Tag: teachers

Even Old Dogs Can Learn New Tricks

Who knew after seventeen years as a Drama teacher I could still feel stage fright? (Not from being on stage, as I will explain…) In that time I’ve directed and produced somewhere around thirty shows, but my experience in drama goes beyond that to involvement in church productions, practice teaching, and my role as a playwright. Yet it never ceases to amaze me that I still learn new things with each production.

Recently my extra-curricular group, the ‘KodiActs’, performed one of my published plays called ‘Ali and the Magic Lamp’. It’s a twisted parody of the classic tale where Ali is a skateboarding teenager and Genie has attitude to spare. The troupe performed four shows over a two day period and by all accounts it was a smashing success. The audience had no idea the anxiety that took place before the show or the somewhat scary turn of events backstage during the last performance.
Crisis number one: My school does not have a stage so every show we have to rent one and construct everything from the ground up, including a complicated truss system for hanging the lights and every
thing else that goes with it. I have a lot of confidence in my ability to direct and produce a show. Inevitably, despite set backs and various crisis situations, everything seems to come together. However, I have no illusions about my abilities when it comes to construction. I’ve always relied on people who are more mechanically inclined (most notably my husband) to help me with these aspects. This year, however, my husband was away working and I had to rely on my own abilities to get the job done. I had a few sleepless nights just thinking about the logistics of ladders, and power tools…

Of course, I’ve seen it done dozens of times, but this time I was actually the foreman, showing students how to bolt together a thirty-two foot truss and then raise and mount it above the stage. I had to demonstrate how and where to screw all the stage flats together to make the backdrop, making sure the twelve foot centre archway didn’t come crashing down in the process. I had to help string electrical cable and hang heavy (and expensive!) stage lights, although I did find a brave volunteer to climb the ladder who was also stronger than I,  to make sure they were clamped in place and wouldn’t come loose during the show.

In all, it was a fantastic learning experience for me. it showed me that I could do this part of the job. I’d often wondered how I would manage without my right hand man there to help me, and now I know I can do it. It gave me a new sense of accomplishment.

But that’s not the whole story…  Enter ‘Crisis number two’: During our final performance, one of the actors had a seizure on stage. (She is being tested for epilepsy and had a similar incident last year backstage. But this time it happened on stage during a scene!)

I was so proud of how my other young actors handled things. They’ve been trained by the old motto, “The show must go on,” so her scene partner ad-libbed his way through the initial awkwardness and I immediately called for lights and music. When I got backstage, she was out cold. With the help of another teacher and a couple of other actors we managed to get her off the stage and out into the foyer. Her parents were called immediately, (we have a contingency plan in place since the incident last year) and the rest of the play went forward with her understudy completing the play.

Although there was a longer than normal scene break at one point, some of the audience didn’t even know what happened. I mentioned it at the end of the show and the student in question got a nice round of applause. Meanwhile, she had been ‘out’ for almost five minutes in total. Her parents took her to emergency and she was disoriented when she came to, but she was otherwise alright.

This was another first for me. I’ve had actors sick and throwing up backstage; panic attacks, last minute substitutions, and as I said, one similar incident with a seizure (but at least it was off stage!) It just goes to show that even when you think you’ve seen it all, something new is bound to happen. Like I said, even this old dog can learn a few new tricks.


Thank You Mr. Meginbir

Sometimes i am asked when I knew I wanted to be a writer. There are probably several instances, but here is one that I remember quite vividly.

The typewriter I used back then

The typewriter I used back then

I was writing a short story in my Grade Twelve English class about a man who lost everything in the 1929 economic crash known as ‘Black Monday’. I have no clue what inspired me to write that story – perhaps we were learning about it in Social Studies, but I do recall how frustrated I felt during the writing process.

I recognized the need for more research but didn’t have the time (or the inclination…) to dig into the history beyond what I already knew. I was also frustrated with the chore of editing and moving various parts around to better say what I wanted to say. In those days there were no computers, so it was a matter of scratching and scribbling with pen until the pages were riddled with arrows and big bold instructions to INSERT HERE. Typing the final draft wasn’t much better, since whiteout could only go so far before one was forced to start over.

The story was good, but the real version in my mind was so much better. Despite my lack of personal satisfaction, my teacher, Mr. Meginbir, praised the story and asked my permission to read it aloud. I grudgingly agreed, feeling embarrassed to have my thoughts on display. Later that year he gave me a brochure for a writing camp. He thought my writing had potential and suggested I check it out. I remember looking at that brochure and wishing… 

I did not go, but the pull was strong. The voice inside my head that said, “You’re not good enough,” was probably the thing that kept me home. 

However, I think Mr. Meginbir’s encouragement was the first inkling that writing was actually a possibility for me. I went on to university that next fall and majored in visual arts, which remained my primary creative outlet for several years. Still, the writing seed had been planted. When I finally gave in and started clacking away, the soil was already ready. It was many more years before I felt brave enough to share my writing with anyone and even more before I saw my words in print. But I see that time in Grade Twelve English as a turning point in how I viewed myself. 

© 2017

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