Today in our ESL Drama class of 8 to 11 year olds (who speak less than fluent english) we learned government words… national, international, prime minister, law, legal, illegal, election, vote…
when asked for examples of “laws”, there were a few moments of quizzical silence, and then a resounding response: “Do not steal endemic birds’ eggs!”
What????
These kids have trouble reading “Chicken Little” but they came up with the environmental protection of endemic birds….?
Fix this education system, and fix it quickly….
ps. when asked what the law meant, silence fell once again upon these earnest students
pps. When asked what they would make legal and illegal if they were in fact Prime Minister, there was an overwhelming desire to build more waterparks (even in people’s houses) and to outlaw the beating of people and animals… both are things I think I wholeheartedly agree with.
Ode to the Drama Teacher
And as you stand there: Aghast
Because we’re three days from Opening Night and
Ado Annie still doesn’t know her lines and
The Dream Ballet is a Nightmare and
The Light Board Op just got Detention…
Let us now praise You.
You, the Permanently Fatigued.
You, the Loyal-to-the-Point-of-Self-Neglect.
You, the Keeper of a Thousand-and-Eleventeen Secret Dreams.
You are the one who makes it all Look So Easy.
Who would have expected that the most important Skill you learned getting your BA
Was Juggling?
Juggling Paperwork and Personalities and oh, right — weren’t you supposed to have a
Private Life around here somewhere?
But even though you are Sick to Death of
Spoon River Anthology
You still puddle up every time you hear
There’s A Place For Us
No matter how Off-Key.
And while you still remember when you
Brought the House Down in
Midsummer
You now love This House.
You have created a House where any child — no matter how Flamboyant, no matter how Shy —
Can embrace their Inner Ethel Merman (and thanks to those English 101 classes you now must teach, you are keenly aware that using “their” in the previous sentence is increasingly considered correct and honestly, it’s really the only sensible answer as writing “his or her” is as damaging to poetry as the participle that dangles.)
And you have created a House where any child — no matter how Flamboyant, no matter how Shy — can dive straight to the Deepest, Darkest, Quietest corner of human suffering and bring a room of teenagers — and yes, you, too — to silent tears.
You have made a Home for the Misunderstood
A Family for the Misfit and a
Safe Spot to land no matter how bad The Mid-Terms are.
Because despite all the Budget Cuts and
The Paperwork and
The Meetings about the Meeting to Schedule the Meetings and
The Truancies and
The Parents
Dear God The Parents and
Did we mention The Paperwork?
Nothing on this Green Earth compares to watching a group of kids
Learn the true meaning of Ensemble.
And nothing compares to the pure joy of watching The Ones whom you knew would Eventually Get It
Finally. Really. Get It.
And nothing nothing nothing compares to The Confidences shared in low tones as they seek you out in
Your Office,
The Choir Room
The Front Seat of the Van on the way home from Fullerton.
You aren’t teaching Drama.
You are teaching Life
Which we all know is a Comedy — a Chekhovian Comedy — but a Comedy nonetheless.
And you aren’t teaching Choreography
You are teaching them to Dance.
And you aren’t teaching them how to be a Character.
You are teaching them how to be Themselves.
So here’s to you —
Making room for Art in a world that seems to have no room for Art.
(Because, by the way, that room has been repurposed as the new Standardized Test Prep Center — you don’t mind rehearsing outside, do you?)
And here’s to you —
Scrounging around for new shows that somehow match the sets you already have
Because some Genius on the School Board has
Recently Announced that not only can you not perform Huckleberry Finn
Or Anouilh’s Antigone (probably because he couldn’t pronounce it) and
Given the flap over the Scene from M. Butterfly last year, I guess
March of the Falsettos and The Vagina Monologues are
Out of the Question for the Spring
So Oh Dear God it looks like it’s going to be
Arsenic And Old Lace one more blessed time.
But that’s OK
I love Arsenic And Old Lace.
So here’s to you —
Making room for Another Coffee Mug with
Those Damn Masks on them
Making room in the Chorus for
Just One More
And
Making room for Each and Every Child
To Be
A
Star.
Samantha Bennett is a working actor and writer based in Los Angeles, and she’s the creator of The Organized Artist Company, an organization dedicated to helping creative people get unstuck from whatever way they’re stuck, especially by helping them focus and move forward on their goals.
http://www.pioneerdrama.com/Newsletter/Articles/Ode_Drama_Teacher.asp?Campaign=NL20120509#more
such a wonderful message… and one that isn’t heard enough. Everyone can dance.
