Theater camp began this week. In the span of ten days fifty kids will participate in creating a production of Aladdin. That entails sets, songs, dance numbers, lines, blocking, make up and costumes. That's where I fit in. 

The first day everyone arrived with a script under their arm and dance shoes in their bag. They had been listening to the tunes for weeks ahead of time, and dreaming of being a genie. The kids are all in middle school, so there are areas of potential nervousness. Boys who are short and wish they were tall. Girls who are tall and wish they were short. Kids with curly hair who long for straight and vice versa. I watched while the counselors led them in ice breaking games, and they all began to melt. Answering questions like "What kind of animal would you be?" or "What was your worst injury?" set the room buzzing. I guess the human brain cannot hold both self consciousness and curiosity at the same time. One of them has to hit the floor.

The stated outcome of camp is a show, performed twice on the last day. Yet as I observed a gaggle of twelve year olds move from thinly masked fear to budding friendship, I wondered. Maybe the real agenda is what happens in the nine days leading up to it. Dealing with the disappointment of not getting the part you wanted, and throwing yourself into being an Arabian citizen. Memorizing the steps to a dance that sends you swirling across the stage. Pushing past nervousness and into projecting your voice all the way to the back row. Discovering that you are not the only one who aches to belong. 

What if it were possible to separate the two aspects? Somehow have a play without any of the connections that happen while they create it? I guess each kid could learn their part in isolation by watching videos, without ever being in the same space. Or conversely what if they all plunged into the collective effort of learning notes, and making turbans without any expectation of an audience?

I suppose the dyad makes sense. One gives you something to aspire to. They other keeps you busy on the way there.