Showing posts with label teachers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teachers. Show all posts

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Week 32, Day 224 -“A Thing I Wrote”

“A Thing I Wrote”

Written by Joe Janes

8/30/09

224 of 365

CAST

Vaughn, 40s

RICHARD, late 60’s

JAY, 20s

SARAH 20s

KENNETH early 30s

BARBARA 40s

(Lights up on five empty chairs. Offstage, we hear someone struggle with something. Vaughn enters.)

VAUGHN (to the audience)

So, this is a thing I wrote. If you’re like me, you really hate it when the author creates a character to represent him and then has the character address the audience. “Why don’t you just tell a frickin’ story?” “Why do you have to be so weird?” The answer is, “I don’t know.” The answer is, “This is what I wrote. This is how it came out.” My goal is to write one full-length play a year. I started that goal ten years ago. I have since written three plays. But, this time, I’m serious. I’m 45 years old. Or, as my brain hears it, five years from 50. I’m single. Not married. Never married. Apparently incapable of marriage according to my ex-fiancĂ©. Straight. No kids. I want to leave something for the world. I want to create something that lasts. So, in another 50 years, some theater guy somewhere takes a stack of my plays and says, “Hey, let’s do a Vaughn Tweeder play festival. His stuff is still vital today. Whenever we put on one of his plays, we make money. People love his guy.”

I have never made money from one of my plays. Never.

So, how do I make a living? Depends on how you define “living,” but I make money teaching sketch comedy writing.

(Five students come out and sit near Vaughn. There is RICHARD, an older man in his 60’s, JAY, a young man who dropped out of college, SARAH, a young woman in her late 20’s, KENNETH, a young man in his early 30’s, and BARBARA, a housewife in her 40’s.)

VAUGHN (continuing)

All right. The assignment was to write a Fish Out of Water scene. Who’d like to read their assignment? (Silence) Who’s going to read their assignment? (More uneasy silence)… Richard?

RICHARD

I wasn’t able to get to a copier before class.

VAUGHN

That’s okay. We can just crowd around your one copy and read that.

RICHARD

Well, since I wasn’t able to make copies, I didn’t bring it.

VAUGHN

There you go. Jay?

JAY

I meant to do the assignment. I was going to do it this morning, but I got really drunk last night, which kind of bled over into this morning. And this afternoon.

VAUGHN

Perfectly understandable. (Barbara raises her hand.) Barbara?

BARBARA

I wasn’t here last week, so I didn’t know what the assignment was.

VAUGHN

You have my e-mail, right?

BARBARA

Oh, yes, I guess I do.

VAUGHN

You all seem a little surprised that in a writing class, you’re expected to write.

SARAH

I wrote mine.

VAUGHN

Does it in any way involve any of the characters being decapitated in the end?

SARAH

Yes. …But it’s funny.

VAUGHN

Please find another way to end your scenes other than ritual beheadings.

SARAH

Oh, in this one it’s spontaneous, not premeditated. Just saying. I took your feedback.

KENNETH

I had an idea for a scene. Do you want to hear my idea?

VAUGHN

Sure. Why not?

KENNETH

Freddy Mercury is a Catholic priest who anal rapes an altar boy. He seduces him by singing Queen songs. (He thrusts his hips while singing) “Ooh, you’re my best friend…”

VAUGHN

Freddy Mercury is dead.

KENNETH

That’s the Fish Out of Water part. He finds himself alive AND a Catholic priest.

VAUGHN

Okay. There seems to be some misconception. We are here to learn to write scenes. Solid scenes that feature fleshed out characters with strong passions and flaws and histories and relationships. Characters and situations we can relate to.

JAY

But that’s not what I see on television.

VAUGHN

We’re not writing for television. We’re writing for the stage. This is where you learn your craft.

JAY

I’d write if I had something to write about. I just didn’t think any of my ideas were funny.

RICHARD

I wrote a scene that wasn’t the assignment.

VAUGHN

Excellent.

RICHARD

A pirate, a retard and Dr. Phil are all on “Real World.”

VAUGHN

Why are they on “Real World”?

RICHARD

Because it’s funny?

