Well, if you’re a regular reader, you probably know that our Dinner Theatre Project came to an end on Thursday night. By 11:00 the five main staff involved were sitting in the cooking lab, eating left-overs, feeling a sense of great satisfaction, but also great loss at the end of such an amazing, engaging, enraging, tiring, exhilarating ride. We had a great time working together with the students, and aren’t too anxious to return to our separate, isolated classrooms, which we will the week after next. I’d imagine the students feel the same.
Wednesday was the dress rehearsal for the collective, entitled “Looking In, Looking Out.” The show was a compilation of the students stories and reflections on life in their neighbourhood, one that is regularly vilified by local and national media outlets – but more on the show later. The students were very nervous, and it showed at times. The audience wasn’t hostile, but they weren’t particularly supportive – Middle Years students are notoriously hard to please. One student videotaped the show, and students were quite proud, spending time after school watching the show on the little viewfinder on the camera.
At the same time, the gym was being converted into a dining space for 260 people. Thirty-two round eight person tables were crammed in, leaving just enough room for the two stainless steel bars, silent auction tables, podium, and buffet lines. It was tight. Table settings were picked up (donated by a local performance/banquet venue) as well as a deep fryer, heat lamps, and linens, to name just a few things. The Commercial Cooking students were cooking up potato lasagna, and preparing to take it to a different high school to be chilled, as we didn’t have space. When the five staff left the school at 6:00, we were tired, but excited for the next day. (*note: I chose Wednesday as the first day I’d ride my bike to school. What was I thinking? It was +2 in the morning, and the 8km ride was brisk. On the return ride, it was +5 but I was pushing a headwind. It wasn’t a particularly fast ride home, but I made it. I drove on Thursday and Friday.)
Thursday was a go-go-go day. Silent auction items were arranged, lamps set up in the gym so we wouldn’t have to use the overpowering fluorescent lighting, tables set and double-checked (saucers look remarkably like bread plates to grade 10 students, we learned), hand-written thank-you cards were placed on each plate, chocolates lined up on each table, waiting for the guests, tables numbered, and hosts and hostesses changed into tuxes. And probably 39 things I forgot. The drama students watched the show from the day before, did a quick run-through, and a thorough sound check. Next thing we knew, people were piling into the gym, and the actors were waiting nervously in the basement green room.
The show begins (began, I suppose) with the theme music from Mr. Rogers (minus the station identification, and plus random gunfire and dogs barking.) Our Mr. Rogers entered from the door beside the stage, unfazed by the gunfire, gladhanded with the audience, waved, smiled, and made his way onstage to a coat rack and chair, where he changed from a buttoned jacket into a zippered sweater, and from his outside shoes to inside slippers. The audience laughed at his antics, and this just spurned him on more. He welcomed everyone to his neighbourhood, and with a sweep of his arms, the curtains opened as he said, “Let’s show you around!”
Upstage right was a 8′ by 8′ flat with a map of the neighbourhood painted on it. The name of the neighbourhood was graffitied around the map. Students came out and introduced the audience to parts of the neighbourhood. For example, “This is Bonanza, where I work to help my mom pay bills.” or “This is the library, where I use the computer.”
After a few minutes of this, Mr. Rogers returned, saying “Now that you know a bit about my neighbourhood, let’s see what the evening news has to say about it.” From here, the newscasters took over. Two brilliant young women read found poems created from newspaper articles about the neighbourhood. They told the stories in a factual manner at first. After one about a youth who committed many arsons, the lights dimmed and an actor stepped forward and spoke from the point of view of the young man. This was in an effort to give a voice to someone whose voice went unheard in the local media. The show continued like this, monologues offered in response to the stark facts presented by the media. As they went along, the newscasters became more and more animated, and, well, almost ridiculous in their reading of the news. For example, when telling a story about the increase in break and enters and property crimes, the newscasters stand up, and dance, singing, “Break and enters, property crimes! Break and enters, property crimes!” They then sing “Robberies, robberies, robberies!” each word being an octave higher than the one before, and the final being sung in unison. For a particularly graphic description of the living conditions in the neighbourhood, there is a blackout, and the newscasters pull out flashlights, as if telling a ghost story. The audience, those from the neighbourhood and those not, responded with laughter in some spots, and stunned silence in others. There was some more mapping, but this time with more stories attached to the locations: “This is B’s Convenience Store, where my friend was attacked by the clerk. He still works there.” or “This is where I wanted a better bond with my dad, and sometimes no bond at all.” From here, the newscasters returned and bemoaned the lack of positives about the neighbourhood in the news. They then highlighted some positive things that are going on, but aren’t in the news. The show ended with three of the actors performing a rap song they wrote addressing the attitudes people have about their neighbourhood. They got a standing ovation, which continued through Mr. Rogers final words: “Remember, we don’t get to choose where we were born or where we grow up, but we get to choose where we’re going.” All in all, the show was a blur of laughter, applause, sighs, and stunned silence. I couldn’t be more proud. I’m working on editing the video of the show, and will hopefully at some point put it on youtube.
We received very positive comments on the show — many people told me they cried the whole time. Two parents were being interviewed by a University who is doing a documentary on changing education in the 21st century, and they were so proud as they described their child’s role in the show. The response was moving.
After the show, the students knew they had nailed it. They were so excited in the green room. Later that night, one actress confided that she didn’t know she could do it – and actually asked a teacher, “Is it alright that I feel so proud of myself right now?” I didn’t hear the comment, but as I related the story, a friend came up with the perfect response: “What isn’t right, is that you’ve never had the chance to feel proud of yourself like this before.” I basically have been on a permanent high since the show – we still have four more days with our students to wrap up their classes, and I can’t wait to see them tomorrow. I think we’ll all go through some withdrawl come the end of the project. Hence, we spent lunch of Friday planning what projects to begin next year with. We’ll do something to re-engage these grade 10s (who’ll be 11s by then!) I can’t wait.
