Cut, Cut!: When Auditions Crash and Burn

I have a love/hate relationship with auditions.  On one level, they are a necessary evil; neither the kids nor their parents enjoy them at all, but they're the only way to decide who to cast in which role.  I can sympathize, as I've tried out many times for various shows, choirs, etc. during my life.  Being on the judging side of the audition is more fun and less nerve-wracking, but it can also be an exhausting, overwhelming challenge.  It is also exciting: actors' enthusiasm is contagious and seeing the kids onstage fuels an addictive anticipation of how incredible the show is going to be when it all comes together.

I love seeing kids nail their auditions, the grins on their faces make my day.  Any seasoned performer will tell you that not every try-out goes as planned, however.  There are occasional rough patches..and then there are things that give directors nightmares.

Here is some advice for parents and kids based on the crazy things I've seen in auditions:

• A fourth grader who has refused to wear anything but a bathing suit and red, sequined heels for the last 2 months and whose preferred method of verbal communication is barking like a dog probably needs some relaxation and maybe a therapist, not a rigorous rehearsal schedule.
• Do NOT corner any directors in the parking lot or follow them home after a long day of try-outs to convince them your child is the star they are looking for.  Such behavior will likely result in a restraining order rather than a lead role.
• Make sure your child learns the lyrics to his vocal piece.  The judges WILL notice if he sings "watermelon, watermelon, watermelon..."
• If you can't cry on command, don't pick a monologue that requires it.  DEFINITELY don't swipe the cinnamon breath spray from your mom's purse and spray it into your eyes right before you perform.
• A note from the pediatrician giving "permission" for your child to perform in a highly choreographed show does not change the fact that her broken leg will be in that cast for most of the rehearsals.  When the director points this out, "But she has crutches!" is not an answer.
• Being cute is great, but being able to carry a tune is mandatory.  Sorry, this is a musical.
• Adult content in monologues and vocal pieces is unacceptable.  S.ex.ual.ly graphic dancing is disturbing and wrong.  This is even more true if the child auditioning is FIVE.  The same goes for portfolio photos.
• Be careful when explaining characters to kids or your first grader may tell the directors that she wants "to be the stoned cat" in Alice in Wonderland.
• Resumes and portfolios are no place for nicknames, especially if your moniker is "Poopy Pants."
• Parents: Under no circumstance does the explantion "I forgot to take my anti-psychotics this morning" excuse your erratic or insane behavior.  EVER.

Any questions?  Remember, the audition should be memorable..but not in a way that makes me shudder.

Beware the Hula Dancing Kangaroos

 For a number of weeks the kids cast in an upcoming show at the children's theatre have been trying to learn their musical numbers with me.  One particular piece has a rhythm that's proven tricky for the wee actors, and I have tried all sorts of things to get them to grasp the counting.  Repetition is the biggest key, and so we repeat and clap and tap and snap our fingers and rap and even do a little beat boxing to practice the section in question.  We swayed our hips a lot while learning this piece.  I want it to be fun.  If it is fun, they will master it more quickly and won't feel like we are belaboring that musical piece.

I line them up at one end of the room and let them jump forward one jump on count one of each measure while they sing their parts.  This helps them learn the count and find the downbeat and allows them to hear the other vocal parts (soprano, alto, etc.) that move at different times.  It takes them the whole song to make it all the way across the room, then I have them turn around and sing/hop their way back.  It's interesting to stand before them as they do this, because it feels like they're musical kangaroos on the warpath and advancing on me quickly.  I learned to only allow this in the basement after doing it in the lobby caused a number of ceiling tiles to fall down in the lower offices.  Oopsies.  I also learned to keep ice packs in the staff freezer after Wyatt walloped Reagan in the eye while swinging his arms in huge circles as he jumped. 

They seem to have finally gotten it, which thrills me.  I hear them humming and tapping it while being fitted and measured by wardrobe, while waiting backstage for their cues, and while munching away on apple slices in the green room. For a few weeks the problem rhythm has been the pulse of the theatre, I even noticed some of the office workers humming it after they'd heard the children practicing in the parking lot with me.  Yes, we practice in the parking lot. With sidewalk chalk. We draw huge musical staves and use the chalk for all sorts of things that truly pertain to what we're doing. 

Sometimes I wonder if I'm regarded a bit like Maria in the Sound of Music, because my teaching techniques get some weird looks and amused comments.  I often get the kids last, after they've beaten a scene to death upstairs. They spend hours having to be still and watch each other repeat the same lines over and over until the head director is happy with the angles of their bodies, the expression in their voices, and the look on their faces.  They're told to do it again.  And again.  Now do it again.  Don't slouch.  Stop whining.  Do it again.  One more time.  So close, let's try again. 

By the time I get the kids they're hungry, fatigued, and sick of being told to keep still.  I keep water and simple snacks on hand.  I give them wiggle time and an occasional minute or two to chat with their friends.  If everyone looks especially downtrodden that day, we often take a minute to groan as loudly and pathetically as we can.  Eye rolling and foot stomping are optional, but always encouraged.  I'm told by other adults who work for the theatre that the woman who worked with the children before me kept them seated in chairs in the rehearsal room for the entirety of each practice.  I'm told by the children that she "was the meanest ever" and "yelled a lot."  I bet!  I'd yell a lot too if I had to keep them corralled like that.  Initially we're very much tied to the piano, but once they really know most of their parts, we can branch out. 

