I was reminded of a story recently.
When I was 17 there was a bit of politics (or something) happening in the school that essentially meant our drama teachers decided to walk out.
Now for the past 4 years we had always taken part in the National Rock & Roll Eisteddfod – hard to explain, but essentially you did a reinterpretation of a song through drama/dance (it was the 80’s – everything was being influenced by MTV, so think of it as a live music video type thing).
Anyway, it was always a staple in the school calendar and for me, a major event in my year.
So the fact that it wasn’t going to happen this year – was a big deal.
So I went to the school and said that if I could organise it, choreograph it, cast it and so forth – could we still do it. And the school said yes (possibly thinking I wouldn’t/couldn’t’) – but I did.
I organised lunchtime and after-school rehearsals, I sorted the castings, I choreographed the piece and liaised with the school woodwork/art departments for the set – I even got in front of the whole school at an assembly and berated people for not coming to rehearsals (for anyone who knows me now – it’s hardly surprising) – but this was the first time I’d EVER done ANYTHING like this. It was also the first time I’d ever had my name in the paper (I still have the clipping tucked away somewhere).
So (with school support) – we made it to the heats – and won! Yes, we won – and for the first time EVER – our school was in the National finals of the Rock & Roll Eisteddfod!
Now it could have been coincidence (and I like to think it was), but suddenly the drama teachers were back and production levels increased and support increased and suddenly I didn’t have to do much as the whole process of preparing for the finals was taken out of my hands.
And I didn’t mind. I was having fun – I felt proud. I’d got us there!
We didn’t win (or even place) in the finals, but it was a big, tiresome, wonderful event. The coach trip to the big arena, the hair & make-up, hanging out with my peers – and then the performing onstage – in something I’d created!
So the next day (a Friday), at the morning assembly, I’m sitting with the whole school watching as the head teacher and all the (rather tired looking) drama department staff are up in front of everybody. He walks up to the microphone and starts by congratulating everyone on their achievement. Even though we didn’t win, the fact that we’d made it to the finals, the fact that we had a cast of around 60 students involved etc… and then he said that obviously there were SOME people who deserved a special mention.
A various collection of bouquets and wrapped presents were brought out and he started to say names.
Names of teachers, and various support staff, and one by one they all came up and collected their flowers and got their round of applause and thank you and sat down.
And then there was one left, a very large and impressive bouquet – and I’m sitting there expectantly, in the crowd of my peers, pupils are looking at me out of the corner of their eyes – and he steps up and says, “obviously all of this would not have happened without one person“ – and my schoolmates are all turning and looking at me and I’m trying hard to act casual … and then he named the head of drama.
I felt like I was in a vacuum. As if I was literally being sucked backwards. And I could feel people looking at me, and there was an embarrassed murmur going around, and I didn’t say anything, I just smiled and clapped and carried on with my day.
But I cried. In private.
On Monday, when I came into school and went to my morning tutor group, my form tutor had gone out over the weekend and bought me a pair of earrings with her own money, and a card that she got everyone in my tutor group to sign. Which was very nice of her. But it wasn’t the same.
Now – thanks to Facebook and the internet, a lot of my former school mates have looked me up over the past few years. Their first words to me are usually about the Rock & Roll Eisteddfod I choreographed and how I’d got us into the finals.
So they knew. But that big bouquet of flowers still would have been nice.
What A Drama 