That sounded pretty heady. Let me back track. If you don't know me, or my back ground, allow me to give you a little information before I ramp up my thoughts here. I have been in educational theater, at KUSD, at Bradford HS for 16 years now. When I took this job, it was my dream job. I believe in the transformative power of theater, especially for young people. If you've read my previous posts, you know how much I value the community it creates. But I didn't go to school to teach theater and I never had any aspirations greater than designing regionally and maybe touring with a major Broadway production. When I started at Bradford, I had only taught a few classes, but I had worked professionally in four states over the course of six years. I knew my theater, for someone my age, and I was eager and happy to have a theater of my own. Especially since I didn't particularly care about teaching. I learned theater by doing, the classroom stuff came years later, in college, to fine tune and expand what I already knew I loved. And this was a perfect program! I taught three classes a day, hour and a half each, 12 to 16 kids per class. I had the same kids all year. There was no national standards for theater to worry about. No one knew whether I was under VoTech or Fine Art so I was pretty much ignored. I started classes to get my teaching certificate (no biggie). I just got to do theater, all day, with a really cool bunch of kids who could have been my little sister. I had time to design for extra cash around town. It was perfect.
Now my students call me Mom, and that's fine. But as our program grew, my anonymity shrank. My classes got huge and when the state cut the education budget, we lost those luxurious hour and a half classes. Five years ago I went from 3 classes a day that had grown to 25 kids (way too many to be safe in the shop) to 7 classes a day with 30 kids. My teaching load doubled with no extra equipment or time and I still had six shows a year to design, build and manage. Two years ago, we added online teacher evaluation, which we had to learn and report through. My prep time was taken not planning for shows or lining up the next day build schedule, but trying to figure out how to do the paperwork to keep my job. My health suffered. My work suffered. My dream job was killing me.
During this stressful time, while the teaching end of my job was getting less and less about teaching and more and more about proving I could teach, our theater program was becoming more and more successful. We were being awarded and lauded and though I was, and am, proud of the work we did, I felt as though I did not deserve any of that. I felt that every show came together by the skin of its teeth and I could not get my head around being both a good teacher and a good artist and technician. So I had to find a way to compromise. Or leave the job I love.
The first shows I did at Bradford, even the first shows that went to international festivals, were built by the students. With the exception of the welding, which we are not equipped for, the students built 20' rotating walls and a 10' balcony for the show Noises Off. We built a rain curtain for the storm in Once on This Island. We built a tree that was climbed in Parade, we built a chess board turned castle with a curved staircase and a tower for Taming of the Shrew. We did full show turn arounds in a day. In two different theaters. At once. We built the entire set for Disney's Camp Rock with two moving boat docks (bases welded off site) a 20'x20' lit floor that rolled up and down stage, four rolling LED light towers, and a camp cabin in 18 days start of build to open. Did I mention we also do the light hang and focus? We accomplished amazing things together.
I still accomplish amazing things with my students, but with 30 kids in a class, 150 plus through the shop in a day, everything must slow down to be safe. With 30 students in 55 minutes, we must compromise. Now, we hire our big builds out. Even the simple stuff gets jobbed out for our big shows. This means more management and less teaching. The students put puzzle pieces together, but I don't have the luxury of problem solving with them as we work. We cannot change the design if we discover something better was we build, or if the rehearsal process finds we no longer need that one thing. Or if we discover eight feet is two feet too tall. It takes three class periods to build a flat, not because the kids are lazy or don't know what to do, but by the time I take attendance, give them the drawing and they start, we are 10 minutes into class. They work for 30 minutes, sharing tools with other groups, then they have to clean up. Then the next group comes in and takes over. I can build a flat in 30 minutes, but I have to figure three to four times that for my students who are learning. If I want them to learn the entire process, I have to wait to complete that flat till the next day when they come in. Fine for them, horrible for the show. So I compromise on the design, so my students can still learn.
