Theresa: Drawing Out the Talent

April, 2009

In fourth grade, Theresa played Juliet's nurse. This year she would be our Sea Captain, with her big scene with Viola at the start of the play, after they land on the shores of Illyria.

As the nurse in "Romeo and Juliet," Theresa fought hard to give us what we needed. I pushed and pushed for Theresa to give volume and to slooooowww down as she sped through her speeches. Upon finding Juliet passed out on the floor, she had to run in, crying:

Get up!
Why, lamb! Why, lady! Why, love! Why, bride!
Dressed in your clothes and now back in bed?
Help! Help! My lady's dead!

Oh boy. This was a reach for Theresa. I worked with her alone. I asked her to shout, but she creaked it up only an itsy-bitsy bit louder. Theresa wanted to do it so badly but she couldn't find her actor courage or her actor voice.

A super-bright girl, this year she whipped through the "Twilight" books like a speed-reader. I'd see her during lunch breaks reading novels or studying her lines. She was off-book before anyone else, but Theresa is quite simply off-the-charts shy.

She lives with her sisters, dad and stepmom. Sometimes she would miss school and our meetings.

"Hey, Theresa, are you okay? You didn't come to school or Shakespeare Club."

"Oh, sorry," she'd whisper. My mom...um...stepmom...didn't wake up to drive me."

One day, going through Theresa's journal, I saw drawings she'd done to accompany her writing. Stick figures with cartoon symbols indicating emotional reactions. There was one of Theresa fighting with her sisters. Sweat drops flew, eyes popped in fury and jagged bolts speared from heads. The sketches were advanced and remarkable.

I asked Theresa if she would consider contributing drawings to go along with some journal excerpts for display at our performance. She blushed and said, "Okay."

I set her up in the library with pens, pencils and colored markers. She drew Shakespeare as a "waterboy," balancing a tray with glasses of water and more tumblers perched on his head. She drew Queen Elizabeth powdering her face, with white fluffs floating around her worried look. She had Shakespeare under a family portrait, writing home as he wept over his letter.

I wish I could show you what Theresa came up with, but I returned the work to her after the performance. When I knew I would be writing a blog piece about her, I sent Theresa a letter with a pen, paper and a self-addressed stamped envelope asking her to copy some of her drawings to put on this site. I didn't hear back. A few weeks later I called her house and left a message. Nothing.

All I have are a few tidbits she drew for our program.


Before the performances of "Twelfth Night," I spoke to the audience and told of how exciting it was for me to see talents emerge in The Shakespeare Club. We see actors, writers, singers, musicians and, this year, a visual artist.


"My advice," I said, "would be to get this girl's autograph now....She's going to be famous. Theresa, please stand."


This impossibly shy talent bravely stood and accepted her due.


CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

In The Shakespeare Club I hope to learn more about Shakespeare and learn to a better actor and be less shy so I can act better.

—Theresa, 5th grade

Recess: Be Careful What You Don't Wish For

I was a teenager when I started my professional acting career in the theatre. I knew two things for sure:

My life, forever, would be on the boards; but never writing on one.

I would never, ever be someone so ordinary as a teacher.


I would like to say this arrogance of youth ended in my youth, but I cannot say that. I kept it up for many years until traveling from theatre to theatre and waiting around for some supporting film role turned me into an angry creep, and I had to walk away.


When we start a new year in The Shakespeare Club and spend time exploring the Elizabethan period, I tell the girls that, in those days, women could neither go to school nor ever become actresses. I use this as an opportunity to introduce the idea of irony.

Shakespeare's plays have more male characters than female. Our club usually has more girls than boys. Thus: Girls often play boys' parts, and they learn irony.

The lesson is not lost on me either. Fortunately, I'm as capable of learning as I want my young wards to be.

Geoffrey & Kate: Not-Twins

It's not difficult to notice the twins phenomenon of this generation. In the four years of Shakespeare Club, there has only been one year without twins.

This year I had twins, Polly and Ethan, playing the twins in "Twelfth Night."

Now I have a story of not-twins acting like twins.

