Yes....And....
I was every grade school teachers worst nightmare. As a child I had the ability to reach into the heart (Temple of Doom Style!) of any teacher and rip out their joy of educating young people. I took my education as seriously as the world took the music of Don Johnson back in the 80's. I cannot imagine a student who was worse than me. While my peers spent their time of formation to learn the 50 states or how to conquer long division, I passed my time doing things like writing poetry about my teacher's freakishly long and likely-mutated nose hair.
I had no use or talent for sitting behind a desk all day and being asked to be a responsible student, because I was not ever designed to be. My desk looked like I was living in it. Through the course of the year it became jammed full of every paper, art project, lunch item, rock, or sick bird I had ever come in contact. By October of each school year I could expect a visit from The CDC to come and take sample readings from around my desk to ensure that I had not accidentally created some new bioweapon inside it's moldy center. I was the original hoarder. There was always room for one more D+ test paper or half-eaten egg salad sandwich inside.
The only time I ever enjoyed school was when we had to get up and give some sort of presentation. That is about the only time I ever came to life inside the classroom. I loved doing "show and tell" or talking about what my family did last summer, or giving a book report. I especially loved the book reports! To be able to stand in front of my classmates and to wow them with the lives of these fictional characters and to lead them through the twists and turns of a story was an activity that was right in my wheel-house. The only problem I had with doing book report was actually having to read a book. I hated reading. There were too many words, the pages were too dry, the characters never did anything that I wanted them to, and the endings of all the stories seemed way too predictable to me.
By the time I was in fourth grade I finally had reached my tolerance for having to read these books. So, I devised a brilliant plan....
I started giving book reports for books that did not exist. They were just stories that I came up with in front of everyone in the classroom. I would not really know what the story was about until I started speaking. It was a plan that worked incredibly well for the first couple months of fourth grade. I would always "forget" the book at home so I was not required to show any proof of the books actual existence and then I would spin a story so compelling that I have doubt that my reports led my classmates and teacher on an emotional rollercoaster of thrills and drama that would apex with an ending that would leave my audience kneeling on the floor begging for more of my analysis.
My first few non-book reports detailed the lives of Pirates who fought vampires, a dog that became a helicopter rescue helicopter pilot, and a little girl who discovered an entrance to a cave that led her back to the old west. These stories were epic yarns that were exactly the kind of book I would have read had I actually ever had any desire to read. It was exciting and scary to do this, and I found myself becoming more and more confident and daring with my fictional book reports.
Eventually my lies caught up with me. I am not sure what exactly caused the discovery of my dishonesty. In hindsight I believe the titles of my non-existent manuscripts were the weak link in my system. The name of the story I never read would always be the last thing I would think of and I think that was the reason I got pinched by Mrs. Griffin. The story I got busted on was a story about a monkey who befriended a dinosaur. I believe at the last minute (which was probably when I was already standing in front of everyone) I decided that the name of the book was "Monkey and Dinosaur are best friends and like to have fun while running from giant world-ending asteroids" Perhaps the title was too long to be believable because right when I got done talking about how Monkey and Dinosaur survived extinction by going forward in time like Scott Balkula did in "Quantum Leap" my teacher asked me if that was a real book.
Oh crap.
She was on to me. I was left with only a couple choices about how I could handle this developing situation. I could admit that I had not actually read a book this week, but that disclosure would put into question the other half-dozen reports I had already given in front of her this year, so I could not do that. The only other option was to feign outrage...
"A real book??" I gasped with an outrage that made it sound like I have never been so insulted in my whole 10 years of living. I decided that in order to get the point across that I was so offended by her question that I asked it aloud again while looking at her as if she had just spurted out a purple unicorn horn from her forehead.
"A real book?"
"Yes, John. A real book." Mrs Griffin shot back. She was cool and calm and had the piercing eyes of a district attorney who smelled blood in the courtroom.
Oh crap.
I had to change tatics. I had to act like she was confusing me. Sometimes that works...
"I don't understand?" I asked with a softer expression on my face. I tried to make it look like she had suddenly started speaking ancient Hebrew and each word out of her mouth caused me further confusion.
I could feel her eyes bore through my skull. I saw a slight smile curl on the left side of her lips as she finally decided that I was being as honest as congress. It was the "ah-ha" moment all adults relish in when they finally have the goods on a child.
"What was the name of the author again, John?"
"Huh?" was my only response. Maybe I could act like my ear drums had ruptured.
"What was the name of the author of the book you just gave a report about?" she asked again while looking down at her notebook. She had been taking notes????
Triple crap.
I had made up a name but now for the life of me I could not remember who it was now.
