll see Ian, Alec, and Aubree's sister Payton. I think we're pretty good and I think you'll enjoy it. And if you make it to the show, don't forget to hang around in the lobby to give me a hug. That's what we theatre types live for, you know. Laughter and hugs. ;-)
So do a good job this evening. I look forward to seeing you all on Thursday to block the last part of the show. I love flowers, but I love cowboys, too.
Love, love, love--
Chris
Friday, September 3, 2010
Ouiser Inside
There's always something about a full run-through...it's a milepost, a turning point, a breakthrough moment.
We ran through the whole show this evening, and I come home with almost an other worldly detachment from the mundane aspects of life. My body is here, but my brain and my soul are still at the Dungeon...thinking about it, smoothing rough spots, pondering the differences between last night's rehearsal and this one. I feel calm, relaxed, triumphant, immersed in character and in thinking through my parts and my character portrayal again and again.
I think I found her tonight--Ouiser, the whole person. Standing outside the door waiting for my entrance, I straightened my back and held my chin up, a different carriage than I've had before, and it was her. I felt it in my bones. I moved through a range of postures and finally found the way SHE stands. Proud, backs down to no one, a mixture of Jayme, and my grandmother, and the restaurant owner, all stirred into one person.
We are working so hard as a cast. I think we make great leaps with each rehearsal. Some leaps are more obvious on given nights than others. Shelby is good, getting more so every night; Payton IS Annelle--she's perfectly cast; CVett also gets better every night--her emotional scene at the end will ultimately be her best moment ever on stage; Shari's laughter adds so much to the whole 'feel' of the show, each scene; and Jan as Clairee could not be more natural on stage if she tried. It's all very true. Very human.
****************
I'm too tired to wash my hair this evening. I should, but it will have to wait until morning. My sadistic director and my like-minded cast-mates seem to be deriving great pleasure from ME being the one selected for the facial, the mustache waxing, the 'goop in hair'. Me, probably the lowest maintenance person on the stage, and I have to put up with all these 'beauty' treatments. Tonight, I got medical tape on my upper lip, cream all over my face, strands of hair pulled through a cap of sorts for...what...? Highlights, and then, the coup-de-gras: they painted on a mixture of creme rinse and baking soda. Gooey, then stiff and icky. Ha. Yeah. Funny, guys. Hope you're having a good time. *I* have to take my curtain call in that mess.
****************
An epic and memorable moment coming to the Ricks. September 17, 18, 18, 24, 25. If you don't have your tickets yet. Probably should get them: www.crazylake.com
We ran through the whole show this evening, and I come home with almost an other worldly detachment from the mundane aspects of life. My body is here, but my brain and my soul are still at the Dungeon...thinking about it, smoothing rough spots, pondering the differences between last night's rehearsal and this one. I feel calm, relaxed, triumphant, immersed in character and in thinking through my parts and my character portrayal again and again.
I think I found her tonight--Ouiser, the whole person. Standing outside the door waiting for my entrance, I straightened my back and held my chin up, a different carriage than I've had before, and it was her. I felt it in my bones. I moved through a range of postures and finally found the way SHE stands. Proud, backs down to no one, a mixture of Jayme, and my grandmother, and the restaurant owner, all stirred into one person.
We are working so hard as a cast. I think we make great leaps with each rehearsal. Some leaps are more obvious on given nights than others. Shelby is good, getting more so every night; Payton IS Annelle--she's perfectly cast; CVett also gets better every night--her emotional scene at the end will ultimately be her best moment ever on stage; Shari's laughter adds so much to the whole 'feel' of the show, each scene; and Jan as Clairee could not be more natural on stage if she tried. It's all very true. Very human.
****************
I'm too tired to wash my hair this evening. I should, but it will have to wait until morning. My sadistic director and my like-minded cast-mates seem to be deriving great pleasure from ME being the one selected for the facial, the mustache waxing, the 'goop in hair'. Me, probably the lowest maintenance person on the stage, and I have to put up with all these 'beauty' treatments. Tonight, I got medical tape on my upper lip, cream all over my face, strands of hair pulled through a cap of sorts for...what...? Highlights, and then, the coup-de-gras: they painted on a mixture of creme rinse and baking soda. Gooey, then stiff and icky. Ha. Yeah. Funny, guys. Hope you're having a good time. *I* have to take my curtain call in that mess.
****************
An epic and memorable moment coming to the Ricks. September 17, 18, 18, 24, 25. If you don't have your tickets yet. Probably should get them: www.crazylake.com
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
On Becoming Ouiser
Yes, I'm in another show. I believe I thought, in the weeks heading up to Yente, that I simply could NOT do that to myself again--put myself through the nervousness and the stress of being on stage. Sooooo much more comfortable in FRONT of the stage than I am ON it. ;-)
This is a pretty interesting experience, this drama with funny parts. There are just six of us in the cast--all women, with our one male director. The process has been interesting, as we walk through rehearsal trying different things, trying to find that 'groove' that fits, that feels right.
I feel myself floating in and out of Ouiser. I know how she sounds, how she feels, her facial expressions, but I'm not yet sure how she walks, stands or moves. I know my lines inside and out, but they don't always come into my head during rehearsal because I'm not standing, moving, sitting like Ouiser. Chuckle. The lines seem to float in the air above me looking over all the characters to identify which one is Ouiser. If they sense Ouiser, they dive down into my head and come out perfectly. But if they don't see her, believe her to be Ouiser--if she isn't moving, standing like Ouiser should stand--then I have to reach up and grab them and force them out. Dtrange theatrical psycho-babble, I know, but that's the best I can do to describe it.
Working on it. Today, tomorrow--I will go to the Dungeon and walk through my blocking and internalize it as thoroughly as I know my lines. Go over it again and again in a way there isn't time for in rehearsal. I like her. I like Ouiser. I will be her.
And if you're reading this, you'd best not miss it. This is going to be the best piece of drama ever to hit the stage at the Ricks. :-)
This is a pretty interesting experience, this drama with funny parts. There are just six of us in the cast--all women, with our one male director. The process has been interesting, as we walk through rehearsal trying different things, trying to find that 'groove' that fits, that feels right.
I feel myself floating in and out of Ouiser. I know how she sounds, how she feels, her facial expressions, but I'm not yet sure how she walks, stands or moves. I know my lines inside and out, but they don't always come into my head during rehearsal because I'm not standing, moving, sitting like Ouiser. Chuckle. The lines seem to float in the air above me looking over all the characters to identify which one is Ouiser. If they sense Ouiser, they dive down into my head and come out perfectly. But if they don't see her, believe her to be Ouiser--if she isn't moving, standing like Ouiser should stand--then I have to reach up and grab them and force them out. Dtrange theatrical psycho-babble, I know, but that's the best I can do to describe it.
Working on it. Today, tomorrow--I will go to the Dungeon and walk through my blocking and internalize it as thoroughly as I know my lines. Go over it again and again in a way there isn't time for in rehearsal. I like her. I like Ouiser. I will be her.
And if you're reading this, you'd best not miss it. This is going to be the best piece of drama ever to hit the stage at the Ricks. :-)
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The Drama Camp--a Mountaintop Experience
I have to say that the Drama Camp has been one of the high points of this summer. It has been some incredibly hard work, true dat... But it has also been a wonderful experience mostly because of my amazingly dedicated, focused, and upbeat camp counselors who--get this--VOLUNTEERED their time to work with the young actors and actresses of the K-3 set.
The first good thing is that both camp sessions sold out. At $75 for two weeks of half-days, it was a bargain. And for what we gave, it was a steal: a t-shirt, crafts, a snack, free play, theatre games, special presentations by guest actors, a field trip to the theatre, a framed photo of each kid, and a complete mini-production, complete with sets, costumes, and sound effects.
The second good thing is that the framework of the camp was well set-up. With me as overseeing director, two counselors assigned to each group (as director and assistant director), and two floating counselors to fill in anywhere they were needed, it worked very well. I provided the structure, the content, and basically produced both plays, but it was the drama-teens who did the hands-on with the campers. It ran SO much more smoothly than last year. We worked a lot of the bugs out, expanded the camp from 15 to 20 kids, and broke the big group up into two smaller groups. We came in every day with a plan; everyone had their assignments and for the most part, everything ran like clockwork, unlike last year when so much of what we did was 'what can do to fill the time until the end of the day?'. We met each morning before the kids arrived to review the plan for the day; and at the end, we debriefed what was working and what needed tweaking. In this way, it turned out to be not only a camp for the campers, but for the counselors as well, giving them experience in working with children, practice in being role models and on the job training in directing plays.
This is not to say that everything was perfect. We learned that two weeks was not really enough time to produce the polished plays that we like to present. The counselors were young and being theatre people, easily distracted (said the pot to the six kettles). We did have to be flexible is the space we have, which could not support more than two groups of ten, each working on a play in a separate section of the room. And we had issues, some larger than others, that needed hammering out each day.
