Last week, I was finally able to see the state bronze winning one act play, Elizabeth Rex performed by Hebron High School. Somehow, I'd missed all of their prior appearances, so I scrambled to get to this encore, speeding away from soccer practice, flying through fast food, and running from the parking lot to make it in time. The kids and I were on "theater time"; luckily, the cast was too, and we made
it!
Yes, I brought my kids. Ian is eleven and finishing fifth grade. Emily is eight and in second. I knew this production wasn't a musical or Minecraft, so I did have some concerns about bringing them, but I did it anyway. Part of my reasoning was admittedly selfish; I was desperate to see the show. The other part, though, stemmed from my own experience. As a middle schooler, I stowed away in the corners of our high school auditorium on a Saturday full of one acts while my father was the administrator on duty that day. I saw dramas and comedies and tragedies. I laughed and cried. I loved every single theatrical minute. What a beautiful way to experience story. And one acts are magically short, so I was hoping to offer my own kids a glimpse of story in a manageable time frame.
On the way there, Ian and Emi asked me what the play was called and what it was about. When I told them it included Queen Elizabeth, they said, "Oh, she was in the Minion Movie!" Yup, that's their
frame of reference! We discussed that it wasn't exactly the same one, and I also told them that I really didn't know much about the show other than that. Regardless, they were excited.
We snuck in and found a quick seat minutes before the lights dimmed. In the beginning, my two giggled. As bawdy characters hurled crass words, my kids glanced sideways at me, their hands covering their mouths to suppress giggles. They didn't get all the jokes, but actor Gabby's character with her "lost" glasses on her head entertained them. That and they know Gabby from theater camp and think she's pretty cool.
Mid way, Emily moved to my lap. She needed to be slightly taller to see it all, and she occasionally leaned back to ask a question in her not-so-quiet whisper. She was into it. It was difficult, but she was surprisingly concentrating extra hard to figure it all out. Ian, on the other hand, began to sweep his shoes loudly acoss the concrete floor. The action took a more serious turn, and he wasn't sure. By the end, though, when actor AJ poured his character's heart out onto the stage, Ian was sitting a little taller, learning a little forward. He clapped wildly at the conclusion. We all did.
Later, on the way home, my two had multiple questions. "Ok," I said, "Let's start at the beginning and talk about it part by part."
"Why were they stuck in that place all night?"
"What were those spots on AJ's skin?"
"The queen was beautiful!"
"Why were they both so sad?"
This was the question we spent extended time on. I explained how the queen loved a man but had to select being a leader and leading her country over being in love.
"That's so sad," replied Emily. "What about AJ?"
"His character used to also be in love."
"Who did he love?"
"A man who was a soldier. But that man died, and he misses him."
"Oh. That's so sad too. Is that why he was sick?"
"Yes, both on the inside and the outside."
And the conversation continued. We drove home in the dwindling light, going over and over the funnies and the actors, the lights and the staging. Despite it being hard to understand, they both professed to have fun watching and to want to do it again in the future. It was a good night.
Later, after tucking them into bed, I sat in the quiet of my own room, looking at the tweets about the play's success, and something struck me. My children and I talked about the story of Elizabeth Rex including the part where one male character loved another male, and my own kids did not flinch. When I explained that part, they never said "Ew" or "Why would he do that?" The didn't stop me to ask for clarification, to say, "Didn't you mean a girl?" They simply connected that character's deep sadness to that of the queen's without hesitation.
As this realization washed over me, my heart swelled a little. I would have never had such a conversation with my own parents; we didn't talk about such things. It just didn't happen. But now, with my own kiddos, it not only occurred but in the most natural, simple, honest way. Rather than seeing any other expectation or label, Ian and Emily saw these characters' shared humanity first.
May they always be able to do that, inside the theater and on the stage of life. May we all.
Yes, I brought my kids. Ian is eleven and finishing fifth grade. Emily is eight and in second. I knew this production wasn't a musical or Minecraft, so I did have some concerns about bringing them, but I did it anyway. Part of my reasoning was admittedly selfish; I was desperate to see the show. The other part, though, stemmed from my own experience. As a middle schooler, I stowed away in the corners of our high school auditorium on a Saturday full of one acts while my father was the administrator on duty that day. I saw dramas and comedies and tragedies. I laughed and cried. I loved every single theatrical minute. What a beautiful way to experience story. And one acts are magically short, so I was hoping to offer my own kids a glimpse of story in a manageable time frame.
On the way there, Ian and Emi asked me what the play was called and what it was about. When I told them it included Queen Elizabeth, they said, "Oh, she was in the Minion Movie!" Yup, that's their
We snuck in and found a quick seat minutes before the lights dimmed. In the beginning, my two giggled. As bawdy characters hurled crass words, my kids glanced sideways at me, their hands covering their mouths to suppress giggles. They didn't get all the jokes, but actor Gabby's character with her "lost" glasses on her head entertained them. That and they know Gabby from theater camp and think she's pretty cool.
Mid way, Emily moved to my lap. She needed to be slightly taller to see it all, and she occasionally leaned back to ask a question in her not-so-quiet whisper. She was into it. It was difficult, but she was surprisingly concentrating extra hard to figure it all out. Ian, on the other hand, began to sweep his shoes loudly acoss the concrete floor. The action took a more serious turn, and he wasn't sure. By the end, though, when actor AJ poured his character's heart out onto the stage, Ian was sitting a little taller, learning a little forward. He clapped wildly at the conclusion. We all did.
Later, on the way home, my two had multiple questions. "Ok," I said, "Let's start at the beginning and talk about it part by part."
"Why were they stuck in that place all night?"
"What were those spots on AJ's skin?"
"The queen was beautiful!"
"Why were they both so sad?"
This was the question we spent extended time on. I explained how the queen loved a man but had to select being a leader and leading her country over being in love.
"That's so sad," replied Emily. "What about AJ?"
"His character used to also be in love."
"Who did he love?"
"A man who was a soldier. But that man died, and he misses him."
"Oh. That's so sad too. Is that why he was sick?"
"Yes, both on the inside and the outside."
And the conversation continued. We drove home in the dwindling light, going over and over the funnies and the actors, the lights and the staging. Despite it being hard to understand, they both professed to have fun watching and to want to do it again in the future. It was a good night.
Later, after tucking them into bed, I sat in the quiet of my own room, looking at the tweets about the play's success, and something struck me. My children and I talked about the story of Elizabeth Rex including the part where one male character loved another male, and my own kids did not flinch. When I explained that part, they never said "Ew" or "Why would he do that?" The didn't stop me to ask for clarification, to say, "Didn't you mean a girl?" They simply connected that character's deep sadness to that of the queen's without hesitation.
As this realization washed over me, my heart swelled a little. I would have never had such a conversation with my own parents; we didn't talk about such things. It just didn't happen. But now, with my own kiddos, it not only occurred but in the most natural, simple, honest way. Rather than seeing any other expectation or label, Ian and Emily saw these characters' shared humanity first.
May they always be able to do that, inside the theater and on the stage of life. May we all.
Oh, beautiful. Though I heard the story, reading it so beautifully presented made me again appreciate the progress we've made toward raising accepting, loving kids. Yay for you and Mike for contributing to a new generation, and yay for your little members of that new generation with their kind, empathetic hearts. Glad I crawled out of the weeds for a bit to read your blog!
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