Fairy Tales, Alligator Tears, and a Random Penguin

After concluding my semester as a preschool Theatre teacher, I moved on to my older kids in a foggier area of town for my Presenting a Play class in the Outer Sunset.

This class consists of ages ranging from 5-8 and kids who have elected to take the class because of a genuine theatrical interest. Or because their parents thought the class would be a good outlet for their outspoken child. Or somewhere in the middle.

Presenting a Play is designed to meet it's title. We, as a class, construct a play based on characters the kids have picked to be and spend the course rehearsing it so that we can present it to their families. Our current play is a spin off of several fairy tales coming together. We have the two stepsisters from Cinderella, the three pigs and their wolf (only, in our version, it's the three rodents and their alligator), and a penguin. Yeah, just a random, non fairy taled penguin.

While in rehearsal, one of my younger boys suffered a fairly routine meltdown. Which tends to happen when he's feeling cranky, or hungry, or just in the mood to openly weep in front of class. Today's problem? Well, it seems another student took a pillow that he had set up for the scene and moved it. The result? Full on kicking, screaming, and wailing. A real impassioned nightmare.



The other kids looked at me like, "oh, man, what are you going to do about this?!"

I looked at them like, "oh, man, what am I going to do about this?!"

Well, not really. I clenched my fists and took a moment and then gave the kids a break so that I could talk my little guy off of his emotional ledge of despair. We sat down on some blankets and I watched his lip quiver and his blue eyes leak with tears as he explained that the pillow (and it's placement) was very important to him. I then brought over the student who caused the meltdown. I sat in the middle of the two boys and we talked about words we could use to explain how we feel and how to avoid further crying and yelling matches. And we returned to rehearsal and the boys managed to finish the class without any more tears or shouts.

The real beauty of the class though came at the end when we met in a circle and I asked the group if they wanted to say anything about our play or mention anyone who they felt had done a good job. Both boys eagerly waved their hands before my face and beamed explaining how proud they were of the other for their ability to work together and properly communicate. And how much they thought it helped our play.

Not going to lie, guys, I put my personally high-fived hand to my heart and smiled. Hoping with that whole heart that within today's Theatre lesson I had helped the boys with a little life lesson.

Sure, I know it's not the end of afternoon meltdowns or future fights, but I like to believe it's a start. At least until they discover the potential wars existing in blankets...