Feeling: triumphant
Listening to: Amy Rigby - Balls
Reading/Watching: This Film is Not Yet Rated

So back in November, I discovered that the school had a Drama Club. I approached the sponsor, and offered to help. I was immediately drafted to play piano cuts for A Charlie Brown Christmas, as well as coach the kids on how to sing a simple carol at the end. After I explained my theater experience (currently sketchy, and always as a performer), I also wound up running some of the rehearsals.

At first, I would hear myself holler things like "Places!" or "Quiet backstage!" and start giggling at myself. I can't remember what the technical term is for "start the damn thing," but I'm fond of saying "Action."

Charlie Brown happened, and it was (mostly) blocked, and (mostly) off-book, and the music was (mostly) accurate. We had a blast, and ate a lot of pizza and cookies afterward. The sponsor and I agreed that next stop was UIL One Act Play, which isn't really competitive at the middle school level, but still looks good.

She had chosen a short little comedy, and I had fun pushing the kids out of their shells (there was no gentle coaxing: I literally stood in front of a shy eighth-grade boy who refused to shout and yelled, "Get mad! GET MAD!" and had to back off when he fell into nervous laughter at the thought of screaming at a teacher). I made the kids re-run things. They rolled their eyes when I would say, "Okay..." meaning "stop, I'm going to make you do it again." I treated it like a musical rehearsal, repeating the same "beat" three or four times until it locked in. I made them do vocal warm-ups, not with pitches, but with breathing and stretching and volume changes. They hated me. But they got better.

We received a superior rating (which I later learned everybody gets, unless they're utterly hopeless, and since we were off-book and had a few laughs, we were a shoo-in). Several kids were awarded individual honors, and the sponsor and I preened and planned on Bigger and Better Things.

Enter MTI (Music Theater International) and their stupid alluring catalog. Everything Disney started at $600 licensing. In a school where a fundraiser is successful if it pulls in 100 bucks, this was not possible. But there was apparently a junior musical based off the Schoolhouse Rock cartoons, which I remember vaguely and my students knew even less. But it was cheaper, and still recognizable. Plus, cross-curricular content? Brownie points.

Fast-forward to today, in which I discovered: we couldn't rehearse in the auditorium until 4th period because the band was using it yesterday and today, the sound system was not set up, we had half as many risers as I asked for, the microphones may or may not work, the show CD is skipping consistently on track 2, there ARE no costumes or lighting cues, some dialogue scenes have not been run, blocked, or even read, and two of the songs have no choreography.

So my assistant-director-slash-choreographer-to-the-stars spent 2nd and 3rd period teaching basic blocking and choreography for the neglected songs, I urged the actors to bring their scripts on stage if necessary, told the kids "come as you are, I'm not grading on dress code", we altered the finale so that students could sing from their seats instead of on the risers, and we spent a frantic 20 minutes after the final bell hooking up microphones and hunting down batteries for the wireless body mics.

The students spent the majority of the concert just staring. at all. the new stuff. Instead of at me, waving frantically in front of the choir, attempting to conduct and failing miserably.

But it happened. It occurred. We didn't have to re-schedule or cancel. The microphones worked, the sound system hooked up, we eventually found a CD that didn't sound like a remix. The choir was all but inaudible, but like I said, most of them were staring instead of singing. The soloists rocked my socks, with their cute little treble voices lilting through the microphones. There were plenty of very, very proud parents.

Now, I'll be honest, when the principal walked up afterward and said "That was great!" I wanted to squint at him and say, "...really?!" But hey. First attempt at a musical. Ever. Now we know what we need to do next year. Now we know what it takes. Now we know that each director/producer/teacher/sponsor needs their duties and calendars mapped out beforehand, so there are no holes or overlap. Now we know that new things on opening day = BAD. Now we know that with this age group, you can perform just about anything, and because it's a performance where no one vomited (well... not on stage) and no one cried (not during the show), and no one died (let's hope), it is considered a success.

Just wait 'til I get started with some REAL successes.

Comments? 0 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.