I'm baa-aaack... I know it has
been quite a long time. (BTW, wouldn’t
it be fun to count how many blog posts have begun with something like “sorry
it’s been such a long time?”)
Anyway, I’m back, and I realize that I sort of had a few
cliffhangers in my last post. I was
directing my first play, I had just had an audition disappointment, and I was
teaching musical theatre at a performing arts high school.
So much has happened and changed in the last several months,
and I want to share it with you. I’ve
chosen the above title, because in the process I learned a tremendous amount
that I may never have otherwise learned.
First, the play I direct ended up so great! The kids rose to the occasion and performed
wonderfully in some very difficult material.
I’d inadvertently chosen something that was beyond a high school level,
and I didn’t cut very much of it all.
Subsequently, the students and I grew a lot in the process, and the final product was awesome! During our brief 4-show run, I repeatedly
fought tears while introducing the piece to our audiences. I was so grateful for the opportunity and
insanely proud of them. I was also proud
of my own work. I was able to guide them
in telling a fun, meaningful story with some vision and artistry. Most audience members loved it, and it was a memorable experience.
That said, it was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO hard!
Oh my goodness, it was hard!
I mean, what was I thinking?!
Okay, I’ll just admit what I chose.
We did… (deep breath)… Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.
No, do you understand?!
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, hereafter referred to as R&G,
is such a difficult piece. It’s
existential and absurdist, and the two leads are onstage and have dialogue the
entire time. My R&G were both
fabulous, but they had a million lines to learn. On top of that, a lot of the dialogue is
similar throughout. So they’ll have a
conversation and then have another one later in the play that is almost, but
not quite identical, at least in theme.
Plus I only had 8 actors to work with in a play that usually has a cast
of a dozen or more, AND I was the director, designer, and technical director
all rolled into one (though I did have some wonderful support from my artistic director). It was such a
challenge for all of them, and I couldn’t memorize everyone’s blocking and lines
for them. Which leads me to the next
hard part…
I was completely powerless at times. It just came with the territory. I had no control over who would audition or
what conflicts people had or what was going on in the students’ lives or their
health or if people would be on time or if anyone was really paying attention
during rehearsal. I had no control over
the fact that our rehearsal space was less than ideal and I didn’t have much of
a budget and there was barely any advertising, etc. It all came together, but it was so
humbling.
Add to all of the above the fact that my then kindergartner
was in tow at almost every rehearsal (often after a struggle to get her there
and be on time), and my anxiety was through the roof much of the time.
1st Lesson: Sometimes worthwhile things are really,
really hard – so hard that, if you knew beforehand how difficult it would be,
you would run instead of saying yes.
Let’s talk about my kindergartner. She loved the structure of kindergarten, but
she had no desire to go anywhere after school.
She just wanted to relax and enjoy being at home with me. It was important for her to learn that mom
still had a life and shouldn’t have to stop everything for everyone else. Still, I understood how hard it was for
her. I felt guilty, and my consequent
anxiety made me touchy and impatient.
To be very honest, while I had a strong sense that I should direct
this play and learn the lessons that it would teach me, I am still not 100%
sure it was a great idea. Okay, I’m glad
I did it, but it took a toll on my relationship with my daughter at the time,
and we had to recover a bit afterward.
For that reason alone, I will think twice before taking on something else
that will affect my family so much.
2nd Lesson: It’s not always clear when something is a
good idea or not. Sometimes you have to study
it out, act on faith, and follow through (as long as following through is not a
dangerous thing). Then you may step back and get some humility and learning along with the triumph or failure.
3rd Lesson: There was a lot I didn’t know about
directing. I’ll just leave it at
that. I’m glad I did it, but the process
taught me a lot about what it takes to direct a play. So consider me humbled on that front. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to direct
again, because I do really want to... someday, but still…humbled.
To continue with my update, I had mentioned a recent
audition disappointment. Honestly, it was just
one of those things that come with being an artist (or being anyone who is
hired by other people). I know I can’t
win everything, and there are tons of talented performers in my area. All of that was clear at the time. I’m grateful to say that I’ve gotten another
turn in a different show playing a crazy fun role. In addition to that, after my current project
ends, I’ll be part of a workshop of a new musical slated for Broadway, and I’ll
be playing such a beautiful role. (No, I
won’t be playing the role on Broadway, just in the workshop.) So creative doors opened, and, once again I’m
reminded of the following:
4th Lesson: When one creative door closes, another door
often opens. As long as you don’t quit,
it can happen!
On to my final, and frankly most significant update: I’m no longer teaching musical theatre at a
performing arts high school or at a performing arts studio (which I was also
doing for part of the last school year).
One might look at me and say, “How did she fall so
far?” In a matter of months, I went from
teaching at a charter high school and a performing arts studio to not teaching
at all (barring the occasional private lesson).
How did this happen?
Well, first listen for a second. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of my heart not beating a
million miles per hour most minutes of the day.
That’s the sound of me not screaming in panic at my kids nearly as often
as I once was. J
Sometimes you have to step back and reevaluate whether you
want to keep everything that is on your plate.
For a few years, I was functioning with the motto “If I don’t take advantage
of this opportunity, another one might not come again.” To be honest, there is some truth to that
belief. I LOVED a lot of the students
and the other teachers with whom I worked.