Geoffrey first came to my attention as a third-grader auditioning for the club. Geoffrey is a top-notch little actor who can also rip out the blues on his harmonica. I noticed his family when he played Horatio in "Hamlet." His mom, dad and a darling little girl dressed in a pink dress, with bows in her hair: This was Geoffrey's sister, Kate. The next year when Geoffrey played Romeo, the family again attended and Kate said, "Hello, Ms. Ryane," and asked if she could hand out programs.

"Of course," I responded. "Good idea and thank you so much."

I later found out those first two years of Geoffrey's success were due in no small part to Kate helping her brother with his lines...over and over and over.

When "Romeo and Juliet" ended and the club held their wrap party, I made sure Kate was included. I was already thinking ahead to the next year's casting and decided that Geoffrey would be perfect as Sir Toby Belch.

At the party, however, Kate told me the family was moving away.

I was heartsick at the idea of losing Geoffrey, but so it goes. I met privately with both children to say good-bye. I gave Geoffrey his journal and a copy of "Romeo and Juliet."

Then I sat in the sun with Kate.

"Kate, I'm curious. In the two years that you helped Geoffrey with his lines and helped The Shakespeare Club in other ways, why didn't you ever audition and join us?"

"Oh," she said shyly, "I just...well...I just didn't think I'd be good enough to get in...so, I didn't and now...." She looked sad. "Now it's too late and we're moving and everything."

I had a special red velvet journal for Kate as a going-away gift and handed it to her.

"You know, Kate, I'm sorry too that you didn't audition, but you've learned something that many adults never, ever learn. You've learned to listen to your instincts and take a chance even if it's scary. Deep inside you is a place, Kate, where everything you need to know sits like your own private library. Listen to your heart and you'll always come out fine."

"Okay, Ms. Ryane," she whispered, and we hugged good-bye.

Geoffrey and Kate were in the same grade and helped and supported each other, but they weren't twins. I later found out their parents had held Kate back so that she would always be close to her brother. I'm uneasy at such an idea, but that's the most I'll comment on it.

November rolled around and it was time to set up auditions. I stepped onto the campus and heard two young voices shouting, "Ms. Ryane!"

They came running toward me, faces shining, out of breath and both ready to sign up. The house move didn't happen but another more profound move had.

"Ah, Kate...stepping up. Taking a chance?"

"Yeah!"

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

My life in Illyria is just bumbin' MAN! All I get to eat in board is (obiesly) fish! & MAN! Don’t you get tired , if all you have to do is catch some fish & eat some fish & be a sailor & eat some fish. Oh! Did I mention I was tempted to eat chinese, but well…I guess fish souffle was already, my house is a small boat (that had everything inside like a house!) I hate my job!

—Kate, 5th grade

Terrible Run-Throughs

April, 2009

We had spring break, a birthday party and then:

A terrible, wicked, hopeless run-through. I stared aghast at the room full of actors NOT off-book, laughing as if it didn't matter, missing cues, missing meetings —

Oh, I wanted to scream. All the private sessions, all the hours, all the props waiting to be used, all the T-shirts ordered — AAGGGHHHHH!!!

At the end of our stumble-bumble-through of "Twelfth Night," which started to feel like "Twelve Hundred Nights," I sat quietly and didn't speak for twelve long seconds.

"So, what did you guys think of that?" I asked. Nicely, I might add.

They shifted their bums on the chairs, looked at each other and shrugged, and then Geoffrey spoke for the group. "That was pretty terrible, I guess."

"Yeah, pretty bad," I answered quietly. Because when they get it, my heart trembles and I want to hug them.

These children have never seen a play. Other than the few who have been in the club for a couple of years, they have no idea what they're in for in May, onstage and in front of a crowd.

"Okay, here's the thing: You have three weeks left. Only three weeks. This is the time, right now, that you have to step up and do the work. You need to track each other down at lunches and at recess to run your lines. You need to practice those swordfights, just using your hands, over and over. You need to follow along with your scripts and not miss cues."

"Kate forgot to move the bench," Darby pipes up.

"And you never, never blame another actor. Remember I'm not going to be up there with you when you do this. You have to count on each other. You're like soldiers in a war, taking care of each other."

"Yeah, my dad was in a war," offers Geoffrey.

