To Thine Own Self Be True

Many years ago, my therapist told me that if you don't take responsibility for your own pain, you will spew it on everyone around you.
Taking responsibility for your own pain begins with getting in touch with your story.

 When I was eleven-years-old, I got bitten by the theatre bug.  I remember it as if it were yesterday.  I was playing Brigitta in Rodgers and Hammerstein's "The Sound of Music." One afternoon, I walked into the gymnasium where we performed our shows to find the set of  the Von Trapp veranda awash in a blue light.  The transformation brought about through the magic of stage lighting captivated me and from that moment on, the trajectory of my future was before me.  I knew I was going to be an actress.
At eleven, that dream fueled and dominated my life. Encouraged by supportive parents, with enough natural talent to make it seem like a possibility, I pursued my passion through high school and into college as a drama major.  Frequently cast in leading roles, and blessed with a good singing voice, things looked promising for me through graduation from college.
  And then life struck.
Two months after I graduated, my father died suddenly and unexpectedly and my life course abruptly switched direction. At twenty-two, I abandoned my dream of becoming an actress and went to work helping my mother and brother in our family business.
Over the next eight years,  I gained a lot of executive skills. I worked in sales, public relations, customer service, and dabbled in video production.  But life had not gone in the direction I had "planned."

One day, I was perusing the local newspaper's "help wanted" ads and saw that a local all girl's high school was seeking a drama, musical theatre, and choir teacher.  Something stirred deep inside of me.  My abandoned "actress" was calling out to me.   I had not ever set out to be a theatre teacher. However, my theatre and music training through high school and college had given me access to some excellent teachers, including my father who coached me until his untimely death at sixty-four. With no teaching experience,  I decided to apply and was hired for the position.

My career in educational theatre began. I sought out opportunities to learn classroom management, teaching techniques, and exercises.  I devoured books like Viola Spolin's Improvisation for the Actor and endless books on directing, theatre history, techniques, and styles.  I joined the Educational Theatre Association and attended conferences and workshops for theatre educators.
I entered the profession of teaching hungry and determined to learn.
As my program grew to include two other single-sex high schools, I found that the executive and business skills I had developed during the eight years I'd worked for our family business helped me to build a nationally recognized, award-winning theatre program.

I also began to recognize that the profession had "chosen me."  While my dreams of being a Broadway star died the day my father dropped dead, I was able to bring the many different experiences of my life together with a greater sense of purpose.  I had grieved my losses and had sought counseling and mentorship.  Through therapy, journaling, and hard work, I grew to know myself well.

So often, I hear parents express concern that their son or daughter wants to pursue theatre arts in college. They worry that the business is too risky or that their child will not be able to earn a living.
They often say they want their child to have something to "fall back on."
I understand those concerns and acknowledge there is validity in that line of thinking.
I also hear the voice of my father who believed that theatre skills are life skills.  What one learns in theatre can be used in other areas.

By the same token, the actor who decides to "fall back on teaching" because his or her career hasn't panned out needs to carefully examine that choice.
My circumstances were different and while my dream was reshaped by life circumstances, I entered teaching seeking to be not only a skilled practitioner, but a role model for life.
I took responsibility for my pain and channeled my creative talents in a different direction with intentionality.

One of the greatest concerns I have is when I see theatre teachers who clearly are not over their own loss and decide to take up teaching without the true sense of calling or purpose.  Their unprocessed pain and disappointment over their unfulfilled dreams gets "spewed" on their students.  The ego-centric theatre teacher is still like the character of Paul in A Chorus Line  who sings "Who am I anyway?"
When the theatre teacher is still pining for his or her fading star, the journey can not be about their students.
The profession of educational theatre is as much a calling as any other teaching profession.
Just because one was an actor does not make that person a good theatre teacher.

A Theatre Teacher needs to be emotional mature. Theatre On Purpose, at its core, is about recognizing  unprocessed pain and using theatre as a means to facilitate  healing and wholeness.
The Theatre on Purpose practitioner has taken responsibility for processing his or her own pain and disappointment, so that his work with students can be fully about the student's growth.

To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst then be false to any man.


 Copyright Amy Luskey-Barth 2014