A Little "Glee" in Our Own Backyard

Truth Thursday

Show of hands – who out there auditioned to be in their school play? Who was stage crew?

I think the world is divided into two distinct subgroups – cast or crew. The two years that there was a teacher at my high school who was willing to mount a musical, there was never a question – I was crew.  Stage manager, in fact. Although for the life of me, I don't really remember my job.

All I remember is the feeling of being part of something extraordinary … something bigger than me and my adolescent angst … something beautiful and communal … with music!

To this day, I remember every song from "Bye Bye Birdie"  (not so much "Teahouse of the August Moon" - whose idea was that?)  And I remember those days and nights of being on stage crew with incredible fondness and gratitude to the teacher who took it … and us … on.

I love Broadway musicals. And I love school plays. So it has been with great anticipation that I have waited for my daughter to start middle school and join the school play, something she had indicated great interest in as well (for I would never force her into doing something that was my idea. At least, probably not.)

Middle school today seem more like the high schools of my youth, and the school musical already has a strong presence in the extracurricular activities. When I was in junior high, we were lucky to have an assembly once a year in which to learn the lyrics to our "alma mater" (really? An alma mater for junior high?)  Today's middle schoolers have as many club choices and electives to choose from as your typical college freshman.

My son had virtually no interest in the school play when he was in the middle school, so I had to wait until my daughter – a "Gleek" along with me -- was ready.

And while she has a lovely voice and is not generally shy, can you guess which end of the business she chose? Yup, stage crew. So much for my living vicariously through her stardom.

The cast and crew began their work right after winter break. The musical of choice was Cinderella.  Sweet music, and to boot, the wonderful Brandy/Whitney Houston version of the classic was one of our favorites to rent and watch when she was a little girl.

My daughter worked her little heart out. She worked on props. She worked on costumes. And in the end, on the night of the performance, she didn't want to be backstage crew. In keeping with her social networking tendencies, she wanted to be where the action was – giving out programs. And so she did.

The teachers who work on this show every year are saints. What a labor of love. Forty hormonally-challenged 6^th, 7^th and 8^th graders, all crashed together on a small stage, needing direction and tenderness. On the night of one of the performances, 30 minutes before curtain time, I noticed the lead teacher sitting in the corner with several of the crew members, mediating some teenage interaction, and doling out advice that was both wise and to the point.

That is a teacher with a big heart.

I remember my own big-hearted teacher, who for me, living through my parents' divorce, was almost a surrogate parent in my junior year. She actually would drive a group of us home after practice (something that would never happen today) in her orange VW bug. Looking back, I want to give her a giant hug.

For these experiences are seminal. At this year's middle school play, the high schoolers in my neighborhood, who had been a part of the play when they were in middle school, came back to help. My daughter, who was intrepid enough to actually go to the cast party, even though it was mostly 7^th and 8^th graders, learned a great lesson there about group cohesion. I was so proud of her. 

And I am so grateful to the teachers who care enough to make sure that these types of activities are available for our students to enjoy and learn from. I am doubly grateful to my own high school English teacher, Aileen Danaher, who, years ago, who opened my eyes to the joy of taking part and coming together to make great music and great fun on a stage at the end of Brooklyn.

I can’t wait to hear what next year's play will be. My daughter has already decided that this time, she wants to try out for the cast.

Be still my heart.

 

 Photo by renaissancechambara via Flickr