"Another thing: When you leave big gaps...in the theatre we say that's a pause you could drive a truck through....If you do that, you'll lose your audience. They'll think it's all over, get up and go home."

After beating them up this much I thought some extra incentive might help. I pulled out a canvas bag.

"I have a surprise for you."

They scream.

"Only because I think you will now take this work seriously. Am I right about that?"

More screams and bobbing heads.

"Look what I brought home from New Orleans for you to wear in the play."

I opened the bag and revealed the colorful beads.

SCREAMS and SCREAMS and SCREAMS.

Kids like noise, no two ways about that.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

I learned that I can do anything I like I can be anyone I want I learned that I can do Shakspear..

—Rosa, 4th grade (Year Three)

Hard News: A Room of Their Own

Dodger manager Joe Torre and his wife, Ali, have started a foundation called Safe at Home, with a plan to install "safe rooms" in Los Angeles schools. The safe room will be a place for students to meet with counselors trained in domestic violence, or simply a haven for kids to read or play.

Joe Torre grew up in a home with a violent dad. I meet kids all the time in similar situations. Thank you, Joe, for bravely sharing your story. Thank you, Ali, for creating the foundation. And thank you, T.J. Simers, for writing it down.

Joe Torre, witness to domestic abuse, helps others to manage (T.J. Simers, LA Times)

Happy Birthday, William Shakespeare

April, 2009

Every year in The Shakespeare Club we spend one of our meetings celebrating the Bard's birthdate of April 23, 1564.

This year, we gathered in the school library to play games, watch DVDs and eat way, way too much sugar. With only four rehearsals left, I was reluctant to waste time partying, but it's a tradition and sometimes goofing off can be as productive as hard work.

Rachel made forty cupcakes, each topped with white frosting and "SC" written in blue. Young Kate also brought forty cupcakes. To complete the menu, we had oranges and juice boxes. The library bounced big time.

They love: The Insult Game.

Each child took a card with an Elizabethan insult written on it, chose another kid to insult, marched to the victim and in a BIG Shakespearean voice shouted something like:

"Thou gorbellied reeling-ripe maggot pie!"

or

"May thy lips rot off!"

or

"Thou beslubbering flap-mouthed strumpet!"

They loved being the insulter as much as the insultee. "Pick me! Pick me!" they screamed.

I offer this the next time you need a witty poke:

"I do desire that we be better strangers."

I've used it myself to great effect.

They also love the Dictionary Game. One child chooses a word out of the dictionary and everyone makes up a definition. I read six definitions aloud, including the correct one, and they vote.

Many kids chose Luis' definition of "minx": a dotor suss carchater.

No one voted for: A flirtatious girl and Lyndon won for stumping the group.

I closed the blinds, turned on the television and we watched the Simpsons' hysterical version of "Hamlet" and a second funny episode where Marge tells the story of Henry VIII. They clamored to see these twice and I hoped their laughter might whip the sugar through their systems lickety-split before the comas set in.

We ended our party with juice boxes raised in a toast to William Shakespeare. As a member once said, "Without him, we wouldn't be here together!"

Hear, hear!

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

I want to be in the Shakespeare club because it is going to in courage my bravery in the future and help get a better job in the future..

—Miles, 5th grade (Year Two)

Recess: Give Them Your Word

I started my volunteer work at the school in a program called Wonder of Reading, a non-profit organization with a mandate to refurbish public school libraries and recruit reading mentors for children.

I had to take a three-hour training session where I learned to put aside old techniques many of us grew up with. For example, no more sounding out words. Studies show that simply telling the child the word has them learning it faster without the tension of a pop quiz.


I met my reading buddy, Charley, when he was in first grade, and we read together until he left the school after fifth grade. We worked our way through Curious George and the Berenstain Bears and all the way up to Captain Underpants without a single sounding-out.

If he had trouble with a word, he asked and I told him. The next time that word showed up, usually on the next page, he knew it.

I found this same system worked when Luis needed spelling help with his journal writing. He asked, I spelled the word and, when encouraged to use it again, he remembered.

I wish someone had taught me math that way and eliminated the painful humiliation of, "What do you think the answer is, Mel?" in that cloying, know-it-all voice.

I think the answer is, "GRRRRR!" And I would have been correct.

