On Directing Fiddler on the Roof. And also Fear.

Hello friends,

It's me again, here with another long-overdue blogpost. A lot of life has happened since I last wrote. The fall semester at BFA has ended, the middle school production of Bunch of Munsch went up, and we began rehearsals for the high school production of Fiddler on the Roof. I completed my first semester of grad school. Christmas happened, and a whirlwind trip back to the US. I met my niece, Zoe, and fell in love with my other nieces and nephews all over again. I remembered what -20 degrees feels like. I spent inadequate amounts of time with dear friends and family members. I flew back to Germany, took a deep breath, and school started up again.

We're a few weeks into our second semester now, and I'm teaching another set of students. My second semester of grad school is underway as well, and I'm getting better at remembering how to be a student. At least I hope I am. It involves time management and discipline, right?

At this point in the post, you're probably feeling like I just blitzed through a lot. What, no anecdotes about how crazy middle school theatre productions are? No waxing eloquent about my love/hate relationship with auditions and the initial stages of the rehearsal process? No revelation of the hilarious or profound things my students say and do on a daily basis?
I'm afraid not. Mostly because I don't want this post to go on forever, but also because I want to focus on two primary things: The show I'm directing and the things my heart is learning.

1) Fiddler on the Roof rehearsals 

The people of our Anatevka. 

This category of life gets a special feature because directing these students brings me the most life. And also takes up the most of my life. So that works out. We're about 3 weeks from opening night of Fiddler, and as you would imagine, the days are crazy. There are many "how is this going to happen" questions I don't have the answers to. But I do have a cast of 28 actors, and you guys, it is a delight to direct them.

You think I'm just making that up, like I have to say it because it's my job, and some of them might be reading this blog. Nope. We rehearse every day after school and I can't think of a single time when they haven't made me laugh, cry, cheer out loud, or just sit there beaming at them, because they are doing such beautiful things on that stage. Their creativity, courage, and goofiness inspire me every day.

I love to watch them discover their characters and play off of each other. It's so fun to see them try new things and finally "get" some aspect of the story that hasn't made sense to them before. And it is a joy to help them relate to and understand these characters, and hear them ask questions and dig deeper into the themes of the show.

Directing, guiding, and working with these students is legitimately the best part of my day. And hopefully if any of them are reading this, they get really embarrassed and uncomfortable, but also understand how proud I am of them.

The show opens on February 23rd! If anyone wants to fly in, just let me know and I'll reserve you a
ticket.

Our set and scenic designers at work while the music director
 runs Sabbath Prayer with Golde and Tevye.
Featuring Tevye's awesome cart!

Choreography rehearsal!

2) What I'm learning: Some words about courage.

In both my Acting and Public Speaking classes, we talk about fear. Stage fright, we usually call it. Being so focused on the fear of failure that it keeps us from really doing the thing. But even as I train my actors and students to overcome that fear, I've come to realize that all too often, I live in it.

I've discovered that my fear of failing frequently stops me from doing.

I don't start conversations because I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing. I don't write a play because I'm afraid it won't be good. I don't dance because I don't want to look foolish. This isn't a new problem, obviously. But since it's a new year (or was, a month ago), maybe it's time to do something new about it.

I know what you're thinking. "Shouldn't you have gotten over this in high school?"

Well, the older I get, the more I realize that my fears are always going to be the same. When I was growing up, my house had a basement, and the light switch was at the bottom of the stairs. So that meant that whenever I left the basement, I had to turn off the light before I walked up the stairs to the ground floor. I lived in that house for 14 years, and I never took those stairs at anything but a full sprint. Because you never knew what might be lurking in the dark behind me. My overactive imagination doesn't do well in the dark.

I'm 27 and my fears are still the same. Darkness. Heights. Deep water. Spiders. Failure. Foolishness. Being exposed.

The more tangible fears are easier to ignore, or maybe just easier to push through. I acknowledge the fear and the sweaty palms, but I still venture into the creepy building where we keep the costumes and set pieces. I still climb the ladder and adjust the stage lights, much closer to the ceiling than to the ground. Because someone has to. Because my sense of duty and responsibility--and perhaps my pride--outweighs my fear of heights.

But those intangibles, man. The ever-nagging fear of failure that pricks the back of my neck. The whisper of "But what if you're no good at this?" Or maybe just, "But what if you're no good?"
What if what I have isn't worth giving? "What if you speak or write or sing or create or try that and it's clear to everyone that you're a fake? Won't you feel foolish then?"

Yes. Yes, I will. It's much safer, then, to never try. To never do. It's better to hide behind sarcasm and mockery and irony. To play it cool and pretend not to want to give or to be anything more.

What an insidious and pervasive habit that prevents us--my actors, my students, me--from doing or creating or improving or pouring ourselves out as a sacrifice in anything. To act well, you have to act. To write well, you have to write. To speak well, you have to speak, regardless of the results. Why am I still learning this lesson? If I'm supposed to be filled with the Spirit, walking in obedience to my Father, and reflecting Christ's love to those around me, something has to  change.

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear." 1 John 4:18.

So this year, I am praying for the courage to model courage for my students. I'm still sorting out exactly what that means. But let's be courageous.
Let's be willing to fail at things in order to learn and in order to obey.
Because I'd rather fail at stuff than be too afraid to try.

Well, that's all from me.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for praying.

Till next time,

ajr

PS: As a reward for making it through this post, here are a couple more pictures of my wonderful actors in rehearsal.

This is actual footage of my actors' responding as I'm giving them notes.
We caught them in a moment of GREAT enthusiasm
and it makes me laugh so much. 

My fiddler plays her invisible violin in the middle of Anatevka. 

I wish I could post a video of the glorious Russian solo
 happening when I snapped this picture. I'm so proud of my kids.