The places where I worked did some seriously cool things, and I loved
being involved in them. At times I was
bursting with gratitude to be a part of such wonderful groups and didn’t want
to ever leave. If I'd not said yes, none of that would've happened.
Yet I was running so hard for my own abilities. I had limited time to myself to think and
plan for my family and my classes. I
made little effort at homemaking, had all the bills on Autopay, and had little
emotionally to give to my family when I was with them. I was there but not really present.
Leaving the performing arts studio and later the high school
was terrifying. I knew I was lucky to be wanted there, and I did not want to burn
my bridges or establish myself as a quitter or someone who is undependable. I knew that if I walked away, I could not
expect to come back at another time.
Indeed, all of this was realistic thinking. By stepping away from teaching, I did let some connections dry up and lost some amazing students. I miss the great people I worked with.
A bigger commitment was calling me, however, and that was my
family. I realized last year that once
all of your kids are elementary age and up, the after-school time is crucial. My kids needed me to get them to activities and help them with homework. Also, they needed mom around more than just on the weekend. I’m grateful that I even had the choice to be
there.
I wanted to teach, but I wanted to perform as well. In fact, being a performer in some ways
legitimized me more as a teacher of performing arts. Unfortunately, I found that doing both was
more stressful than I felt okay with.
The good news is I’m grateful for the decisions I made to
stop teaching, and I'm very grateful that I had the choice.
My relationship with my children has improved as I have been more
emotionally and physically available for them.
The transformation in my youngest alone was enough to confirm how right
my decision was. In the months that
followed the end of the school year, she and I became more affectionate and
warm toward each other. It was as if we
were finally able to heal from the tough year. Also, my oldest child talks to me more,
especially in the mornings. She was so
resilient and learned to be very independent. This year she has a little more security
knowing that I’m there and want to be with her and help her more.
5th lesson
learned, best summed up in a quote by a prophet: “No other success can compensate for failure
in the home.” – David O. McKay
Now this post would be disingenuous and incomplete if I made
it sound like I was doing SO brilliantly in the classroom that my decisions to
stop teaching were entirely inspirational.
The fact is, things got rough, and it was humbling.
First, I was pretty stressed out being so busy. Some people are probably wonderful with their
time management and don’t get frazzled quickly.
I found that I really do have a breaking point, and I was beyond it. I felt less excited to teach over time and
less patient in the classroom. My
teaching style went from positive and enthusiastic to anxious and
demanding.
Second, teaching at the high school was hard. Teenagers are going through a lot of tough
stuff. Without going into too much
detail, I had a student or two who were dealing with depression and harming
themselves. A bunch of my students were
mourning a peer suicide. Most of my
students were too busy, and one of them became really hostile towards me in and
after a difficult term. These good
people needed an environment and teachers who were collected, organized,
patient, and prepared. I tried very,
very hard to be all of those things, but I did not succeed. Plus I needed more support than I got.
Experiencing the hostility from a student was one of the
hardest parts of the job. Actually it
was the hardest part. When you are in a
classroom, a student yells at you or speaks to you with aggression and
hostility, and everyone around you is silent from shock and doesn’t know what
to do, it’s scary and mortifying. Then,
when some of your students go up to that student and give them a hug after
class, you are conflicted. Yes, you are
more concerned about them, and you want the student to get support. But when you realize that you are no longer
safe in the classroom, it is pretty hard to rationalize staying (at least that's how I felt).
I wish I had been better qualified as a teacher. I wish I’d managed my emotions better, kept
my language clean 100% of the time, been warmer, better organized, communicated
more, read minds better, been more patient with the shortcomings of the school
and the kids and even my own shortcomings.
I wish I’d not taught last year…
I wish. I wish. I wish…
No I don’t. I don’t
wish any of it different. If I’d never
been crazy enough to take on everything I did last year, I would never have
learned all of the things I learned.
More lessons learned:
I learned that my kids need me more than
other peoples’ kids do.
I learned that charter schools can be a good idea, but they
come with challenges and need parents to really engage.
I learned that ideas that look great on paper don’t always
work out in the execution.
I learned that sometimes there is absolutely nothing you can
do to make someone like you or let you help them.
I learned that, as a parent, I want to support my children, BUT I’m also determined to never give my child an out or write off a teacher and assume
the worst about them.
I learned that it’s very wise to get all of your facts
straight before you react to something (though, this lesson was mostly learned
from the receiving side).
I learned that behind even the clumsiest actions are often the
very best of intentions, and in the end you need to forgive people who accidentally throw you under a bus (learned from under the bus).
I learned so many things, and if I had the opportunity to go
back in time and make different choices than I did last year, I’d say no thank
you. It’s not that I’m thrilled about the
stress I caused my family or because I loved falling short as a teacher. It’s just from knowing this: The lessons learned from our experiences are
among our greatest treasures.
I type this as I sit in my quiet house. In a minute, I’ll eat lunch and dig into to
some housework, prepare for a rehearsal tonight, do some bills, and practice
the piano and sing, grateful that it’s Friday. My kids will be home in a couple
of hours, and I’ll be here when they arrive.
The journey can be rough, but the wisdom and serenity that
can follow makes every bump worth it.
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