All the World's Indeed a Stage

Globe Theatre Fisheye
Originally uploaded by TGIGreeny

Let me tell you what it's like to be a teacher in terms you may understand:

it's like being a playwright, except you don't just get to write a play; oh no, you must write five plays a week minimum (if you're like me and teach three preps a day, you'll write 15), taking care to make accommodations to each one so that every member of your audience can understand its language, the purpose of its language, its objectives, symbols, setting, themes, character development, etc. And you'll probably have to do this twice for each prep - one "official" copy written to follow the form of the approved "instructional model" and one authentic copy, that actually has meaning and makes sense to you.

Once the written work is done (or appears to be), it's time to stage the performance for your audience. That's right - not only must you research and write the play, you must direct it as well. But not from the wings, my friends, looking out onto the audience from behind the safety of a curtain.

Oh no, you must muck down into the trenches and meet your audience first. For you see, in this playhouse, the playwright turned director must interact with each member of his or her audience intimately and thoroughly before, during, and after the play's performance in order to figure out why some members understand some parts of the play and why others fail to comprehend its meaning. Yes, it's not enough to write and direct the play, you must teach the play as well and you must assign your audience homework so that they come to your play prepared but be prepared yourself to edit and revise your play on the spot when they don't.

You see, your play has morphed from a scripted stage show to an interactive improvisation, one you must be prepared to edit and revise on the fly according to the mood of your audience. You must make sure that the former-audience-turned-actors are where they are supposed to be and acting appropriately while they are under your direct supervision and that they are practicing their lines on their own time after they leave your stage, too. And in case they aren't, you must devise ways to penalize them when they return to the stage the next day.

But wait, that's not all. In addition to being the playwright and the director, you must also be a critic: you must constantly eyeball your own work for errors and you must review each of your "actors" performance as well, which translates into hours and hours of reading, rewarding and criticizing - on your own time, of course.

Don't be silly - you can't get that work done during the time you're at the theater! Why not, you ask? Because in addition to your role as writer/director/critic, you're also in charge of tech and props. Wait - no one told you that? Well, I hate to burst your bubble but there's no savvy tech guy or gal troubleshooting for you; you must do that yourself. In between performances, you must run to the supply closet for more scripts or to the copy room to run off more copies or to the tech department to search for wires, microphones, cameras, cords, etc. Oh! And don't forget clean up crew - yep, you're the sole member of your theater's custodial staff, too, so be prepared with 409, hand sanitizer, and your own vacuum if you except to keep the seats clean and the floor free of popcorn.

Are you exhausted yet? Well, I hope not because the next role you'll need to add to your repertoire is the most difficult one. Congratulations! You're a stage mom/dad! Add that to your many roles because in between shows, a few of your actors (well, that's if you're a compassionate writer/director/critic/prop person/techie/janitor) will inevitably show up backstage with a problem of some sorts that needs immediate attention.

Maybe they need you to sign a note to the writer/director/critic/prop person/techie of another show they are performing in that day (each of your actors is involved in approx. 6 or 7 other shows a day, don't forget) or maybe one of the other actors or writers/directors/critics/prop persons/techies/janitors/stage parents made them cry.

Whatever the event, you'll willingly put down your sandwich or turn from the pile of reviews you're always trying to get to the bottom of and offer a tissue, advice, a swipe of your pen, etc. Sometimes you'll empty your wallet so they don't have to perform on an empty stomach or give them the other half of your half eaten sandwich.

And you'll think of that actor that night when at midnight, you'll finally put aside the never ending pile of performance reviews, turn off your bedside lamp, and shut your eyes for five hours so that you can get up and do it all over again.