Recruiting

Every year in Shakespeare Club, I think, "This is it. The last. The end."

And then when I see the performance, I think, "Well okay, maybe one more year."

It's a slippery slope, this business of falling in love with children as they fall in love with themselves. The other hazard is the constant scouting I find myself doing. I notice little kids in stores and in libraries...and then it's Halloween and they come right up to the front door — in costume — like miniature actors showing up for an audition.

We had 150 trick-or-treaters this year. Raggedy Annes, Transformers, princess after princess, and a kid dressed as a UPS delivery guy, carrying a brown parcel for his treats.

A pair of brothers arrived, surrounded by a gang of ghosts, witches and Spider-Mans. I kneeled down to the three-year-old on my left and the five-year-old to my right. The younger held a small green lightsaber.

"Well hello, fellas, and what are you?'"

"I Yoda," the smallest announced in a big voice.

"Oh, I love Yoda," I said.

"He's not really Yoda," the older pointed out. "He doesn't have the head."

"And who are you?" I asked him.

"Jedi warrior." And he was because he had the outfit, but our conversation was interrupted by the little guy, quite put-out.

"I YODA!!!" he cried in an even bigger voice.

"No, you don't have the head!" His brother was adamant on this point.

The Harry Potter and Yankees baseball player were getting impatient waiting for the argument to end.

"Of course you are, I can clearly see you're a perfect Yoda," I answered, slipping packets of Doritos and Cheetos into all the bags thrust forward.

The boys ran down the driveway to meet their dad and I had to stop myself from calling out, "What school are you considering for your sons?"

I want that Yoda. The kid's recruitable. Imagine hearing:

"I Hamlet!"

"I Romeo!"

"I Macbeth!"

I have to stop this.

The end.

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

In The Shakespeare Club I hope to learn more about Shakespeare and learn to a better actor and be less shy so I can act better.

—Theresa, 5th grade

Lizzie: Act III

[Dramatis Personae

Lizzie, a nine-year-old girl
Ms. Ryane, a school volunteer
Various nine-year-old Girls and Boys; one Teacher

Scene: Inside a portable school classroom on an ordinary public school campus]

______________________________

[ACT III]

   Ms. Ryane.   [Addressing the classroom.]   Who here has ever been bullied?

[Hands fly up.]

   Ms. Ryane.   And who here has ever been so angry that they wanted to bully?

[A few hands go up.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Truth?

[A few more hands go up.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Good. In The Shakespeare Club we learn things about acting. Lizzie was in the club last year and she's learned about acting, so she's going to help me teach you how to use acting with bullies. Lizzie, why don't you come up here with me?

[Lizzie, self-conscious but pleased, joins Ms. Ryane up front.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Lizzie is going to play the part of the bully.

[Ms. Ryane whispers to Lizzie.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Okay Lizzie, you first.

   Lizzie.   You...you...you are so silly....   [ Ms. Ryane nods to Lizzie, giving her encouragement.]   Nobody likes you!

[Ms. Ryane looks shocked and crumples.]

   Lizzie.   And you don't have any friends! And you suck!

[Ms. Ryane covers her face with her hands. The class reacts.]

   Ms. Ryane.   [Recovered.]   Okay, what mistake did I make?

   Boy One.   You shoulda cried more!

   Ms. Ryane.   That's the mistake you think I made? That I should have cried more? Not sure I agree....Anyone else?

   Boy Two.   You listened to the bully!

   Ms. Ryane.   There we go.

   Boy Two.   And you believed the bully!

   Ms. Ryane.   Bingo. I listened and I believed. That's what bullies want because bullies lie. Just because someone says crummy stuff to you doesn't make it true. Okay, we're going to switch roles. I'll be the bully.

[Lizzie sits up tall.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Lizzie, you're so du—

[Lizzie stands. The hand comes up. She crosses her arms and walks off.]

   Ms. Ryane.   See that? If the bully doesn't have a target, the bully is weak. And when Lizzie acts strong, she is strong. Now, what happens if the bully follows behind to keep up the jabbering? Watch this. Lizzie, follow me.

[Ms. Ryane walks. Lizzie follows. Ms. Ryane stops beside the classroom teacher, who is sitting to the side.]

