The Drama Teacher

Fred (see his blog listed to the right) recently asked for teacher stories. I posted a minor one, but started thinking of all the teachers I'd been through; good and bad, and how they affected me.

One I thought of was my drama teacher (let's call him Shakespeare). He was marvellously inspirational and resembled nothing more than a puckish brownie. He was full of nervous energy and was always leaping about, throwing out long, skinny arms and legs. Shakespeare was a comical character, and yet everyone took him very seriously. He was one of those teachers that knew how to earn respect. He taught us to act well (Shakespearean actors) and was unstinting in both his praise and criticism.

Shakespeare was finally sacked by the high school principal when he refused to put on a play that was going to look like hell because his students weren't up to snuff. He continued to teach English Lit there, however. I ran into him years later. I got the opportunity then to tell him how much he meant to so many of us (including me). I had gone on to be in a couple low-budget films (no, not the X-rated kind!) and also acted in some college training films and TV ads. My goal had never been acting, but he gave me the desire to do it well when I wanted to do it. My ability to sell is probably somewhat due to that early training, as well.

Shakespeare was replaced by an idiot. This new drama teacher (a woman) resembled Shelley Duvall with a bad, tight, short perm. She was very uptight, but perpetually attempted to show she was 'hip' to us. She was always eager to try anything new that wouldn't work. This woman believed in 'method acting' which, in my humble opinion, is a bunch of horsesh*t. She would have us go up on stage, and then would take us through various moronic scenarios. "You're a tree!" she would say enthusiastically. "Now be a tree! Be a treeeee!"

We would look at each other and roll our eyes. Then we'd throw our hands in the air and wave them around. To go from being trained by a strong drama coach to getting an idiot savant was pretty tough to deal with.

Her standards were much lower, as well. She was determined to put a play through, no matter how badly some of the players were doing. Many of us would secretly go to Shakespeare, who would give us acting tips but would refuse to coach us. "I'm not a coach any more," he'd say. Oh how we grew to hate the school principal!

I ended up with the lead in all the plays in my junior and senior year (I imagine by default since I was one of the remaining few that could act). One play we did in my senior year was a classic. She should never have picked a classic. The guy she picked as the male lead was a horrible actor, but he was cute (let's call him Steve). Because he was easy on the eyes, she figured he'd be a sure bet on stage. Nope. Weeks went by with him forgetting his lines. He was prompted constantly. A week before the play, we were running through rehearsal and he forgot his lines. Again. Now, I should share with you that I am never impressed by cute. Brains, yes. Humor, yes. Cute, no.

So this time, when he forgot his lines, I lost it. I don't remember what I said, but I remember going to the edge of the stage, staring down Shelley Duvall, and telling her exactly what I thought of her lack of coaching ability. I also mentioned that her choice of male lead was less than desirable and commented on his lack of intelligence. And I didn't say it diplomatically. I also said it very loudly, and it carried through the entire auditorium. By the time I came to my senses, everyone was frozen in place, with their mouths open.

But by god, Steve learned his lines. The play was a success. And Shelley Duvall quit the following year.