Internal monologue

One student doesn't show up for the final show, and another takes his place.
That kid who doesn't show up… my first thought is that something happened. An emergency. A sudden illness. And then a little dark and crabby voice makes noises in my head:  “What parent doesn’t bring their kid to the only evening class play performance?”,  “Don’t they get that this is a group endeavor?”, and “Aren’t they going to hold that kid responsible, to be there just like everybody else?”. 

Actually, that’s the crabby internal monologue lite version. There’s something in me that simply cracks open, bubbles hot, and then simmers for a long time when somebody doesn’t show up. I don’t let on, of course. I verbalize this other script, this effort to be zen-like, understanding of every individual family’s dynamics, and accepting of things as they are.


But, it makes me crazy to get no email, no note left in the office with the secretaries, no phone call, not even a weak sauce excuse made at the end of the school day… “I don’t know, but I might not be there tonight.”

Just don’t show up?

Really? You can’t even pretend that your grandma is sick?

Doing a class play at our school is like being on a team that only plays one game. One.

At least on a sports team, there's a season of several games, maybe even some tournaments. You play, you sit on the sidelines, you play more, you get better. But, in this crazy business of the arts in schools, at least in this school, you practice a play for three weeks and you get one final rehearsal for peers and one performance for parents.

Did you ever hear me say, "Oh, if you can't come tonight, that's okay"?

It's not okay. People are depending on you. Your three lines have an impact.

Forget it. Maybe they don't.

It turns out that kid who took your place at the last minute actually has your part figured out. He knows your lines, because he's been paying attention for three weeks. He gets the story and has some great ideas about how to bring this character to life. Sure, it's just an elementary school class play, but this kid is smoking the part. He swaggers. He speaks out clearly. He looks the other characters in the eye. He pauses for effect. The other actors rise to his willingness to take risks and take some risks of their own. Maybe you actually did the audience a favor by not being there tonight. They got to see an actor in bloom and a whole class creating something that wasn’t there this morning.

And that’s just enough theater.