I love this video so much, words just cannot do my feelings justice! Every artist should watch this video.
i think billy elliot said it best (doesn’t he always)….
what does it feel like?
I can’t really explain it,
I haven’t got the words
It’s a feeling that you can’t control
I suppose it’s like forgetting, losing who you are
And at the same time something makes you whole
It’s like that there’s a music playing in your ear
And I’m listening, and I’m listening and then I disappear
And then I feel a change
Like a fire deep inside
Something bursting me wide open impossible to hide
And suddenly I’m flying, flying like a bird
Like electricity, electricity
Sparks inside of me
And I’m free I’m free
It’s a bit like being angry,
it’s a bit like being scared
Confused and all mixed up and mad as hell
It’s like when you’ve been crying
And you’re empty and you’re full
I don’t know what it is, it’s hard to tell
It’s like that there’s a music playing in your ear
But the music is impossible, impossible to hear
But then I feel it move me
Like a burning deep inside
Something bursting me wide open impossible to hide
And suddenly I’m flying, flying like a bird
Like electricity, electricity
Sparks inside of me
And I’m free I’m free
Electricity, sparks inside of me
And I’m free, I’m free
I’m free. Free I’m free
(Electricity lyrics from Billy Elliot the Musical)
a step by step explanation of what happens when you are uninspired
- you violently deny your lack of inspiration, perhaps trying to force a faux inspiration that isn’t truly there. you talk constantly about what is supposed to be inspiring you, trying to gauge how inspired others are by what you wish you were inspired by. perhaps you secretly makes you feel like you are wasting your time.
- you feel angry that you have in fact, not so secretly, wasted your time. wasted your fucking time. again. you knew it wasn’t working, why did you even try??? what the hell were you thinking? why are you so stupid? why are you so god damn untalented and uncreative… and maybe it would have helped if at some point before this moment right now, someone took you by the hand and said ‘hey friend, your not so good, maybe quit while you are ahead”. bitches.
- you feel try and make a deal with yourself, and with others, that maybe if you do a little something creative, the inspiration that you thought was already there will blossom into the imaginative and beautifully artistic creation you are supposed to be creating.
- then the depression sets in… who am i? what am i doing here? i’m a fraud. what was i thinking? why would i ever think that i could ever accomplish/create/be so inspired? maybe you spend extended amounts of time in bed in the dark, or on Facebook looking at your friends who look far more inspired than you…
- finally you accept the fact that what ever you are doing to
inspireyourself is NOT working. so fuck that. if this was an improv game, it would be time for a ‘new choice’. so you make a new choice. you flip your lack of inspiration on its head and become inspired by the journey you just made to find inspiration. you put on some music, sing really loudly, take some time, breathe, be purple, be a bird, be the ocean. - then you realize that this journey you have just gone on, across the seven seas of inspiration, actually fueled your fire, made you feel that feeling you were looking for… maybe you shed a few tears for your cause, but now you are ready to create.
note: reading back over this to check for the inevitable spelling errors i will have made, i realize that the stages of uninspiration are a lot like Elizabeth Kubler Ross’ stages of grief… 5 stages I know all too well. maybe thats why I have been an emotional mess for the past few weeks.
last week our primary school students received their midterm report cards. And in a country like Mauritius that has an education system that is incredibly competitive, and test driven, I often think of how poorly prepared the students are to perform up to expectations.
I have never dreamed of being an english teacher, and my research kinda just fell into place because of Harry’s teaching english as a foreign language certification, and my Mauritian language barrier. But, one of our students came early to class last week, to show us her report card. She is in her last year of primary school, and is preparing to take her CPE (primary school exit exam), and an immense amount of pressure is put on them to pass… aka if you don’t do well on your CPE you are placed in a vocational or remedial secondary education track, and there is no way to ever get back on the mainstream university prep track. anyway, she brought in her report card and showed us that she had gotten a C in english. I wasn’t immediately sure how to react, was this bad, was this good? Was she upset with us that she hadn’t done better? And then through my broken understanding of french, and Harry’s translation I gathered her feelings. She was expecting a D in english, and because of our class her grade had risen to a C in just the very last few weeks. She said it was because for the first time she thought learning english could be fun and interesting, that having fun and playing games with us had helped her in her class at school.
i nearly cried.
drama does help. case and point.