But the amazing third thing that worked and totally made the entire experience a high-point for me was my hard working camp staff. They are truly to be admired for their dedication, their hard work, their patience with the kids. There were amazing challenges in working with such youngsters, but their commitment to their craft, their desire to share their love of theatre, their patience, their faith, their good humor, their dedication never wavered, not once. At the end of the first session, I asked who wanted to come back and five out of the six returned (the sixth had to go on vacation).
Aaron, Amanda, Charlie, Hannah, Jayme, Joe, Mitch. My faithful, devoted camp counselors. Working for nothing but the love of the game. They remained undaunted and amazingly positive in the face of campers who were non-readers, had short attention spans, and possessed virtually no understanding of lines, cues, voice projection, or presentation, at all. It was their upbeat attitudes, their dogged determination to join me at the ungodly summer hour of 8 a.m., their willingness to do the mundane and un-fun chores of mopping up spills, taking children to the restroom, cleaning up after crafts, sweeping the Dungeon and taking out the trash that kept me going. At the end of every day, listening to them share stories of their interactions with the kids, the small theatrical victories, the funny stories, their laughing complaints, the touching moments, made my heart swell with love. Knowing that we all had the common link, that love of theatre connects me to them and fills with love and admiration for these focused and dedicated young people.
It was an amazing, uplifting experience, and I'm lucky, proud--and honored--to know them. And I can't wait to do this again next summer.
The first good thing is that both camp sessions sold out. At $75 for two weeks of half-days, it was a bargain. And for what we gave, it was a steal: a t-shirt, crafts, a snack, free play, theatre games, special presentations by guest actors, a field trip to the theatre, a framed photo of each kid, and a complete mini-production, complete with sets, costumes, and sound effects.
The second good thing is that the framework of the camp was well set-up. With me as overseeing director, two counselors assigned to each group (as director and assistant director), and two floating counselors to fill in anywhere they were needed, it worked very well. I provided the structure, the content, and basically produced both plays, but it was the drama-teens who did the hands-on with the campers. It ran SO much more smoothly than last year. We worked a lot of the bugs out, expanded the camp from 15 to 20 kids, and broke the big group up into two smaller groups. We came in every day with a plan; everyone had their assignments and for the most part, everything ran like clockwork, unlike last year when so much of what we did was 'what can do to fill the time until the end of the day?'. We met each morning before the kids arrived to review the plan for the day; and at the end, we debriefed what was working and what needed tweaking. In this way, it turned out to be not only a camp for the campers, but for the counselors as well, giving them experience in working with children, practice in being role models and on the job training in directing plays.
This is not to say that everything was perfect. We learned that two weeks was not really enough time to produce the polished plays that we like to present. The counselors were young and being theatre people, easily distracted (said the pot to the six kettles). We did have to be flexible is the space we have, which could not support more than two groups of ten, each working on a play in a separate section of the room. And we had issues, some larger than others, that needed hammering out each day.
But the amazing third thing that worked and totally made the entire experience a high-point for me was my hard working camp staff. They are truly to be admired for their dedication, their hard work, their patience with the kids. There were amazing challenges in working with such youngsters, but their commitment to their craft, their desire to share their love of theatre, their patience, their faith, their good humor, their dedication never wavered, not once. At the end of the first session, I asked who wanted to come back and five out of the six returned (the sixth had to go on vacation).
Aaron, Amanda, Charlie, Hannah, Jayme, Joe, Mitch. My faithful, devoted camp counselors. Working for nothing but the love of the game. They remained undaunted and amazingly positive in the face of campers who were non-readers, had short attention spans, and possessed virtually no understanding of lines, cues, voice projection, or presentation, at all. It was their upbeat attitudes, their dogged determination to join me at the ungodly summer hour of 8 a.m., their willingness to do the mundane and un-fun chores of mopping up spills, taking children to the restroom, cleaning up after crafts, sweeping the Dungeon and taking out the trash that kept me going. At the end of every day, listening to them share stories of their interactions with the kids, the small theatrical victories, the funny stories, their laughing complaints, the touching moments, made my heart swell with love. Knowing that we all had the common link, that love of theatre connects me to them and fills with love and admiration for these focused and dedicated young people.
It was an amazing, uplifting experience, and I'm lucky, proud--and honored--to know them. And I can't wait to do this again next summer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
