Everybody Has a Story

I have a confession:

As autumn and winter settle in and early darkness descends, I enjoy evening neighborhood strolls because I spy. Yes, with my little eye, I spy.

Sometimes a family shouting over each other as they gather for dinner, or a lone fellow plucking strings on a guitar, or a couple in their armchairs watching a widescreen TV spilling images of the day's news. And I wonder about these people. I wonder if their dreams are fulfilled and if their disappointments are bearable because I know they each have a compelling story.

Recently, I guest taught a Shakespeare workshop to eleven-year-olds at an elementary school. Two sixth-grade classes gathered in a single classroom to participate. There was one teacher present. I began by storytelling Hamlet and his need for revenge. Once I'd completed my synopsis I said, "Pencils up! Five minutes, write about a time when you wanted revenge....Now, go!"

And they did, fast and furious, scribbling away as the minutes ticked by. Then I extended an invitation for them to share their writing aloud. You can imagine there were lots of BFF betrayals, and many sibling grievances, and terrible parental misunderstandings, all wholly unfair and deserving of revenge.

Then there was Alisha. A dark-haired girl in a yellow T-shirt with her tentative arm raised.

"Would you like to read what you've written?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, looking down at the paper clutched in her fingertips. "But I might cry."

"Okay," I held up a tissue box. "I'm ready, if you are. Go for it."

Alisha's sister had died. And Alisha wanted revenge on the drunk driver who killed her sister.

The tears came. The kids stared. The teacher was frozen in place because this wasn't her student, she did't know this girl and hadn't heard this story.

I moved toward Alisha with a handful of tissues and an arm ready to pull her close.

Are teachers trained for these moments? Are there practice sessions for such unexpected, shocking tales? I was thrust into a scenario of "Think fast and don't mess up!"

With my arm around Alisha's shoulders, I addressed the class because, above all, a teaching moment had presented itself. The kids' eyes were wide; they weren't sure what to do with this very real-life story.

"Alisha has demonstrated huge courage and we understand why she would want revenge."

What I witnessed next was a wave of empathy rising, en masse, from Alisha's peers.

"And here's the thing about art, " I continued. "Every dancer, singer, painter, musician, writer or actor has to have courage because their work carries their personal story. We don't just play Hamlet like he's some other guy. We play him as if he is us. We have to identify with his pain, his anger and his desire for revenge. Not everyone can do this. That's what makes the artist unique. The courage."

The tears were wiped, the nose was blown and a friend of Alisha's took her to the bathroom. Other children read their revenge stories and my hour with them came to a close. As I was bidding farewell, Alisha and her friend returned from the bathroom.

I took Alisha's face in my hands and said, "I wonder if you noticed that when you shared your writing, how much power you had? I wonder if you noticed that everyone listened and everyone cared? Your courage and your power will always stand by you, Alisha."

Yup, everybody has a story.

Shakespeare just wrote them down. Really, really well.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

My characters name is Lord Capulet and he lives in Verona. He wants his daughter Juliet to mary a man named cout Paris. In the end the gangs learn a lesson. They learn the violence is rong.

This is my second year in the Shakespeare club. I'm not as nervous about the performance as I was last year because I am experienced and that will help me with this performance.

Many people have heard of the story "Romeo and Juliet" but most people don't know what the story is about. And it's mostly kids that don’t know. So the Shakespeare Club gives the kids a chance to perform real plays written by William Shakespeare.

—Cole, 5th grade

1: Recentering El Pueblo; 2: JoelMontes (Creative Commons BY-SA)

Juliet of the Subway

It happened this week.

It happened this way.

So I'm told by my friend, the writer Heather Summerhayes Cariou ("Sixtyfive Roses: A Sister's Memoir").

Heather was on a NYC subway train, seated near two middle-school girls. The teens were huddled together and poring over a book. One girl read aloud to the other. This alone was a sweet picture, but what were they reading with such intensity?

Heather leaned forward, hoping to glimpse the book's cover. Writers do this. We live, in hope, that our book may be the one in hand. We live, in hope, that any book will be in hand. As more and more commuters read Tolstoy on their smartphones, it becomes more difficult to gauge what the public is eating up word-wise.

Heather was delighted to see the girls gobbling up a modern adaptation of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." Their interest made sense since Juliet is close in age to these teens, and Juliet is crazy in love with a teenage boy, and Juliet's parents would flip right out if they knew of her crush. Yup, there's a lot going on there for a couple of New York City teens to grasp.

