An apple for the student

Today I had a bad case of blinkered teacher.

It's the second semester, and final year students face coursework deadlines in all subjects. This means that they absolutely must manage their time so that they can work towards these deadlines, while at the same time keeping up with daily classwork and homework assignments. It takes tremendous organisation and discipline.

One student is currently doing two major coursework assignments under my supervision: a 3500 word Research Commission for IB Theatre Arts; and a 4500 word Extended Essay, a compulsory extra-curricular assignment designed as a bridge to undergraduate work, which she has also chosen to do in my field. She researched both during her summer vacation last year, gave me a first draft of the Extended Essay last term, and yesterday presented me with a restructured Extended Essay, plus half a Research Commission, with evidence of considerable fresh research, all done over the winter 'break'. I duly went through both, pencilling comments and questions in the margins, noting errors in spelling and syntax; and saw her at lunchtime today for a twenty minute tutorial.

I realise now although I went through both pieces with her, noting good points, and pointing out shortcomings and areas which require more thought, more work, more more more, I completely failed to recognise and acknowledge all the effort, enthusiasm and dedication that this eighteen year old has put into these assignments in order to get them to this point; the fact that she has done this during a so-called vacation after a very demanding autumn semester; and the evidence of how diligently she is working to meet all the requirements of six subjects plus plus.

I was so busy looking at where the exam candidate was supposed to be going that I overlooked how far the teenager had come, and what an achievement that was. Of course, she came for guidance, but some appreciation would have been nice. No wonder she looked subdued by the time I was done.

I don't care what anyone says about the good old days, the continuing decline in academic standards, and so forth, most of these students work their tails off to meet one requirement after another, and often several at once.



















Praise where praise is due.

You can come out now

It's December 21st, the last day of term. The sun is out, the sky is blue, and because this is the other season, i.e. not Summer, it's only 20°, so we can get out and enjoy it.

Towards sunset, I took a stroll down to Ibn Battuta for a little Christmas shopping, taking pictures as I went. The maintenance guys were pruning and sweeping; mothers and maids were out strolling and chatting with their little ones before heading home to cook; there was a birthday picnic happening in the middle of one of the greens; and on another some young men had mustered two full teams for a game of football. The sun hung quietly over us all, casting long shadows and giving a last sparkle and gloss to sprinklers and leaves, before setting romantically over the hypermarket. Yes please, I'll have some of this.














































































































































Goodnight! Bonne nuit!












All very ordinary, but I don't often see it these days, because I'm in a different phase of my life. My wholly domestic stage only lasted three years, when Habibibaba was small and I worked from home as a registered childminder. Parks, libraries, toddler groups, meals, naps and nappies, the company and common preoccupations of mothers and childminders - that was our world then. It was no idyll - children still don't come with a handy off-switch that guarantees ten minutes peace when you really need it - but it was a rich and absorbing time, full of small marvels and pleasures. Your world shrinks with small children, but the detail and intensity is extraordinary. I thought that that phase would last longer, that we would have two or three more children. Ah well, never mind.

These days, though, I appreciate the older woman's perk of being able to mix in, enjoy, and then hand the little darlings back to their parents. I still find little ones fascinating, because they are always so focused on the serious and deeply satisfying business of the moment. I'm really looking forward to getting back to Europe and the chance to be a proper auntie, rather than an annual visitor and Christmas card signatory: the eldest of Habibibaba's eleven cousins (on my side of the family) is twenty three, and the youngest is two, so there's scope there!

In the meantime, today was the last day of term, and I shall be very glad to see my current seventy-odd charges in mid-January; but first I'm going to lie down for a bit.

Perfick.

Charity Performance, Nov 19th, 5.30

There will be a benefit performance of The Merry Wives of Windsor in the Student Lounge of UOWD (University of Wollongong, Dubai) on Sunday November 19th, at 5.30 p.m.

Tickets are 50Dhs, and proceeds will go to Families for Children. FFC is a Canadian-registered charity which provides homes and education for abandoned Indian and Bangladeshi children, and employment for destitute women.

Falstaff intends to seduce Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, in order to get his hands on their husbands' money.






Mistress Ford and Mistress Page have ideas of their own.
'For wives may be merry, yet faithful too.'
Has Falstaff underestimated his quarry?






A jealous husband.
A confident husband.
A justice of the peace.
A prattling Welsh parson.
A hapless young swain.
A bunch of actors enjoying themselves.



More enjoyment.
I don't know.
Kids today.
Don't they know that Shakespeare is difficult, boring, and so five hundred years ago?

Second Night

Not quite as good as the first night, but still a very good show, and an appreciative audience. I'm very happy.

