Good Data

Brene Brown put it best in her recent “Unlocking Us” podcast when she labeled this time period within the pandemic as Day Two. She likened the reference to three day conferences where everything is exciting the first day, then you really go deep and the confusion swirls in Day Two, and the light and the solutions come in Day Three.

Right now, there is no visible disaster when we look outside - no flood or tornado ravaged trees, and therefore it makes us question the sanity of the sadness we all have for a list of reasons that could feel a book. Trees are the only thing keeping me grounded right now. If you didn’t catch that pun, not to worry, we’ll branch out into more later with a story about another pun lover.

Trees have been my major source of joy for the last month. I’ve gotten Solly to rally behind the following phrases when we step outside for our daily 5:30-6:30pm sunset walk after I’m done working.

“The tree is changing costumes!”

“The tree is putting on a show for us!”

“Leaves! Don’t fall! Please, for the love of god, six month of cold, dark, brown and gray weather is going to make me press each leaf in my teacher laminate stuff and glue them back on one by one.”

Solly struggles with that last phrase, but he makes a solid two and a half year old effort. 

Day Two is really hard because since it’s not exciting Day One or closure bringing Day Three. There are moments each day I forget I’m in the middle day, only to be smacked with the reality that I still can’t visit a special family member or friend, or sing in a choir, or teach a class in person, or make a playdate when my son hangs his head as he stares out the window saying, “I want to play with other kids again someday.” Day Two is that mosquito that you thought you got out of your car but bites keep showing up three hours into your road trip and you can’t stop itching on and off.

I’ve been itching to climb through the damn screen and hug all my 38 freshpeople and tell them it’s going to be okay. They’ve never known high school in person! 

Since this time is unprecedented, there is no evidence or data that a group of theatre students will be able to learn theatre online or even more difficult, create connections with one another. These connections and setting a culture of empathy and gratitude are my wheelhouse. They are the ground on which our unique theatre program stands. The students at ChiArts spend 3 hours a day in the same cohort doing their art form for four years. If that cohort isn’t given the tools to work through interpersonal issues, social media challenges, and what to do when someone withdrawals and retreats, none of them can grow. Theatre is 100% interdependent. Even when working on monologues, the growth happens when they practice them in front of their peers. The antithesis of theatre is not football. The antithesis of theatre is fear. 

Here’s a short story to provide the world with some new data in this at times, debilitating Day Two of the pandemic. Names have been changed. 

Arav told me he wants to be a stand up comedian on his first “get to know me” assignment. He comes across more like a 40 year old real estate agent who is a little annoyed at you for not managing your grocery budget better because you’re 2,000 short on a downpayment for a house that sometimes has a view of a park if the neighbors remember to move their RV from time to time.

Sol really is the sun. I can see it in her eyes through her foggy square tile on my google hangout lessons. She’s been thrown a lot of clouds by way of life circumstances and the pandemic heightens these. 

I would not have pegged Sol and Arav as the companions that gifted me with the first belly laugh I’ve had in months. We’ve had five weeks of school and it’s progress report time. A wake up call for those who haven’t turned much in. Sol has had a tough time of it. The combo of working parents and younger siblings are the situations that present the biggest struggle for high schoolers learning online. Sol is in this situation and seems to struggle with motivation and overcoming self doubt. I received an email from Arav expressing his concern about Sol and for never meeting in person, with a five week old friendship, he went into amazing detail about her life. He said she didn’t feel comfortable asking teachers for help and getting clarity on confusing concepts. She’d rather talk to peers.

Jump forward to a google meet with myself, Sol and Arav where we decided to hold a twice a week mini study hall where I would do my own work while Arav tutored Sol. Here was some dialogue from the first mini study hall. I muted myself and turned off my camera to let them work. Arav speaks very fast. 

“Oh my gosh Sol, Sol, Sol, here’s what we’ll do okay? You are like, failing most of your classes, but there is one B, which should totally be an A because I helped you with that class. Oh goodness. Are you with me? I need to know you’re with me?”

