“Okay, that’s good, but let’s see if we can make it better.”
I stare at my group of 8 to 13 year olds, and they’re all getting a bit antsy, as most children do when having to sit for a really long time. But even though they’re angsty, they’re focused, intrigued by their two peer’s scene. They are in a store, and one is attempting to play an old lady, while the other is an anxious customer.
“What if we, I don’t know, have your character be a dumb blonde instead? And you, let’s say that you’re preparing for the biggest party of your life, and you need to rush quickly.”
They do the scene again. They take the notes well, and it’s 100% better. The class agrees.
This summer, I was an assistant counselor at a children’s theatre camp, and it was one of the best experiences. I had the best bosses, the best coworkers, and I grew to really love some of the children I worked with. But as an assistant, you didn’t come up with the lesson plans. You were mainly there to make sure the children behave, to encourage them, to make sure that they didn’t get lost on the way to class.
That was until my boss suggested that my wonderful friend Daniel and I teach a Theatre Class. We gladly accepted it at first, but then as it approached, I went into full panic mode.
The thing is, I am an acting major. I should feel capable of spreading my knowledge of theatre to young kids. But when you’re me, or really just an artist in general, you can feel sure of yourself for one minute then immediately hate yourself the next. I’ve been on stage since I was six, but most days, I still feel like I have no set plan, and that I don’t really know how to act at all.
Even before the first class, I texted Daniel, asking how he felt about class the next day. He said he felt good. I asked how, to which he replied, “I’m with you, and we’ve got each other’s backs, so we’ll be fine.”
Did I feel happy knowing I was not alone? Yes. Did that make me more calm? Nope.
However, I did eventually settle down when I realized how much the kids actually believed that we could teach them and help them. It’s still weird to go from being the student who asks so many questions, who aches to get better, to being the deliverer of knowledge, to being the person that helps to motivate the next step in a young actor’s growth. But they put our trust in us completely, and they listened to us. They were respectful, and even the kids who were not the best behaved did listen to our instructions and took our notes.
The best part was at the end of the week, when we sat down and asked the kids what they learned. My big fear? That they were going to reveal their utter hate of us. First good thing: they didn’t. Second good thing: they all actually revealed how much they liked the class. Even if they didn’t feel they improved, they had least had fun, and had a good week, which is always the goal.
There are few times where I am completely proud of myself. That week was one of them. Did I do everything perfectly? Of course not. But did I prove to myself and to others that I could teach? Yes, I did.
Will I be a teacher in the end? I have no clue. But if my bosses, Daniel, and these kids can trust in me, then maybe I can trust myself too.