Maybe Heather sat back and recalled her own discovery of Juliet. Heather might have been remembering her days in theatre school working on the role of Juliet. She may have smiled to think of how easy it was to identify with Juliet's passion for the boy Romeo since Heather herself had gone a little cuckoo for a certain tall young man.

In the confluence of a heart's memory on a city train and a young girl spouting the story to her friend, Heather slightly lost her mind. As the train neared her stop she stood, faced the girls, and said:

Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.

Heather told me this story and described the middle-school girls' dropped jaws at this middle-aged American woman briefly transforming into a teenage Italian girl in love. With perfect timing, Heather finished the speech and stepped onto the platform as the subway doors shooshed and closed behind her.

"It was like you were with me, Mel," Heather told me.

"And now you know the feeling," I answered. "Oh yes, kids get Shakespeare, all right."

After Heather told me her story I imagined those two girls rocking on the subway train, wondering if their Romeos would ever show up. And I imagined my friend wending her way home with thoughts of how many Romeos it took to find her one true Romeo.

Oh, William Shakespeare, here's to you at 450 years of age, continuing to entrance and inspire everywhere, all the time.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

What I learned today is that Romeo didn't want the name Romeo Montague because he liked Juliet Capulet and the Montagues and Capulets had war.

The prince said "We must stop this fighting".

The Capulets and the Montagues fighting remines me of my mom and dad.

William Shakespere was telling us about themes because people just can fight and fight until their son or daughter dies.

My character is Juilet. She lives in a castle.

—Belinda, 3rd grade

I Get It

A few years ago I strolled past a fourth-grade classroom where a word had been tacked up:

EMPATHY

with little kid essays hanging below.

I stopped cold because I hadn't learned the value of this word when I was nine. Oh no, I didn't learn the value of this word until I was well...well into adulthood and my therapist pointed out I was lacking in empathy.

"But my yoga handstand is improving..." I argued.

She delivered the steady gaze all psychotherapists must practice in therapy school.

In the lower-middle-class suburban home where I was raised, empathy was not on display. Instead, we lived with these behaviors:

CRITICISM

DEVALUATION

DISPARAGING

MOCKERY

Sympathy showed up in our household in chats about the circumstances of a neighboring family struggling more than we were. We felt sorry for those people. We grimaced at their lot. And we stayed distant as if touching would be contagious.

This is not empathy. It's not even good sympathy.

Empathy evokes compassion. Empathy is putting ourselves into someone else's shoes. Empathy is the kind ear of identification.

Maybe these words are a road map to empathic behavior:

OBSERVATION

FEELING

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Here's what that fourth-grade teacher knew:

We are never too young to reach beyond ourselves in empathy.

Here's what I know:

We are never too old to reach beyond ourselves in empathy.

Here's what we both know:

Empathy can and should be taught at every age.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

I feel lonely at home then I read a book then I feel more lonely.

The meaning of lonely is being somewere without people talking to you, not being with you, and most of the time when you are lonely you are sad.

—Kate, 4th grade

And a Child Shall Lead Them

I've been to my share of school meetings led by union presidents, school supervisors, politicians, principals, teachers and parent leaders of booster clubs.

I've heard my share of the rally cries, and those cries are more often than not:

"It's all about the kids! We must keep our focus on the children!"

Yippee, right on, you bet, and down with the sourpuss who doesn't agree with and espouse this credo, this battle cry for change and advancement in all aspects of educating the next generation.

A-hem.

That's me clearing my throat.

Blink.

That's me shaking my head.

Ah-choo.

That's me with a sneeze and a thought.

For many years, when I ran The Shakespeare Club, filled with eager-beaver kids willing to leap the high bars of the Bard, our club was bullied by a teacher who, for whatever reasons, devalued our work.

This teacher did lots of things to stand in the way of our efforts and I'm not going to whine on and on to promote sympathy because that's not the gist of this story.

I will tell you one of this fellow's habits: his practice of delaying students for 30 to 40 minutes after class. He specifically liked to hold back the ten Shakespeare Club members on our meeting days.

Now, I only had 18 weeks of Shakespeare Club meetings per year and each meeting only lasted two hours, so if you added it up I was losing a lot of time with these children, they were losing a lot of their rehearsal time, and other members were losing their acting partners.

Of course, I tried with Mr. Teacher. I flattered, I made deals, I begged, I stood at the class door while he (with his feet crossed on his desktop) shrugged, smirked and said, "They like me!"

I pled with parents, the principal and the booster club for help. I suggested they form an army and stand outside the fifth-grade classroom at 2 p.m. every Wednesday and usher the students out.