This is where I feel we become a victim of our success. We are good at what we do, and we're happy to do it. I was warned about this as a young woman. We are good at what we do, so we are expected to do more with the same resources, then with fewer resources. Eventually that equation does not hold up. Ask the math teachers. Then come the questions, often internal, that voice in your head that insists you do it not just right every time, but better every time, "Why can't you do that any more? Why is it taking so long? Why does it cost so much more?". So I compromise, and my students do less actual theatrical building and more project building. But that isn't what I want to teach. So then my question becomes, at what point have I compromised my dream job for a steady job? And can I swing it back?
This post is not going to answer the question. I hope it will encourage some to question what about education we value. Is it the score or the skill? Is it the A or the accomplishment? How do we serve more students in a better way without just filling up the rooms? It is not a question for administrators. It is a question for every adult in our society. How do we value education and how will we, as a society, support education so we grow the culture and the structure and the citizens our democracy needs. I am not the only person in education struggling with these questions. I still go into work every day enjoying the challenge and loving the joy of accomplishment I see on my students' faces when they see the finished product. I will compromise with myself for now, because I know they, we, can accomplish more.
The first shows I did at Bradford, even the first shows that went to international festivals, were built by the students. With the exception of the welding, which we are not equipped for, the students built 20' rotating walls and a 10' balcony for the show Noises Off. We built a rain curtain for the storm in Once on This Island. We built a tree that was climbed in Parade, we built a chess board turned castle with a curved staircase and a tower for Taming of the Shrew. We did full show turn arounds in a day. In two different theaters. At once. We built the entire set for Disney's Camp Rock with two moving boat docks (bases welded off site) a 20'x20' lit floor that rolled up and down stage, four rolling LED light towers, and a camp cabin in 18 days start of build to open. Did I mention we also do the light hang and focus? We accomplished amazing things together.
I still accomplish amazing things with my students, but with 30 kids in a class, 150 plus through the shop in a day, everything must slow down to be safe. With 30 students in 55 minutes, we must compromise. Now, we hire our big builds out. Even the simple stuff gets jobbed out for our big shows. This means more management and less teaching. The students put puzzle pieces together, but I don't have the luxury of problem solving with them as we work. We cannot change the design if we discover something better was we build, or if the rehearsal process finds we no longer need that one thing. Or if we discover eight feet is two feet too tall. It takes three class periods to build a flat, not because the kids are lazy or don't know what to do, but by the time I take attendance, give them the drawing and they start, we are 10 minutes into class. They work for 30 minutes, sharing tools with other groups, then they have to clean up. Then the next group comes in and takes over. I can build a flat in 30 minutes, but I have to figure three to four times that for my students who are learning. If I want them to learn the entire process, I have to wait to complete that flat till the next day when they come in. Fine for them, horrible for the show. So I compromise on the design, so my students can still learn.
This is where I feel we become a victim of our success. We are good at what we do, and we're happy to do it. I was warned about this as a young woman. We are good at what we do, so we are expected to do more with the same resources, then with fewer resources. Eventually that equation does not hold up. Ask the math teachers. Then come the questions, often internal, that voice in your head that insists you do it not just right every time, but better every time, "Why can't you do that any more? Why is it taking so long? Why does it cost so much more?". So I compromise, and my students do less actual theatrical building and more project building. But that isn't what I want to teach. So then my question becomes, at what point have I compromised my dream job for a steady job? And can I swing it back?
This post is not going to answer the question. I hope it will encourage some to question what about education we value. Is it the score or the skill? Is it the A or the accomplishment? How do we serve more students in a better way without just filling up the rooms? It is not a question for administrators. It is a question for every adult in our society. How do we value education and how will we, as a society, support education so we grow the culture and the structure and the citizens our democracy needs. I am not the only person in education struggling with these questions. I still go into work every day enjoying the challenge and loving the joy of accomplishment I see on my students' faces when they see the finished product. I will compromise with myself for now, because I know they, we, can accomplish more.






