   Ms. Ryane.   See that? I don't have to say a thing...not one word....All I do is go and stand beside an adult and we make a team. Bullies don't like teams.

   Boy Three.   But what if that bully grabs you and kicks your head in?

   Ms. Ryane.   Go to an adult, go to your principal and talk.

   Boy Three.   But what if that bully sneaks up after school and punches your face in?

   Ms. Ryane.   Again, make a team, find an adult and tell the adult.

   Boy Three.   But what if the bully chases you and hits—

   Ms. Ryane.   I'm going to suggest that you stop with the "what ifs" and stick to "what is"....That would be my recommendation for you, my friend.

[The kids laugh.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Here's my last thing: What do you do when you see some kid being bullied?

   Girl One.   You go up and tell that bully to stop it or else!

   Ms. Ryane.   In my experience, bullies don't listen. I don't think those words really work. Bullies want to make you afraid. Here's a plan for when you see someone being bullied. Lizzie, you be you. And I need four volunteers up here.

[Three girls and a boy jump up.]

   Ms. Ryane.   [Bully voice.]   "Lizzie, you're so dumb and no one likes you and—"   [Lizzie stomps off.]   Now, watch what happens if you kids surround Lizzie. Encircle her.

[They do and the audience kids oooh and aahh.]

   Ms. Ryane.   You made a bigger team and the bully can't beat that. Lizzie, take a bow.

[THE END]


Lizzie: Act I
Lizzie: Act II

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

Dear sailor,

My qest was to go on a ship to a ilind but beh a storem and the ship was falling to pesis and I was fer it in because now fier cot oh   ҉   the ship is the   ҉   was going to   ҉   up I got to saty but it was to late.

—Danny, 3rd grade

Hard News: Going the Distance

"Ballard Street" by Jerry Van Amerongen.

I was recently asked this question:

What can others do to support your cause?

I answered:

Support my cause by starting your own.

It doesn't have to be a Shakespeare Club, though I must say those popping up all over the country would delight me.

It could be reading one-on-one with a kid every week. It could be teaching a child to make a birdhouse or bake a cake or solve long division (while you're at it, help me!).

I promise you this: It'll change your life.

Lizzie: Act II

[Dramatis Personae

Lizzie, a nine-year-old girl
Ms. Ryane, a school volunteer

Scene: A bench outside a portable school classroom on an ordinary public school campus]

______________________________

[ACT II]

   Ms. Ryane.   All right, Lizzie, I'm going to be the bully and you're going to be you.

   Lizzie.   [Nodding.]   Okay.

   Ms. Ryane.   [Holding her arm out straight with her hand raised flat.]   See how I'm doing this? This means: Talk to the hand! Got that?

[Lizzie giggles and nods.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Good. As soon as I start, you give me the hand, cross your arms, turn your back and walk away. Got it?

[Lizzie nods more.]

   Ms. Ryane.   [In a bully voice.]   Lizzie you suck! You're so lame, Lizzie! You don't have any friends and nobody likes you!

[Lizzie stares, frozen in place.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Lizzie, you are way letting me win....You can't let me get this stuff out. Let's see you stand with that hand up. Go on.

[Lizzie slowly stands and kind of holds her hand up.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Nope, 'fraid not. That's a spaghetti hand. Show me your strongest hand.

[Lizzie tries again.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Like this.   [Showing a strong arm and flat hand.]   Here we go: "Lizzie you are so silly...no one likes you!"   [Lizzie doesn't move.]   As soon as I speak, show me that hand. Try again: "Lizzie you suuu—"

[Lizzie's arm comes up, her hand in Ms. Ryane's face.]

   Ms. Ryane.   That's it! Good girl...that's it. Now, after you give me the hand, cross those arms. When you cross the arms you're pulling all your power back. You're saying, "Bully-boy, this conversation is over and I have no time for you!" Try the whole thing. Ready?

[Lizzie nods happily.]

   Ms. Ryane.   [Bully voice.]   Hey, Lizzie—

[Lizzie flashes the hand, crosses her arms and slumps off.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Whoa! No way on the walk....You have to stand super-straight and march....March, Lizzie...show me.   [Bully voice.]   "Lizzie, you're so stu—"

[Lizzie ties all the pieces together and stomps away.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Excellent! Notice how strong you feel inside when you make your body strong? Did you feel that?