"Because," I argued, "isn't it all about the kids? Isn't everything we're doing here about advancing education, encouraging maturity, awakening awareness? Shouldn't we teach the importance of commitment to the team?"

The kids...isn't it all about them?

Here's the irony.

During my last year with this school, as the club neared Performance Day and a huge chunk of the fifth-graders' practice had been eaten up by this teacher, I looked up one Wednesday at 2 p.m. to find all the fifth-graders walking into Shakespeare Club on time.

"Whoa...hey...great to see you guys," I said. "What happened?"

"Well, Ms. Ryane," said Ellie, who looked to have grown an inch or two that week, "we just said, 'We have to go now.' We just said, 'It's Shakespeare Club, Mr. Davis, and we have to leave.'"

"Then what happened?"

"Nothing. We're here is all."

Yup.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

Shakespeare is fun. I like it because Shakespears words are so so pretty. I also like the plays romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, and Misdummers Night dream. Shakespeares words are so butiful and pretty did I mention that already. I joined the Shakespeare Club for two years because the shakespeare club sonded very fun.

—Emilia, 4th grade

1st photo from Seeds and Fruit

Book It

Way back in 2005 I started an after-school Shakespeare program for little kids. The idea grew from two sources:

1. I was disturbed at high statistics of kids dropping out of school because they couldn't read;

2. I was creatively starved and needed a place to be.

By 2006 I'd written a memoir of my first year with The Shakespeare Club.

By 2007 in a heady swirl I was signed by a New York literary agent.

And then....

I ran the Shakespeare program for six years, I started this blog in 2009 to chronicle my adventures with the kids and I waited and waited as a recession took grip of the economy and my book didn't sell.

I learned for the billionth time that nothing happens in our time frames.

I kind of forgot about the book. I kind of gave up. I kind of moved on.

Last August while in New York City I met my agent for dinner.

She said, "I have some interesting news."

TEACHING WILL: What Ten Kids Gave Me That Hollywood Couldn't sold in August 2013 to Familius Press with a planned release of autumn 2014.

I'm currently waiting for editorial notes. And waiting for two of my novels to sell. And waiting for Santa to come down the chimney.

Note to self: NOTHING ever happens in your time frame. Give it up.

But kind of hang on too.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

I would like a life of peace. Because my mom always says that she wants peace. When she gets her peace she feels better. I also want peace because I want a good job, a good family, food to put on the table and I want to be able to pay my rent. Most of all I love Peace. I like me too! Me me me me me Peace peace peace peace me me me me peace peace peace peace me me me me

I learned things while being the narrator. One thing I learned was that when I am on stage try not to laugh at the people who are acting funny parts. Another thing I learned that don’t be jumpy be centered. Ms.Ryane says that is cheesy. Before we did our last performance Ms.Ryane had us say "I am centered I am focused."

—Belinda, 4th grade

typewriter photo from The Classic Typewriter Page

Free to Leave

Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action....

Hamlet Act III, Scene II

2012 marks the seventh season of The Shakespeare Club and the first year of the club without me.

I watched from the sidelines as Rachel, who had assisted the club for three years, took the reins and hit the trail. I helped where I could from my new position in the background. I gave Rachel a weekly curriculum with the admonition that she should tweak and toss as she saw fit. I gave her templates for letters to parents, teachers and the principal. But mostly I gave Rachel encouragement to venture forth into the role of director because I knew she would succeed.

On May 24, 2012, I attended two of the Shakespeare Club's performances of "Much Ado About Nothing."

It was, I promise you, much ado about something. My eyes teared up to see little actors wrestling with big text. My heart leapt as they discovered power. And I sighed with the surety that the club can and will go on.

The Shakespeare Club was an idea formed in 2005. A thought, a musing and an experiment...but it was never mine to keep. It was a seed meant to grow.

And it has. This was a relief. It can blossom anywhere, under different auspices and different leadership. This is most heartening.

At the end of last year I told the children I was leaving to travel and write. I have spent 2012 doing exactly that.

To sit in the audience and bear witness to the club flourishing was pure satisfaction. The kernel of an idea that popped into my head in the middle of the night seven years ago was worth pursuing, nurturing and passing forward.

When Rachel ran onstage after the final performance to embrace her cast and crew, I recognized the enormity of their pride. Olympians, all of them.

Here's what it took:

• 1. Community support.
• 2. An adapted script.
• 3. Will.

That's all: Teaching Will.