Something that I've noticed about amateur casts doing comedy is that while there might be the odd logistical problem or lost line on the first night, their energy and enthusiasm more than compensates: an amateur company can frequently outshine a professionals with a first night performance.

On the second night, however, a professional company reaps the benefit of a morning lie-in and knowing how to pace themselves for the long haul. Meanwhile, amateurs, who have school, or day jobs, plus homework, plus final rehearsals plus evening performances; begin to realise how tired they are. (Thank goodness for the energy of a youthful student company!)

This fatigue, coupled with absolute commitment to making the second night even better than the first, often produces a very fast show. The actors' concentration on not forgetting or skipping anything can lead them to race through dialogue at a remarkable pace; and a second night can run fifteen minutes shorter than a first night - not a line missed.

The effect, not surprisingly, is to kill the laughs, because the audience is so busy keeping up with the flow of dialogue and action, that they don't have leisure to laugh. Comedy is often intricately plotted, so while they appreciate the jokes, they daren't laugh in case they miss something important!

As the show progresses, of course, the actors and crew start to wonder what's wrong with the audience, because they don't react, and to work harder and harder to compensate. Stressed actors are not funny. The audience begins to feel irritated. Stressed audience.
I speak from experience as an actor, and as a theatre-goer.

Soooo, as my darling cast hurtled into last night's performance like an express train, I had to concentrate hard to follow the dialogue, and I know the script! Oops.

How was the rest of the audience getting on? Applause in all the right places, but not a lot of laughs. Hmm.

After a while I went backstage, to creep around the set and dressing rooms telling everyone to slooooow doooown, especially on the big rhetorical speeches. Back in my seat, the change was apparent immediately (They're so good, these guys. An actor may understand the reason for a change, without being able to process and apply it immediately, but they did. Pleased and Proud, yet again!). As the pace slowed, there was time for thought and emotion to come through, breath to project voice, time to project character, space for the comedy to hit home. People started laughing! Oh good.....
;)
From then on, they were just fine, and the second half absolutely rocked!

It's a basic fact of doing comedy that for the audience to see what had the actors rolling on the floor at the first read-through, then the timing of dialogue and stage business (comic use of props) is critical. Consequently, it often happens that the actors have to rehearse specific gags to the point where they don't feel funny any more: trusting their instincts, and their director, who is, after all, the only one who can see everything that is happening. Thus there comes a point when they need to get out in front of an audience, because the audience's response is the final element in the equation.

So what happens in a successful comedy show?
I think it goes something like this:

Actors act, delivering funny lines and looks, and generally laying down plot. (Exposition, if we're getting technical, but it's the weekend, so no more of that, thank you!)
Audience smiles.
Actors feel happy, warm into roles.
Audience giggles, exchanges glances.
Actors relax and settle into the job in hand, factoring all that lovely audience feedback into their performance.
Audience laughs, catches its breath, keeps on laughing.
Actors expand into the work; build on the rehearsed action; respond more spontaneously to the script, each other, and the audience.
Audience applauds, grinning broadly; retires to bar to compare favourite bits.
Actors and audience return refreshed and eager for more; pick up the second half and go for it.
Show ends.
Audience claps til their hands hurt. Curtains close.
Actors bounce off stage, hot, sweaty, exhausted, and happy.
Audience pours out into the night air, clutching sore sides and aching cheeks, and urging one another not to make them laugh any more because it hurts!

And here's that equation:

Damn good script + well-rehearsed, talented company + appreciative audience = the best fun you can have with your clothes on.

Movies are fun, but in a live performance, the audience counts for a lot more than box office revenue.

Comedy, tragedy, musical, straight drama - it makes no difference: in theatre, the audience and the actors are in it together.

Nothing like it.

First Night

So go on. Ask me how they did. Ask me, ask me!

So how did they do, Mama Duck?

They did great!
They were wonderful.
My face hurt from smiling so much.
A few hesitant lines, one late entrance and one slightly premature sound cue, but that's it. Commitment , confidence and the joy of getting out there in front of an audience and giving them what they'd come for.
Actors continuing to develop their roles, really using their dramatic technique, enjoying themselves.
Techies so focused and cool.
Lovely play, lovely cast and crew working their socks off to do it justice. Fab.

And they're going to be even better tonight! Wheeeee!

(He)artistic endeavours

I want to post some rehearsal pics, and show some of these fab costumes, but there's a smattering of school uniforms in every shot except these. Get a load of our Act 5 hoax fairies!






























































Anyway, we open tomorrow. Yay! Just two nights at our school, but then we've been invited to do a charity performance at Wollongong University on the 19th. Kids on tour!