VAUGHN

Okay. Fine. It’s a funny idea, but then what? Is it a scene? Aside from the fact the three of them would never be on “Read World”-

RICHARD

Thus the funny.

VAUGHN

Where does the scene go from there? What keeps it from being another Saturday Night Live sketch that tells it’s joke in the first thirty seconds and then goes on another three-and-a-half painful minutes. How does the scene move forward? How do you raise the stakes?

RICHARD

Dr. Phil is a vampire.

VAUGHN

And why is Dr. Phil a vampire?

RICHARD

Because he got bit by a vampire.

VAUGHN

Look, let’s rewind a little bit and just talk about writing. You guys keep waiting to have funny ideas before you start writing. Don’t wait to have something to write about. Write even when you have nothing to write about. (Aside) I don’t do this, by the way. (Back to class) Free write. Let the words flow and discover an idea to write about. (Aside) That either.

Writing is rewriting. A good scene takes time. Revision. Don’t give up on a scene before you even finish the first draft. (Aside) Unlike me.

Have a plan. Plot out your ideas. Know where you want your scene to go and take it there. (Aside – Vaughn just does a take to the audience, shaking his head)

What you write about is arbitrary. It’s the process of writing and your perspective that makes your work unique.

BARBARA (raising hand)

I have no perspective.

VAUGHN

If you’re a human being you have a perspective.

Go see live theater. Go see sketch revues. By seeing what’s out there, you’ll see for yourself what works and what doesn’t work. When was the last time any of you saw a show?

SARAH

I watched SNL – The Best of David Spade.

VAUGHN

Better than nothing. How was it?

SARAH

I don’t really remember. I think it was funny.

VAUGHN

Write every day. It’s like working out. You’re developing a muscle here. Write every day.

Write for the stage. Stop putting in things like “and then they drive to the restaurant and get out of the car” How much time is that? Do they talk in the car? Does the audience sit in silence as the characters do that? Does a large man dressed in a bunny suit jump out and move his arms like a clock and make ticking sounds to indicate time shift? You’re writing for the stage. You’re putting real people in a real place in real time in front of other people. Make it worth their while. (He looks apologetically to the audience). Take a break. You have an assignment for the break. Eavesdrop on conversations. Come back with a few lines of dialogue. We’re going to work on writing scenes about human beings. (A man dressed in a bunny suit comes out and makes ticking sounds while moving his arms like a clock. He says, “ding!” and exits.) Okay. Who did their assignment on the break?

KENNETH

What assignment?

(Vaughn slaps his forehead. Lights out.)

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Week 29, Day 198 - “The Ding Dong Song”

“The Ding Dong Song”
Written by Joe Janes
8/4/09
198 of 365

CAST
Mrs. Gruber, 60s

(Lights up on Mrs. Gruber in her classroom with a school bell. She stands before the class. In the corner, we see an empty chair facing the wall. She rings the bell seven times.)

MRS. GRUBER (warbling)
I’m your school bell ding-dong-ding,
Boys and girls all hear me ring,
Every time I ding-dong-ding
Come with me to play and sing,
Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding

(Speaking)
Hello boys and girls. How are you today? Oh, that’s wonderful. We’re going to learn so many exciting things today. We’ll learn to blow bubbles, make turkeys with our hands, how to skip rope and how to keep others from taking things from you that don’t belong to them, like your dignity or lawn ornaments.

(Warbling)
I will teach you many a thing,
Math, history and reading,
You can cut mom’s apron string,
Swim without a water wing,
Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding

(Speaking)
How old are you? Do you know? Can you show me with your fingers how old you are? Oh, that’s very good. I’d show you how old I am with my fingers, but the arthritis makes it difficult to distinguish my fives from big, lumpy ones. Let’s just say Mrs. Gruber is older than you and has a lot to share about life. You know how some of you, and you know who you are, sometimes worry about wetting yourself? I know, I know. It happens. Does your mother make you wear rubber pants? Nothing to be ashamed about. You’ll grow out of it. And then, years later, you’ll grow back into it. Rubber pants and all.

(Warbling)
I have lessons big and small,
Learn to walk while others crawl,
Soaring’s good, it’s bad to fall,
You’re fine with me, you’re on the ball,
Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding

(Speaking)
That’s right, children. We’re here to learn. And to learn means doing what I say, when I say. Listen and learn. Do you know what I mean when I say to listen? Listening is very important. Open ears and a closed mouth will help get you through life.

