I don’t know how you do it, but I’m glad you do

Originally published in our Strut and Fret blog on January 13, 2012.

In order to learn more about how to best serve the needs of our members, I recently spent the day walking in the shoes of Tom Peters, veteran theatre teacher of twenty-five years at Walnut Hills High School in Cincinnati. Just five years ago the Walnut Hills theatre department had three full-time teachers. Now Tom is the only one left, a one-man show, a jack of all trades, for this high school of 2,400 students. I didn’t realize until I went through his day just how many roles he serves.

By the time I arrived at 7:00 a.m., Tom had already been at work for a half-hour. He typically arrives at school at 6:30, teaches five periods of theatre classes, and then runs rehearsals five days a week until 5:30 p.m. (later than that during production weeks). He often spends his Saturdays doing tech stuff.  

We got a chance to chat for a bit before his first class. As we were talking about his budget, he shared the story of when his school credit card got denied because he was buying a toy pistol for Oklahoma!, and the toy store was not on the school’s list of approved vendors. “Should I have bought it at a gun shop?” he chuckled.

It occurred to me that the episode reflects one of the difficult realities of a theatre teacher’s job—that few people really understand what he does. In watching Tom in the course of a single day, I observed or heard about his role as director, musician, costume designer, builder, and teacher whose reach crosses several disciplines, including math as well as acting and theatre production… and even travel agent, as he plans his own student trips to Chicago and teaches them how to use the subway. 

Everything is a lesson in resourcefulness: for example, how to build multiple sets in one, designing the grandstand for Oklahoma! so it can later become the bed for Once upon a Mattress.

“You’ve got to do it all because no one’s going to help you,” Tom said. He told me he spent much of the summer learning the score for last fall’s musical, studying how the music gives clues into each character, as when Jud Fry sings a C# on a B minor chord, showing how his personality is discordant from the world. This detailed analysis is something Tom clearly takes pride in, even though almost no one else is aware that he does it.

First bell was at 7:45, an advanced theatre class. Sixteen girls and three boys arrived to rehearse their monologues for the final exam, scheduled for the following week, while the other students practiced critique by filling out a rating sheet that captures understanding of the material, use of voice, body, and attire/presentation.

At 8:25, Tom’s second class, stagecraft, began. Twenty-three kids walked in and I was happy to see the familiar Bob Fowler on the classroom TV screen. There was a pop quiz on the mathematics of cutting wood to build a flat, which humbled me because while I am a seasoned musical theatre performer, I have a lot to learn about tech. I picked up on the definitions of toggle, keystone, and stiles, and Tom tried to make me feel better about my ignorance by pointing out that few theatre teachers are well-prepared to teach every aspect of the discipline, especially on the technical end. He talked about how his job is to give these students “tools in their toolkit. Sometimes you may need a wrench, sometimes a screwdriver. No one can tell you what to do.”  

The technical gear in Tom’s theatre is an interesting mix of sophistication and improv. He showed me his mini disc recorder, a nifty device that he uses to record, edit, and sequence sound cues. On the other hand, although he now has an intercom system, before that was installed he used a baby monitor for backstage communication. Another lesson in resourcefulness.

Throughout the day observing his teaching activities, I picked up wisdom on the philosophy of life that goes way beyond the theatre:

“Getting a five out of five score on your audition rating is not perfect; it is excellent.  Don’t expect perfection. It is a fool’s game. Be better tomorrow than today.”

And: “I’d like to see you over-commit and then I can always pull you back.”

And: “There’s no shame in making a mistake, the shame comes in from not correcting it.” (However he was quick to point out that a mistake in math class affects your grade, while an arithmetic mistake in stagecraft has financial impacts and can even cause someone to get hurt, a heavier responsibility.)

To the student director for next week’s final exam performance: “You need to wean them [from you]. They can’t wait for mommy and daddy to take care of them; they need to do it on their own.”

“Learning your lines is like parking at the base camp of a mountain climb. It’s just the first step.” 

After two more classes in basic drama, we headed to lunch and then to Radio Shack to pick up new earphones. Over Chinese food, we discussed the value of recognition by the administration, vital if a theatre program is to grow from good to great… the assessment process and how different it is for math teachers versus theatre teachers… how he always works to transfer ownership of the work from himself, as teacher, to his students, but then risks being accused of not “doing anything.” And importantly, how the most motivating part of the job is seeing things “click” when the students get something.

As we wrapped on the day, Tom expressed genuine gratitude for my visit and listening to him “vent.” It occurred to me that he has no real peers to discuss these things with, that he feels a little bit like he’s on an island… “Alone in the Universe.” That’s not the first time I have heard this sentiment from our teacher members. I hope that as EdTA continues to grow and prosper in our mission, that we can not only help you realize that you’re not alone, but that together we can find our wings and fly.

The executive director found this experience so valuable that she is interested in planning similar shadow visits for the entire home office staff. If you would like to volunteer your school, please e-mail her at jwoffington@schooltheatre.org, or write a note in the comment feature below.