"Um...." I stammered. I could feel all the blood rushing to my head. I kept wondering if this is what Mob-Bosses felt like while being grilled by the police. I could hear the whispers of my classmates as they began to realize that I had been fabricating my entire story.
Mrs. Griffin wasn't done...not by a long shot. For the next ten minutes I was interrogated by her in front of the class. I was asked to give the report again and explain why my story seemed so different the second time I told it. I was asked to explain how I had now included an UFO abduction scene that I had not talked about previously.
I was totally busted. I had to admit that I had not actually read a book, and then I was forced to confess that none of my book reports where truthful either.
It was brutal and I eventually had to make up for all my made up book reports by giving new ones over the next couple weeks. My parents were notified of my malfeasance and I had to spend all my extra time getting caught up on all the reading that I had not done, but I had claimed I had.
Although my plan had blown up in my face in such a public manner, I do not in any way regret that it happened.
Doing those made-up book reports were my first experiences with improv....and I love doing improv.
I love being able to get up on stage and to make choices with a character that spurns a story to come out of nowhere. I love being able to stand in front of an audience. without knowing exactly was is going to happen and what adventures are about to take place in front of them. Improv is scary and exciting and it is different every time I take part in it.
One of the most important things I have ever learned from improv is the phrase "Yes...And.." It is the way we allow what is happening on stage around us and then to add our input into what is going to happen next. "Yes...And.." is a way of accepting the reality of the scene and then helping discover the next truth that needs to be revealed.
For example:
If during an improv performance I find myself playing a waiter and the other person on stage comes over to me as tells me that they are my boss and that I am fired I have to say (in so many words) "Yes...and..." I could say "ok I am fired, but now I am going to admit that over the past five years I have been eating all of your breadsticks or I could say "You may be able to fire me...but you can't stop my dancing!!"
During improv we cannot deny something that somebody else says to us on stage. That scene with me as the waiter would be tricky if I responded to them by saying "You are not my boss, you are a mime". Doing that would be denying the reality that my stage partner has formed and to cause a tug of war in front of the audience who would be confused about what actually is real.
"Yes..And..." is just a nifty way of saying "Ok that is real, but let me add to that reality now". The "And" is how we shape the future of the improv scene. It is the practice of demonstrating that each of the improv players have some control of what is going to happen next. Sometimes on stage when I improvising I do my best work when I don't get stuck in my head. I don't over-think it. I make a choice about what to do with my character next and just go for it. When I don't do that and I start worrying about the outcome of my character's choice I just stand their frozen not doing anything that matters.
Improv, for me, has been one of my best teachers. I wished they had it when I was in gradeschool.
I got to thinking about "Yes...And" the other night during an event where I got to spent some time with some other parents who were raising children who are living with a special need. One lady in particular came up to me and we got to talking for about ten minutes. She was talking about how the best thing that happened in her life as a parent came when she stopped denying the reality of her families life. She said that she used to act like everything was going beautifully, when in fact it was not. She had to say "Yes" there is a problem..."And" here is what I am going to do about it.
It seems like sometimes we bury problems in the chaos of our lives. I did that with Noah for the first 18 months of his life. There were daily signs that there was something going on behind his eyes...but I refused to accept it as reality. I did not say "Yes" to what was happening in our home.
A lot of parents who are walking the same journey my wife and I have over the past 11 years get stuck in emotional places. I know I have. We get stuck in the moment where the doctors tell us that something is wrong with our sweet baby. We get stuck in the hurt and grief that we feel when our child seems to fall further and further down the rabbit hold. We get stuck in the hopelessness we feel as we kneel before their crib weeping out of pure powerlessness to fix our children. We can refuse to move on from our heartbreak. We can refuse to make a choice about what we will do next because we are scared of making things worse.
"And" gives us our control back.
We have to say "and" when it comes to the obstacles in our life. Sure something terrible might have happened to us, or sure maybe we have made mistakes in our lives...but we can get stuck there. We have to say "Yes" this is my reality..."And" this is what the hell I am going to do about it.
"Yes, my son has Autism, And I am going love him with my whole being, AND I am going to show him how amazing this world can be, And, I am going to advocate for him whenever anyone treats him like he is broken.
Yes we all have problems and issues in our life, and we are all going to learn from those moments and become better people for it, and someday we will all be okay.
Yes maybe someday I will actually enjoy reading.....and until that day I will continue making up my own stories by doing improv.
The look I had on my face in as I tried to explain myself to Mrs. Griffin in 4th grade.
You are a hoot! Loved your speech the other night.
Just like your speech this article made me laugh and cry.
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