TAG, You're It!

            As a parent, I’m used to making my kids do things they don’t want to do for their own health and well being. I’m no stranger to saying, “No vegetables, no dessert.” I’ve held screaming children while they got vaccinations because I know that a few seconds of pain outweighs the possibility of contracting tetanus or measles or hepatitis. I don’t allow them to play with broken glass or rusty nails and running into traffic is simply off limits.

            Right now, it’s 2:00 am and I can sleep because I find myself wanting to make my son Owen do something he is reluctant to do. This time however, if he chooses not to do it, there will be no dire consequences. He’s been invited to join a Talented and Gifted program (or TAG) beginning next year in fourth grade. I am really excited for him—I had been a part of the program thirty years ago and loved it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a much better fit for me than where I had been.

When he brought home the invitation letter he told me he didn’t want to go. “All of my friends aren’t going,” he said.

            “Are any of your friends going?” I asked. I would be surprised if none were going, most of his friends seem pretty bright.

            “Well, Nathan and Randall* are going,” he admitted.

“Aren’t they two of your closest friends?”

“Yeah, but Evan and Josh aren’t going.”

            “Isn’t Evan the one at Cub Scouts who drives you nuts?”

            “Well…”

            “Listen Owen, there’s a meeting in a couple of weeks to learn more about the program. Let’s make an informed decision. I’m not going to force you into anything.”

            “Okay.”

            That meeting was tonight. The program sounds like one in which Owen would really flourish. The students learn at an accelerated pace so there is time for projects that you don’t find in a traditional classroom. The teachers and students go more in depth into the subject matter—more exploring and less “teaching to the test”. In addition, I saw a number of familiar faces. Even though this is a city of over 100,000, it can be a very small town. I saw parents I knew from the Y and some other parents I knew from Little League. So even though Owen wouldn’t be with all of his friends, he would have some friends and the potential to make a lot more.

            I was very gung-ho when I got home from the meeting. I probably should have waited until morning to talk to him about it. But I jumped right in while he was getting ready for bed.

“You know, I think you ought to give this a shot,” I told him.

            “But I’m scared,” he said as the tears filled up his eyes.

            “Of course you are. It’s scary to try new things. But if you don’t like it, you can go back to your neighborhood school.”

            “Really?”

            “Really. You know, they do a lot of really cool things.”

            “Like what?”

            “They have a science fair in fourth and fifth grade.”
            “But I wouldn’t know what to do!”
            “It’s at the end of the year, after you’ve learned more about science than you already know.”

            “What else?”

            “Last year the students who were learning about the Revolutionary War created a board game based on what they learned.”

            His eyes lit up, “A war game? With spies?”

            “Probably,” I said. “There were a lot of spies during the Revolutionary War.”

            “Well… maybe I’ll give it a try. Just for fourth grade.”

            So now, I have him onboard to give it a try and I can’t sleep. This isn’t the cut and dried parenting decision I’m used to. What if I’ve talked him into it and he hates it? He’ll be absolutely fine if he doesn’t go. But I can’t help but feel like he’ll be so much better than fine if he goes.

Curtains

            I have no right to feel as awake as I do right now. It is the final weekend of my show, The Secret Garden (you can read the reviews on the right-hand sidebar). There was a cast party last night at the home of our illustrious music director and her husband our equally illustrious lighting designer. There was pizza and wine and a gorgeous grand piano and three people in attendance who knew how to play it. And of course, there was a house full of people who are not shy about singing in public. I even dusted off my rusty pipes and sang. It was 2am when I reluctantly said my goodbyes.

            There are going to be a lot of goodbyes this weekend. It’s hard to describe how close you become to your cast and crew from auditions to the final curtain.  It’s only eight weeks and now these people are family. We’ve been together when we’re tired, stressed, and overwhelmed. We’ve worked through sore throats, missed cues, and technical problems. And we’ve laughed at inside jokes and shared memories of previous shows. We gave each other support when things didn’t go well and praise when things went beautifully. It is strange that in January most of these people were strangers.

            Monday morning I’ll be fine. I’ll catch up on some housework, spend some time with my boys (they’re on spring break this week), perhaps do some writing for my poor neglected blog, and make a real dinner with ingredients that didn’t come out of the freezer. Tuesday however, is going to be tough. I spent the last ten or so Tuesdays rehearsing with some of the most talented people I’ve ever met. This Tuesday I’m working the night shift at a furniture store.

            So tonight and tomorrow I’m going to sit and enjoy the art I created with these wonderful people. I’ll be grateful for the opportunity to direct one of the most beautiful musicals ever written. I’m going to relish every moment I spend with my new friends before and after the show. I’ll raise a toast in their honor at the cast party and try to tell them how much I’m going to miss them. But first, I’m going to Target to pick up a case of tissues.

This one is for my glorious cast!

First Rehearsal

            Another snow day today for the kids so another day away from work for me. Like most New Englanders I’m getting tired of snow, but today’s day off comes as a welcome relief. One of my concerns when I started this blog back in September was that I wouldn’t have time to write once I started directing The Secret Garden. So today, in between saying things like, “No horsing around in the living room.”, “Did you wash your hands?”, and “No, I don’t know where your PSP is.” I can sneak in some time to write and spend some time going over the script of my show.

            The first rehearsal for The Secret Garden was on Tuesday night. I arrived early to set up the rehearsal space. I pushed a bunch of conference tables together so all 25 cast and crew members could see each other. Rehearsal was scheduled to begin at 7:00, but people began to trickle in about 20 minutes early. I love a punctual cast!

            By the time it was 7:00 most of the cast was settled in their seats getting to know each other. It was a nice mix of people. Some had worked together before, many had seen other actors on stage, some were new to the theatre, and some, like myself, had been away from theatre for far too long. Seven of the eight children in the cast were sitting together directly across the table from me. They had been in productions of Annie and Suessical together and were having a great time talking and laughing.

The eighth child walked in the door. This is her first play and she looked terrified. Her mother was encouraging her to go sit with the other kids, but she remained firmly attached. I was wrapping up a conversation with my producer and saw the girl’s hesitation. Before I could get up to welcome her, one my young actresses who is playing the leading role of Mary, hopped up out of her seat and raced over to her. She is twelve and tall for her age with a beautiful smile and lovely red hair, “Hi! My name’s Molly. Come sit with us!”

At that, the newcomer detached from her mom and went to sit with the other kids. Her mother was clearly relieved and went to wait in the lobby with the other parents. There is a common misconception that people who like to perform are always outgoing. But it isn’t true. There are loads of very shy people in theatre. Getting on stage and pretending to be someone else can be less scary for some, than being yourself and striking up a conversation with someone new.

At least ten of the girls who auditioned for the part of Mary could have done an excellent job and I only needed two. An audition shows me how well a person can sing and act. But it can’t tell me how they're going to treat their fellow cast mates. In a community theatre production, an actor’s attitude is just as important as his talent. It takes a lot of dedication to put on a show like this. For the adults in the cast it can mean time away from your family or sneaking out of work a little early. For the kids it means trying to juggle the ridiculous amount of homework with rehearsal and other activities. Leading players who are warm, hard working, generous and kind can make a production go so much smoother for everyone. Who doesn’t want to work in an environment where we are appreciated and supported? Molly’s simple act of kindness assured me that I had made a good decision in casting her.