We were the Arts Department Nerds. Most of us considered ourselves completely un-cool unless we were on stage. We were the singers of songs, the players of melodies, the builders of sets. We knew all the secret passageways in the auditorium. We spent hours in practice rooms. We were equally at home memorizing every note of the new Steven Schwartz musical as we were analyzing the authentic cadence in the middle of Beethoven’s bridge. Led by inspired teachers, we were learning the theory behind the magic. It was thrilling, like being given the key to a treasure chest. We began to understand that in those moments of well-processed performance, we were something bigger than ourselves.
We considered ourselves klutzes. We didn’t like to sweat. While the jocks were outside running laps and bouncing balls to the cheerleader’s chants, we were more likely to be found lying down on the stage as our drama teacher encouraged us to imagine ourselves “floating on a velvet cloud.” Outside of school, we sometimes gathered to play touch football or kickball, but those games usually disintegrated into a laughing puppy pile without a clear winner or loser.
Competition, of course, reared its head during auditions for solos or parts in plays. Cast lists would be posted, tears would be shed – but then – it was back to the community of the whole, for the integrity of a performance would rely on all of us, working together. It was never about one person being better than everyone else, just someone being better for a part.
We considered ourselves klutzes. We didn’t like to sweat. While the jocks were outside running laps and bouncing balls to the cheerleader’s chants, we were more likely to be found lying down on the stage as our drama teacher encouraged us to imagine ourselves “floating on a velvet cloud.” Outside of school, we sometimes gathered to play touch football or kickball, but those games usually disintegrated into a laughing puppy pile without a clear winner or loser.
Competition, of course, reared its head during auditions for solos or parts in plays. Cast lists would be posted, tears would be shed – but then – it was back to the community of the whole, for the integrity of a performance would rely on all of us, working together. It was never about one person being better than everyone else, just someone being better for a part.
Top Row - Scenes from our production of Godspell at the Nanuet Mall, Diane Robinson musical director
Bottom Row - L - Godspell. Center - The Ascot Race from My Fair Lady. Right - Doug Austin, drama director, inspiring a cast.
Bottom Row - L - Godspell. Center - The Ascot Race from My Fair Lady. Right - Doug Austin, drama director, inspiring a cast.
Due to our unique proximity to the New York theater scene of the 70s, we not only could sing every word of “A Chorus Line” to the original cast album, we saw the original cast on Broadway. Twice. We were exposed to the beginnings of color-blind casting, to shows that openly explored alternative sexuality and we soaked it all up like sponges. We lived for the big finale where everyone holds hands and sings. If you shared our values, you were welcome to be with us. Our group was multi-racial, multi-ethnic, multi-religious (or not). Sexuality was fluid. We coupled and un-coupled and no one cared as long the whole remained. Sometimes we fought hard to remain in our little bubble, outside the cultural norms of our community.
The jocks and the prom queens may have run the rest of the school, but we ran the Arts wing. We knew we were not always understood, but by the magic that music and theater bring, we were not only tolerated, we were appreciated by audiences of our peers and the community at large.
Even today, we find ourselves by and large a liberal-minded group. All these years later at school reunions, we still don’t fit in. If anything, our peers who stayed in our town have become increasingly ideologically conservative, creating more of a divide in our shared experiences. No matter. We do many things for a living now and are scattered all over the world, but we are the dreamers of dreams, the singers of songs, the players of melodies. We unabashedly and proudly believe in the ability of the arts to heal the world.
The jocks and the prom queens may have run the rest of the school, but we ran the Arts wing. We knew we were not always understood, but by the magic that music and theater bring, we were not only tolerated, we were appreciated by audiences of our peers and the community at large.
Even today, we find ourselves by and large a liberal-minded group. All these years later at school reunions, we still don’t fit in. If anything, our peers who stayed in our town have become increasingly ideologically conservative, creating more of a divide in our shared experiences. No matter. We do many things for a living now and are scattered all over the world, but we are the dreamers of dreams, the singers of songs, the players of melodies. We unabashedly and proudly believe in the ability of the arts to heal the world.
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