Some parents beam proudly at their child’s straight-A report
card. Others brag about their kids’
athletic prowess. Some parents focus on
class rank or their kid running the student council. All great achievements. In our house, we’ve got performing arts.
Performing arts, you say?
There is no comparison between my kid scoring the winning touchdown in a
state championship game and your kid singing in a musical!
And to anyone who carries that notion, I say, pshaw (“pshaw”
being as theatrical a word as I can come up with!! Notice the extra exclamation
marks, as well. Very dramatic.) To that
person, I feel confident in guessing they’d never been in a musical production;
for if they had, they’d know that what goes into it and what comes out of it
are the same elements of that winning football team: hard work, pursuit of
excellence, personal bests, teamwork, and a shared vision of success. Add in artistry and you have a better
understanding why I beam for my kids when they’re on stage.
Thirty seconds left
in the basketball game, your son’s team down by two. Your son dribbles the ball down court, finds
the open man, and makes a beautiful pass.
Twenty seconds left. The ball is
passed a few more times until the star forward on the team takes a shot. He misses.
Your son grabs the rebound. He
dribbles forward. Six seconds left. The ball is tapped away by the
opposition. Rolling behind the three
point line, your son throws himself after the ball. With three seconds left, he grabs it off the
floor, and, in a single motion, shoots the ball straight into the net. Three! The buzzer goes off and screams of
elation fill the stands. And you sit
there, so proud.
In my world, I watch as my son takes the stage. He moves gracefully in the opening number, as
if he were meant to dance. His voice is
strong and he leads his cast mates in a difficult song/dance routine involving
three part harmony and tap dance. As the
show moves forward, one of the actor’s microphones cuts out and my son quickly,
and in character, figures out way to grab the hand mic at the front of the
stage and deliver it to the stranded actor without causing distraction. The final number involves tumbling, lifts,
and leaps off stage, all while singing the vocal equivalent of mountain
climbing. The last note is perfect. The curtain closes and the crowd is on it
feet in appreciation. And I sit there,
so proud.
But as a parent of any athlete knows, the games are the fun
part. The real work happens at
practice. 1000 free throws. Batting practice. Running the cones. Running.
And more running. And then run
some more.
In my world, we have classical dance classes and performance
rehearsals which are comprised of physical and vocal reps. Stretching. Vocal scales. Dress rehearsals. Tech rehearsals. Getting the routine right. And doing it again. And again.
And again.
I’m certain your coach is brilliant. He knows each players' strengths and areas of
growth. He game plans a strategy like a
chess master – seeing three moves ahead of the other guy. He gets in his players heads, makes them work
hard to be better. He spends individual
time with each player, teaching the basics.
He gives them encouragement and plants the seeds of faith that his way is the winning way.
Our director performs a similar role. He casts kids into rolls that both fit them
and (maybe) stretch them. His concept is
played out on stage every performance.
He coaches the group and individuals within the group. He is critical when he needs to be, but is
gives the all-important encouragement that they need. He asks them to trust each other and to trust
him. And they do.
Adults who were athletes frequently speak about the gifts
they took from the game. Beyond the
physical conditioning, they relate their preparedness in further schooling and
work experiences to the structure they learned in sports. When things aren’t going as planned in life, they
have perseverance
Similarly, performing arts give kids lifelong lessons. They, too, learn to be prepared and have the
discipline to persevere in difficult circumstance because they were able to
learn those skills while putting on a production. The phrase “the show must go on” is truly a
mantra among performers. Further, these
kids get experience speaking in front of a live audience, a skill that can
be of use in the professional world every single day. They understand teamwork, having a group
goal, and the importance of every single person’s effort in a group.
But, you say, performers don’t have the competitive edge. They don’t have the “kill” instinct that
pushes athletes to charge ahead full speed.
Athletes, as is the nature of sport, compete. Performers don’t.
To that sentiment, I ask if you’ve ever seen an open
audition session? Have you witnessed a
dance competition? Have you been to a
choral competition? Forensics
tournament? While an athlete’s challenge
is the win the game, the performer’s challenge is to be the best….the best
ever…..every time. Please tell me again
how performers lack the competitive spirit.
These thoughts are not meant to take anything away from
athletics (or academics or student government, etc.), but rather to promote the
incredible experience that is the performing arts. The next time you think to yourself how
“cute” a musical performance at the local middle school or high school might
be, please consider if you’d say the same thing about the football game the
night before. “Cute” is a wonderful term…but
not for something as tough as performing can be.
I love what performing has done for my kids. And I know all the benefits will continue on
into adulthood. I’m so grateful they
fell in love with performing and will encourage them for as long as they’re
interested. I guess there is one
difference between athletes and performers... generally, there are no foam
“we’re number one” fingers sold in the theater.
Maybe there should be.
