An important part of my work as an artist in theatre festivals that put value on our art. As a competitor I love this aspect. I, in all honesty, want to win. I cannot speak for everyone, but I think it’s safe to say, regardless of our specific personality type, it does our hearts good to know that we are the “best.” That being said, as an artist, so much of our worth is wrapped up in how our work/art is perceived by those receiving it. And at a theatre festival that is designed to reward work well received, it stings when those awards go elsewhere. This requires me to stop and assess what is most important: Growth.

What happens when you stop growing?

At the beginning of every school year I ask my students, “What happens when you stop growing?” There are always chimes of “You shrink!” or “Nothing?” or “Ummmm….?” After letting them wrestle with this for a while, I add, “Think of growth as change. That change can be on any level (spiritual, physical, educational, personal…). The responses start to change and inevitably there is one voice that matter-of-factly states, “You die.” At this moment every other student in the class who has not reached this conclusion responds with “WHOA.” This then leads to a discussion of what growth is and how the process of change is necessary for us to reach new goals and discoveries. From day one I am transparent with my students about the journey we will all be taking together and that our ultimate goal, in all things we do, is growth.

So, that brings me back to the elation and disappointment of theatre festivals.

Theatre festivals present an incredible opportunity for students that moves beyond a one weekend performance run. Festivals give students (and their directors) the chance to perform their work for their peers. Where else can you guarantee a full house of an theatre obsessed audience? The audience at theatre festivals wants everyone to succeed and they reward hard work with their attention and unbridled appreciation. The energy in the house is palpable; theatre students are hungry for honest performances. One of the most rewarding experiences for those students is to be able to feel the audience’s support for the story being told from the stage. When we board the bus after our performance the students are electrified from the adrenaline of performing for a full house of their peers. They are inundated with the positive responses from other students at the festival. This opportunity gives them a confidence that they don’t receive from performances at their own school. Our audiences are always responsive and give positive feedback, but to get that kind of approval from theatre kids, that they don’t already know, is an overwhelming experience.

Three people’s opinions on any given day

Because theatre festivals are often adjudicated events, students (and their directors) have to be prepared for the feedback of three individuals on a given day. There is often a collective consciousness among the judges and they are often on the same page in terms of the feedback given to the individual performances. Students and directors are vulnerable to these opinions and must choose what to do with this information. I often find myself poring over these notes over and over again to glean important tips for improvement. I have found myself, however, on the receiving end of rather harsh criticism of specific choices I made that the adjudicators disagree with. There are few things more devastating than to see my students crushed as a result of specific feedback when they were doing EXACTLY what I asked of them. This process is a learning experience for all of us and while I try to incorporate most of the feedback we receive, there are times that I make a conscious decision to disregard certain suggestions or comments. This is not a conclusion I come to lightly, but I choose to stay true to my vision and if the feedback we receive is in conflict with that, I simply move past it.

Three things I ask of you.

I ask three things of my students in every production: 1) Trust the process; 2) Tell the story with honesty; 3) Be kind (to and about everyone, including yourself). I truly believe that if we do these three things, we will all learn and grow from the experience and be stronger people as a result.

Trust the process.

Many times I can see the potential of a production from day one. And then, more often than not, there is a point that everything I had planned seems off kilter and there’s nothing that can happen that will make it all make sense. And then, it does. And then, after a series of challenges I question every life choice that has brought me to this point. And then, the clouds part and students rise to the challenge and the beauty of the story begins to shine through. It is this process that makes doing this impossibly difficult job all worth it. I remind my students constantly that if they trust in the process they will understand the purpose of everything in the end. I have to remind myself of this as well. I think I require more reminding than my students sometimes.

Tell the story with honesty.

Every story deserves to be told, and I believe wholeheartedly that when we respect these characters as if they are real people, and tell the story without reservation we are breathing life characters real or fictional that otherwise would have lain dormant. It is our responsibility to share their triumphs and tribulations in the time we are given. We are tasked with research, commitment, and listening so that the story we are telling is indeed the one that was intended.

Kindness belongs to everyone, including ourselves.

It is so easy through a production process to allow yourself to take frustrations out on those closest to us. I have to remind myself to pause and take a step back when I am most stressed. I have learned the hard way that when I do not stay actively focused on the people around me and how we all work together to make something beautiful, it is very easy to make those involved feel unvalued. Through our process, we must remain outwardly thankful for what everyone brings to the table, even when we don’t see eye to eye. Having said that, the hardest person to be kind to is most often our self. The vampires of self-doubt manifest themselves in many different forms and can wreak havoc in the most unexpected ways. It is when the vampires scream the loudest that we have to take a hold of them and push them out and remind ourselves that our art is bigger than all of the doubt inside of us.