It's actually a very busy week this week, with three schools that I know of doing, between us, Tom Jones, Merry Wives and West Side Story. And the reason I know this is that Tom Jones himself (of DAA) is a pirate in Treasure Island!

OK. Habibi's doing HMHB's Chicken Masala for dinner - yum!

Merry Wives - 10 days to go

We're a little over a week from performance, and I'm surprisingly laid back about it. There's still a way to go, but the kids have done a very good job on those lines - the speaking, the understanding and the learning - and have got to the stage where they get creative, and start developing ideas that are entirely their own. Characters are coming to life with the energy I've been driving for, but the perceptions, ideas, movements and mannerisms are coming from the actors. Now that I've convinced them that their scripts are not extensions of their arms, their feet are not nailed to the stage, and that they have to play with their roles to discover their possibilities, they are beginning to fly with it. I love this stage!

I will confess to early doubts about the practicalities and merits of doing an almost complete Shakespeare production with students who had little experienceof theatre, and less of Shakespeare; and that's before we get onto the issue of English as a second language for several fourteen-year-olds in the cast. Reader, my doubts have been pushed aside by the enthusiasm and sheer determination of these lovely people. Not a wastrel or drama queen among them, but a great deal of talent and good will.

We had a full run yesterday - all in school at the weekend from 6 to 9p.m. They were obviously tiring towards the end, but kept right on going. We had another full run today, now that we know we can! They're relieved (as am I) that there's no rehearsal tomorrow because I have a meeting, and that Tuesday is the preliminary costume parade. They get to fix dodgy lines or cues before the next rehearsal on Wednesday, and the technical rehearsal on Thursday: I get to work with a group in class to fine-tune some work that's half-way to excellent; and oversee some fiddly costume details. I have not brought work home tonight. All I'm going to do is knit, watch some TV if there's anything worth watching (Dharma and Greg was the one with Penn & Teller, when Teller was Mr Boots - deeply wierd!) and have a warm bath followed by an early night.

Today I officially moved our open air show into the theatre. It's a shame, but the temperature is not falling, and the humidity has picked up again and stayed high for a week. We drip! And flies love dripping humans. I really did swallow a fly last week. OMG!

The kids have braved it all, but this is supposed to be theatre, not circuit training, so it's time to get realistic. The flats are being moved inside at 7.30 tomorrow morning, and the tickets are being re-done without reference to the Annexe courtyard. I'm sure the senior students will be relieved too, although they didn't hesitate when I asked if we could use their Common Room as our dressing room, and run music through their new stereo and fab speakers. They usually organise pizza in the interval, as a fund raiser for their prom, and this will also be less hassle inside than out.

The good news is that from seating 200 a night, we can now accommodate 500, so tomorrow I shall put the word out to other schools. Some will come for pleasure, others because it's Shakespeare and A Good Thing, and others because they have to write critical reviews as part of their coursework and at 15Dhs, this is a hell of a lot cheaper than Madinat Jumeirah. As long as they come!

School tomorrow.....School today

Saturday. 9.45. Pooped. Off to bed now. Just for the record! Damn fine half-term.

Hmm: Sunday. 9.30. This is a ghost blog. Posted it last night. BlogPublish went funny. Entry disappeared. I went off to bed. Found it in directory today, apparently live. Add this. See what happens.

In the intervening 23 hours and 45 minutes: Reset 6 a.m. alarm for 6.15 then ignored it til 6.45. Back to school.
Grade 9s working on melodrama.
Grade 11s starting GCSE assessment.
Scaffolding rep coming in tomorrow re: building Merry Wives stage.
Tired old canvas on flats to be replaced ready for painting after school on Wed and Thurs.
Paint ordered.
Update from props guy.
Students invited to make props, paint set after school Tues/Wed/Thurs
Department meeting with stellar new colleague sharing excellent ideas born of long experience. (Every week I am happier about how the department will continue after I move on.)
First outdoor Merry Wives rehearsal: kids in much better form than at yesterday's lack-lustre rehearsal. All coming together with a fortnight to go.
Lighting plan revised.
Home to Habibi; gin & tonic; delicious light dinner of potatoes, onions, red & green peppers and ham roasted in olive oil with plenty of black pepper; snooze; taxi to panto pirate rehearsal (past Sheikh Z. road accident); Arr! Arr!! ARRRR!!; taxi home past fresh Sheikh Z. road accident.
And NOW it's 9.45. Kiefer Sullivan never has this much fun in 24 hours.
Gonna build some fairy wings.
Random image of beautiful raspberries purloined from ?
Wonder if this will really post this time, or be secret joke at own expense.

