I have filled my life with drama this year. School drama, that is.
Today we had a rehearsal for the middle school play, “The Fireworks Maker’s Daughter,” and the drama teacher, Thaba, wanted students to think about the physicality of working with and watching fireworks. Obviously, we won’t set off real fireworks in the theater, so she elicited ideas about how the stagecraft class might design props and explained that dancers will BE the fireworks in some scenes. To spark their imaginations, she brought them all to the field for a mid-day fireworks show.
Students crowded around our visiting fireworks expert, Mohinder, who unloaded a big bag of goodies. Thaba reminded kids to closely monitor the actions involved in lighting fireworks. As the fireworks exploded, shrieked, swirled, whistled, and showered sparks, she encouraged actors and dancers to remember their own physical reactions. Back in the rehearsal space, students debriefed and shared fantastic insights gleaned from the experience.
Such a fun, creative, caring bunch of adults. Such talented, reflective, committed kids. Sometimes I have to pinch myself.
As a new teacher at the American Embassy School last fall, I remember the stress of setting up our home, learning the ropes at my job, trying to make friends, budgeting in a strange currency, and otherwise wondering whether this place was a good match. Suffering from Sporty Gene Deficit Disorder and no longer a fan of late-night partying, I automatically excluded myself from several big social groups. Would I find a niche here? Then someone asked, “Are you auditioning for the staff musical?” Um, heck yeah!
I subscribe to Shakespeare’s quip that “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Daily life, particularly in India, offers plenty of color and costumes, music and mayhem, dancing and drama. Yet I can’t deny this girl loves the stage and everything that goes with it. Since the first meeting of our community theatre guild, I knew I had found my niche. Maybe it’s cheesy, but participating in this silly play kept my spirits high and gave me opportunities to bond with people I wouldn’t have otherwise known. It felt like a place where I could fit in, and I loved every minute of it.
Beth Burrows, a third-grade teacher at AES, started the theatre guild and pours her passion into it year after year. It’s a hobby, but also a community service project. This year, “Beauty and the Beast” ticket sales collected about $4,000 for the Salaam Balaak Trust, an organization that provides shelter, education, health care and mental health services for homeless children in New Delhi.
Tim Steadman, an AES spouse and professional photographer, volunteered to shoot our performances, and his photos are fantastic! I strung together a few in this short video. As Silly Girl 3, my part was fun, albeit small. I am wildly overrepresented in this video – but hey! – it’s my blog. In yet another horn-tooting comment, I’ll point out that I painted all the the cutlery and other kitchen objects on the white kurtas (Indian shirts) worn in the musical numbers “Be Our Guest” and “Human Again.” With a lot of guidance and confidence-building from Patricia Podorsek, I also painted on the Beast’s make-up each night. Although I have a teaching certification in theatre, it’s been years since I tapped that knowledge or those skills deep in the recesses of my mind. What a treat to discover I hadn’t lost it all!
And so, the curtain has closed. For now. Next year: “Annie.”
The sun will come out tomorrow …