(Warbling)
Play by my rules, I’ll be fair,
You’ll live a life without care,
If you kick, shout, spit or swear,
You’ll sit out the year in that chair (points to chair in corner,
Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-d-i-i-i-i-i-ing

(Blackout)

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Week 25, Day 175 - “Those Who Can't”

“Those Who Can’t”
Written by Joe Janes
7/12/09
175 of 365

CAST
Nick, 30s
Ed, 50s

(Lights up on the small teachers lounge of an arts school. There is rag tag furniture about, including a worn out, well napped upon couch. A small refrigerator and a filthy coffee maker. There is a small table with mismatched chairs. Ed is sitting at a table smoking a cigarette. He looks pensive. Nick walks in. He sees Ed. Ed gives him a nod and flicks an ash into a can of Diet Coke. Nick looks at his watch.)


NICK
What’s wrong with this picture?

ED
I’ll put it out, if you want.

NICK
I don’t care. It’s the city that cares. That’s why they designated that corner on the third floor of the parking garage as a place for you and your ilk. You can’t miss it. It’s well marked by an ever-increasing pile of stubbed butts. Got another?

(Ed hands Nick a cigarette and gives him a light.)

ED
You have a class?

NICK
Tech rehearsal. Later. I’m early. I was already downtown and no place to go. You, however, have a class. You have a class every night of the week. This is practically a fulltime job for you.

ED
It is a fulltime job for me. For me.

NICK
So, who’s in there watching the kids?

ED
Probably nobody. It’s only ten after. Assuming the class is all there, they’ll either leave because of the mythical “ten minute rule” or start playing games on their own. Or, at least, the suck-ups will stick around and do that.

NICK
The office know you’re in here?

ED
Not unless one of the kids got a clue and told them.

NICK
They might get smart and pop their head in the teachers lounge to look for a teacher.

ED
Good point.

(Ed gets up and walks to the door. He closes it and deadbolts it. He sits back down.)

NICK
Do you want to take a photo of me holding today’s newspaper? Or would you rather I cut letters out of it for the ransom note?

ED
You can leave any time you want, Nick. I’m the one who’s stuck here.

NICK
Clever. I’m on to you.

ED
What?

NICK
Using tobacco to cover the smell of the scotch on your breath.

ED
I wish I had that to blame.

NICK
You’re still on the wagon?

ED
Well, clinging to the side, at least. It’s just me in here, Nick. Sober.

NICK
Then you need to take some time off. Get away from this shithole.

ED
Great idea. Except I only get paid when I work. Per class. A vacation means money going out and none coming in. A vacation for me would involve staying at home and not doing anything that involves the monetary system.

NICK
Ed, you’re a great teacher.

ED
No. I’m not.

NICK
Yes. You are. I had you as a teacher. Even when you were a drunk, you were a great teacher.

ED
Well, I’m not one anymore. A drunk or a great teacher.

NICK
Jesus, Ed. I’ve never seen you like this. I mean, I’ve seen you all crotchety and bitter, before. But this is… big.

ED
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of waiting for students to show up on time. I’m sick of fucking cell phones going off and fucking text messaging. I’m sick of looks of resentment when I ask people to get up and do some work. They fucking paid to be here and they act like I’m fucking kicking them in the kidney. They don’t give a fuck. I don’t give a fuck.

NICK
What the fuck is that? These classes are expensive. I couldn’t even afford to be a student here.

ED
Maybe that’s the problem. The students who would appreciate it the most can’t afford to be here.

NICK
Yeah. Maybe.

ED
Or they only want to listen to you until they figure out you’re not their passport to fame and fortune.

NICK
You’re the dude who drilled into me the importance of craft.

ED
Nobody fucking cares about craft anymore.

NICK
I have a student who’s also taking classes at three other places. They’re a terror in class because their brain is collapsing around all the conflicting information.

ED
What’s the fucking hurry?

NICK
Exactly. It’s an art form. You study it. Not implant it.

ED
Fucking kids want the end result without doing the work. Without going through the process.

NICK
“Whoa - I know Kung Fu.”

