"Life Skills Through Stage Skills"
My dad signed me up for a three-week summer camp at the Springer Theatre Academy back in the day. Since I was only 9-years-old I had no objections, as “yes” seems to come naturally at that age. When I arrived, everyone was already in grey t-shirts with their respective names written on them and were chit-chatting, or what some might describe as my own personal 9-year-old hell. It turns out that I had found some objections. Too late. Me and my tie-dye Scooby Doo t-shirt went and sat down alone on a very classy olive-green velvet theatre seat parallel to the chatty kids. (I made sure that there was no eye contact.)
A Dumbledore-type figure, (but think dad shoes and a grey t-shirt with the name “RON” written on it,) walks onto the stage. This is Ron. In a strange way, I think Ron introduced me to magic. Ron was wise and majestic and confident and gentle and calm and felt like pure light. Ron walks onto the stage and introduces himself, the staff, and says some things that I can’t remember. The Professor McGonagall of Springer was Amy. That night my parents and I ran into Amy at Walmart and Amy said, “Hey Ansley!” and I was wearing a jacket over my newly obtained grey t-shirt with the name “ANSLEY” written on it so there was no way she could’ve read my name and had to have actually remembered it, and that was some more magic. I remember looking at my dad being like “did you just see that?”
The rest of the week I sort of existed as a witness. Some people call that “being reserved.” Adults call it “being bitchy.” During the next two weeks something clicked. I ended up winning “Most Improved” for my class at the end of the summer, which meant that my shyness was cured! Ron had a way of bringing the best out in people and it spread like wildfire.
For the next 10 or so years I continued to attend the Springer Theatre Academy each summer. Sometimes for two weeks, sometimes for four. Sometimes I interned for free enrollment, and sometimes I volunteered for special events. That. Place. Was. Haunted. Magic. Let’s come back to this.
Quickly after “I gave up theatre” because I realized that the real world (freshman year studying college theatre) was not like the Springer Theatre Academy, and then a few different lifetimes took place.
When I moved to Atlanta I was really lucky to have gotten a chance to work at Horizon Theatre and then at the Alliance in admin. I love theatre because I’ve seen what it can do, so admin was a safe place to go to help indirectly support something I believe in.
One of the perks of working at the Alliance is that we get free education classes… or one free education class. I’m not sure how many but definitely one, and one makes a difference. I was enrolled in Sarah Donnell’s acting class and had suddenly reformed a pure bond of theatre love. That something had clicked again. At one point during grown-up acting class at the Alliance, Teacher Sarah says “love is saying yes to what is.” As I look back on my time at the Springer Theatre Academy, the magic suddenly made sense.
Magic is perhaps a word used to describe something so simple: acceptance. “Saying yes to what is.”
The idea of acting is scary. Straight up, it just is. It takes SO MUCH vulnerability to let yourself be seen like that because imperfection is inevitable, just as it is in being human.
Quick detour: I’ll never forget the time I was 13-years-old and stood on that big Springer Opera House Stage in front of my classmates doing one of Shakespeare’s dramatic monologues from Romeo and Juliet with a mouth full of braces and other metal contraptions, and couldn’t say “reeky shanks.” Quite seriously, I remember being very into the drama and then arriving to “wreakeh scthaynkscth.” It certainly took us all by surprise, so there was no way of avoiding communal laughter. I completed the monologue, got my feedback which only included a small nod towards my speech impediment, and then we moved onto the next person. Adult acting class here was the same way. There were times when I couldn’t remember lines and barreled through a scene without any emotion whatsoever because it was the only way I could get the words out. There were times when we were asked to move around the space using our whole bodies and I was worried that people would notice my ill-fitted bra or how I don’t totally understand how my body moves in connection with itself. There were times when we were asked questions to dig deeper within our own psyche to connect with a particular text, and then we had the toughest task of letting people see us respond honestly to something that hurt, or something that brought us joy, so on and so forth.
For some reason, it seems that as adults we tend to work really hard at “being adults.” To maintain an image of perfection (don’t even get me started on the topic of social media,) that is generally void of honest emotion and vulnerability. Considering reading length, I won’t go down that rabbit hole here.
However, if we all learned to accept ourselves, and to accept others, and to accept what is, I suspect we may feel a little freer to take chances in other parts of our lives that excite us. To take chances on the things that matter.
That’s what taking a theatre class has done for this gal. To take some chances and accept what is no matter the outcome.
And if you’re reading this and feel a pull to take the chance, but are also really nervous, I think that’s natural. You do it anyway. Feel free to ask me any and all questions you may have, as I believe it’s a risk worth taking. Here's the link to our education classes in case your fancy is tickled. And here's to you being you!
