Another show has closed, and as always, there are a lot of mixed feelings. On the one hand, it is so hard to let go of these kids, to know that many of them I will see again and some of them I won't. On the other hand, there is the kind of relief I imagine marathon runners must feel when they cross the finish line. It is an exhilarating, challenging experience but also exhausting. No matter how much you prepare, how much experience you have, there are things you never would have expected, things for which you couldn't have prepared. For those of you who have never sat on this side of the table, as we say in theatre, I thought I would give you some insight into what it is really like.
The kids are incredible. So many of them have no or very limited experience. In the case of the show I just closed, most of our kids had never had a major speaking part or solo in a performance before. Getting from where we started to a finished product was going to be a feat, and we knew that from the beginning. This was not a typical children's show for our theatre. Usually there are upwards of 50 kids in the show, they are divided up into various choruses, they are off stage more than they are on, with the exception of the leads. That is just how most musicals are written. This show, however, had a cast of about 30 in a show with a huge ensemble presence. In general, these kids were called for every single rehearsal.
Each rehearsal is a battle against short attention spans and boredom. No matter how much a kid loves theatre, sitting for two hours and learning music is just not very much fun. As a director, you have to find the balance between demanding focus and letting them do their own thing, between telling them they need to stay in their seat and letting them go to the bathroom for the third time in 90 minutes. When working with kids in a creative environment, there is no other good way without crushing the creative spirit. And sometimes, you have to accept that it is just not going to happen that night. There are nights you come into rehearsal and will leave feeling like you did not accomplish anything because of a weird energy, because the kids' brains were just exhausted from school, because they were not ready to go to a place where you were going.
You will teach the same things over and over again, but you have to create a balance. You have to develop a sense of responsibility and leadership within your cast, otherwise the ones that get it quickly feel resentful, or the ones who need more time feel lost. So, you impress upon the kids how they need to help each other and help themselves. You teach them to take ownership of their show, to ask for and offer help so that they are the best they can be. This is, in my opinion, one of the most important lessons we teach kids in theatre, and it is not something that every director does. Some directors will just drill the kids over and over and over, demanding perfection, and that is their prerogative, but it is not my style of directing. I would like to think this is obvious to people who see my shows. My casts are cohesive, bonded, and work together as a team both onstage and off.
But there will always be some people who do not agree with how you do things. This happens to me a lot. There are those who expect perfection, who disagree with my lack of emphasis on it. Kids spend all day in school being taught to be perfect. They strive toward those perfect scores, toward making no mistakes. Theatre is an art form, and art is not always perfect. So, I ask my kids to do the best they can do, to show respect, to work hard, and for many of them, that will not always lead to perfection, and that is okay. Part of the beauty of live theatre is that it is what it is. An audience gets what they see. There are no second takes, no time spent in the cutting room. And you know what? A mistake is not the end of the world. What is important is that you find your footing again and you keep going, that you get your head back in the moment and you do the rest of the show with a smile on your face like nothing ever went wrong. You mess up and continue on with grace and dignity instead of beating yourself up for a mistake. Kids are bullied enough. By engraining in them this need to always be perfect, we are only teaching them to bully themselves.
You get to tech week, and the kids are overwhelmed. All of a sudden there are lights and microphones and costumes and makeup and sets and props. You have to quickly establish the routine for them, the process of getting ready for each show. Rehearsals go later, and parents often times are not fans of this as it is a school night. It is hard on the kids, as well, to rehearse full out night after night, but they do it. You come to the end of that week and there are still things that need fixed, but there's no time left. You can't just throw changes at kids the night of a performance and expect them to handle it well. As a director, once you get to that last tech rehearsal, the show is pretty much what it is going to be. You have to sit back and accept that and be proud of it. You have to be proud of your kids for all the things the show IS, for all the things they HAVE done, for all the things that ARE perfect. You gave them an environment in which to come together and create something, and they did that. With your guidance and direction, yes, but at the end of that week, you know that so much of that show is their heart and their soul and their talent. They took ownership, they made the show theirs, and when the lights come up on opening night and they sing their hearts out in the opening number, you stand in the back of the auditorium and you cry because you are just so proud.
