Yesterday my co-op teacher actually left me alone with both collectives and I got to direct some scenes uninterrupted and unimpeded.
First group; I didn't do much. Their piece is on Mental Health (which more accurately resembles discrimination against more broad-ranging disabilities and challenges than merely mental) and Millie is very firmly taking the lead on this one. I'm okay with that. I wouldn't necessarily be able to look at the piece without prejudice. Millie has been doing this for years, and I think she's more comfortable with the theme.
Second group; It's interesting because I'm simultaneously more familiar and less comfortable with the subject matter. The basic premise is what goes on in the school washroom. The secrets, the illegal activity, the fights, etc. It's a great premise. But I sometimes get a little uncomfortable with what the kids present. It's not ignorance, just wishful thinking that kids aren't that involved in the things they obviously know so much about. But they're comfortable with it, and I'm not going to stifle the creative process. And I did get to have fun with it yesterday. A couple of the girls were concerned with their only parts in the play as being too... pornographic. They wanted to add something else where they were victims/ could make people laugh. What we devised was a fight scene. Once the idea came up, it was easy to put the scene together. It was a lot of fun. Not everyone is gonig to like te scene, but Millie has given her blessing to the idea, and we're going to show it too her after the long weekend. We've made it fit into the whole of the play quite nicely, and I hope it'll fly. I'm really excited about it. I really felt like I took control to involve the students and help them with thier play. Empowering.
The karmic kickback, however, is 2500 essay-worthy words on poetry. Lucky me. So much for a relaxing long weekend.
Presently, I'm having a good chuckle. I'm listening to a compliation of Canadian music, and a song that once made me cry hysterically in the middle of a sad period (I think Mo may be the only one who knows this story, as she'd be the only other person I know who'd be familiar with the song), it currently sending me into fits of laughter at a) my past silliness, b) that 15 year-old boys could write a song that would move me to tears in such an instance. The Moffatt's Misery. Listen to the opening verse, and picture me sobbing alone, in my dark bedroom. Until the chorus starts and I realize what slop has moved me to tears.
90s pop music definitely deserves a special place in history. Give me the power-rock ballad any day. ;)
"It's kinda like a love song...."