WELSHMAN WANTED

Our kids are back at school today, and rehearsals begin for the school play on Tuesday. One of the characters is Welsh, and the actor needs help with the accent, so I posted this on the UAE Community Blog last night. I'm not looking for a dialogue coach, just someone with an hour to spare, to chat about anything you like so that we can record a sample of your speech, as a key for developing a stage accent. No big recording contract, but two complimentary tickets, and the knowledge that you're a recording star!

You can contact me directly on HeyMamaDuck@gmail.com

Missing them already

Here's the inimitable cartoonist Giles, and his offering in The Daily Express, on September 7th, 1965.

"I believe mine is glad we're going backto school - he's been singing Glory Hallelujah ever since he got up."

(In case you can't read this, even with your glasses.)

Thursday

Another good day! (Looking for gut-wrenching, heart-breaking soap opera, all quivering lips, bosoms and loins? Boy, are you reading the wrong blog!)

Software training this morning: brief,to the point, useful,and it didn't make me feel like an idiot. My kind of IT experience. (No we weren't learning how to programme the microwave.)

We have a new teacher in our department, who impressed me big time yesterday, by coming straight to school from the airport after a flight from Australia across 12 hours's worth of time zones. She was coherent too, but weakly relieved when offered a lift home. I ticked stamina and grace under pressure off the Good Drama Teacher Check List. More ticks today. It's going to be a good year.

I've put up my NT and RSC posters in my classroom, and Stanislavski's 'Magic If' checklist (All the best people have checklists: just think of your mum!). They balance the array of puppets, masks, giant heads ranged behind my desk where I can't see them, all staring blankly at the students' desks. Small pleasures!

I seem to be winning on admin, but I want to go in tomorrow to do the stuff I didn't finish this week. It will all be worth it next week, and anyway, I like being in my newly spring-cleaned and redecorated classroom.

So tonight, I'm heading out for salsa at the gym, followed by bed at a sensible time and no late night blogging! Habibi's been invited to a party (with BetterArf) but I cannot do party and getting up in the morning. And if I don't get up in the morning, I shall be sorry all next week. When did I get so sensible?

Of course, if I did go to the party, I'd probably talk about filing and fall asleep before midnight, thus destroying my cred and still screwing next week up.

So I'm staying home. And I've heard there's an eclipse of the moon at 10.25 tonight, so there'll be something to watch too.

Almost back at the chalkface

I like teachers. Non-teachers often regard us as curiosities or downright scary, but it's hard to beat the mix of personalities and backgrounds, not to mention warmth and intelligence, that you find in any staff room. We probably get it from the kids! I only wish I had more time to socialise - and a gift for small talk would help.

Anyway- two very good days. We're in the thick of preparations for next week: classlists, classrooms, admin-admin-admin; books, materials, displays; software training; induction of new staff; updates for 'returning teachers' (not old teachers!); meetings for subject teachers, form teachers, department heads, year heads, everyone; meetings about exams and coursework, the International Award and extracurricular activities; and, in the midst of all this, a workshop on aspects of internal policy. And it was a good one.

The workshop was spread over two days; involved teachers, management and pastoral staff, both new and returning; and was, I think an inspired start to the year. Everyone mixed, spoke, was listened to. The crustiest cynic was as engaged and energised as the freshest graduate (well, almost....); and people who rarely have time to do more than nod and smile in passing (100 teachers working with 800 kids) discovered one another's names and opinions!

We look forward to feedback and follow-up: that, after all, was the point of the exercise; but to be brought together like this to debate and determine the policy which we will be implementing; to be listened to courteously and intelligently, and invited to consider other perspectives; to have colleagues and line managers brought into focus; and to round it all off with a relaxed pot-luck lunch (an intimate gathering of a hundred people you're going to spend a year with) - yeah - I think it was inspired.

Picasso, Salsa & WWF (pointless title - Pozuuuurrr)

It's been a good day.

Back to school, starting in the heaving staffroom before transferring to the canteen for coffee and hot croissants. The croissants arrived fashionably late, just as the babble of dozens of catch-up conversations was reaching the point where no-one could actually hear what anyone else was saying. Relief all round, and yes, I had two soft and steamy zaatar croissants - this was breakfast after all, since I couldn't face food when the alarm went off at seven. Next week it will be going off at six, so I've got a week to get my act together. Urk.