The kids are incredible. So many of them have no or very limited experience. In the case of the show I just closed, most of our kids had never had a major speaking part or solo in a performance before. Getting from where we started to a finished product was going to be a feat, and we knew that from the beginning. This was not a typical children's show for our theatre. Usually there are upwards of 50 kids in the show, they are divided up into various choruses, they are off stage more than they are on, with the exception of the leads. That is just how most musicals are written. This show, however, had a cast of about 30 in a show with a huge ensemble presence. In general, these kids were called for every single rehearsal.
Each rehearsal is a battle against short attention spans and boredom. No matter how much a kid loves theatre, sitting for two hours and learning music is just not very much fun. As a director, you have to find the balance between demanding focus and letting them do their own thing, between telling them they need to stay in their seat and letting them go to the bathroom for the third time in 90 minutes. When working with kids in a creative environment, there is no other good way without crushing the creative spirit. And sometimes, you have to accept that it is just not going to happen that night. There are nights you come into rehearsal and will leave feeling like you did not accomplish anything because of a weird energy, because the kids' brains were just exhausted from school, because they were not ready to go to a place where you were going.
You will teach the same things over and over again, but you have to create a balance. You have to develop a sense of responsibility and leadership within your cast, otherwise the ones that get it quickly feel resentful, or the ones who need more time feel lost. So, you impress upon the kids how they need to help each other and help themselves. You teach them to take ownership of their show, to ask for and offer help so that they are the best they can be. This is, in my opinion, one of the most important lessons we teach kids in theatre, and it is not something that every director does. Some directors will just drill the kids over and over and over, demanding perfection, and that is their prerogative, but it is not my style of directing. I would like to think this is obvious to people who see my shows. My casts are cohesive, bonded, and work together as a team both onstage and off.
But there will always be some people who do not agree with how you do things. This happens to me a lot. There are those who expect perfection, who disagree with my lack of emphasis on it. Kids spend all day in school being taught to be perfect. They strive toward those perfect scores, toward making no mistakes. Theatre is an art form, and art is not always perfect. So, I ask my kids to do the best they can do, to show respect, to work hard, and for many of them, that will not always lead to perfection, and that is okay. Part of the beauty of live theatre is that it is what it is. An audience gets what they see. There are no second takes, no time spent in the cutting room. And you know what? A mistake is not the end of the world. What is important is that you find your footing again and you keep going, that you get your head back in the moment and you do the rest of the show with a smile on your face like nothing ever went wrong. You mess up and continue on with grace and dignity instead of beating yourself up for a mistake. Kids are bullied enough. By engraining in them this need to always be perfect, we are only teaching them to bully themselves.
You get to tech week, and the kids are overwhelmed. All of a sudden there are lights and microphones and costumes and makeup and sets and props. You have to quickly establish the routine for them, the process of getting ready for each show. Rehearsals go later, and parents often times are not fans of this as it is a school night. It is hard on the kids, as well, to rehearse full out night after night, but they do it. You come to the end of that week and there are still things that need fixed, but there's no time left. You can't just throw changes at kids the night of a performance and expect them to handle it well. As a director, once you get to that last tech rehearsal, the show is pretty much what it is going to be. You have to sit back and accept that and be proud of it. You have to be proud of your kids for all the things the show IS, for all the things they HAVE done, for all the things that ARE perfect. You gave them an environment in which to come together and create something, and they did that. With your guidance and direction, yes, but at the end of that week, you know that so much of that show is their heart and their soul and their talent. They took ownership, they made the show theirs, and when the lights come up on opening night and they sing their hearts out in the opening number, you stand in the back of the auditorium and you cry because you are just so proud.
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