Since 2002 (and with much appreciation to the Louisville Writing Project and Class of 2002, Victoria Trout) I've worked with students and teachers on composing 10-Minute plays. It was during my time as an ISI teacher at Central High School in Kentucky (Muhammad Ali's H.S.) and while I was working with Jean Hicks that I processed a student's request that the Brown School, where I worked, needed a drama club. I had a slight memory of short scripts I saw performed at the Humana Festival at Actor's Theater and when the student made the request, I thought, "Hmmm. I might be able to teach 10-Minute plays during a 6-week unit on Greek drama. I went to the library to do research" It worked out perfectly.
The result was eight years of Brown School's annual 10-Minute Play Festival where students wrote, directed and performed pieces of drama that were written by them: comedy, tragedy, and history. The festival stands as one of my favorite things I accomplished as a classroom teacher and the writing composed by my students went from page to stage after much revision, many laughs, and totally engaged participation (it was also a tremendous money maker for the senior class).
Fast forward eleven years. Although I recently learned that the Brown did not host the show this year (Carrie Klingnefus who carried the torch after I left moved to another school), I'm happy to note that the 10-Minute play writing genre and its power travels with me wherever I go. I've been presenting a various workshops on it since the Louisville Writing Project and still use much of the material my students helped me to create. This workshop belongs to them and they were instrumental in bringing it voice, pizazz, pastiche, and brilliance.
Yesterday, I presented the latest demonstration of this genre with the teachers participating in the CWP-Fairfield summer institute. The first 1/2 hour of the presentation requires that I stay completely silent as audience members perform the demonstration. I have scripted parts that teachers must perform, including the above scene. Here, Shaun Mitchell, Bridgeport Teacher of the Year and #ConnectedLearning guru, improvised on the spot as a dance instructor. The teachers had to follow his lead while I introduced photographs of the ex-boyfriends accumulated by one my Young Writers' Institute teachers...Justine (it's a running gag over the last three years and she's okay with it).
The demonstration brings me nothing but joy. Teachers get loose, tap into their creativity, have an absolute blast, and amaze me. To me, this is a culmination of everything I stand for: they laugh hysterically, have fun, and learn simultaneously. Shouldn't it always be this way?
I share student-written models and offer exercises on scriptwriting and teachers grow excited about the possibilities of hosting similar projects in their classrooms. We read drafts, then they draft, and hopefully the revise and shoot for performance, themselves. of their own scripts. This makes me very proud and I owe this demonstration to the community of Louisville, especially the Brown School, Actor's Theater and Victoria, class of 2003.
What cracks me up most is how, despite the whacky and bizarre ways I twist and turn the presentation, the teachers always go along with it. They get funky. Yesterday, however, Shaun's impromptu dance-a-thon was icing on the workshop's cake. Brilliant
This cohort has bonded forever. Ubuntu is the magic of life.
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