ED
Guess I’m a relic. I don’t belong here.


NICK
I know that’s not true.

ED
Why?

NICK
Because you’re still here.

ED
Is that some Buddhist bullshit?

NICK
No. I mean, for a guy who wants to blow off a class, you’re maintaining an unusually close vicinity.

ED
Somewhere, somewhere I stopped following my dreams. MY dreams. I shifted from having teaching supplement my income to becoming my income. I don’t do plays anymore because I can’t afford to take the time off from teaching. When the hell did that happen?

NICK
Age 38.

ED
Was it?

NICK
Was for me. I don’t do “starving artist.” I do “eating, paying rent, needs to lose a few pounds artist.” Fifteen years out of college and I was still borrowing money from my parents. Done with that shit.

ED
Do you regret it?

NICK
Sometimes. I wonder what would have happened if I went to LA after college instead of coming here.

ED
I had friends who went out there when I went here.

NICK
Anyone make it big?

ED
No name you’d recognize. Nothing I bother to watch. It breaks my heart I can’t make a living in theater. You know JB?

NICK
The Smiley Window Guy?

ED
Yeah. The Smiley Window Guy. Great actor, too. The Smiley Window Guy gig pays his bills for him and his wife and baby. The last time I saw him on stage was in an Arthur Miller play four years ago. They had to mop the floor after every show because people cried so much. All the reviewers loved it. Loved him. He did that show for eight weeks. Four shows a week. How many of those shows do you think sold out?

(NICK shrugs.)

ED (continues)
Opening night and closing night. How much money do you think he made?

NICK
Dick. He made dick.

ED
Twenty-five dollars. Total. The producers split the profits among the cast and crew. Assuming they didn’t cancel any shows, that means he rehearsed for free and then got a pay bump up to $1.28 a show. This town sucks.

NICK
Great place to learn, bad place to make a living.

ED
He starts teaching here next term.

NICK
JB?

ED
Yeah. Can’t afford to be an actor anymore.

NICK
Look. I have my complaints, but this ain’t such a bad gig. I made a choice to be here. I see a kid do well or do better in my class, because of my class, it makes me feel good. I find myself rooting for them.

(Nick makes a pot of coffee. He reuses a filter full of coffee he fishes from the trash.)

ED
Christ, with what they charge for classes, you think they could afford to keep us jacked up on coffee.

NICK
What, and eat into the profit margin? That’s crazy talk.

ED
What the hell have I done? I feel like I’m waking up from a binge. Instead of booze, it’s been my life. My career. This is all I have. My savings are shit. No 401k. No insurance. If I don’t go in that classroom and go on autopilot, I may as well check in at the Hotel D’Transient with a bag full of dog biscuits.

NICK
Then you should go in there.

(Ed gets up and walks to the door. Nick pours a cup of coffee from a still dripping coffee maker. He holds out a cup to Ed.)

ED
I can’t. I’ve got nothing.

NICK
Have a cup of courage.

ED
I didn’t know courage smelled like ass.

(Ed takes the cup and unloads several sugar packets into it.)

NICK
A great teacher once told me, wisely, that it’s not about me.

ED
A great teacher?

NICK
Okay, some drunk. The point is, I don’t do it for me. I do it for the students. If you do it for the paycheck, you’re doing it for you and you’re not doing anyone, except for the bill collectors, any favors. That’s what keeps me teaching. Because, believe me, I forget it from time to time. I cry over a career that’s not where it’s “supposed” to be. Boo-hoo. So, what. The planet’s still spinning. If the best I have to aim for is making a difference with someone else, then, fuck it, that’s what I’ll aim for.

ED
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

NICK
Yeah, yeah, yeah, what?

ED
You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Left to my own devices, I wouldn’t even get out of bed in the morning. Hell, I wouldn’t even make it to the bed at night. Having to be somewhere helps. It helps a lot.

(There’s the sound of the door handle being turned and then a knock at the door.)

ED
You’re a good teacher, Nick.

NICK
Well, I had a good teacher who passed it on to me.

(There’s another knock at the door.)

ED
Hold your fucking horses!

(Ed turns and looks at Nick.)

NICK
Look. I could pick up the class for you. I could use the $100. You can stay in here and smoke your life away.