“I’m with you, yeah.”

“We’re just gonna email all your teachers because they like that, you know? They all really respond to you taking the initiative or whatever. So pull up your email right now.”

“Okay. It’s slow.”

“All good, all good. Now, I would say something in the emails like - oh wait give them a greeting like “how’s the weather?” - teachers really like that. It makes them think you care about more than your grade and they’ve got so much to do and have so many students?  Greet them and then they hear you better, you know? You following?”

“Yeah”

“Okay, so type something like, ‘I’m so sorry to inconvenience you’ - wait but make sure you said something about the orange leaves first.”

“What orange leaves.”

“The fall ones - autumn you know? You following? Don’t fall down on the job here Sol, you know fall leaves? Falling? Okay whatever I thought that was funny - “

“It is funny,” she giggles and rolls her eyes.

“It’s cool it’s cool I know I have jokes that are like - you know - not - whatever. Okay how’s that email going? Finished?”

“I wrote ‘Dear Ms. Thompson’”

That’s where I popped my camera on and interjected, “Hi Arav! Have you heard of the teacherly phrase, ‘I do, you do, we do’?”

“No, I haven’t”

“When you teach someone something new, you model it first, then you do one version together, then you have them do it on their own,” I say.

“Ah! Got it, got it. Very helpful. Thanks Ms. Calhoun.”

“You bet!” I said and turned off my camera.

“Right. Now Sol, have you added the fall leaves thing yet? Okay, you know what? I’ll just write the email for you - is that cool? I think we both agree on the things to say? And then you can copy paste it, you following?”

I double checked that I was muted and laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed. I laughed for the way this lovely student was earnestly helping and also not helping. I laughed because the kids are going to be alright, they just need us to get out of the way. I laughed because my lesson on how to email a teacher was being so hilariously distorted and also wonderfully so. I laughed because I’m tired of crying.

“You following Sol?”

“Sure”

“So here’s what I’m typing for you. ‘Dear Ms. Thompson, Trees really get dressed up in the fall.’ Is that too funny or just the right amount?” 

“Just right!”

“Okay about to hit send. It says: ‘Dear Ms. Thompson, Trees really get dressed up in the fall. I’m sorry to inconvenience you and I know you have many students. I was wondering if I could turn in my math worksheet 7 in next Monday. I know you work hard, and I will be doing so as well. Sincerely, Sol’”

It was at this moment that Sol disappeared from the tile on my screen and you could see the concern in Arav. He sighed and his head dropped. We were left staring at Sol’s white blank bedroom wall while we heard her tell her mother she was in class multiple times before she muted her sound and left.

It felt similar to that pregnant pause when an actor forgets an entrance and everyone in the building is holding their breath. Eventually she returned and I exhaled. Arav didn’t skip a beat.

“Okay, so once we get these emails sent out, we’ll move on to your monologue, can you share the google doc with me?”

“I just wrote it on a piece of paper.”

“Sol! No! I thought we talked about this, I don’t think you were listening. Okay, cool, cool, I can work with that.”

“I really am trying.”

“I know … I “k”-now. Why the silent ‘k’ people - come on!”

Did the pandemic catalyze this friendship and the tutoring session, I wonder? Like when lava run-off forms a beautiful burnt sculpture whose existence is due to a tragedy of nature. I don’t think these two would be doing this if we were in person. Maybe they would. I don’t know. I think Arav feels safe to be himself behind his screen for some reason and I wonder if he’d be as animated and full of antics in an arts high school swarming with high energy, confidence diminishing talented upper class-people and long lunch lines... I think Sol feels safe to get the help she so desperately needs if she can control her camera.

Whatever the case, the connections that are forming through remote theatre classes every afternoon for three hours are real. And they are strong. Something is sticking when we Jackson Pollock assignments and weird google meet games into our computer screens filled with teenage faces. I know this one interaction with Sol and Arav is not enough to legitimize data on remote theatre learning. But it only takes one piece of evidence to populate a table.