One of the hardest things to manage as a new theatre instructor and troupe director is one’s patience. You get to that certain point where you’re thinking, “I’ve done A, B, and C, so the alphabet should be finished now! Why isn’t Z happening?” And then you get all cracked out stressed, and, if you’re European and in your thirties, you might do what I do and go and listen to some loud, banging techno. Or EDM. Or whatever American’s pigeonhole my favorite ‘band’ The Prodigy as.
We live in The Age of Instant, where you order something, and bam, it’s there. Amazon’s whole business model is built upon the fact that when we order something, we want it in two days, preferably with free shipping, and have mercy on the poor UPS guy who delivers it a minute over that 48 hour order/delivery window.
Given the choice, students will sign up in droves to do a school talent show, versus committing several weeks and multiple days after school to something as slow-moving as a full-length production. Not to denigrate any student with the gumption to sign up for a talent show, but on a scale of 1 to 10 for dedication and commitment, a play or musical production wins out over the talent show, every time. (Talent show: 3, Production: 9.9). Because the talent show is another symptom of The Age of Instant, and it takes a real talent to dedicate oneself to something that takes months to perfect.
I’m not here to dog talent shows. They definitely serve a purpose, and as a first step, they are invaluable for students discovering if they have what it takes, and if they want to proceed further. It’s just an example of Instant, and I am guilty of thinking in quite the same way toward my theatre program. Approaching the end of my second year in the most awesome job ever, I have to catch myself as I wonder “Why isn’t my program here yet?”, where here is defined as any number of things (full day of teaching just theatre, 100% excitement for my class productions from my students, a technical theatre class that builds super-cheap super lavish sets and costumes, working stage lights, you know, that sort of stuff). At which point I have to beat myself with an imaginary brick, and focus on the long-term. There are certain landmarks one has to reach in this journey. The first one is 4 years (for a high school program). Four years “until the program is actually yours.” Which makes sense, though I’m not quite down with the “my program” thing, because that makes me feel like a benevolent dictator where I’m the only one who makes decisions, rather than handing it over to the students (a blog for a future time, I feel). If you’re involving elementary students in your productions (check!), you’ve got at least 4 years before the oldest of those students start filtering into your program (9 years if you managed to get Kindergarten kids involved). And those are just two landmarks, there’s a dozen more (add them in the comments section below)!
So if you’re about to find yourself teaching theatre or being the troupe director next school year, or if you’ve been doing this a short while, first, congratulations! You’re about to embark on the best job in education. Second, forgive yourself for being impatient. Rome, etc. Third, don’t be discouraged! If you’re discouraged that your program isn’t “there” yet (whatever “there” looks like for you), realize that your discouragement is a healthy sign of passion. A lesson we have to drive into our students on Day One, Day Two, Day 699, Day 700 (if you’re lucky enough to get them all four years) is that these things take time. When we can take that away with us, the journey becomes not easier, but a whole lot more realistic, and certainly less stressful.
Then you can go off and listen to some loud banging techno without guilt. At least, for a short time