Viewport width =
March 7, 2011 | by  | in Arts Theatre |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

Theatre – “I am a chair; I was once a tree”

The call to be a drama teacher is such as to seem perpetually shadowed by brooding clouds. Being a bit of a mixed bag, you never really know what you’re going to get; be it the middle aged to greying English teacher who has a sudden urge to celebrate verse, to the drama school graduate (again, middle aged), who after a brief stint in the reclusive and smouldering theatre scene, has decided to impart their knowledge to future generations. Heavily treated with disdain by Arts faculties nationwide, Theatrical societies are the bane of every funding board and a constant source of misinterpretation from key players in any hierarchy. How do you keep the goddamn actors off your back?

Drama teachers are all too loud in the staffroom, drive weirder cars, like odder music, and alienate their peers like nobody cares to mention. So far, so much bad. And we haven’t even reached the classroom yet.

Young people being taught to formulate assignments on emotions. Trained to treat aesthetic as paramount, to see and think in violent, seductive images. The secrets of a drama class are tightly patched within the four walls of what becomes akin to cult lore in the days leading to performance. Passion artfully facilitated into “I feel, I feel, I feel.” And all for what? Two hours of intensely wrought art with bad air conditioning and a weakness for dry ice.

Why, oh why, would I ever want to entrust the mind of a child to this maniac’s influx of emotional dystopia? Well, call me Pollyanna, but for the sanctity of ideas. Because just as there are those destined to perform, there are those destined to lead. Those called to create and manifest an environment where our humanity can be questioned, where hearts and minds connect, where great ideas are born. I’m not tearing out my hair as I write, but I suppose there is something just a little bit special about someone who wants to inspire change.

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Comments (1)

Trackback URL / Comments RSS Feed

  1. Tony says:

    I have no idea what I just read

Recent posts

  1. Cuttin’ it with with Miss June
  2. SWAT
  3. Ravished by the Living Embodiment of All Our University Woes
  4. New Zealand’s First Rainbow Crossing is Here (and Queer)
  5. Chloe Has a Yarn About Mental Health
  6. “Stick with Vic” Makes “Insulting” and “Upsetting” Comments
  7. Presidential Address
  8. Final Review
  9. Tears Fall, and Sea Levels Rise
  10. It’s Fall in my Heart

Editor's Pick

This Ain’t a Scene it’s a Goddamned Arm Wrestle

: Interior – Industrial Soviet Beerhall – Night It was late November and cold as hell when I stumbled into the Zhiguli Beer Hall. I was in Moscow, about to take the trans-Mongolian rail line to Beijing, and after finding someone in my hostel who could speak English, had decided