You can do this.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

Yes, I fifilled my goal because even though I didn't get the part I wanted to, the part I got I made him into a real person. I learned that Shakespeare was a grat person that wrote plays and was married and that he had kids. I also learned that Henry the 8 had 6 wives and remember all 6 I did, Divorced, Beheaded, Died, Divorced, Beheaded, Survived.

—Kamili, 5th grade

A Word from the Wise

I was in emotional turmoil leaving The Shakespeare Club. The jumble of rage and sadness made for sleepless nights and bewilderment...until I heard from a sage.

My friend and writing teacher, Eunice Scarfe, called me for a chit-chat and I poured out the details of my hurly-burly. How unjust the world could be...how crummy...and sniff, sniff...just a sec...blow...and also this and that and...for God's sake!...and did you ever?...and can you imagine? And—

"Mel?" Eunice cut me off in a gentle voice.

"Yeah?"

"It was inevitable."

"What? What the...what?!"

"Look, you're neither a parent at the school nor a district-endorsed teacher. You never had to adhere to state testing. You didn't have to go in every single day to an overcrowded classroom. You were able to teach whatever you wanted, in whatever creative fashion you wished and, for whatever reason, you were able to afford to do it for free. And then it was a success. We are people. Just people with human feelings. The reaction you received from a small minority was inevitable."

Eunice's words were sound. They rained over me like balm on my burns. Most especially that word of wisdom: inevitable.


I wished I'd had the common sense to have figured that out earlier and held my stormy experience at bay, but I didn't. I was too caught up. I was self-righteous in my indignation and caused myself more angst than was necessary. But there you have it.

The truth is after six years it was time for me to change things up. I have travel and writing I want to do. I have been invited to teach a day of Shakespeare workshops at another school in February. And this week The Shakespeare Club will start a new season under the leadership of Rachel, and it will be a sensation.

I created and was given a peerless opportunity. I was able to encourage, inspire and love so many. It was my privilege and I am grateful. That is my takeaway.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

My goal for Shakespear Club. My goal was to have the best time of my life. I accomplished my goal. I love being on stage. My fun jorny through education and acting has come to a stop (with Ms. Ryan). I will stay on the Shakespear but Ms. Ryan won't wich makes me sad but we still have Ms. Rachel. Farewell friends of 5th grade. Future 5th graders keep your memerys strong.

Bailey, 4th grade

Exit Stage Left

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
A stage where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.

The Merchant of Venice Act I, Scene I

I'm hardly a professional partier. I can't remember the last fete I attended, but I do know this: As important as the arrival time may be, the exit time is even more relevant.

You want to get the heck out before the chips are crumbled, the dip is gone and the ice a mere puddle. It's simply too damn sad when we stay too long at the faire.

The evening that began with a bubble bath, a spritz of perfume, and that hot shoulder-baring number shouldn't end with wilted lemon twists in empty martini glasses.

And yet it's a tricky business in the midst of hilarity — and "no...no....just one more...this'll kill ya'...so funny..." — to tuck into the winter coat, swaddle the scarf...and bolt.

It was not without sleepless nights and restless meditations that I arrived at the decision to end my time with The Shakespeare Club.

Every year, as the successes grew, I had tiny kids running to clutch my legs with the news that they too would be auditioning for Shakespeare Club the next year.

Seriously, how could I walk away from them?

Every year, club members clamored to know, "What's the play next year, Ms. Ryane? Is it a comedy or tragedy?" These words were often sprayed through missing front teeth.

How could I leave this party?

It may come as a surprise to some that my presence on the campus was not welcome by everyone. It was a hell of a shock for me, I can tell you.

I just assumed that a volunteer with goodwill, energy and positive results would accrue full support.

Assumptions and expectations are dangerous.

I attempted to ignore the signs year after year. I did my best to calm fears and unruffle feathers, but I was not entirely successful and the undermining by a minority wore me down.

It struck me as preposterous that I was going to bed at night in tears and struggling in a hostile workplace when I was doing this for free. It struck my husband too, since he was picking up my broken pieces.

After some long talks, I decided the party, for me, was over.

And then I cried the hardest, deepest and longest.


CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

What I loved about Shakespeare Club was almost everything. I loved the role of Demetrius! The ocean of applause coming over me. I will miss all of you and your annoyance. I will also miss Ms. Ryane

P.S. I will really miss Ms. Ryane

Oliver, 5th grade

Picking Up the Party Pieces

Oh, what's a good party without a few sniffles and heart-wrenching boo-hoos?

When theatre folk gather, they laugh loud and weep louder....Fun times.

