18 April 2018.
This weekend, I closed the last show I will direct at LHS.
Feeling very much like Henrietta Iscariot at Judas' funeral, it was not attended by family or friends, or even colleagues. Those required who always show up were there: a husband, a child, a handful of alumni, two other friends. But considering this was my last show. the message was clear: nobody cares.
It is everything I can do to avoid going full emo, comparing this sad offering to the bounty of past and future retirees in LHS performing arts. I simply accept it for what it is. Just like my career, it was small and insignificant on a larger scale, but impactful to the few who paid attention. Story of my life.
I can't write this yet, it's too much. Let's call this part one: The Whining.
I can say that "Carlton", who directed The Seagull in the previous blog, played Pontius Pilate with a clear head and force that is reserved for those with autism. We argued nightly over the use of "shit", which he was allowed to say but decided he needed to say with more force than any other word. I finally told him he couldn't do it, he was abusing the language and using it for himself instead of allowing it to feed the story. This is a concept that escapes many with autism, and so the arguments were pretty much "Stop saying it," "No, I like it." He finally acquiesced to "scheisse", with something akin to delight, yet decided to pull it in "I talk crap, you talk crap, we all talk crap" and save it up for one biggie at the end of his monologue. I was thrilled that he saved it for a powerful moment, but of course he has no idea that's what he was doing. Sigh.
Ya, I'll miss him.
If you recall, this kid is not enrolled in Theaco this semester. He is attending Community College and technically graduated early. He just comes in because he....likes theatre. But you will not drag that confession out of him, ever. We're done with the show, he is not needed for rehearsals, and he showed up today for strike. He gangled up the scaff and switched out gel frames while complaining constantly that his height was interfering with his ability to do lights, and cussing.
He's not enrolled in the class. He doesn't have to be there.
Yet two girls, both enrolled and both tasked with strike duties, sat on their phones, openly doing nothing.
I'm accused of having favorites. Other theatre teachers see how this goes. Do the work: "favorite". Don't do the work: "Not Favorite". The problem is I don't have favorites, there are just two kinds of people: Theatre people and everyone else. Not everyone enrolled in a public high school theatre program is a theatre kid. It's easily misconstrued that a theatre kid is my favorite, when it's simple commitment. I talk to you because you follow direction and do as you are asked. That's doesn't make you my favorite, it makes you a valuable, directable theatre person. I was not a favorite in high school, I just loved theatre and I took direction and did as I was asked. Theatre was My favorite, and she returned the favor.
________________________________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment