A couple weeks ago in directing class, my teacher, C, was telling a story. She's good at that. She mentioned that her 10-year-old niece was in her 5th grade class when they were working out who was going to play which role in their version of "Country Mouse and City Mouse," that esteemed classic, and that her niece decided very determinedly that she wanted to be the director.
The teacher generously agreed, and when C heard that, she was proud, but befuddled. She said she asked her niece what exactly she did, as the director.
And her niece said, "Oh, I gave them some tips; I gave them some props, and I gave them some compliments."
The sound that followed was 15 grad students' hearts breaking as we realized the 10-year-old would one day be our competition in the field and seemed to already have it all figured out.
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
1 year ago
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1 comment:
OK, that is too priceless, if there is such a measurement. On so many levels--what the niece did (pure and moving), and your little blurb about it (elegant and apt). Broke my heart just a little, too.
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