After I made the announcement of my exit, we all made our way through a box of tissues, then made our way to journal writing and sharing.

I'm really proud that we did our play.

I'm really sad that Ms. Ryane is leaving Shakespeare Club.

I really liked that we made the audience laugh.

Is it time for snacks?

Out came the pizza, the chips, the grapes, the pineapple, the cupcakes, the fruit-like drinks, and the sugared-up hilarity of elementary-school humor.

Henry had brought his Shakespeare Club T-shirt and asked us all to sign it. He planned to hang it up on his bedroom wall.

We shared great laughs as we gave a final viewing to "The Simpsons" and their versions of "Hamlet," "Macbeth" and the story of Henry VIII.

I had printed wallet-sized pictures of our group and handed those out. The kids wanted a signature and I scribbled Love, Ms. Ryane on the back of each.

I pushed open the heavy auditorium doors to a gathering of parents waiting for their Shakespearean offspring.

Bye...bye...see ya...you're welcome...my pleasure...another hug?...okay!...so long....

Rachel and I plopped in a couple of auditorium seats after cleaning up.

"We did good," I said.

"Yeah, great year," she answered.

"You can do this."

"I don't know...."

"Yeah, you can. You're ready."

"I'm not sure. Scary."

"Yeah, well...scary is the reason to do it. You'll have the best time of your life. I promise."


CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

I loved working with Mrs. Ryane and the cast. I'm really sad that Mrs. Ryane is leaving next year. I learned about different people and about my friends that I never thought could do the stuff they did.

Bridget, 3rd grade

Circle Up

We close out every year of The Shakespeare Club with a wrap party, which the kids hear as "rap party."

"No, my little friends, we will not be celebrating the works of Jay-Z, Kanye, and Snoop Dogg....This is a wrap party, as in wrapping the year up with a nice big bow and partying down with William Shakespeare."

They hear PARTY.

The chairs waited in a large circle, where I would sit across the room from Rachel. A junk-food laden table waited for big eyes and little fingers. Journals with sharp pencils placed under chairs waited for farewell thoughts.

I paced the room to make sure all was in order. I took a big breath and planned what would be a wrap party different than those in the previous five years. There was much to be proud of, there was much to honor, and there was much to confess.

Twenty-eight pairs of feet stampeded into the auditorium, twenty-eight bottoms found their seats and twenty-eight voices giggled and screamed. They were still high on the performance success of a week earlier.

"Okay...all right...let's begin...."

My hands were on my lap, my feet flat on the floor, and within a minute they followed suit like a small army.

"Deep breath...hold it...hold it...hold it...exhale. This is our final meditation together; let's make it the best....Inhale...."

The shuffling stopped, eyes closed and peace reigned. I shot a wink at Rachel. We were a far cry from where we'd started five months ago.

Our school uses a communication practice known as "Council," developed twenty-five years ago by the Ojai Foundation as a tool to develop community exchange and empathy.

Council meets in a circle. Each participant holds a "talking piece" and comments on a stated intention. Our talking piece was our Shakespeare Duck.

"We're going to start our party with a gratefulness-and-goodbye Council."

The kids spoke of their pride in the production and their gratefulness to me and Rachel. The younger kids expressed how they would miss the ten fifth-graders moving on to middle school. I was the final commenter.

"I am grateful to all of you for your hard work, focus and commitment. Over the six years that I have been running Shakespeare Club, I have known many, many children and I remember every single one. And I will never forget any of you."

Shuffle shuffle, beam and blush. No one wants to be forgotten, ever.


"Now, I have to tell you something that is hard to say, but I wanted to tell you this myself. I am leaving Shakespeare Club. I have some writing projects I have to do and some traveling I want to do. It is sad for me to leave Shakespeare Club but it looks like Ms. Rachel will be taking over and that is a terrific and good thing."

The gasp was loud. Directly across the circle, Peter dropped his hat over his eight-year-old eyes and started weeping.

"But will you come and see us...and see our show?" Bailey cried.

"Of course. You couldn't keep me away."

Rachel handed tissues to Peter. He took them in his small hand, blew and kept his face covered as more tears dripped.

How to hug a circle of twenty-eight little bodies? How?

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

What I learned from Shakespear club is about being funny and never tell another actor what to do. I learned about William Shakespear and how they used to speak in the olden times. What I loved about Shakespear is that always have fun with each other, and you have the courage to be silly.

I will rember that I was in Shakespear in 3rd and forth grade I will rember it for genurashen and genurashens. I'll miss you Ms. Ryane.

Krystal, 4th grade