When Improv Turns Ugly

Today I went to an elementary school and led another drama workshop for 5th graders. I taught the kids how to play “freeze,” an improv game where two children stand before a crowd, act out a scene until someone yells freeze, then the person who yelled ‘freeze’ jumps up and resumes the scene in the same position as the actor he’s replacing.

I decided I’d be a part of the first freeze game, so I got up on to our makeshift stage, grabbed a small boy and asked the crowd what location we should be in.

“The forest!” Someone yelled. I nodded my head and searched the room as if I was lost in the forest. The boy next to me was quiet and I wondered if he understood English. “I think we’re lost!” I said to him, and pretended to unfurl a map. Still, the boy was quiet. “Look, a river!” I said to the boy, and made a big exaggerated step over the concrete. “Let’s cross it!”

Nothing.

“Does someone else want to jump in now?” I asked the class. A short girl with dimples and slicked black hair shot her hand into the air. “Me me me me me me!” she said. “You don’t have to respond,” I explained to her, “Just tap me on the shoulder and take my place.” The girl sighed, got up from her chair, and tapped me on my shoulder.

“What are you looking at!” she yelled at the boy. “I did NOT come all the way to this forest just to be bugged by you!” The young boy just stared at her. Then, the girl undid the tie on her school uniform and started beating the young boy. “I said stop looking at me!” she yelled.

“Woah Woah,” I said. “What! I’m acting!” she responded. “Well. Uhm. Okay, but no hitting,” I said. The class laughed, and she continued hitting the boy.

Then the students told me they wanted to perform their own skits for me. First up, a singing competition. I was told to sit in a chair and be one of the judges. The contestants stood to my right and waited for their turn to sing. I pretended to be Paula Abdul. “You’re all so wonderful! So wonderful!” I said to the children, after they sang, and tried to act drunk. The students looked at me with awe.

“What are you doing?” the girl next to me whispered into my ear.
“Oh, I’m acting!”
“Are you sad?”
“No, I’m Paula Abdul.”

Silence.

Next, the students pretended to be a part of a local soap opera called Generations. The abusive loud girl took this opportunity to play an abusive loud mother. A larger girl with braided hair grabbed my sunglasses and played the social worker. “What are you doing? You can’t take my child away from me!” The abusive girl yelled. “Oh yes we can!” the social worker said, and she pulled the young girl away from her. “It’s the law!”

The courtroom scene came next. A loud effeminate boy played the judge. “Get this witch out of my courtroom!” he yelled at the girl. “I can’t handle this fucking monster!”

“Woah,” I said. “No swearing. And let’s try to get some other people acting. How about you?” I pointed to a short boy with enormous cheeks. “Get on up there! Be the security guard!” The boy shook his head no.

“It’s okay,” the judge said. “Some people don’t want to act.” And the play resumed with yelling, so much yelling. Children from neighboring classrooms peeked into the windows to try to get a view of what was going down.

“I want order in my court!” screamed the judge. “No! I do what I want! You can’t have my child!” screamed the girl, and grabbed her daughter’s hand. “She says that you abuse her!” screamed the judge. “Are you talking about my wife!?” screamed the husband.

“Hold up,” I said to the husband. “Why are you with this woman? She’s abusive to you, she’s abusive to your daughter…”

“Because I love her,” said the boy.

“Why?”

The boy shrugged, and the fighting and arguing continued. Finally, I became exhausted and told the class it was over. Everyone quickly became quiet, and totally respectful. “See you soon teacher Steven!” they said to me and waved and smiled.