Meetings, timetables, all the usual first day stuff. Heavy on the admin, but that's part of what what this week is for, so I have no complaints. I stayed a couple of hours extra to tie in with Habibi driving back from a meeting. My husband looks after me. He was well impressed with the wild new colours in our corridor. The Arts building is the most vivid I've seen so far - citrus green walls with lilac doors and purple door-frames. We grown-ups are not quite sure about this yet, but the kids are going to love it. I've heard that the Maths & Science corridors are something to behold, but I'm saving them as a pick-me-up for later in the week, when I've had one meeting too many. I shall let you know.

So what did I do when I got home? The usual. Crashed on the sofa for an hour or so, undisturbed by Habibi working on. He's resigned to this by now. When we were young and beautiful and falling in loooooooove, I used to get to his place at the end of a day and crash out in any available space. He called me 'the incredible sleeping woman' and has photos to prove his point. At least it also confirmed that sometimes I do go quiet, and a man needs to know that about the woman in his life. Oh okay! - this man, this woman....

But what can I do? I never sleep properly the night before we go back; I'm too full of anticipation. Last night was so hopeless that I got up some time after two, made myself a sandwich and a cup of tea, and watched 'Surviving Picasso' on ONE. Natascha McElhone and Anthony Hopkins. That woman is ravishing.

I have a theory that great artists are more likely than those of us in the middle of the graph to be bloody-minded, self-absorbed gits, just because they only perceive normal stuff like food, sleep, relationships and personal hygiene as a waste of precious time, and of hard-earned cash that ought to be be spent on the really important stuff like oil paints, manuscript paper and The Violin. Or because the unsung genius goes gaga from malnutrition (ok, drink!) while the critics' darling starts believing his own publicity. Picasso appears to have matched at least some of that particular sweeping generalisation!

(I think I may have said this before. If so, I promise not to say it again.)

So what on earth am I blogging after midnight for again? Well I've been to the gym again, haven't I? Sooooo I am floating along on my own salsa-induced endorphin cushion, and good for another half hour and a glass of red wine. (You have to get your anti-oxidants, don't you?)

I went down yesterday for the first time since June, and did a circuit that took in the treadmill and the cross-trainer (I still don't get it, but at least I don't fall off anymore.) plus assorted instruments of sit-down designer-torture. Great! After an hour and a half, I was thinking about heading home when they announced a Bodybalance class in half an hour. Ooh yeah. I liiiiike the gym. (And toniiiiiiiiight I liiiiiiiike playing with vooooooooooooowels. Don't worry. It will pass.)

And on the way out I picked up the new timetable, and saw that Salsa was due to start tonight. Yay! A very dear and vivacious friend has been doing salsa for a couple of years now, and loves it. I love the idea, but not enough to cross town around bedtime(!)

SO..... Salsa at 8.30 tonight, with Seif: an engaging teacher who got all umpty-twelve of us stepping and swaying through the basic forward, back and side movements, right and left turns, and fifth position (I've just cut my attempt to explain fifth - easier just to do it.), plus a good demo from a couple who teach elsewhere. I have to say, though, that I found the woman very mechanical.

(Tangent Alert) I think some dancers pay a price for years of ballet training through the grade exams. I've known devoted dancers who work so hard at their technique, that they are never fully 'there' in the simple joy of dancing. Tthe conscious exercising of technique, the demonstration of a 'routine', always shows. Of course, for others, graded classes and exams represent those hours when they are most supremely alive, a framework that enables them to dance, and dance their whole lives. (Have you seen Billy Elliott? Think of his audition, when he has to articulate what dance means to him. There.) Systems and individuals.

Still, to return to the demonstration dance, a bunch of strangers in sweats and trainers, in a brightly lit studio that has just emptied of dozens of sweaty Bodypumpers is hardly the ultimate 'invitation to the dance'. It's hardly surprising if the 'moment' you're in is that one an hour hence, when you're all meeting for a drink and a laugh after class. Still, these guys showed us some serious moves. Fun!

I had a really good time wiggling my ample tush in a humanely baggy teeshirt, and as long as I didn't pay too much attention to that woman in the mirror (who follows me into lifts and bathrooms all over Dubai - no consideration) I was completely in my dancing moment!

Bonus (FYI Mme. Cyn) Reggie was there, looking good, too! Of course, he always did...

Reggie played the alternative hero in a panto I wrote and directed for Dubai Drama Group some five years ago. In my version it was a WWF wrestler who woke Sleeping Beauty with a kiss, though he was much more interested in the pantomime dame, Signora Peperoni, than in some well-preserved nymphette. (It's got my prints all over it, hasn't it?) Anyway, Reggie was absolutely fab as
the Monarch of the Mat,
the Khan of the Canvas,
the Sultan of Slam,
Montezumaaaaaaahhh!