   Lizzie.   I did...I really did.

   Ms. Ryane.   Lizzie, I talked to your grandma about the boy and here's what you need to know: there's a team around you. You have your grandma, your grandpa, your mom, your teacher and me. We're your team but you're the team leader, so you have to keep us in the loop and let us know what's happening. One word from this boy or anyone who ever tries to bully you and give 'em the hand. Good?

   Lizzie.   Yeah.

   Ms. Ryane.   Back to class.   [Lizzie turns to leave.]   Except one thing. Hug.

[They hug.]

[END ACT II]


Lizzie: Act I
Lizzie: Act III

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

Dear Olivia

I love you with all they heart will you mary thy for you are thy only one for me my soul mate!

—Russell, 3rd grade

Recess: An Acting Class

When an actor starts work on a role one of the initial questions she asks herself is:

What does my character want?

She studies each scene and asks:

What will my character do to get what she wants?

Actors help themselves by focusing on the actions of the character and good actors know if they play those actions one hundred percent, the emotions will follow. Actors help themselves by thinking in verbs.

There is a misconception that actors become "someone else" when they take on a character. If that were truly possible, there would be far more actors in loony bins than there currently are.

An actor searches the character for points of identification and asks:

If I were so-and-so, in such-in-such a situation what would I feel, think, believe and then do?

Lizzie and I set out to tackle these questions, find verbs and take action against a bully.

One thing I've learned about little kids is they don't like being "little kids." Cracking a kid can be as challenging as 007 cracking an enemy's secret code.

Little kids tend to think that when trouble shows up, they are at fault. Or they should be able to handle the problem. Or all freedoms will be taken away if they talk.

Another thing I know is that it's hard to be a kid.

Lizzie: Act I

[Dramatis Personae

Lizzie, a nine-year-old girl
Ms. Ryane, a school volunteer

Scene: A bench outside a portable school classroom on an ordinary public school campus]

______________________________

[ACT I]

   Ms. Ryane.   Hey Lizzie, are you planning on auditioning for Shakespeare Club this year?

   Lizzie.   [Shy grin.]   Yes.

   Ms. Ryane.   That's great, but here's the thing: You know how some kids want to be on a school football team or something like that?

   Lizzie.   Yeah.

   Ms. Ryane.   So, the school has rules that in order to be on a team the student has to keep up their schoolwork. It's the same for The Shakespeare Club because you remember how much work you have to do in the club, right?

   Lizzie.   [A little worried.]   Yeah.

   Ms. Ryane.   Like journal writing...rehearsing and learning lots of lines. I could never put more pressure on a student if I thought they were already struggling with homework

[Lizzie's body slumps a tiny bit, in the solar plexus.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Remember last year when you showed us all the dress you made?

   Lizzie.   [Brightens.]   The green one?

   Ms. Ryane.   Sure. It was sparkly, right?

[Lizzie nods; her brown eyes twinkle.]

   Ms. Ryane.   We were all so impressed that you made that by yourself. Pretty cool.

[Ms. Ryane and Lizzie let the sun warm their faces; they sit in silence for a moment.]

   Ms. Ryane.   I was surprised, Lizzie, to hear that your teacher thinks you don't care enough about your work to complete it and that you have a kind of bad attitude. I was surprised because that's not what you were like in Shakespeare Club and you worked so hard on that dress.

[Lizzie's face is suddenly serious, almost sad.]

   Ms. Ryane.   What's changed, Lizzie? What's different?

[Lizzie looks to the side; two tears roll down her cheeks.]

   Lizzie.   [Whispering.]   I don't want to talk about it.

   Ms. Ryane.   You know what, Lizzie...I think you have to talk about it because I can see it right there in your tummy. Like a small frog waiting to jump out. Whatever this thing is, it wants to get out. What's going on?

[Pause, and then:]

   Lizzie.   There's this boy...he's eleven and he says things....

   Ms. Ryane.   What kinds of things?

   Lizzie.   [Tears flowing.]   Like...like that...he says that I suck. And that nobody likes me and like I don't have any friends...and he says he will hurt my cat....