Last weekend I watched the kids perform the tricky song on stage and I have to say, it was excellent.  They've got the rhythm.  However, some of them bounce a bit on the first count of some measures.  There is also one particular section where the children all sway their hips in unision, just slightly, but it looks as if they're bursting into an impromptu hula dance.  Pierre, who works with the adults on music, grinned when he heard me murmur "Oh dear," under my breath as the unanticipated hula dance began.  He sees more of my teaching antics techniques than anyone else as he's often in the rehearsal room too.  I'm not worried about these little hang ups, we've got more than enough time to right them before opening night.  Until then, beware of the hula dancing kangaroos.

People in Glass Houses...

Today I was coming down the hall toward the classroom I use for my voice lessons and I could hear a commotion in the outer area where the parents wait.  Normally I'm in the sound-proof practice room and can't hear what's going on in the waiting area, but I'd slipped away quickly to use the restroom between students.  As I approached, it became quite clear that the mother of one of my students was tearing her young daughter up one side and down the other.  I've worked with this eight year old for a little over 4 months and she's just delightful.  I'm not saying kids don't do things they shouldn't or that parenting isn't frustrating (because I think parenting is absolutely BRUTAL), but it'd be obvious to anyone that this mother was completely out of line.  She berated the poor kid incessantly, hardly pausing to take a breath, and when I reached the doorway of the classroom, I could see the little girl huddled miserably in a corner, her face streaked with tears.  It took the woman a moment to notice me standing there speechless, mouth agape. 

I was beyond irate.  I'm not going to go into what she was actually saying to her daughter, but it was unbelievable.  I was so shocked and upset that I didn't trust myself to say ANYTHING to the mother, so instead I asked Tara if she was ready and she quickly nodded and headed into the practice room.  Once we'd left Mommy Dearest in the waiting room, I handed Tara a tissue and got her a glass of water.  She stood next to the piano, in position to sing, trying to get her lower lip to stop trembling, but her eyes looked like they might overflow again, so I slid over and made room for her on the bench.  "It's alright, we can take as much time as you need," I told her.  She nodded and carefully sipped her water, trying to pretend like she wasn't fighting back more tears.  It broke my heart.  Choosing my words veeeerry carefully, I made four or five positive statements about her that directly conflicted with what her mom had been saying to her.  I chose not to say her mom was wrong.  I decided not to even mention her mom, but I shot down the ugly things I'd overheard being said.  Then I talked a bit about other stuff to get her mind on something else, and a few minutes later she met my eyes for the first time that day and said "I can sing now." 

What threw me is that I had such a different opinion of this family before all this.  This mom did not strike me as a stage mom and still doesn't.  I can spot a stage mom (or dad) from a mile away.  I see them in action first-hand on a regular basis and I've had so much experience with them that I have developed a kind of stage parent radar (similar to gay-dar, really!).  Don't get me wrong, not all parents with performing kids are stage parents. There are some awesome people. However, if parents coming to me about voice lessons trip my radar, I generally refer their kids to other voice coaches because I get my fill of stage parents while I'm directing musicals and holding auditions at the local children's theatre. 

After the lesson I asked the mom to talk to me privately in the practice room.  I have a well developed (and often used) speech about the fact that we sometimes get stressed out, it's very common, I often encourage families to take a little break from lessons if I see that happening, we want the kids' experience with music to be positive rather than anxiety-provoking, etc., etc.  It's a speech I give more to the parents who bring kids for piano lessons, though. There seems to be a higher burnout rate with piano students. 

So I brought Mom in with the intention of having that little chat, but to my surprise, it didn't go there at all.  She burst into tears, told me about some very stressful things she's dealing with right now, and seemed so genuinely contrite that I actually ended up comforting her despite the fact I'd been furious earlier.  On a lot of levels, I actually really get where she's coming from right now, though I didn't say so. 

Later, as I made my home, I realized that in a lot of ways, I'm in the same boat as that woman.  I'm not physically healthy right now.  I don't know exactly what's going on, but I hope that tomorrow morning the doctor will have some ideas.  I'm very stressed about my health, I'm still dealing with the unexpected deaths of two friends I grew up with, who three weeks ago decided to drive drunk and ended up wrapping their SUV around a goddamned tree, and with all that, Wren's death anniversary snuck up on me and for some reason, hit me really, really hard last week. 

I suck right now, y'all.  I'm over-emotional, highly reactive, and sleep deprived.  I've snapped at my mother the last 10 times I've had a conversation with her.  I'm randomly pissy with friends I see face to face then I talk to friends online and misread or misunderstand what they're saying and get all touchy because I'm a huge ass.  Later I realize my mistake and feel guilty and awful and ashamed of myself, but the next day I do it again...*sigh*  I'm sorry.  I'm truly, truly sorry.  THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO EXCUSE FOR ME TO BE SNARKY OR BITCHY WITH ANYONE.  It's not okay for me to treat people that way, and I know it.  I am trying to avoid chatty things like FB and twitter when I'm feeling particularly grouchy or tired.  I felt a lot better today, but I'm sure that something is wrong with me physically, hopefully it's just anemia or something easy like that.

 If this keeps up, I'm going to shut down all my blogs and social networking stuff until I feel better, because I'm hurting my friendships with people I care dearly about and I can't stand that.  I have my second meeting with a new therapist later this week and that's going to help too.  Blogging about what's going on is great, but clearly, I need help coping with some of it, so that's going to be good.  The lady seems great, I wish I'd found her months ago, because I've been out of sorts for a while now.  I hate that I'm posting all this on the freaking internet, it should be private, but it isn't.  It stopped being private when I became the world's biggest bitch.  Lately, I've wondered who the hell I've become and what happened to the old me, the nice, sweet me.  I'm done wondering, I'm sending out search parties to find the old me now.  She'll be coming back.  Meanwhile, I'll lay low and if I'm being a fucking bitch, please TELL me and please, please know it isn't about you.  I'm just a mess right now. :(