(cue song)
He's got the muscles of the desert puma.
We love the big guy. Give him a satsuma!
Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, Montezuma!

I shall be emailing cyber-lollies to anyone who can Name That Tune.
(Not you Mme. Cyn! Though you will always be The Most Fabulous Fairy of Them All.)

G'night!

Bloody hell, it's 1.27! Crepe.Crepe.Crepe!

Plenty of link opportunities on this one, but you know about Billy Elliott, Salsa and Fitness First. If you don't know about Dubai Drama Group, they're doing one of my favourite farces, Run For Your Wife, at Dubai Community Theatre, very soon. I'll check and get back to you. (Mme Cyn? Grumpy Old Goat? Adventures in Dubai? Any other thespians in the know? When are DDG doing Run For Your Wife?)

Time to go-go-go

Today I shall stop moping. No more sleeping in, nodding off, drifting aimlessly round the apartment, consumed with ennui; no more watching bland films I've seen before and grinding my teeth at commercial breaks that I know are part of the deal, doing endless sudoku puzzles, losing endless Spider Solitaire games, ignoring housework, postponing workwork, fretting about stuff I should be doing (but not doing it), and generally being a complete bore.

Back to work on Sunday (since Sunday is the new Saturday, or - if you don't live here and have no idea what I'm talking about - the new Monday, because our weekend is changing from Thursday and Friday to Friday and Saturday - got it?). Back to the bells, timetables and structure I had had enough of in June, but now crave. Back to people - colleagues and kids - I haven't seen for weeks. Back to projects and deadlines, and all that stuff that gives focus and momentum to my life here. Thank you, that will do me.

last day of term

This is our last day of term. There are people criss-crossing outside my window, but the clusters have broken up, and the numbers have dwindled under the onslaught of an astonishing surge of humidity. I'm lurking here in air-conditioned solitude, watching the stragglers drift off. I love these kids. I'm glad it's over, but I shall also be glad to see them again in September. I don't know how I'll feel this time next year.

We've had a half day, finishing with an assembly with awards and speeches - much more relaxed than the usual assemblies through the year. Students and teachers have been hugging each other, laughing and teasing, all so ready for a break, but also not quite believing that we won't all be here again next week. Not possible after a year together!

In fact, we teachers have another week to go, and I have a ton of stuff I want to get done before the end, but right now I've caught the holiday mood from the kids.

Coffee and sudoku, I think, to restart brain and motivation. This afternoon's project: the preliminary theatre use calendar for next year. Our theatre is used so heavily by Primary, Junior and High School for productions, concerts, presentations, music and drama lessons, drama assessments, assemblies and staff meetings, that it is necessary to be able to book a period, a break, a lunch, or time after school and weekends; and then there are outside bookings. My, we are busy little bees!

Philosophical

It's been a long week, which has paradoxically flown by. I've decided on The Merry Wives of Windsor for Delhi, and done a preliminary edit for fifteen actors doubling nineteen proper roles plus assorted servants and fairies. It's not bad, but needs more work, and I'd better be quick about it because we're auditioning on the 17th of this month so that we can have a read-through with the full cast before we break for the summer. BTW there are several good Shakespeare sites, some slanted towards Shakespeare as literature, some as blueprint for action (plays!) and still others full of those essays that get the lazy and foolish kids every time. Every year someone plagiarises and gets a zero - fortunately, usually in their first year of the GCSE course, and I make a huge fuss, and the whole year group decides that it's not such a good idea. Unfortunately, the occasional twit will do it with final coursework, and get a zero on that. How not to get a good grade. OK Back on track.

I used OnlineShakespeare.com , first for synopses to help me choose a play, and then to download scenes for editing, after which I could print when I was satisfied. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm more comfortable with a hard copy and a pencil, than a screen. I've had kids in for briefings, and done letters for parents - and why am I writing all this? All I meant to say was, my brain hurts so I've been re-reading Gone-Away Lake, a childhood favourite by Elizabeth Enright. (Can't be bothered to link, but it's on Amazon).

And I liked this bit:

Mrs Cheever's kitchen was calm and cool. Mr Payton, in a chair by the window, was reading a very old newspaper. "Old news is more soothing to read about," he said. "You know that you lived through it all right."

Shibaraku! (Just a Minute!)

We've had a busy week rehearsing and touring three performances of Shibaraku to the Japanese School and Emirates International School on Monday, and Zayed University on Tuesday.