ED
Tempting offer. But I think you’re right.

NICK
I’m right about something?

(Ed turns and faces the door.)

ED
The answer’s not in here. It’s not in me. It’s out there. And I seriously have to get away from this coffee. How can you drink this shit?

NICK
I drink for the effect, not the taste.

ED
Right. I should have left on that “it’s out there” line. That would have been better.

NICK
See. You’ve still got it. Pop in on my tech rehearsal, if you want. Shouldn’t take more than two hours.

ED
Good show?

NICK
Nope.

ED
Maybe I will, Ed. Maybe I will. Lights fade.

(Lights fade. Knocking continues.)

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Week 20, Day 135 - “Where There’s Smoke There’s Smoke”

“Where There’s Smoke There’s Smoke”
Written by Joe Janes
6/2/09
135 of 365

CAST
Kent, 30s
Roger, 20s
Margaret, 30s

(Lights up on Kent looking out towards the audience. He looks tired. He squats down and opens up a small canvas sack. Roger, younger, but also exhausted, approaches.)

ROGER
It’s quiet out there.

KENT
Yeah. Too quiet.

(Kent pulls out a pouch of chewing tobacco and puts a wad in his mouth. Roger takes out a cigarette, puts it in his mouth and strikes a match. Kent hears the match and quickly grabs Roger, dragging him down to the floor.)

ROGER
Hey! Are you crazy?

KENT
No, are you stupid? They might see the flame or the smoke. Or smell it.

ROGER
Yeah. Okay. I wasn’t thinking.

KENT
No. You weren’t. Here. Have some chew.

ROGER
Thanks.

(Roger takes some, but clearly doesn’t enjoy it.)

ROGER
See anything out there?

KENT
No. Not for half an hour or so.

ROGER
Maybe it’s safe.

KENT
It’s never safe. Bobby Litchfield thought it was safe. Bobby Litchfield is just meat in a can, now. Like Spam. Spam with a bullet hole. Buried in the dirt. It’s never safe. This your first teaching job?

ROGER
Yeah. They should give us guns.

KENT
Good idea, until a student knocks you flat on your ass, takes it from you and blows a third nostril into your skull.

ROGER
Jesus, they’re just junior high school kids.

KENT
The worst. Blood thirsty little bastards. You ever look in their eyes?

ROGER
Yeah. Soulless.

KENT
That’s right.

(Margaret bursts in and joins them on the floor.)

KENT
Where have you been?

MARGARET
Broke into the nurse’s office to check the back of the building. Here. I brought lollipops.

(She hands them each one. Kent stashes his in his bag. Roger unwraps his and tries to have it and his tobacco together.)

KENT
Pick up any intel?

MARGARET
Detention hall emptied ten minutes ago. Parking lot’s clear. I think we’ve passed the threshold.

ROGER
The threshold?

KENT
The time of day where they are more likely to shoot one another than a teacher.

MARGARET
We can probably make it to our cars. How’s that taste?

ROGER
Like cherry-flavored beef jerky. Aw, man, I rode my bike!

MARGARET
Are you crazy?

ROGER
No. Just stupid.

MARGARET
A bike. You may as well charge them fifty cents to take shots at you. You’re a shooting gallery on wheels.

KENT
Listen up, Rookie. You ride your bike home and you may as well have a “Kill Me” sign taped to your back. Should make you stay here the night to learn your lesson.

ROGER
I can’t stay here. I can’t sleep here. I need my earplugs.

MARGARET
I’ll give you a ride. I’m a sucker for pathetic cases.

KENT
Guess it pays to be pathetic.

MARGARET
It’s just a ride, Kent. Let’s go, kid.

ROGER
My name’s Roger.

MARGARET
What do you teach?

ROGER
Geography.

MARGARET
Well, let’s see if your ass can find its way to my car in one piece. You coming?

KENT
You go ahead. I’ll keep on eye on you from here.

ROGER
Thanks, Kent. Thanks for all the advice.

KENT
Don’t worry, Roger. You’ll be all right. The first day’s always the toughest.

(Margaret and Roger exit. Kent takes another wad of chew and looks out. He tries it with a lollipop and decides he likes it. Lights fade.)