Hello Dear Readers,
Let's take a break from the wombury's futile quest for romance, and head back to that other sphere of turmoil: the workplace.
When we last left the Wombury's workplace he wrote: "Terrible Dress Rehearsal. The kids are near mutiny." This was last Tuesday, April 15th. In reality, there was nothing terrible about the rehearsal. Three of the four scenes went well, the audience laughed up to the end, and the only kids who were really upset were the actors from the first scene. The cause of their anger was Mr. Wombury who dropped and skipped a few lines on stage leading to confusion on the part of the actors. This was the second time Mr. Wombury had flubbed his part and he could tell the actors were ready to give him the business. But, all things being equal, there was no cause for alarm, since anyone with any experience in theater knows the old axiom: "terrible dress--good show". You're SUPPOSED to screw up the night before!
So the Wombury didn't think too much of the discussion he had with Ms Hall following the rehearsal. It wasn't a lighthearted discussion they discussed a number of serious topics including his future employment. The wombury tried to communicate how much faith he had put into the tranformative powers of doing live theater, and how unnerving it was to see the lack of transformation. Ms. Hall tried to do her best to persuade the Wombury that kids are kids, and to relax. And with that, they terminated the conversation and left the building.
Wednesday Morning, day of the Parents Show. The Wombury enters the building. He is told Ms Hall wants to see him. She tells him she had a "crisis of conscience" about the show. She felt it was too negative. She felt the kids hadn't reflected enough about the behavior portrayed and what it said about them and the school. She said it was troubling and problematic that the Wombury wrote the play, not the kids. She objected to a few jokes about the kids names, like the one in which the Wombury says "you have to be a fairly optimistic parent to name your child Messiah." She was worried the parents would misinterpret the play and the school.
The Wombury assured Ms Hall that he would address those issues with his first class, that he would talk to them about the play, that he would discuss softening the name jokes, that he would give a speech to the parents about the power of doing live theater for the kids. This line of reasoning seemed, at the time, to mollify Ms. Hall.
First class did not react well to the objections raised. There were hard words and anger all around. Second class too. Ms Hall came to the auditorium during the second class and interviewed the students about the play, theater, acting, the class. Students nearly wept as they talked about the fear of not being able to perform. They talked about the hard work they had done in readying the show for Parents Night. They spoke of conquering their fear of being in public. They also said they could be themselves in theater class, that theater class was where they could "have fun." The Wombury could tell this bothered Ms Hall. Fun? No no no. No fun. School is for LEARNING. learning isn't fun.
Suddenly this all felt dark and twisted, like the scene from One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest when Randall P. McMurphy wants to watch the World Series, and Nurse Ratchet demands the patients vote for it, and Randall desperately tries to scrounge up the necessary number of votes and just when you think he's got it....
Ms. Hall left the second class, smiling. Then came lunch. The Wombury was going over a scene, that the students put together, playing goofy cat burglars. Ms. Hall entered the auditorium and sent the students away. She told me the show was to be postponed. letters were being copied, to be sent home. No questions asked. She said there was too much confusion on the part of the kids. There wasn't enough reflection. The Wombury was stunned. No World Series. She said we needed more time. The parents wouldn't get it. She said the performances were excellent, the talent was evident, but the content was unacceptable. Parents shouldn't see their kids being portrayed as "crazy" or "disrespectful to teachers."
My next two classes were spent trying to brainstorm a solution. We thought we found one: the kids would do a Q and A talk-back session after the performance, explaining the show was a work of theater, and that it took a discipline and effort to produce an hour-long show. That good behavior was necessary to portray bad behavior on stage.
Ms. Hall considered the proposal but balked at it, saying the kids needed time. We held an after-school assembly and broke it to them. This time, there was mutiny. Livid, confused, heartbroken children who asked questions we had no answers for, who told us about all the people who made special arrangements to see them. The mantra was, "why today? why the day of the show?"
The next two days, Thursday and Friday, were spent talking about the show with the kids, and the kids talking with Ms Hall about her decision. It was like the day after Columbine. The kids wore glum expressions affixed to their faces, and were listless in other classes. No joy in Mudville. Accusations of betrayal: "You're on her side, aren't you?" "Was this for nothing?" "Why did we do all this hard work?" "I don't want to do the stupid show." "I quit."
All thursday, Ms Hall did her best to explain her point of view, and she did it with poise. And to her credit, the kids acknowledged her point of view, and conceded a few points in her favor, but the moment she wasn't in the room, there was vocal hostility. Finally, we were given a mandate for the show, now postponed to May 8th: have the kids "ask questions": "What does the show say about us?" "What do we want to say about ourselves?" "What do we want to celebrate?"
It was and is open-ended. We spent Friday brainstorming solutions, like showing video highlights of the rehearsal process where the students are talking about the play. Or a more soliloquies that explicitly call attention the artifice of the production, or additional scenes showing a "before and after" scenario. Or a talk-back.
But, really, there is an ever present feeling of, "the moment's lost." The kids aren't nearly as enthusiastic. I guess the Wombury's job is to motivate them, sell them on the possibility of doing an even better show. Not too mention it's his job to turn those suggestions into a theatrical reality.
So, all this is weighing on the Wombury. As is the question of leaving or staying the Bronx, leaving the school, leaving the city, leaving the profession. In many ways, this has been the most authentic, rich, educational experience of the Wombury's career. The news of the cancellation/postponement uncovered irrefutable evidence of caring and investment on the part of the kids (even if they did exaggerate the sacrifices their parents made to see the show: "My aunt is coming from virginia!" "My grandmother hasn't got out of bed in 8 years but she got of bed to see this" (this coming from the stage manager!) "Zarquin's dad quit the army to see her. He's gonna beat you!"
Until then,
The Wombury
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