It is time to go to acting class. My throat feels dry and my hands are clammy. The butterflies that are supposed to be in my stomach have moved up to my chest and it feels tight and constricted. My temples begin to throb. I don’t want to go to class. I know what is ahead. The berating, the indignation, the reminders of how much harder I need to work to achieve my goals. I walk in the entrance to the school on the 2nd floor of the shabby office building in midtown Manhattan. The kitchen area is to my left. I see her – my teacher and school’s owner- at the sink fixing herself a cup of tea. “Hello,” I gamely say to her, knowing she will not say “hello” back. She responds with her trademark greeting that is somewhere between a sigh and a “mmm” as she turns her back to me and retreats into her office off of the kitchen. I walk into the theatre. Some students are already there warming up. Making non-sensical noises as they stretch. I put my stuff down and do the same. Not feeling connected, but simply copying what they are doing. The teacher walks in, with her straight posture, fiery red hair, and icy blue eyes, observing us as we do our warm-ups. Eventually, it is time for me to get up and do my scene.
“You have not incorporated any technique into this,” she admonishes.
“Yes I have,” I defensively reply.
“Well then, maybe you have no talent,” she says.
One of my classmates raises her hand. Students are encouraged to critique other students at this school.
“I agree that she has no talent. This is supposed to be a dramatic piece, but the way she played it, it looked comical.”
“Why am I here?” I think to myself.
I did not study theatre in college, but at 11-years-old I studied at a Musical Theatre Performing Arts Academy. This was followed by many performances in community and regional theatre productions, private singing lessons, a year of concentrated training in drama and musical theatre at a Performing Arts High School, followed by performing in an off-off Broadway musical, which subsequently won an award. Naively, I believed my limited experience and training was enough to get me cast as Nessarose in Wicked on Broadway, or Penny Pingleton in Hairspray, followed by a contract role on One Life to Live.
Soon, reality hit. Once I began attending every audition and open call I could, I realized I was way out of my league. In the audition room I felt helpless, and even embarrassed. And finding an actable objective after reading a script was foreign to me. I realized I needed an acting class, but I was confused on what kind to take, and where. I knew other performers, but they had all attended college for acting or musical theatre, or full-time three-year conservatories. I was intimidated, and I didn’t want to show my lack of knowledge by asking for advice on a school. “I can research and decide on my own, without anyone clouding my judgment,” I justified.
When I googled: “acting class NYC” tons of hits came up. But me being as green, desperate, and unfocused as I was at that time in my life, I did not establish any criteria for myself for choosing a school. I simply looked at the various NYC acting school websites that came up in my search, and narrowed them down by the ones with class descriptions that resonated with me. I signed up for a class at a well regarded school. Unfortunately, the class did not meet my idealistic expectations (to have a wonderfully fulfilling creative experience with kind people who would become life-long collaborators, and to emerge with a solid acting technique). When this class was finished, I felt uninspired, and confused as ever.
I did some more internet searching, and found myself frequently returning to the website of one school in particular. Not only did this school use the technique I was interested in learning, but it promised to train actors in a supportive environment. It boasted that it taught actors a process they could use for any performance or audition situation, and any medium. After sleeping on it for a few days, I called the school for an interview with the school’s founder and sole instructor. We’ll call her Ms. Teacher. A tall, striking, red-head in her late 30’s, she had a sophisticated British accent and she believed I would do well in her classes. It would be a challenge, she said, but she thought I would fit in there. So I enrolled. I felt like I was starting an exciting journey.
Initially I felt like I was learning a lot about the acting technique that was followed at this school. I was motivated to commit and do the work. But this quickly changed. Ms. Teacher was easily angered and annoyed when students asked questions. Frequently refusing to answer, shouting: “read the book!” She often cracked jokes at student’s expense, and did not interject if a student critiqued another student in an unprofessional way. Actually, she would chuckle when this occurred. Whatever happened to the supportive environment that was advertised? When I worked in class, she would remind me of how much more training I needed. That if I wanted to be a good actor who could work professionally, I MUST stay in her school. When I initially signed up for classes, Ms. Teacher told me it was normal to feel uncomfortable when one begins this training. But was it normal that I continually felt discouraged, and dreaded going to class?
“This is my school, this is my school,” was the mantra I kept repeating to myself. I was sick of waffling. I wanted to make a commitment to something. I wanted to find a teacher, a school, a technique, I believed in. I wanted to feel confident as an actor, to make up for my perceived mistake of not studying acting in college. It took a year of being told I may never be ready for a professional acting career for something to snap in me. Why am I wasting my time and money on studying here, when it’s making me miserable? Before leaving the school, I spoke with Ms. Teacher. I told her why I was leaving. She told me it was not her intention to make me feel discouraged and unhappy, and that she was sorry to see me go.
I never did find that one acting school to spend years of training at, but since then I have taken many different classes which have taught me much. And eventually, I developed a technique to rely on. In the class I’m currently taking, I feel supported, and I walk away each week feeling energized and excited to work further on my craft.
I do not regret the year I spent at my former acting school. Among other things, it taught me that I do not have to feel like the girl who has no control over her fate. If I don’t like the way I am being treated, I can stand up for myself, or I can leave. Eventually I did both. And if I want more training, there are numerous schools (with wonderful instructors) in this city where I can get it.
