Tuesday Morning Announcements:
“… and if you are a candy cane, rag doll, fairy or reindeer, you have practice today in the music room.”
It’s Holiday Program Season, y’all.
Like many of you, I have a long history with plays/programs/pageants occurring in the month of December. Even though the world is attempting to become inclusive in fits and starts, the world of elementary music programs can be a bit of a dinosaur. We advertise the show as our “Holiday Program,” but the majority of the time there is one holiday represented. Though I am not hopping up on this particular soapbox right now, I would like to acknowledge that this isn’t best practice, and we probably need to find a way to fix it. Music teachers are in a terrible spot, and onus is not just on them.
At any rate, the first programs I remember were at church, and therefore free of any expectations that it wouldn’t be about Christmas. In my debut pageant, I was a butterfly. No, I don’t know why. That’s literally all I remember. I do remember the year I was “Anna, the best friend of the lead guy,” or something. It was a pretty good part, but the Innkeeper’s wife got to be really bossy and mean, and that seemed like it would be more exciting.
The best church Christmas program was the year I was in 3rd grade. Biz (the incredible woman who directed all the programs back in the day… when there were a TON of kids who needed dishtowels tied onto their heads or tinsel pinned in their hair) called to tell me I was awarded the lead in that year’s play. I talked to her on the downstairs phone, as we had just finished watching The Karate Kid for the first time and I was sobbing. I sobbed anew at the news of my casting, for that role was truly special. As I remember, the play focused on the choir of stars (?!) who were practicing for a concert upon the birth of baby Jesus (?! again) but there was one loser star (me!!!) who couldn’t sing. The star was incredibly depressed, but kept trying… sounding like a dying cat the entire time. Eventually God (I think?) picked the loser star to be THE star — as in The Star of Bethlehem. Happily Ever After ensued. Apparently I was quite convincing. After the performance, a woman approached my grandmother and said with dismay, “But I thought your granddaughter had a beautiful voice!”
I’m sorry to say that my memories of Christmas programs (for that’s what they were) in elementary school are fuzzy at best. I do remember having a major part in the 5th grade play, and being thrilled that we were using the stage in the gym for something other than leg wrestling. (No, I don’t know why we leg wrestled on the stage.) Side note: I was inexplicably good at leg wrestling.
For the majority of people, their participation in end-of-the-calendar-year programs comes to an end with the advent (ha!) of elementary school graduation. Not so with teachers of the younger set, and certainly not this teacher. In our school, 4th and 5th grade put on a musical every year. 5th grade students are the actors, and 4th grade comprises the chorus. Our incredible music teacher is the General of the musical battalion, and we teachers are her loyal PFCs in charge of ground control. In my second and third years, however, I was promoted to Sergeant. Our General at the time was Janice — a true force of nature and a musical collaborator of mine for many years. That year, she asked me to do some side work with the actors — detailed acting and public speaking coaching that she didn’t have time to offer. Sergeant duties also included stage managing, and luckily my teammates agreed to cover my class so I was free to help run the show from backstage. I loved being able to be there for the students during the performance; it was a beautiful way to connect with them.
My fourth year, Santa got sick.
The week leading up to the program was typical: the stage had been erected in the gym, and 4th and 5th grade spent every afternoon in dress rehearsal. I was busily helping students with their entrances and exits, placement on stage, and the occasional acting tutorial out in the hall. General Janice directed the ensemble to “Face front! Sway to the right! Sing out!” Our lead, our Santa, had a particularly lovely voice and the show was coming together. As the end of the week approached, however, our Santa was struck down with the flu. The news came on Thursday that he was home with a high fever, and General Janice warned me that I might have to step in. I laughed, because that was ridiculous. Nobody wanted an adult up on that stage. Besides, our Santa would fight it off, and be back in time for curtain on Friday. I was sure.
‘Twas not to be. The poor boy couldn’t shake the fever, and Janice informed me that I would be playing Santa in the Holiday Program that year. (Did I mention the song called, “Surfin’ Santa?” Yes, this was Santa on a tropical vacation.) My first thought was, “I can’t do this. I can’t pull focus from these kids. They’ve worked so hard.” I have been in shows where the director pulls in a ringer — an adult, a professional actor, the director themselves — and the rest of the cast feels displaced and outshone. I felt a sizable amount of guilt joining the kids on stage. I refused makeup and costume, and only wore a Santa hat to signal my identity. I climbed up on stage, script in hand, for the emergency dress rehearsal the morning of the play.
I needn’t have worried. Children are overflowing with grace, and not only were they tickled to have me on stage with them (hanging ten on a cardboard surfboard), they saved me over and over again, showing me where to be onstage and cueing me for lines… just as I had done for them as Sergeant Stage Manager. My coworkers were also incredibly kind, even as they were laughing at me pretending to snorkel across the stage. The truth, I discovered, is that the part of me that gets great joy and satisfaction out of being the center of attention — even if I appear ridiculous in the process — is a part that is missing from the majority of other people. I am an asset for my willingness to make a fool of myself for the entertainment of others.
General Janice retired after that year (it was pre-planned, in case you were wondering if Surfin’ Santa Susie tipped her over the edge). Our program is now headed by General Jenny, and she quickly assured me that my Sergeant posting was safe. I am looking forward to the next month: the chaos of lunchtime rehearsals, the week of dress rehearsals, and watching from the sidelines with tears in my eyes as my current and former students dazzle their families with their talent and enthusiasm.
Anybody want to put on a Christmas Pageant for adults?
Thanks for reading.
Love, Susie