Here's the plot (and flavour) of Shibaraku!, courtesy of a Zayed University lecturer who really knows how to write a synopsis - may be I should hire her for some of my posts. =)

Evil Lord Takehira is trying to get power in the province, and has stolen a book and a famous sword to 'prove' his claims. The owner of the stolen goods, Lord Yoshitsuna, catches up with Takehira at a shrine and demands his stuff back.








Unfortunately, Yoshitsuna has brought his beautiful fiancée Katsura Mae with him, and Takehira, not happy with just the sword and book, also wants the girl. So he summons his bodyguard Narita Gorō to capture and execute Yoshitsuna, intending to kidnap Katsura Mae for his own.





However, just in time, in comes the young hero Kagemasa, yelling "Just a minute!"... Will the hero save the day?













And what is the role of Shinsai, the 'catfish' Kashima priest?






The Characters and the Cast

Kabuki to go

We're a week from performance and our students, who have worked tremendously hard as production team on two school plays, are really looking forward to performing.

Shibaraku (which translates as Just a Minute!) has an unstoppable teenage hero giving an ambitious and unscrupulous lord his come-uppance, and restoring honour to a noble house. Written as a crowd-pleaser to open a new season, it's lively, funny, full of swaggering and posturing, and beautifully set and costumed.

Of course, ours is a touring production aimed primarily at introducing our students to the acting tradition, so our set is minimal, nor do we have the budget for layered kimonos of hand-embroidered silk - honestly, what can you do?

Still, they're having great fun working on the stylised movement and vocal delivery, they're excited about richly coloured kimonos as a change from school uniform and their usual daywear - and an early exploratory session on wigs was a hoot.

Finding dead white foundation has been a challenge: the authentic white paint for the face, neck, shoulders, hands and wrists of aristocratic characters is called oshiroi, and may be plentiful in Tokyo, but in Dubai..... hmmmm... I've been testing facepaints with very unsatisfactory results - unless,when you think 'geisha' you think blotches and smears? BUT a very helpful woman from an international cosmetic house thinks they may have exactly what we need in their warehouse. Fingers crossed! **Update: She has indeed got exactly what we need, and is sending it to us without charge as encouragement to our students. Isn’t that great? I’m sure the results will be imMACulate.

I got black polyester swimming caps as wigbases from Géant in Ibn Battuta, wigs and hairpieces at Fida's in Satwa, and bamboo poles from the plant souk round the corner - since seven-foot tempered steel samurai swords aren't in our budget either!

There's still plenty to be done, but it's all coming together.So here are some pics of work in progress, and where we're heading with this!


Working on the walk.


And the wigs!


One kimono and several graduation gowns.





Yoshitsuna - noble, wronged hero




Katsura Mae - his fiancée





Takehira - evil lord who wants Yoshitsune dead and Katsura Mae as his 'attendant'. This is actually a detail from Kanjincho, showing Benkei, but we're taking it as a base for Takehira as it's about halfway between the delicate makeup for Yoshitsuna, and what they call the aragoto (roughly, bravura) make-up, required for the larger-than-life Kagemasa.



And here is Kagemasa - teenage hero (on a Brazilian magazine cover) The actor, Ichikawa Ebizo XI is going to be performing in London this June. You're looking at three layers of kimono over the heraldic undergarment, and you wouldn't believe the shoes and trousers, so I'll leave them out!





Finally, just in case you thought Kabuki was alien, elitist or whatever, here, from the Kabuki-Za in Tokyo, is indisputable evidence of its broader appeal:

This is a scene from Kanjincho. Yup! Snoopy is Yoshitsuna, with his little bodyguard of Woodstock and his buddies. The blonde guy - piano player - I forget - is Benkei, the warrior priest. Linus is Togashi, the sergeant of Yoshitsuna's elder half-brother, and torn between duty to his lord, and admiration for Benkei's loyalty to his. And Sally (? yes ? - How can I have forgotten?!) is - well - she must the obligatory decorative chick, because she certainly doesn't figure in the story! Are Hollywood values creeping into Japanese culture?

I have to say that you cannot appreciate Kabuki from reading about it and looking at pictures, though they certainly help. There are several excellent sites online, and if you just want to look at the gorgeous costumes and spectacular makeup, you could spend an hour or so in Google Image Search!

I ordered some DVDs for school from Farside Music, a UK company run by Paul Fisher who lived in Japan for some years. If you've not seen Kabuki before, the comparatively slow pace (compared with virtually any western theatre you've ever seen) takes a little adjusting to, but it's so worth it.

