I was sure charmed. The audience is charmed. This girl is wailing. She's made for the stage. This is her first big chance. She's on.
GAWL! Be charmed RIGHT NOW!
Perhaps reading through comments over at YouTube would be helpful in shaking you off this special need pall that you cast over your own sense of fun and delight.
She's a kid. And that's all. And children delight us in all sorts of ways.
Nope. Not buying the "she's a kid" routine. I've enjoyed some wonderful times writing and producing plays with children and have delighted in directing seasonal and church worship programs in which they've joyfully and charmingly contributed their own artwork, writing, and enthusiasms, while revealing a wide variety of skills and interest levels.
Children often exceed expectations and go beyond adult ideas of what is "cute" or "adorbs" to deliver the real deal. Allowing this child the opportunity to individually share some of her enthusiasm through a solo phrase or line might have resulted in something more charming than her loud shouting through an entire song.
Watching this forced me to recall a similar setup. Our (military all-denominational) church arranged it.
We were little kids. Very little. All this nativity iconology so familiar to adults was brand new to us. We didn't have a clue what was going on. Not one clue.
Well, we had clues, but there was no background, no base, to synthesize them. They're just clues floating around in thought-space.
The boy at the beginning triggered the memory. That's how I was dressed up. Blue and white striped pajamas with a scratchy shawl and something on my head.
I am positive that I was an adorable little fucker, but I had no idea why they were insisting I be made up this way. I had no conceptualization that I am a stand-in shepherd. I didn't even know what a shepherd is. I didn't comprehend anything at all. The parents wanted to see us representing a nativity scene and that is all. If we sang a song, then it was some song that I didn't comprehend. I just did what the adults told me to do. Basically, be adorable.
When I watched this, I felt pity. Empathy. I know that shepherd boy doesn't know what's going on. And he's older than I was. The feelings I felt then rushed back and I projected them onto that first boy shown.
And now that I'm thinking back on it, our parents were constantly making us be adorable. They dressed us up as little adorables. They fussed about our skin being unblemished. They fussed over our hair like we were their own little living dolls. They spent a LOT of time dressing us up and grooming us. Like pets. Like toys. Like dolls.
Miss Leavy always tried to downplay the role of the shepherds, but we weren't fooled. We knew that all you had to do was stand there with a staff and try not to laugh at all the poor fools with speaking parts.
Thank you ND, a good time was had by most if not all!
Childhood is about learning the balance between expressing oneself uniquely and responding with behavior appropriate to certain contexts and situations.
Some impressive wings as well! The deluxe version!
I watched it again, looking for the lost shepherd boy on the right that I'd missed the first time around, and started to laugh. The further into it she goes the more sure she is of her pronouncement. I'm still in shock and awe that such a contribution made it through rehearsal. The little boy in blue appears to be somewhat shocked himself by her certainty and the strength of her performance, while wishing he could get in on the act or be so bold himself, with some final bursts of glory on his part added in at the end.
You know that "fear not" advice angels are always dishing out, well, it looks like she took that to heart in addition to fulfilling the duty of proclamation!
I appreciate the remembered story shared. I went back to look for the child who might represent me in that scene and found her in the one who was touching the cradle and then backing off, very likely scared, in awe or envious of the angel with the spectacular wings who owning the scene as if she was blissfully unaware of protocol, expectations or the eyes of others.
8 comments:
They didn't rehearse ahead of time?
Unless she's special needs, there is no reason for that kind of outstanding behavior.
And if she were special needs, there are numerous ways to encourage participation and work with unbounded enthusiasm.
I wasn't charmed.
I was sure charmed. The audience is charmed. This girl is wailing. She's made for the stage. This is her first big chance. She's on.
GAWL! Be charmed RIGHT NOW!
Perhaps reading through comments over at YouTube would be helpful in shaking you off this special need pall that you cast over your own sense of fun and delight.
She's a kid. And that's all. And children delight us in all sorts of ways.
Nope. Not buying the "she's a kid" routine. I've enjoyed some wonderful times writing and producing plays with children and have delighted in directing seasonal and church worship programs in which they've joyfully and charmingly contributed their own artwork, writing, and enthusiasms, while revealing a wide variety of skills and interest levels.
Children often exceed expectations and go beyond adult ideas of what is "cute" or "adorbs" to deliver the real deal. Allowing this child the opportunity to individually share some of her enthusiasm through a solo phrase or line might have resulted in something more charming than her loud shouting through an entire song.
Mama, I am certain you are the antithesis of the church play director in Simon Birch, played by the late, great, Jan Hooks.
Watching this forced me to recall a similar setup. Our (military all-denominational) church arranged it.
We were little kids. Very little. All this nativity iconology so familiar to adults was brand new to us. We didn't have a clue what was going on. Not one clue.
Well, we had clues, but there was no background, no base, to synthesize them. They're just clues floating around in thought-space.
The boy at the beginning triggered the memory. That's how I was dressed up. Blue and white striped pajamas with a scratchy shawl and something on my head.
I am positive that I was an adorable little fucker, but I had no idea why they were insisting I be made up this way. I had no conceptualization that I am a stand-in shepherd. I didn't even know what a shepherd is. I didn't comprehend anything at all. The parents wanted to see us representing a nativity scene and that is all. If we sang a song, then it was some song that I didn't comprehend. I just did what the adults told me to do. Basically, be adorable.
When I watched this, I felt pity. Empathy. I know that shepherd boy doesn't know what's going on. And he's older than I was. The feelings I felt then rushed back and I projected them onto that first boy shown.
And now that I'm thinking back on it, our parents were constantly making us be adorable. They dressed us up as little adorables. They fussed about our skin being unblemished. They fussed over our hair like we were their own little living dolls. They spent a LOT of time dressing us up and grooming us. Like pets. Like toys. Like dolls.
Now SING! Goddamnit.
Miss Leavy always tried to downplay the role of the shepherds, but we weren't fooled. We knew that all you had to do was stand there with a staff and try not to laugh at all the poor fools with speaking parts.
Thank you ND, a good time was had by most if not all!
Childhood is about learning the balance between expressing oneself uniquely and responding with behavior appropriate to certain contexts and situations.
Great pair of lungs on that Angel 2nd Class.
Great pair of lungs on that Angel 2nd Class.
Some impressive wings as well! The deluxe version!
I watched it again, looking for the lost shepherd boy on the right that I'd missed the first time around, and started to laugh. The further into it she goes the more sure she is of her pronouncement. I'm still in shock and awe that such a contribution made it through rehearsal. The little boy in blue appears to be somewhat shocked himself by her certainty and the strength of her performance, while wishing he could get in on the act or be so bold himself, with some final bursts of glory on his part added in at the end.
You know that "fear not" advice angels are always dishing out, well, it looks like she took that to heart in addition to fulfilling the duty of proclamation!
I appreciate the remembered story shared. I went back to look for the child who might represent me in that scene and found her in the one who was touching the cradle and then backing off, very likely scared, in awe or envious of the angel with the spectacular wings who owning the scene as if she was blissfully unaware of protocol, expectations or the eyes of others.
Post a Comment