Two weeks ago I finished up my last week of classes. During
the last session of our last class on Friday, I found myself alone with all the
kids while I was trying to prep the next activity. To keep them occupied, I
gave them a ball and told them whoever caught it had to tell the class what
they wanted to be when they grew up. As I was sorting cards into piles for the
next game I passively listened to their responses: Accountant, Businessman, Soccer
Player, Professional Youtuber (that one did catch my attention), Scientist….*silence*.
I looked up, and saw the ball in the hands of an adorable, talkative, well
behaved 11 year old girl named Alisa. She just stood there, smiling, like she
always did, except that normally the smile was accompanied by a story or a
never ending stream of laughter. In this moment, she was silent, a smile
plastered on her face while her classmates prompted her to speak.
I asked Alisa if she knew what she wanted to be when she
grew up, and she nodded. I asked if she would tell us, and she said no. At this
point I had a suspicion of where this was going, and I asked her if the reason
she wouldn’t tell us was because she thought her idea was silly. She responded “It’s
unrealistic, it’s just a dream”.
And thus Alisa’s fate was sealed as fodder for my favorite
teaching moment of the entire program. Alisa whispered her aspirations to one
of our teaching assistants, who confirmed what I’d already guessed; Alisa
wanted to be a Singer and an Actor.
When the class finally quieted down, I asked them what they
thought I went to school for. Not to anyone’s surprise, they all said “Teacher”.
When I told them I went to school for Theatre, Alisa’s jaw literally dropped
while the rest of the class went silent.
I won’t bore you with the specifics of the improvised life
sermon that came after, but suffice it to say that when I was done, I think I
believed my final point even more than the kids: What you choose to study in
school does not matter. What matters are your life experiences, and the skills
you gain along the way.
Later that day I ran into Alisa on the train. She asked me
what I’d done at her age to get involved in theater. I told her I’d just done
community shows wherever I could, and that at the time all I knew was that I
loved what I was doing and didn’t want to stop. She asked what to do in order
to make her dream a reality. I told her to be smart, smarter than everyone
else. I told her that everything she was learning in school would help her to
become an artist, even math. She looked at me like I was an alien. I told her
that artists are some of the smartest people in our society, because they never
stop learning. She looked at me and nodded.
Then she took a red yoyo out of her backpack and we stood in
silence the rest of the trip, watching the plastic circle go up and down, up
and down.
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