Classroom Curtain Call
By Michael Kevin Baldwin
I am writing from my desk at Hunter College High School where I am
currently a full-time Drama teacher. The clock reads 4:02pm. The
school day is officially done. I am the only faculty member left in my 8-person
office. The hustle and bustle of students in the hallway has been
replaced by the mellow bellow of the custodial staff. I pull a Chewy
granola bar from my desk and reflect. Reflect on my day. Reflect on
my week. Reflect on my first experience as a classroom teacher.
I
started at Hunter a little over five months ago. I am the replacement for
a woman on maternity leave. I was supposed to start on December 9, 2013.
Before that date, I subbed at Hunter four times. This proved to be
a great opportunity to get to know the crazy schedule, the incredible cast of
characters with whom I’d be working (a.k.a. the faculty), and some of the
high-achieving students. On Monday, November 25th I arrived to sub for
the day at 7:30am, and the English and C/T (Communications and Theater)
Department Chair stopped me in the hallway and said, “Michael! She is in
labor. Can you start tomorrow?”
Stage fright set in. What could I say, “Tell her not to
push?”
Game on: Mr. Baldwin reporting for duty.
The
faculty at Hunter was unbelievably welcoming and supportive. They were always there to answer questions
and offer guidance. They truly set me up
for success. Additionally, my
predecessor and I had previously met and discussed the units I should cover.
She offered me some broad strokes on what her curricula might look like
were she to remain in the building. In essence, she told me what
to teach, but not how to teach it. The how was up to me.
This struck me with both fear and excitement. I was a professional actor for 8 years.
I’ve been a teaching artist for two and a half years. I’m roughly
halfway through my coursework as a graduate student at CCNY. But this gig
at Hunter was to be my first full-time teaching experience and it felt like my big
break. Here’s my chance!
“You’re on in five, Ms. Minnelli!”
“Places!
Places, please. Places.”
Deep
breath. Make your entrance.
I plunged head first into five different classes: three sections
of 7th grade Communications and Theater, one section of 8th grade Communications
and Theater, and an upperclassman elective, Advanced Public Speaking. My first week was a whirlwind. Mostly I
just wanted to be in the right place at the right time. And names…….oh,
the names! I had 123 new students. They all knew my name as
soon as I wrote it in my sleek cursive on the chalkboard. The odds were
certainly stacked in their favor. However, I was able to learn the
students’ names quicker than I initially anticipated. This is possibly
because as a teaching artist you often don’t see your students more than once
or twice a week. As a classroom teacher, when interacting with students
on a daily basis, you get to know them quickly. If you don’t, the third
time you point to a 7th grader named Minerva and call her Matilda, she will
look at you with an expression that says, “How dumb is this guy? He’s
probably from Jersey.” Minerva. Got it.
The
7th graders at Hunter are the eager, immature frosh. It is their first
year at the school and they are still getting to know each other and their
surroundings. This empowers them with a shameless sense of naiveté, and a
never-waning eagerness to play. They are sweet and savage all in the same
breath, and I love them for it. Just the other day I walked into class
and a 7th grade boy said to me, “Hey Mr. Baldwin, what do you call a snobby
criminal walking down stairs?” I paused. “I don’t know, what?”
With perfect delivery: “A condescending con descending.” I guffawed
and then beamed with pride. Five months
ago this student wouldn’t speak to me, let alone tell a joke.
This year in 7th grade each student wrote an original 10-minute
play including unity of time, place, and action, with 4-5 characters. I
did a play selection process that concluded with 4 plays being chosen per class
to be produced. Next up we hurtled head first into play production,
mounting these four original plays, with students acting as directors, actors,
and designer/stage managers. Ultimately, one play from each class was chosen to
be performed in the 7th Grade New Play Festival on the main stage in the Hunter
Auditorium. Since the festival, I have done units on physical theater,
improvisation, and storytelling. The 7th grade year in Communications and
Theater is all about building skills in concentration, cooperation, commitment,
and collaboration.
The seeming gap between 7th grade and 8th grade is mind-boggling.
One would think that three years exists between the current class of 2018
and the current class of 2019. Puberty probably has a lot to do with it,
but there’s also the fact that the 8th graders cusp on sophomoric. They know
each other, they know the school, and yet they still don’t know themselves.
The 8th graders are too cool for school. Lately, I’ve been getting many
requests to take selfies with them. They are taking notice of each other
but still don’t know what to do with this heightened awareness. What a
wonderful age to spend a semester playing. With the 8th graders I
started with ensemble work and group play. We then went into a unit on
Shakespeare, including a field trip to see Fiasco Theater Company’s Measure
for Measure at The New Victory Theater. We then did an in-depth
exploration of improvisation through Viola Spolin Technique. We are now
knee deep in contemporary monologue performance, with an eye toward auditions.
Then there are the 12th graders. The 12 graders are
basically people. Wait, that came out wrong. But seriously, the
12th graders are adults. Most of them are 18 or almost 18, and some, if
not all of them, are already accepted to college. Thus, the Advanced
Public Speaking Class was probably the most challenging class for me to prep.
It required me to revisit many content areas that I hadn’t encountered
since college. I got out my Freeing the Natural Voice text by
Kristin Linklater and re-read it, cover to cover. I scoured not only what
noteworthy public speakers have said, but also how they said it. I
watched every Ted Talk that I could stomach. This class was a wonderful
opportunity to really explore and practice vocal effectiveness. We had
potent discussions and powerful workshops (some ending with the Latin teacher
from upstairs asking if we could stop sending vocal vibrations into the
ceiling).
Well, that’s the tip of my reflection iceberg. I could truly go on and on. But “Brevity is the soul of wit” said
Shakespeare (ironic that this line comes from Hamlet, his longest play). Now
it is 4:48pm. The gentlemanly custodian just came in and emptied the
trash cans. He said, “Late night.” I said, “Yep.” He said,
“Can I have some of your hand sanitizer?” I said, “Absolutely.”
I feel really good about our chat.
So, I’ve reflected. I’ve reflected on my day. I’ve
reflected on my week. I’ve reflected on the last 5 and a half months.
I’ve come to acknowledge something that I already knew: I love it
here. I love my job, I love the students, I love the faculty, and I love
teaching drama. I believe in the importance of teaching drama.
However, what I have failed to mention thus far in this blog is
that one week from today will be my last day at Hunter. The woman who I
am replacing returns from her maternity leave next Friday.
“Places for the curtain call. Places, please. Time for
your final bow, Mr. Baldwin.”
I don’t know how to say goodbye. I don’t have a clue.
I feel paralyzed. How do I leave a building that has come to feel
like home? How do I cheers colleagues whom I adore and respect but with
whom I may never work again? How do I say goodbye to students that
have been a part of my daily life for nearly half a year and of whom I am so fond?
If I were at least teaching until the end of the year, but not returning
in the fall, I could count on the summer as a buffer to soften the blow. However,
next Thursday I will be their teacher and on Friday I will not. There’s
no weekend intensive course at CCNY called Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow
that schools us on how to do this. I’m
nervous that I’m going to cry. I’m nervous that the students are going to
cry. I’m nervous that the students aren’t going to cry.
So far I’ve got one solution: I will focus on the luxury of not
having to set my alarm for 5:43am Friday morning.
In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my final week as Drama Teacher
at Hunter College High School. It’s been an incredible ride and I am so
thankful for this opportunity. As the
week progresses and comes to an end, I will focus on one very satisfying
reality: if I care this much, I’m right where I should be.