The DVDs that Paul's imported from Japan are first rate, with excellent commentaries, and the customer service is also first rate. None of this automated reply business that massive companies have to invest in. Kanjincho is truly touching. Terakoya is heart-breaking. And the double bill of the woman looking for her lost son, and the temple dancer who becomes possessed by the lion spirit - well it works for me. They're expensive, but you get what you pay for, and when I leave here, I'm going to have to order my own copy of Kanjincho.

Farside also does Nō, but not yet with subtitles, and CDs of traditional Japanese music.

Thank you Mme Cyn for introducing me to Japanese culture and starting me down this delightful path: I don't think I ever expected to get this far!

Shakespeare Wallah!

We've been invited to take part in a Shakespeare festival in October, at a school in Delhi where they are building a replica of The Globe. Does it get any better than this? All I need now is a Shakespeare play that I can cut to a running time of 40-60 minutes, and rehearse in six weeks with a cast of up to twenty 14-18 year-olds as soon as we get back in September. Suggestions on a blogcard please!

I'd be grateful to hear from anyone who has been in a really enjoyable school or amateur production, or on the directing/production side of an abridged Shakespeare production. I've had some practice at abridging plays and adapting a screenplay for student/children's productions.

Reservations: A Midsummer Night's Dream has been done to death, and I have nothing to bring to it. I don't want to reprise R&J so soon. Our kids are familiar with Macbeth, but I'd say that cutting it to an hour would destroy it. They've studied The Merchant of Venice, and of course, the excellent film is available on DVD to help them to a better appreciation of the style and issues, but again, editing would almost certainly skew an already ambivalent play.

I need something with a strong storyline and uncomplicated subplot, to give a handle to young actors working with unfamiliar language on a very tight schedule. I'm up for a modern adaptation too, as long as it doesn't go down the Class-3B-thought-Shakespeare-would-be-boring-until- route! (Sorry, but I've seen some dreadfully cheesy or patronising 'accessible' scripts and productions, and I have to question their worth.)

I liked the Baz Luhrman R&J, and the Michael Almereyda Hamlet with Ethan Hawke and Julia Stiles - but they're perhaps a tad sophisticated for our requirements! Has anyone seen 'O'? Is it any good?

OK, time to stop. Goodnight all!

Hai Ku Silver Linin'

The 16+ and 18+ external exams have begun, which means invigilation duty for a few weeks in addition to regular classes, i.e. regular 40-minute shifts patrolling anything from 3 to 157 teenagers seated in seven silent rows. This is not their natural condition. Surreal.

You know how adorable children are when they're asleep? (Ah! Those 'I-love-you-Mommy'.-'I-love-you-cute-little-blonde-haired-kid.' movies...) Their peaceful faces, their stillness - and the fact that they're staying still long enough for you to stop thinking about their homework/acne/anxieties/field trip/diet etc. and just contemplate how miraculous they are. Of course it's different when you're a teacher and they're asleep in the back row of your classroom.....

But I find something similar at work when I invigilate these exams. These kids that you've known for five, maybe seven, years - maybe only one - are suddenly working on this major project to convince anonymous examiners that they're good enough for whatever it is they want to do next. There they all are: the high, low and average achievers, the clowns, the bullies, the athletes, the singers, the little old men and the puppies: every last one of them head down, shoulders hunched, and not a peep for two hours - nothing except the odd sigh, the flexing of fingers, the roll of a wrist or neck.

You remember, don't you? Writing, writing, writing, while outside the sun shines down on another perfect day. Everything you know or wish you remembered. Quick looks at the clock, in case your watch is wrong. Sun on the back of your neck despite the blinds. A distant awareness of the school bell and the brief surge of noise as classes change. The concentrated silence; and wild, hastily controlled mass hilarity at the unsuccessfully suppressed fart that shatters it. The quick naughty eye contact with neighbours. The irrepressible grin as you turn your thoughts back to the task in hand. And writing, writing, writing.

In the long silences, as you (that's I, back in the present, and invigilation mode) scan for unusual movements, odd posture, or overly-alert stillness, part of the mind wanders, noticing a new hair colour, or broadness of shoulders, comparing the tall, bent figure a couple of rows away with a clear memory of the shorter, squarer, infinitely noisier version that first appeared in your classroom five years ago; seeing young men and women where last week there were 'students'. You gotta love 'em.

So here are some exam haikus, kus hai like haikus. Ha!

Leafy branches dance.

The red second hand marks time.

Shadow dappled clock.

Candidate number.

Do not turn around or speak.

Answer all questions.

Do exams matter?

Ninety people in a room.

A single heartbeat.

Pen scratches. Ink flows.

Time moves ever more quickly.

Outside, sparrows flirt.

Inspiration soars.

The Grade 7s have football.

And the crowd goes wild!