   Ms. Ryane.   [Tucking a tendril of Lizzie's hair behind her ear.]   So, this boy's a bully.

[Lizzie nods.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Who is this boy, Lizzie?

   Lizzie.   He helps my grandma....He's there after school....He helps her.

   Ms. Ryane.   Did you tell your grandma this was happening?

   Lizzie.   Yes...but he does it anyway.

   Ms. Ryane.   Right, I know the type....He sneaks around behind her back.

   Lizzie.   [Softly.]   Yeah.

   Ms. Ryane.   Does he ever touch you, Lizzie?

   Lizzie.   Yeah...like he pokes me with his finger...like this.

[Lizzie makes a jabbing motion.]

   Ms. Ryane.   Are you having trouble sleeping because of this?

   Lizzie.   Yeah...sometimes I get up for some water and try to sleep again but it's hard....

   Ms. Ryane.   Okay, Lizzie...last year in Shakespeare Club you learned stuff about acting....You learned how to take direction and how to use your voice and how to be brave on stage, right?

   Lizzie.   Yeah.

   Ms. Ryane.   Together you and I are going to learn how to handle this bully. We're going to rehearse a plot.

[Lizzie gives a small smile.]

[END ACT I]


Lizzie: Act II
Lizzie: Act III

CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

Dear Diary

One day I whanted to hite my little sisster but I just did not have the power. I did not have the power because I am a chathlice.

—Lizzie, 3rd grade

Spring Break, Part Two

April, 2009

Mottled spring sun splintered through magnolia branches and spread across the cement patio of Cafe Du Monde in the Quarter. I sipped chicory coffee, gobbled sugary warm beignets and read the local Times-Picayune.

Clicking my tongue, I absorbed the ongoing sagas of the Katrina disaster. The New York Times had pulled their reporter from the region, concluding the story was no longer hot or relevant. I sighed, sipped and licked powdery sugar from my fingertips.


Back home, twenty-one kids waited to continue our rehearsals of "Twelfth Night." We were a little over a month away from production but I thought we were in good shape. For all the rough stuff those children wrestle with, I couldn't help wondering about the youth of New Orleans and its environs. I turned a page of the newspaper and froze.


There it was in print. Terror of the first order: SWINE FLU.

Words sprung off the page and hit me like rocks:

pandemic
killer Bug
mystery disease
global alert
death
Mexico

Instantly, I zeroed in microscopically on my own little corner of the planet. How many in The Shakespeare Club had gone to Mexico for spring break? It would only take one and our production would collapse under the pressure of a: quarantine.


These are the leaps the dramatic brain makes. And let's face it, I wasn't alone in my panic. Daily, the news reports grew more intense as the number of flu victims added up.

Every so many years deathly illnesses create worldwide havoc.

In 1848, a German ship brought a boatload of cholera into the New Orleans ports and the disease spread north up the great Mississippi, into its tributaries and across the entire country. No "Twelfth Night" for those audiences either.


For William Shakespeare, the tide of his career turned in favorable fashion when London theatres were closed for an entire year, from 1592 to 1593, due to an outburst of bubonic plague. Sheltered in a garret, Shakespeare wrote poems. By April of 1593, he had a patron and made his formal debut as a poet.

By 1594, he returned to the theatre as a leading actor and a confident writer. Out popped "Romeo & Juliet," "King John," "Love's Labour's Lost" and the rest...as they say....

As it turned out, no one in our school contracted the dread H1N1 and our cast stayed healthy despite trips to Mexico.

However, as I write this, I shudder. "Swine flu" once again has hit newsprint in hyperbolic rhetoric and the curse of "Macbeth" hangs over our 2010 production.

More sugar...bring on the beignets!


CHILDREN'S WRITES: A Journal Entry

Dear Anne,

Well, I got a job as a waterboy in the big theater. Its got lot of props and is big. There are also people who have rotten food in their pockets to throw at horrible actors. Sadly, the black pleauge came across so I may not have enough money to provide but, I’ll try with writing poems. Anyway, say hi to the kids for me. I love you and miss you dearly!

All of my love,
William Shakespear

—Polly, 5th grade